Lynch took the folder and read the statements for the third time, only now in the manner that Carrie suggested. The words hadn’t changed. Every UJ member set the time line the same way. They showed up at the barn at seven pm. Around ten pm, there was a break in the action while Rick changed CD’s in the player. Jeremy went out to take a piss. Twenty minutes later, Traci was wondering where Jeremy had gotten to, so she went outside to look for him and found his body. The first squad car was there by ten thirty. Then …
Wait a minute.
Lynch hurriedly flipped through the statements, shooting his eyes to the end of each one.
Who called it in?
The sound of rustling papers filled the hallway.
None of them mention calling the police. Who called the police?
After his second scan, he looked up at Warner. She spoke.
“Yeah…that’s what I thought.”
3. The Cloister
Arthur didn’t startle easily, but he wasn’t expecting Rick to be right in front of him when he woke.
“Dammit, Rick! What!?”
Rick had been sitting a few feet from Arthur’s cot for the better part of an hour. He hadn’t slept a wink. Traci had nursed them all back to health as best she could. Rick was not surprised to find her in bed with Arthur, but he was surprised that she’d fallen asleep in her party dress. Maybe she wanted to get her money’s worth out of it since she’d never be able to wear it again. Rick had been stewing silently since the mad dash from the scrap yard. Of all the things that happened after Gordy threw the brick, the getaway was the only thing that went according to plan.
They were supposed to be wearing masks when Reilly jumped the fence. If there were others with him, and they were few enough to handle, Bubbs, Steven, and he were supposed to ambush from the side, leaving them unconscious while Arthur had his fun with Reilly. No guns were to be involved; guns were traceable. Reilly was to be hog tied and gagged, while Arthur explained to him why he was about to die. Then Arthur would stomp on his head with his steel-tipped Doc Martins until the job was done. If there was any variation…if the cops spotted them in the yard before Reilly arrived, or too many people came over the fence…the UJ would disperse and save vengeance for another day.
None of that happened.
As far as Rick could tell, they had three hopes. The first was that the black guys in the suits were just as eager to put the evening behind them as the UJ. The second was that whoever shouted the thing about bastards killing cops was too far away to positively ID anyone. The third was that Gordy’s silly little scheme for dealing with the police actually worked. Neither Rick nor anyone else in the UJ had considered the possibility that Reilly might still be alive.
“So, I suppose we’re calling this a victory, eh Artie?”
Arthur winced and sat up.
“Richard, I would kick your ass sideways right now if I didn’t have three bruised ribs. What’s on your mind?”
Rick instantly felt like the straight man in a comedy act.
“Dude…what was that shit with the n-word? We’re militant racists now?”
Arthur’s favorite douchy grin appeared.
“Oh, come on now, Richard. You know me better than that. I see no reason to cast hatred upon an entire race of people when there are plenty of good reasons to hate people individually. I just wanted to throw the guy off balance.”
Rick drew an invisible line connecting Arthurs many injuries.
“And how’d that work out for you?”
“I’m telling you. You’re asking for it.”
“We were supposed to run if anything unexpected happened.”
“Yes, Richard. And?”
Rick sat in gaped silence for a moment before responding.
“And I’d say five huge Reservoir-Dogs-lookin’ black guys appearing out of nowhere qualifies.”
Arthur chuckled.
“What can I say? I thought we could take ‘em.”
Rick was crippled for a retort. A dozen thoughts bundled into a single knot in his brain.
Steven chimed in from across the room.
“What about Gordy?”
Arthur rubbed his eyes and answered.
“What about him?”
“The kid is a moron, but he gets smarter every time you kick him in the balls. We hung him out to dry. If he realizes that, he’s gonna rat.”
“Exactly, Steven! The kid! The KID! He’s a minor! His parents were called the second he set foot in the station! We said we’d bail him out, but we can’t help it if mommy and daddy got there first! You get it? The turd brain had no idea we had no intention of bailing him out! All he knows or cares about is that thinks he’s full UJ now! He’s not gonna rat!”
“Is he?”
“Is he what, Steven?”
“Full UJ.”
Arthur looked over at Rick who, by his expression, had the same question. Arthur had an answer.
“Fuck no. He’s not full UJ. We’ll let him wear the colors. That’s it. He can fetch beers and get kicked in the nuts wearing the colors.”
Traci rolled over in her sleep, losing her blanket in the process. She was on her stomach, breathing softly while Arthur ogled her lower half. She awoke when he started to hike up her skirt for a better look.
“Come on, Artie. Not now. I’m tired.”
With a frustrated growl, Arthur sprang up as quickly as he could with three bruised ribs, grabbed his shirt from a nearby chair, and stormed toward the adjoining room.
“Has everyone lost their goddam minds around here!? Has everyone forgotten what the UJ is supposed to be about!?”
Rick and Steven looked at each other and shrugged as Arthur stomped over the threshold. Traci raised her head an inch or two in response to the yelling, then put it right back down. There were a few seconds of silence before Arthur returned with his shirt half buttoned and a cigarette dangling from his scabbed-over lip.
“Anyone know where
