John Miller - Side by Side

As Alexa snapped cuffs on her sister’s wrists, Antonia said, “You better help me out. I have you on tape.”

“And I have you on tape, too, Major,” Alexa replied. “I’ve been recording every discussion we’ve had for months.”

“You’re my sister.”

A tear rolled down Alexa’s cheek. “I wish to God I wasn’t.”

“I can explain all of this,” Antonia said, raising her voice. “My authority supercedes yours, Agents. This is a matter of national security. My men and I are part of a joint military and Department of Homeland Security operation.”

“I’m sure you can explain how all of this murder and mayhem was perfectly justifiable,” Agent Crisp answered sarcastically. “But we’ll just hold you temporarily at HQ until it’s all straightened out, okay, Major?”

Winter was more than a little surprised when he arrived back at the roadblock on Clark Road and found his wife waiting there for him, drinking hot coffee and joking with highway patrolmen and firefighters. Judge Fondren was also there, and his grandson Elijah in his arms. EMS personnel were examining Lucy, but her worst damage wasn’t physical.

“Hey, stranger,” Sean said as Winter climbed out of the FBI car.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asked her.

“Where else would I be?”

“I don’t know. At home?”

“Jeez, Massey.” She looked him over, set her styrene coffee cup on the hood of the highway patrol cruiser behind her, and embraced him. “You kept your word.”

“My word?”

“You didn’t get yourself shot up or beat up too badly. I’ll have to see what’s under the minstrel mask later.”

“I’m at a total loss. How did you get here?”

“Well, you know how Hank was supposed to go see Judge Fondren and deliver your message?”

“Yes.”

“Well, he wanted to. He really did, but he wasn’t up to it.”

“So you went instead.”

“Got it in one, mister.”

Winter felt anger rising in him. “Sean, didn’t it occur to you that I called Hank because going to Fondren might be dangerous? It was quite possible that he was being watched over by some nasty people. Hank has experience, and nobody looking at a man on crutches would think he was a messenger.”

“And I don’t? Get real, Massey. As it turned out, the judge was being watched, but by Agent Crisp, Alexa’s partner. He had a dozen armed men along with him. I’m sure you met him. He explained to me that Alexa wasn’t trying to hurt you. It still doesn’t begin to excuse her. She could have gotten you killed.”

“I’m not real happy about it myself,” Winter said truthfully.

A large helicopter appeared from the north and circled until a highway patrolman popped a flare in a hollow space between the highway patrol cruisers, fire trucks, and EMS ambulances clustered on the shoulders of Clark Road. The copter touched down thirty yards from where Winter was standing, then cut back its power, leaving its blades turning.

Alexa and Kelly Crisp were supervising the loading of their prisoners into a long van staffed by members of the U.S. Marshals Service. Winter didn’t know the four deputy marshals, so they probably weren’t from the region.

FBI agents and highway patrolmen were going in to secure the store and the Smoot warehouse crime scenes. Evidence technicians would process them over the coming hours.

Ed and Edna Utz were going to be taken to Charlotte, where they would be guests of the federal government at the Westin Hotel until their store had been put right and the techs released it.

While Winter and Sean were talking, Judge Fondren, Lucy, and Elijah were escorted to the waiting helicopter. The judge turned and strode over to Winter and Sean. “Mr. Massey,” he said, shaking his hand. “I wanted to thank you for saving Lucy and Elijah. I hope you will allow us to show our gratitude properly at a later date.”

“I’ve been amply rewarded, sir.”

“Well, at least I hope you and your lovely wife will join us for dinner sometime so Lucy can thank you properly. At the moment, my daughter is unable to adequately convey her feelings on the matter. You should know that you and Alexa have saved my life along with theirs. I don’t think I could have faced life without them. And from what I am told, I wouldn’t have lived out the day if I’d set Colonel Bryce free.” He smiled and winked at Sean. Then he turned, trotted to the helicopter, and climbed in.

Alexa stood with Winter and Sean as the chopper built rotor speed. Lucy’s face appeared in a window. As they watched, she held her son up. Taking his little hand in hers, she waved at the trio.

“You are going to explain all of this to me, right?” Winter asked Alexa.

“Sure,” she replied. “We’ve got a lot of report writing to do. Debriefing. Official explaining to construct.”

“Can it wait until tomorrow? I’m too tuckered to talk.”

Winter looked at his wife, who was now leaning against the cruiser with her coffee cup back in her hand.

“You going to be all right?” Winter asked Alexa. He was referring to the fact that Alexa had arrested her own sister.

She knew what he was talking about. “My heart’s been broken before.”

He smiled at her, put his hand under her chin, and kissed her forehead.

“Massey, I put you in harm’s way without telling you the truth. I had to do it the way I did it, to save the Dockerys. You were the only person who could do it. Antonia and the others had to believe I was on their side.”

“I forgive you.”

“I don’t,” Sean said, still fuming. “It’s a miracle you didn’t get him killed. I thought you cared about him.”

“Sean, I wouldn’t forgive me either.”

“Why was everybody working so hard to put my husband in front of a bullet?”

“Sean,” Winter said. “It worked out.” He turned back to Alexa. “But you could have trusted me with the truth, Lex.”

“I knew the more the odds were against you, the more likely you were to succeed.”

Sean didn’t smile.

“We’ll talk tomorrow,” Winter said, yawning.

He embraced Alexa. When he turned back to Sean, he noticed that she responded to Alexa’s good-bye with an almost imperceptible nod.

“You ready to go home?” he asked his wife.

Sean nodded.

“You shouldn’t be mad at Alexa,” Winter told her, smiling.

“What makes you think I’m mad?”

On Monday morning at eight A.M. sharp, Ross Laughlin, who had arrived an hour earlier on his law firm’s jet after spending two days in Miami with a senator to build an alibi, took a seat at the defense table in a federal courtroom. He opened his briefcase to retrieve his crocodile notebook and his shiny amber pen, and pulled the shirt cuffs out so his cuff links were visible. He was going to look his best when he appeared before the mob of press gathered on the courthouse steps expecting to announce Colonel Hunter Bryce’s conviction.

The U.S. marshals escorted a stern-faced Colonel Hunter Bryce to the table and removed his handcuffs. Before he sat down, the colonel straightened his tie and tugged at the hem of his blazer. Laughlin had to admit that he wished his own suits fit him like Bryce’s fit their owner, but you can’t buy a body like that.

In a low voice Bryce asked, “How does everything look?”

Ross opened his notebook, and on the first sheet he had printed, Free at last, free at last.

“How long will it take to do the paperwork?” Bryce asked.

“An hour, if you get someone from the clerk’s office who’s literate. The press will be going apeshit. You’ll have to avoid making any statements.”