Karin Slaughter - Skin Privilege

No, it wouldn't. Once the ingredients got too hot, the ceramic would break. The liquid would explode the second it touched the open flame, burning chemicals sticking like hot wax to everything they landed on – walls, carpets, skin. Cooking meth was so dangerous that only meth-addled junkies attempted it, and the ensuing explosions could cause massive damage not just to people but to property. Most states considered meth labs weapons of mass destruction and had asked for funding to clean them up under the Homeland Security act.

'Is that the business you were doing at the motel?' Lena asked. 'Hank saw you cooking meth?'

'I told you we were meeting with some associates,' Valentine answered, taking small cans of Coleman fuel out of the cardboard box. 'Some very important associates.'

'What associates?' she pressed. 'Mexicans? Skinheads?'

Valentine stopped unloading the box, annoyed. 'You wanna know the story? You wanna know what happened?'

Now that she had the answer within her grasp, Lena wasn't sure whether or not she wanted to hear it.

Valentine started to turn back around, but she stopped him. 'Yes. I want to know what happened.'

He leaned against the counter, propping his gun hand up at the elbow. 'Hank tried to go around me, hook up with some boys at the state.'

'The GBI?' she asked. Why had Hank gone to the GBI instead of asking Lena for help? He hadn't wanted to get her involved, of course. He'd tried all his life to keep Lena out of the thick of things, just as she'd worked steadily to keep herself right in the middle.

Valentine said, 'Fortunately, he went to somebody who was a friend of ours – somebody ready to move up north and take a long vacation.' He smiled at the simplicity. 'It wasn't too hard getting Hank hooked again. You know meth's only got a twenty-two percent recovery rate? And most of them never stop wanting it. Mind over matter, I guess. Clint had a couple conversations with him, shot him up a few times. Pretty soon he was paying for it.'

'Did you know that I was a cop?' Lena asked. 'Did you know that I would come looking for Hank?'

'Of course we knew about you,' he told her. 'How do you think we controlled him in the beginning? He was terrified you'd come down and get hurt. Honestly' – he shrugged – 'I can't believe the dumb coot's still alive. The shit Clint was feeding him was pure enough to kill a horse – grade A Ya Ba. He should've been dead weeks ago. We figured by the time you made it down here, it'd be for his funeral.'

'How can you-' Sara began, but the back door opened. Fred Bart looked just as surprised to see Sara and Lena as they were to see him. It had taken a while, but Lena had finally placed who Charlotte 's killer was. Bart had been practicing in Reece since Lena was a kid. It was hard to forget a dentist who had freakishly small teeth.

'No way,' Bart said, backing up. 'I didn't sign up for this.'

'Get your ass in here,' Valentine ordered, using the gun to wave him in.

Bart said, 'I only brought enough for one. Clint didn't say-'

Clint swung around aggressively. 'What did I say, you stupid cocksucker?'

Valentine ignored them, asking Lena, 'You got any more questions?'

She opened her mouth to answer and he slammed his gun into the side of her head. Lena saw stars as she fell. The only thing that kept her from hitting the floor was the fact that she was handcuffed to Sara.

' Lena!' Sara struggled to pull her back into the chair.

Lena 's ears were ringing. She heard Valentine say, 'Do the doc. I owe it to her husband.'

'No!' Sara screamed, rearing back, taking Lena with her. Clint stepped in, bear-hugging Sara from behind. Lena was dragged across the floor as Sara struggled against the man, fighting for her life. Valentine's hand clamped down on Sara's handcuffed right wrist and Lena saw Fred Bart jam a needle into her arm.

Two or three seconds later, Sara stopped struggling. She crumpled to the floor beside Lena, her eyes glassy. Lena put her fingers to Sara's neck, tried to feel for a pulse.

Bart said, 'It's just a mild sedative, darlin' -something to take the edge off. She'll be fine.'

Valentine fished the keys to the handcuffs out of his pocket. 'Yeah, she'll be fine until she dies.' He gave Bart the gun, saying, 'Shoot her in the head if she moves.'

Bart took the weapon, showing the same easy familiarity as that night he'd sat by Charlotte in the back of the Escalade. 'What are you going to do, Jake? I didn't sign on for any of this. I don't hurt innocent people.'

'You do if you have to.' Valentine twisted the key in Sara's cuff and her hand fell to the ground. He told Clint, 'Take her into the hall so I don't have to look at her anymore.'

Clint's lips twisted up in a smile.

'Get right back in here,' Valentine ordered. 'Don't fiddle with her or I'll cut your goddamn cock off.'

Bart had taken his eyes off Lena. She edged toward the door and he snapped the gun at her head. 'Don't try it, sugar. We both know what I am capable of.'

Lena sat back in the chair. The cuff was still dangling from her hand and she worked her fingers along the chain, thinking she could use it as some kind of weapon. She grabbed the cold, curved metal in her hand, fashioning it into brass knuckles. If Bart or Valentine got close enough, she would hit them as hard as she could no matter who had a gun pointed at her face. Better to die from a bullet than burn to death like Charlotte.

Clint came back, the door swinging behind him. Lena caught a glimpse of Sara lying in the hallway before the door swung closed.

Bart asked, 'Jake, what are we doing here?'

Valentine reached into the cardboard box and threw out a handful of empty blister packs from a box of cold medicine. 'We're making meth.' He tossed more of the empty packets onto the counter, scattered some matchbooks on the kitchen table. The box had everything he needed: medical tubing, beakers, filters. He dumped the box on the table, too.

Bart asked, 'Why are these girls here, Jake? I told you after Charlotte that I was finished with this kind of shit.'

'You're not finished with anything until I say you are.'

Bart kept the gun on Lena, but he said, 'I don't want to be a part of this.'

Valentine chuckled as he opened the cabinet under the sink. Years of cleaning products were stuck to the bottom but he swept them aside with his hand, saying, 'Shit we could've just used this.'

Bart said, 'This is wrong, Jake. This is just wrong. Al never did things like this. Innocent people never got hurt.'

'Al was bringing in pocket change. We got us a real organization here, Fred. We can't let our people down.' Valentine reached under the sink and grabbed the drainpipe, putting his weight into his heels as he pulled on it. 'That ain't moving.'

Clint was just standing there. 'What do you want me to do now?'

Valentine indicated the cans of solvents on the counter. 'Mix ' em up. Get everything ready.'

Clint started opening bottles and pouring them into Hank's ceramic mugs.

Bart tried again, 'Jake-'

'Shut up your whining, Fred.' Valentine groaned as he stood up, cursing, 'Motherfucker, that hurts,' as he held his hand to his side. 'You're not even worried about me, Fred.' Valentine gripped the counter, his hand leaving a bloody print. 'Lookit my damn side. I ripped it open on that stupid door.'

Bart glanced at the bloody bandage. 'You'll live.'

'Thanks for your concern.' Valentine wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He was sweating. He picked up the jug of bleach that had been under the counter and set it on the kitchen table with a thump.

Bart said, 'This is crazy, man. What are you going to do?'

'What we're gonna do is handcuff her to the sink, then blow this place to hell.'

Bart shook his head. 'They'll find the cuffs in the-'