“Darke.”
“Would’ve killed him. He had her blood on him. Kid’s the only witness, whatever he says, Darke’s at the scene. Darke goes down.”
Walk rested his head against the glass as light rain began to fall. He thought of Darke, that perception and how he used it. Maybe he would’ve killed the boy, Walk didn’t think so. But the angle presented itself. “How’d you plead it?”
“Told him I’d take it all. I’d take the fall, no one else for the cops to look for. He was never there.”
“He bought that?”
“No. The house, Walk. He wanted the house. So I gave in. He could buy it, if he left the kid alone.”
“Why didn’t you just plead guilty?”
“Plead guilty and I spend the rest of my life in that cage. Plead innocent and the end comes at me. The case wasn’t winnable. Questions would have come. The gun.”
“You hid it.”
“Darke took it. His insurance in case I changed my mind.”
“You helped Robin back through the window. Washed your hands. Shit, Vincent.”
“Thirty years inside, you learn about crime scenes.”
“You plugged the holes and stayed silent.”
“Your questions didn’t need answering. I look more guilty if I just stay silent. Start talking and you tie me up, no gun, I couldn’t explain that. Let them stick a needle in my arm. Let them do what they should have done thirty years ago.”
“Sissy. It wasn’t murder.”
“It was, Walk. You just didn’t want to see it that way. I’m ready now. I want to go. I’ve always wanted to go. But after I’d served my time. Hal said he was glad I was in there, that I should be punished. Death was too good.”
“Darke couldn’t raise the funds to buy your place. Not the down payment, the taxes. Not after what Duchess did,” Walk said.
“I didn’t know that. But then he wrote me.”
“I saw the letter.”
“Right.”
“You must’ve been mad.”
“I was. At first I was. Not for me … but the money. I needed that money.”
“He gave the gun back because he couldn’t keep his side of the deal. A man of his word, right?”
Silence for a long time.
“People are complex, Walk. Just when you think you got them figured … he gave me an out if I ever needed it.”
“Sometimes wishes do come true … the wishing tree.” Walk said it to himself, tired smile on his face, right there and he’d missed it.
Walk thought of Vincent on the other end. He wondered how ground down he was, if there was any of the kid left in there. “You banked on the boy not remembering.”
“I saw him, gone like that, out of this world. I don’t think he knows. So I told him I did it. That’s enough, just that doubt. Let someone else take it away. Fuck, he deserved that. I tried to bring her back. I pumped her chest with everything I got.”
Walk thought of Star, the broken ribs. And he thought of Darke and Madeline and the cruel hand of fate.
“You lied for me. You stood in court, wearing your badge, and you lied. You still know yourself, Walk?”
“No.”
“You can’t save someone that doesn’t want to be saved.”
Quiet a long time.
“How’s things with Martha?”
Walk just about managed a smile. “That’s why you wanted her.”
“A million tragedies began that night, Walk. Most of them I can’t fix.”
Walk thought of Robin Radley. “I used to want to go back and do it all again. But now I’m just tired. So fucking tired. Maybe you did a good thing.”
“I owe a debt to the Radleys. He might not remember. He’s small. I could die giving him his life back. There’s a chance it’ll all stay black.”
“You near gave your life for a chance.”
“I couldn’t let him be me.”
45
WALK DROVE DOWN LAST ROADS, each mile behind one he would not travel again. He had spent a life afraid of change. He had killed. Nothing outward was different, he knew it would not be. The bay came at him in such glory, he kept his eyes on broken lines.
Twenty miles from home he found the place, a storage facility, West Gale, tired, red lockups, no office, just a number to call if you needed service.
Walk pulled up, headed over and took the keys from his pocket. He checked the number on the tag and found one of the smaller units. He unlocked it and stepped into dark, found the switch, light flickered, strips cast dull yellow.
On one side he found a couple of plastic storage containers. He worked slow, saw everything from an old, happier life. Wedding album, Darke looked young, tall but not so imposing, his wife was beautiful. And there were photos of Madeline, brown hair and light eyes, wide smile in every shot. She looked like her mother. A christening gown, an old wedding dress, the kind of things passed down generations.
Walk would keep hold of it, pay the rental, let the people at the hospital know where it was in case miracles did happen.
He was about to turn, to kill the lights and lock up when he saw a pile of boxes and garbage bags in the far corner. He checked them, old files, nothing of note, and then he saw a stack of junk mail. And he saw the name and address. Dee Lane.
He trained his mind back a year before it came to him. Darke’s offer to store her things while she found someplace else to live. Before they made that deal she’d carry with her.
He tossed the mail back onto the pile then cursed when the whole thing toppled. As he bent down it came to view. Out of place.
A single videotape.
He drove back toward the Cape, breached the town limit, saw a new sign, hard metal and towering scaffold, light fell on the promise of new homes, new stores. The motion had passed silently, Walk distracted, just another change in a changing world.
The station was dark. He left
