Karin Slaughter - Fallen

The tone of Boyd’s voice was surprisingly high for a man of his size. “You too scared to sit across from me?”

Will had never known Amanda to show fear, and now was no exception. “I don’t mean to be rude, Boyd, but you’ve got an awful smell.”

He looked down at the table. “They only let me shower once a week.”

Her voice had a teasing lilt. “Now, that’s cruel and unusual.”

Will checked the camera that was zoomed in on Boyd’s face. There was a smile playing at his lips.

Amanda’s high heels echoed in the concrete room as she walked over to the chair. The metal legs scraped across the floor. She sat down, primly crossing her legs, letting her hands rest in her lap.

Boyd let his eyes linger. “You look good, Mandy.”

“I’ve been keeping myself busy.”

“With what?”

“You’ve heard about Evelyn.”

“We don’t have TVs in here.”

She laughed. “You probably knew I was coming here before I did. This place could put CNN out of business.”

He shrugged, as if it was out of his hands. “Is Faith okay?”

“Tip-top.”

“I hear she K-fived both guys.”

A K-five indicated the center ring on a paper target, the kill shot. Amanda told him, “One was to the head.”

“Ouch.” He faked a cringe. “How’s Emma?”

“A handful. I’m sorry I don’t have a picture for you. I left my purse in the car.”

“The pedophiles would’ve stolen it anyway.”

“What an appalling lack of decorum.”

He smiled with his teeth. They were chipped and broken, the sort of souvenirs you got from fighting dirty. “I remember the day Faith got her gold shield.” He sat back in his chair, shackles dragging across the table. “Ev was beaming like a Maglite.”

“I think we all were,” Amanda admitted, and Will let it sink in that his boss knew Boyd Spivey a hell of a lot better than she’d let on in the car. “How’ve you been, Boyd? They treating you okay?”

“Okay enough.” He smiled again, then stopped himself. “Sorry about my teeth. Didn’t see any point in getting them fixed.”

“It’s no worse than the smell.”

He gave her a sheepish glance. “It’s been a long time since I’ve heard a woman’s voice.”

“I hate to say it, but that’s the nicest thing a man has said to me all year.”

He laughed. “Hard times for us both, I guess.”

Amanda let the moment stretch out for a few more seconds.

He said, “I guess we should get to the reason you’re here.”

“We can do whatever you want.” Her tone implied she could talk to him all day, but Boyd got the message.

He asked, “Who took her?”

“We think it was a group of Asians.”

His brow furrowed. Despite the orange jumper and the hellhole he called home, a piece of Boyd Spivey was still a cop. “Yellow doesn’t have traction in the city. Brown’s been grooming black to do its bidding again.”

“Brown’s involved in this, but I’m not sure how.”

He nodded, indicating he was taking all this in but didn’t know what to make of it. “Brown don’t like getting their hands dirty.”

“Shit rolls downhill.”

“Did they send a sign?” Proof of life. Amanda shook her head. “What do they want to trade her for?”

“You tell me.”

He was silent.

She said, “We both know Evelyn was clean, but could there be blowback?”

He glanced at the camera, then looked down at his hands. “I can’t see it. She was under the umbrella. No matter what happened, ain’t one man from the team wouldn’t still lay down his life for her. You don’t turn your back on family.”

Will had always thought Evelyn was protected on both sides of the law. Hearing it validated was no consolation.

Amanda told the man, “You know Chuck Finn and Demarcus Alexander are already out?”

He nodded. “Chuck stayed down South. Demarcus went out to LA where his mama’s people live.”

Amanda must have already known the answer, but she asked him, “Are they keeping their noses clean?”

“Chuck’s got a belly habit for back-to-backs.” Meaning he was shooting heroin, then smoking crack chasers. “Brother’s gonna end up back in the joint if he don’t die on the street first.”

“Has he pissed anybody off?”

“Not that I’ve heard. Chuck’s a cotton shooter, Mandy. He’d fuck his own mama for the swill in a spoon.”

“And Demarcus?”

“I guess he’s as clean as you can be with a felony rap hanging over your head.”

“I hear he’s working on getting his electrician’s license.”

“Good for him.” Boyd seemed genuinely pleased. “Have you talked to Hump and Hop?” He meant Ben Humphrey and Adam Hopkins, his fellow detectives who were currently serving time at Valdosta State Prison.

Amanda gauged her words. “Should I talk to them?”

“It’d be worth a try, but I doubt they’re still keyed in. They got four years left. Keeping their noses clean, and I don’t guess they’d be too forthcoming with you considering your hand in their current incarceration.” He shrugged. “Me, I got nothing to lose.”

“I heard you got your date.”

“September first.” The room went quiet, as if whatever air was left had been sucked out. Boyd cleared his throat. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his neck. “Gives you perspective on things.”

Amanda leaned forward. “Like what?”

“Like not seeing my kids grow up. Never having the chance to hold my grandbabies.” His throat worked again. “I loved being on the street, chasing down the bad guys. I had this dream the other night. We were in the raid van. Evelyn had that stupid song playing—you remember the one?”

“ ‘Would I Lie to You?’ ”

“Annie Lennox. Stone cold. I could still hear it playing when I woke up. Pounding in my head, even though I ain’t heard music in—what?—four years?” He shook his head sadly. “It’s like a drug, ain’t it? You bust down that door, you clear out all the trash, and then you wake up the next day and do it again.” He opened his hands as much as he could with the shackles. “They paid us for that shit? Come on. We shoulda been paying them.”

She nodded, but Will was thinking about the fact that they had managed to pay themselves in myriad other ways.

Boyd said, “I was supposed to be a good man. But, this place …” He glanced around the room. “It darkens your soul.”

“If you’d stayed clean, you’d be out by now.”

He stared blankly at the wall behind her. “They got it on tape—me going after those guys.” There was no humor in the smile that came to his lips, just darkness and loss. “I had it in my head that it went down different, but they played it at my trial. Tape don’t lie, right?”

“Right.”

He cleared his throat twice before he could speak. “There was this guy beating that guard with his fists, wrapping a towel around the brother’s neck. Eyes glowing like something out of a freak show. Screaming like a goddamn animal. It got me to thinking about my time on the streets. All those bad guys I took down, all those men I thought were monsters, and then I look at that guy on the tape, that monster taking down that guard, and I realize that it’s me.” His voice was almost a whisper. “That was me beating that man. That was me killing two guys—over what? And that’s when it hit me: I’ve turned into everything I fought against all those years.” He sniffed. There were tears in his eyes. “You become what you hate.”

“Sometimes.”

Will couldn’t tell if Boyd was feeling sorry for the men he’d killed or sorry for himself. Probably, it was a combination of both. Everyone knew they were going to die eventually, but Boyd Spivey had the actual date and time. He knew the method. He knew when he would eat his last meal, take his last crap, say his last prayer. And then they would come for him and he would have to stand up and walk on his own two feet toward the last place he would ever lay down his head.