To relive that sense of power.”
“I find it kind of touching,” Allman said. “Don’t you?”
“That bar of soap.” MacNally’s eyes filled with tears as his gaze canted up toward his son. “I thought you stole it from that store because the scent reminded you of your mom. But it was really some sick way for you to relive her murder.”
“It’s over, Clay.” Vail steadied her Glock. “Drop the weapons and get down on your knees.”
Allman frowned. “Go fuck yourself, Vail.”
MacNally struggled to get to his feet. He again drew a sleeve across his face and he sniffed back a nose full of snot. “An officer once told me that life’s a series of choices. I made some bad ones that landed me behind bars, decisions that were for Henry’s benefit. But that guard was right. Yeah, I always had a reason or an excuse-we needed the money. Or it’s prison, and you’ve gotta eat or be eaten. Maybe that’s all true. But it was never for me, it was for my son.” He turned to Allman, whose contempt-filled smirk indicated his indifference to his father’s moral struggles.
“I regret just about all the bad things I’ve done in my life, Ms. Vail. The pain and death I’ve caused.” He made eye contact with her, then Dixon, then Burden and Carondolet. “There’s a lot of things I’m sorry about…but only one I can really atone for.” He turned to Allman. “My biggest regret is creating you. Without you, your mother would still be alive. I’d never hurt anyone before you came along. Never took anything that wasn’t mine. Me, I did bad things for the right reason. You…you’ve done bad things because you just didn’t care.”
MacNally lunged forward and grabbed his son by the neck.
But Allman shoved the stiletto deep into his father’s abdomen.
And Vail shot him, twice. Allman recoiled-his eyes met Vail’s-and in that instant, he seemed to grin.
But MacNally, stiletto still protruding from his stomach, drove his son backward toward the roof’s edge, then over it.
Both men tumbled out of sight-
and then-
a sickening thud.
Vail, Burden, and Dixon ran to the edge and peered over. Walton MacNally lay atop his son, blood pooling on the concrete of the recreation yard.
Burden swung away and started dialing his phone. Carondolet ran off, back toward the cellhouse.
And Vail stood there, numb. No thoughts, other than perhaps sadness.
A hand on her shoulder. Roxxann.
“You okay?”
Vail slowly turned to her. “I-I need to sit.” She helped Vail to a seat on the cold surface of the rooftop. “I had a flashback. My ex-husband. And my son. The arguments I had with Deacon over Jonathan-” She stopped and turned away. “The choices I’ve made in my life, Roxx. They haven’t always been good ones. For Jonathan.”
“Come on, Karen. I know you. I know you’ve been a good mother.”
Vail faced Dixon. “Have I? My son was in a goddamn coma and where was I? I was out trying to catch a killer. Does a good mother do that?”
“I’m sure you didn’t want other women getting killed. You did what you thought would save the most lives at the time. You made a tremendous personal sacrifice. That’s what makes you such a good cop.”
“But does it make me a bad mother? I made a sacrifice all right. But it wasn’t the right choice.”
Burden cleared his throat and knelt down in front of them. “Excuse me, ladies. But we just caught us a prolific killer. I think this moment calls for congratulations, no?”
Dixon got up, then extended a hand and pulled her friend to her feet.
Vail sighed deeply and wiped her eyes. “You’re right. Congratulations, Burden. You did an awesome job. You’re a hell of a cop, one who I’d go through a door with any day.”
Burden looked at Dixon. “Is she-is she being sarcastic?”
“No,” Dixon said, studying Vail’s face. “I think she meant it.”
Vail turned and walked away, away from the fallen bodies of Walton MacNally and Clay Allman. And as she did, she pulled out her phone to call Jonathan.
VAIL HAD HAD ENOUGH OF the confining cabins of helicopters. She wanted to feel the wind blowing in her face, through her hair. She needed something to reinvigorate her.
Dixon, Burden, and Vail boarded the Coast Guard cutter as it prepared to push off from the dock.
Burden leaned both forearms on the railing. “I feel like I should’ve joined them over the side. You know how many meals I’ve shared with Allman the past twenty years? The poker games, the nights in countless bars. The Giants games.” He kicked the wall of the boat. “He was right. I was totally fucking clueless. What kind of a cop am I?”
Vail moved closer to Burden, up against his forearm. “You couldn’t have known. You realize how many people have been fooled over the years by intelligent psychopaths? The list is long, and contains a lot of prominent names. You’re looking at one of ’em.”
Burden sighed long and hard, then hung his head.
Vail turned and looked at the Alcatraz cellhouse, the wind full in her face, the chill going down to her bones. But it didn’t help. The numbness ran too deep. She needed Robby. She wanted to talk with him, to bare her thoughts, fears, and…guilt.
She needed to hug her son.
A few moments later, she stood up straight and looked out at the cellhouse as the cutter eased past it. “What is it about this place?”
Dixon followed her gaze to the top of the island. “What do you mean?”
“It’s a legend, mythical almost. It housed the worst of the worst. Yet, I can’t help but think that the criminals we turn out nowadays are more violent, malevolent, evil. And we don’t know how to deal with them. Do we execute them? Lock ’em up? We can’t release them, but sometimes…we do. And a lot of them kill again. Because that’s the way they’re wired. Others don’t know how to survive in society and fall back on what they know how to do. What they find comforting.”
Burden watched as the boat jolted a bit, and then with a roar of the
