William Bernhardt - Death Row

Stay tuned, she muttered under her breath. Same Bat-time, same Bat-channel.

After what seemed like an eternity, she reached the front of the line. Thank heaven. Moral dilemmas could wait. Right now she needed carbos.

“I’d like an extra-large-” She froze in midsentence. Was that what it looked like?

“Pardon me, ma’am,” said the well-groomed man in his early thirties. “Is something wrong?”

“What is that… thing?” Baxter said, forcing her lips to move. She pointed.

“This lapel pin?”

“Yes, that. What is it?”

And then he told her.

And then she knew .

Ben leaned across his desk, hanging on every word Peter Rothko said.

“So I was at this convention in Kansas City,” he explained. “Networking with some of the other fast-food dudes. Carl Breyer. Harlan Woods. And somehow we got to talking about flavorists. Someone asked what was happening down at Prairie Dog. I told them I thought Conrad Reynolds was running the show, but that Chris Hubbard was doing all the work.” He paused. “And that’s when Harlan’s face went white.”

“He knew Hubbard?”

“He knew all about Hubbard. And what he knew wasn’t good.”

Ben felt his heart beating away in his chest. Could this be the break they’d been waiting for? That they needed so desperately? “Like what?”

“Like for starters, Chris Hubbard isn’t his real name. He changed it. Correction: he had to change it. After he was arrested. For-get this-indecent exposure.”

“You’re joking. That kid chemist?”

“I’m as serious as an IRS audit, Ben. Apparently this guy whipped it out and showed it to a nine-year-old girl one day in her front yard. Where he had no business being.”

“Was he convicted?”

“Harlan wasn’t sure about that. He thought Hubbard-or whatever his name really is-might’ve copped some sort of plea. But the publicity was so huge he had to move and do the name change.”

“How did your friend know this?”

“Apparently Hubbard applied for a job with him, so Harlan had him checked out. Harlan believes in very extensive employee checks. We’re talking real Ross Perot-type stuff. A little over-the-top, if you ask me. But I guess it paid off in this case.”

“Incredible.” Ben reached for the phone. “I’ve got to get this to my friend at police headquarters. If you’re right-” Ben looked up. “You may have saved the life of an innocent man.”

“I hope so.” Rothko ran a hand through his burnt-orange hair. “By the way, Ben-you play racquetball?”

“Not well.”

“Perfect! Let’s play a few rounds sometime.”

Ben smiled, his right hand already punching Mike’s number. “Deal.”

Gabriel Aravena obsessively checked the clock on the wall of the convenience store. Stupid, he told himself. That will not make the time pass more quickly. Just the opposite, it seemed. But he couldn’t help himself. He was so scared. So worried about what he might become. If he didn’t get out in time.

April should be back by now. Just as he was not trusted with the proceeds, so he was not trusted to deliver the paychecks. It had never mattered much to him-until now. The seconds seemed to tick away like hours as he desperately waited for her return.

What was taking so long, anyway? Didn’t she know how important this was? Didn’t she know the danger he was in? Of course-she didn’t. She couldn’t. Only he knew. He… and the other.

He felt damp-on his chest, under his arms. It was showing, too. He saw the woman staring at his shirt as he counted out her change. No matter. He was used to being stared at. Better to be thought a freak for sweating than because you were turning into a woman.

“The eagle has screamed!”

Aravena whirled around. It was April! Waving an oh-so-welcome slip of paper in her hands.

“Payday has arrived, Gabriel. Time to go out and par-tay!”

As he gazed at her, he felt so much affection he almost reached out and embraced her. Why not? He was quitting this job anyway. It was hard to believe that only a few days ago he had been fantasizing about hurting her. Sexually. But he had still been on the Depo back then, or just off it. Ironic, wasn’t it? The drug that was supposed to cure him in fact did anything but. It may have suppressed his physical ability to have sex, but it didn’t suppress his imagination. It inflamed it. When his body couldn’t find release one way, it looked for another…

“Thank you, April. It is much appreciated.”

“Don’t thank me, Gabe. I’m just the messenger.”

“Still-thank you. For everything.”

Her brows knitted. “Excuse me?”

“You have always been most kind to me. And I have appreciated it. I always will.”

She gave him a strange look. “What’s this all about, anyway? Why are you getting all mushy on me?”

Fool! he cursed at himself. You should have kept your mouth shut. “It’s just-I thought-you never know. When will we see each other next?”

“That would be… tomorrow at nine for the morning shift. Wouldn’t it?”

He did not answer.

“Gabe, you’re not planning to quit on me, are you? Not just when you finally made manager.”

“No, no. Of course not. I just…” He tilted his head slightly. “One never knows.”

She jabbed him in the side. “Don’t go weird on me, Gabe. I like you just the way you are.”

As she walked to the back to sign for a milk shipment, it occurred to Aravena that that was quite possibly the kindest thing anyone had ever said to him.

It was five o’clock, quitting time, and Gabriel had the check in his hand. He removed his name tag and headed toward his car. He still had not chosen a destination. But no matter. There were many possibilities, and in his position, one was much the same as another. He was actually looking forward to the drive more than the arrival-being out on the open road, feeling the wind whistling around him, knowing he was on his own and no one and nothing could ever possibly-

“Hello, Gabriel.”

His jaw dropped. The check fluttered to the ground. “You.”

“Good to see you, too, Gabe. Could we talk?”

“Stay away from me,” Aravena said, backing away. “I want nothing to do with you.”

“I’m sorry. But that’s not an option. I need you.”

“I do not want to be a monster!”

“Ah, but it’s too late for that, isn’t it, Gabe?” The sun was setting, and a shadow clouded Aravena’s face. “You already are.”

Hayley Bennett was tearing her office apart, ripping through the files with such speed that a mess was guaranteed. And someone would have to clean up this mess, she told herself. But that did not stop her. She had to know.

She’d been going through the files for a long time, too long, but at last, she found the one she wanted. An old file, but one she still kept, one she likely always would. She pored through it, throwing the pages onto the floor as she finished scanning them.

It took her less than a minute to find what she sought.

How could she have been so stupid? She tossed the file down, disgusted with herself. It had been right in front of her all along, but she had been too stupid to see it. All that time she was talking to the lawyer, anytime in the past seven years, if she had just realized-

But she hadn’t. There was nothing she could do about that now. She could make a difference in the future, however. Could and would.

She grabbed the receiver on her desk phone. She would call Kincaid back, then call the police. One way or the other, she would make it right.

“Hello,” said the voice on the other end of the line. “Kincaid & McCall.”

“This is Dr. Hayley Bennett. I need to talk to Ben Kincaid.”