Michael Koryta - The Prophet

“I’m not rolling on anyone.”

“Rodney?” Adam held his eyes for a long beat. “Better be damn certain of that choice. Because sometimes, even the people we trust let us down. Even the people we love. So I’d have some long conversations if I were you, and I would try to see who might be bullshitting you. Otherwise, brother, you’re looking at a long stretch. I know your judge. She’s not forgiving with weapons charges. Not a bit.”

Bova looked sick. Adam grabbed his arm. “Listen,” he said, “you do what you want on your defense. Got nothing to do with me. But you miss that court date, and I’m coming for you.”

“I won’t miss it.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Adam said. “Good luck, brother.”

He turned and left.

The tracking device had logged four locations for Bova’s movements during the weekend, and Adam visited them all after he left Bova’s house. A Home Depot, a grocery store, a Walmart, and a Wendy’s. Bova had spent the day running errands, nothing more.

Unless, of course, his Mansfield Correctional friend was at one of those places. Maybe they’d met in a parking lot. Maybe the unknown friend from Mansfield worked at the Wendy’s. That would be easy enough to determine, if Adam had the name. All he needed was the name. And his brother had it and would not share it.

Adam sat in his Jeep after the addresses had been exhausted and thought of Kent’s refusal and felt the fury building again and tried to will it aside. There were other ways to learn the man’s identity. He had to pretend Kent wasn’t even an option. Pretend he had no brother at all.

Being alone was not the same as being helpless.

He drove to Mansfield to get the answers he needed.

Adam had been to the prison before, but he didn’t know any of the corrections officers there. Nobody said a word to him about his recent media appearances as they checked his ID and listened to his explanation that he was working for the family. He felt something strange in that silence, thought they should have shown more interest. He was hopeful for Jason Bond’s cooperation but not guaranteed of it. If the man called off the interview, there was nothing Adam could do. Bond had agreed to see him, though, and that was something.

They were left alone in a visitation room, glass between them, and Bond looked a great deal different from the photographs Adam had seen. His hair was short and gray now, he was clean shaven, and he weighed a good forty pounds less than he had at the time of his booking. He took his seat, studied Adam through the glass, and said, “Penny hired you?”

“That’s right.”

“She don’t have money to waste, would be my guess.”

“She’s not spending any.”

“Yeah? Who pays you then?”

“Nobody.”

Jason Bond thought that over and nodded. “I’m glad to hear it,” he said. “Because you can’t be very good. I’ve already said all I can say. Got nothing new for you.”

“It’s all new for me, Jason. There’s a difference between police and a PI. What you’ve told them, they don’t necessarily tell me.”

“What I’ve told them, I won’t necessarily tell you.”

Adam nodded, then leaned forward. “She came to me,” he said. “With your letters. The real ones, and then the fakes. She wanted an address, wanted to be able to keep contact up with you. I found it.”

Bond didn’t say anything.

“She went to the place I told her to go,” Adam said, holding the man’s stare. “Do you understand that? I cannot let that go unsettled.”

“Should have stayed the hell out of it. You and your brother both.”

“I’ve got nothing to do with my brother.”

“No? He was the one who told her to write. You were the one who helped her keep it up. That’s a coincidence?”

“It actually is,” Adam said. “Small town, Jason. Small town.”

“Your brother’s been here.”

“You meet him?”

“Nah. Came in to preach, basically. Had the Bible and all. Wasn’t really for me.”

Adam nodded. “Who do you know who did go to hear him?”

“I’m not sure.”

“You need to be. I need you to be. Think about it. Remember it.”

Bond said, “Whoever killed her, you think they knew your brother? Met him in here?”

“Yeah.”

“Why don’t you ask him, then?”

“I’m asking you.”

“Man, I do not know the answer. Like I said, I wasn’t there. He came in the summer. Reason it stood out to me then was because he’s from Chambers. The coach, you know. I follow the team, see the scores, at least. But I didn’t meet the man.”

“Does the name Rodney Bova mean something to you?”

“No.” He said it firmly. Adam was waiting for a sign of a lie, but he didn’t find one.

“You’re sure.”

“I’ve never heard the name. Yes, I’m sure.”

Adam considered, trying to think of what else he could ask, how he could ensure that this visit had not been wasted, fruitless.

“When my brother came here,” he said, “was there word about it beforehand? Some sort of opportunity to sign up? You said you chose not to go.”

“It’s optional, yeah. Like any of those groups. Outreach shit. They bring in all kinds, man. Preachers, sure. Football coaches. People who want us to grow plants, pet dogs, whatever. Everyone has an idea, right? Everyone’s got a cure. And most of us, hell, the only get-right meetings we care about are called parole board.”

“But there’s an official posting, something like that?”

“We know when they’re coming, at least.”

“The prison would have records, then. They’d know who went to what program?”

“Yeah, I’d expect so.”

Adam nodded. They would not turn the records over to him. They could be subpoenaed, though. Maybe. It would take Penny and an attorney, but maybe he could make that happen.

“Do me a favor,” Adam said. “You ask around. See who was there when my brother came. See what they remember. If anybody stands out. More importantly, you see if they remember anyone who was released this summer. Can you do that?”

“I don’t know. I’m not a big talker.”

“Someone murdered your daughter,” Adam said, “by impersonating you.”

He let that sit between them for a moment, and then he said, “Ask around, Jason.”

Jason Bond nodded. “I’ve been trying to figure it out, you know. A reason some asshole would have targeted my daughter? Would have even given a damn where I came from, what I’ve left on the other side? Nah. I can’t figure that.”

“You wish you could,” Adam said.

“Hell, yes, I wish I could.”

“You can rest easy on one part of that. Whoever did it wasn’t targeting you.”

“You say that like you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.”

Bond nodded again, and Adam could see that this disclosure mattered to him. It was a comfort of some kind. One he needed.

“All I know is, I hope when they get him, whichever one it was, they send him back here. And then he’s dead. Because, buddy? I might not have known her. But that was my daughter. That was my daughter.”

Adam said, “You won’t have the chance to kill him.”

“Yeah, I know, they’ll send him somewhere else.”

“Not what I mean. I’m not going to leave that chance on the table. For you, or anyone else.”

Jason Bond looked at him for a long time. Then he said, “I hope you’re just as nasty as you look.”

“Haven’t let anyone down yet,” Adam said. “Not on that front.”

29

IT WAS OBVIOUS FROM THE MOMENT Chelsea returned that she’d been drinking. Adam watched as she tried—with slower hands than normal—to catch the rats and feed the snakes.

“How’d it go?” he asked finally.