It took almost half an hour for that first rat to make his move. He stood at Stanton’s feet and sniffed; then he started his climb. Stanton jerked, and the rat fell. The hungry rat waited a couple of minutes, then began to climb again, this time hanging on as Stanton thrashed. His bravery was rewarded; he licked and chewed the peanut butter, then nibbled at the bacon. A second rat made a quick ascent on the other leg. Minutes later they all started to climb, stepping over each other, hissing and fighting, desperate for a meal, clawing and chewing away at the food and his skin, not discriminating between them.
Stanton howled and writhed, but the intelligent rats knew he posed no threat. It was going to be a painful hour, but I wouldn’t let them kill him. It would be a greater physical and psychological punishment if he had to live and live with agony. For the rest of his life he would have those scars all over his body—reminders every time he got dressed in the morning or stepped in and out of a shower of all the damage he had done to those young boys.
I looked over at Henderson. A small stream of tears finally fell down his frozen face.
56
CAROLINA AND I SAT comfortably by the robust fire inside of Fig & Olive on fashionable Oak Street. The well-heeled shoppers and their black cards were taking a much-needed break. I had ordered the tuna tartare with cucumber carpaccio to start. Carolina ordered the avocado toast without the bread, of course. She looked her usual flawless self in a black pencil skirt and red silk blouse.
“You feel better now that it’s over?” Carolina asked.
“Not sure if I would describe it as feeling better,” I said. “Let’s just say I feel more settled.”
“About Chopper?”
I nodded. “And Tinsley. Knowing that she’s alive and plans on having the babies makes me feel like a part of him is still with us. Who knows if it ever would’ve worked out between them, but I believe they really loved each other.”
“But others wouldn’t let it be.”
“And that’s the real sadness of it all. No one really gave them a chance.”
“What’s Ice gonna do?”
“He had a visit with Merriweather.”
“How did that go?”
“He told him not to waste any money on hotshot lawyers. His son would be a lot safer on the inside than he would be out here. The justice of the courts would be a lot kinder than his justice.”
“I got chills just hearing you say that,” she said.
“Imagine how Merriweather must’ve felt sitting across from him.”
The waiter replaced the basket with more warm bread, and I commenced to exponentially increase my carb intake. Unapologetically. Carolina was happy to just watch.
“You were really cut out for this,” Carolina said.
“Eating good food?”
“Trying to make right out of wrong.”
“I’m not delusional enough to think that I can change the world,” I said. “But I do think there’s a universal karma that dictates good will ultimately prevail over evil. Maybe not always in the terms that we want or can identify, but it still happens.”
“It all just seems so natural to you,” Carolina said.
“Don’t tell my father that. He still thinks I should’ve been a tennis star.”
“And mine thought I should’ve been a ballerina.”
“What happened?”
“My curves started coming, and I had a choice of either starving myself to fit into my tights or letting my pubescent body develop. I chose the latter. My mother said that my body was a gift from God.”
“Amen to that. Now if only I could unwrap it.”
“All talk and no action,” she said, smiling.
“Until there is,” I said, then asked the waiter for our dessert to go.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Special thanks to Detective Socrates “Soc” Mabry for his invaluable insight into the inner workings of the Chicago Police Department. His patience and willingness to answer even my most mundane questions, regardless of the hour or how often I asked them, gave me the best chance to get all the procedural stuff as correct as possible. Of course, any mistakes are solely mine. Big shout-outs to Detectives Fred Marshall and Gerald Cruz, also from the Area Central Detective Office, who explained in great detail how they do what they do as part of a big-city police force that doesn’t always get it right but tries its best. Have fun in retirement, gents, and enjoy your next chapter. Big fist bump to my agent, Mitch Hoffman, who read the very first draft of this manuscript and understood what I was trying to do as well as my vision for the Ashe Cayne series. Every writer needs at least one champion, and you stood shoulder to shoulder with me through it all from day one. Editors Megha Parekh and Caitlin Alexander—your eyes and thoughts and diligence so wisely helped give this story the shape that is now on the pages. For that I am most grateful and inspired to write even more. And to my fans who read The Blackbird Papers and The Ancient Nine and nicely said they liked my health books but really wanted me to write another novel—know that your words constantly ring softly in my ears.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo © 2020 by Triste Smith
Dr. Ian K. Smith is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of Shred: The Revolutionary Diet, as well as Super Shred: The Big Results Diet, Blast the Sugar Out!, The Clean 20, The Ancient Nine, and eleven other books, with millions of copies in print. Dr. Smith’s critically acclaimed novel The Blackbird Papers was the 2005 BCALA fiction recipient of the Honor Book Award.
Dr. Smith is a former cohost of the Emmy Award–winning daytime talk show The Doctors and is currently the medical contributor and cohost of The Rachael Ray Show. He has
