“Kurt beat a man to death with his fists. Caved in his skull. But it was justified.”
Justified? MacNally swallowed hard. What the hell had he gotten himself into?
Kurt shrugged. “He owed me some money, and it didn’t look like he was gonna pay. I told him that wasn’t the way it worked.”
“How much did he owe you?” MacNally asked, at a loss as to how he should respond-but needing to say something to disguise his revulsion.
“Fifteen bucks. But the amount wasn’t the point. You let some dipshit like that get away with stiffing you, it gets around and your rep’s fucking shot.”
“Yeah. Of course,” MacNally said, hoping they would buy his weak attempt at giving the impression that he understood something he could not possibly comprehend.
Kurt sat expressionless, his thick chest rising and falling at regular intervals. He glanced up at Carl, who appeared to be studying MacNally’s face.
“So what’s there to do around here?” He wanted to get the hell out of there but didn’t want it to be obvious that he found his new cellies appalling.
Carl answered. “It’s fucking prison, Map Man. Take a hike around the cellhouse, get to know your new home. My guess, you’re gonna be here a while.”
“Forty-five.”
A crooked, salacious grin broadened Kurt’s face. “Then it looks like we’re gonna have some fun.”
MacNally didn’t know what his new bunkmate meant by that-but based on what Voorhees had told him, it left him with a sense of foreboding.
And he suddenly realized that “fun” was a relative term.
THE NIGHT WAS NOT MUCH cooler than the day. But the temperature was not the reason MacNally had a hard time falling asleep. He had taken a walk around the rotunda, strolled along the different cellhouses, and got his bearings. He ate dinner in the large mess hall and kept to himself. For a first day in a violent place, amongst men who were some of the worst society had produced, he felt proud that he had made it through unscathed.
But as he was soon to discover, it was premature to have congratulated himself.
Vail and Dixon arrived at the crime scene. The sun was bidding a quick farewell, dipping below the high-rises and bouncing a blood-orange reflection off the windows of the nearby buildings.
Dixon double-parked her Ford and they were met at the curb by the first-on-scene officer. Vail immediately shivered from the chilled air that blew against her the moment she stepped from the vehicle. She held up her creds and Dixon her badge.
“It’s still too shiny,” Vail quipped.
“Doesn’t bother me. What matters is what’s in here,” Dixon said, pointing to her head. “Deal with it.”
“Burden or Friedberg get here yet?” Vail asked, wrapping her hands around her torso.
“Inspector Burden’s en route,” the officer said.
“What’ve we got?”
“Some old woman. Pretty badly beat up.”
“How bad?” Dixon asked.
“Bad enough. She’s dead.”
“Hey. Vail!”
Vail turned and saw Clay Allman jogging toward them. His bushy hair was in flyaway mode, the wind whipping it in all directions as he ran.
“Congratulations. You almost made it here before we did.”
“I was on my way to Bryant when I heard the call over the scanner. I wanted to find out why you guys kept things from me.”
“It’s not our job to feed you information,” Vail said. “You know that.”
“Except when it fits your needs. A favor here, a favor there.”
Dixon wrapped her sweater tighter around her body. “There are times when we need your cooperation. For the greater good. It’s all about catching these assholes, Clay. It’s not doing us any favors. We get paid whether we catch the bad guys or not.”
Allman poked at his wire-framed glasses and slid them up his nose. “So what was up with that piece in the Register?”
“Yeah,” Vail said, “that’s what we’d like to know.”
“You helped out Scheer, but you won’t help me? How’s that helping the greater good?”
“We don’t owe you any explanations,” Dixon said.
Allman looked off, shaking his head. “I expected more of Burden. He’s a stand-up guy. For him to screw me like that-”
“He didn’t,” Vail said. “Scheer didn’t get his info from us.”
“Bullshit,” Allman said, his gaze boring into Vail’s. “Where else was a guy like Stephen Scheer gonna get stuff like that? He’s a hack.”
A car pulling up behind Allman caught Vail’s eye. “You don’t believe me, ask Burden.” She nodded at the Taurus.
Allman swiveled his body and moved toward Burden as he got out of the car. “I saw Scheer’s article.”
Burden sidestepped his open car door, then slammed it shut behind him. “What’s the deal? Is this one of our vics?”
“Just got here,” Vail said. “Where’s Robert?”
“Following up with those ice cream vendors. He said it looks like a dead end, but he’s crossing his t’s. If he wraps it up soon, he’ll stop by. But I don’t think he’s too eager to see another brutalized elderly woman.”
Who is?
“You gonna help me out here, or is Stephen Scheer your new best bud?” Allman stood at the edge of the sidewalk, hands on hips.
Burden stepped onto the curb, placed a palm on Allman’s shoulder, and said, “Clay. C’mon, man. Are we really doing this? We had nothing to do with Scheer’s story.”
Allman chewed on his cheek, then nodded. “So who’s his source?”
“I was hoping you could tell us. So far we’ve hit a wall. What he got,
