badly.
I grabbed him and lifted him above the gas-it was something of a miracle that he hadn’t choked to death already. “Albert, what happened?”
His head lolled a bit. “Stupid, got hit from behind.”
I got him up on his feet when I noticed that he was missing one of his shoes. “They knocked your shoe off?”
He shook his head to clear it. “Lodged it in the doorway above so that we could get out.”
I smiled. “Good man. C’mon, here we go.”
Hoisting him up onto my hip, where I could grip under his arm and support most of his weight, I started us up the stairs. I looked at the exterior door and figured the first thing to do would be to get him to some fresh air; then I could decide if I was stupid enough to come back into the building. I stumbled toward it.
Albert coughed. “All the exterior doors are locked; there’s a double-lock mechanism.” He gestured toward his side. “They took my keys.”
I turned and looked toward the interior of the building, where Albert’s shoe was lodged in the door. It was like we were being herded. “Looks like we have to find another way out.”
We limped our way across the concrete landing where I pulled open the door to the main part of the building, the wisps of propane gas following us; I was careful to kick Albert’s shoe out of the way.
The lights were off in the main hallway, but the corner of the building where Human Services resided was lit up like Christmas.
I sighed. “Any ideas?”
He tried to stand, but I could feel that he still needed support. “We can try toward the back.”
We turned and started down the main hallway that ran the length of the building. “Just out of curiosity, were the junction cords that had been tapped into from Human Services?”
“Yes.”
“How many people know that that system exists?”
He stumbled in his attempt to get his feet underneath him. “Hardly anybody. Nobody goes into that basement; you’d have to be an old-timer, like me.”
I thought about old-timers, red foxes, and medical bracelets-and finally scratched that itch that had been bothering me. I turned to help Albert again and when I did, I saw a familiar outline silhouetted by the EXIT lights near the center of the building.
He was even wearing the hat and was leaning on the security desk, an unopened bottle of Wild Turkey sitting on top of the sign-in ledger.
I stopped and watched as he stepped into the center of the hallway and faced us, his hands clutched together. “Fancy meeting you here, Herbert.”
He paused. “Hi, Sheriff.” He pulled the unlit cigar from his mouth, and his voice was desolate and removed. “I thought I’d better clean up before you guys found out what I’d done.” He exhausted a sad laugh and shook his head. “It’s all so messed up.”
“You killed her?”
The response was choked in his throat, crowded there along with his heart. “No. No, I didn’t.”
“She fell?”
“I was trying to talk to her, but she backed up and lost her balance. I tried to get to her, but she fell.” His head jerked around in an attempt to find a way out of a place with no emotional exits. “I wouldn’t have tried to kill my own child.”
“So Adrian’s yours?”
“Yes.” He took a step forward, and I could see his face beneath the brim of the gray top hat, the eagle feather forward. It was at that moment I saw that he had put the cigar back in his mouth and was holding the old, combat-cut, brass-covered Zippo lighter in his hand.
I started to speak but coughed with a whiff of the heavy gas. “I don’t suppose you’d like to take this conversation outside?”
He shook his head. “No.” I took a couple of steps toward him, still supporting Albert, narrowing the forty feet between us.
He lifted the lighter toward the cigar. “I think you better stay there.”
I stopped. “Did you kill Clarence Last Bull?”
He turned his head and looked at the door to the basement that he’d propped open to allow the gas to filter in. “He deserved it; he was a disease.” He gestured with the cigar, pointing it at me like a gun. “He beat her. He beat her, and he hurt my child.” There was a sob in his voice. “He slept with any woman who would have him… The drugs around the place-it was horrible. My beautiful, strong son living in a place like that.” He lowered the cigar but held the lighter next to his chest.
I waited a moment. “Are you planning on taking all of us with you?”
He nodded a curt nod. “That was the idea.”
“Was?”
He cleared his throat. “I’m just… so tired of all of it.” He looked down the hall. “Where’s Barrett?”
“He got out through the old coal chute in the back.”
“That’s good; I wouldn’t want him getting hurt.”
I took another step and nodded toward the bottle of liquor on the desk. “So, it’s just you, me, and Albert here to celebrate?”
I could see him swallow as he brought the cigar back up and glanced at the bottle. “I guess so.”
I took a few more steps. “So you’re going to kill off the only blood relative Adrian’s got?”
He paused. “I don’t see any other way out of this.”
“There isn’t any way out of this, but there’s a way through it-you killed a man, and you’re going to do time; I don’t know how much because that isn’t my decision, but you’ll be alive and can tell your son what happened. You can tell him about his mother.”
He nodded, but I could see his face tighten as he coughed. “She was a good woman.” He stepped to the side and gestured with the cigar again, as if ushering us out of a movie theatre. “You might as well get out of here, Sheriff. The stairwell is unlocked. That way I can have a last drink and light my cigar.”
I took a few steps closer. “You’re sure that’s what you want to do?”
He nodded his head some more, and I got within twenty feet of him before he stuffed the cigar in the corner of his mouth and flipped open the aged Zippo. “I’m sure.”
I looked down and could see the old chief’s eyes, dazed but watching us. “Albert?”
The eyes wobbled toward me. “Yes?”
“You think you can make it out of the building on your own?”
He nodded. “I think so, but…”
“You need to go. I’m just going to stay here for a minute and talk to Herbert.” Even with his passive resistance, I ushered him through the side and watched as he carefully made his way toward the exterior door. He pushed on the bar, the door swung wide, and he turned to look at me.
I was thankful for the flood of clear air, but it didn’t last long as the heavy door swung back and closed like a tomb.
Casually, Herbert lifted the lighter to the cigar, his thumb on the wheel of the thing; his only souvenir of a long-dead war. He didn’t move but just stood there with his head dipped, ready to strike. “Tell my son that I loved him.”
Keeping my intentions clear, I turned and folded my arms, leaning my back against the coolness of the corner of the wall behind me. I crossed my boots and stared down at the six feet between us as if I had all the time in the world. I brought my face up slowly to look into the one brown eye that was revealed under his hat with the one gray eye under the brim of mine.
He still didn’t move but spoke out of the side of his mouth. “I’m not bluffing, Sheriff.”
“I know that; I also know that as soon as this propane hits an ignition source like a water heater or a pilot light, it won’t matter who’s bluffing.” I blew air through my nose in an attempt to drive some of the gas away. “You say you’re tired and that you’ve had enough. Well, there’s really only one way to end this in a respectable fashion- give me the lighter.”
