Ted Dekker - Sanctuary

“I don’t have your one million dollars!” the man snarled.

Keith’s hand flashed out and slapped the judge’s cheek. “Wake up! Where’s the money? Why do they want you dead?”

The room fell silent. Blood edged the corner of Thompson’s mouth.

“I don’t think you understand,” the man said bitterly. “I am in no way connected to any drug money, so I have no idea why the people behind this would want me dead. Even if I agreed to give you a million dollars I couldn’t get to it until the banks opened and it would take some time. You can’t just muscle your way into a judge’s home and demand a million dollars.”

“This isn’t our plan. It’s someone else’s, and they aren’t giving us options.”

“Who?” Thompson demanded.

“You tell me.”

“I don’t know!”

“Think!” Keith snapped. “Forget the money for a minute and think about who would tell us to come to this house and put a gun to your head. You have that security system in place for a reason. Who would want you dead, for any reason?”

Thompson blinked. “I have more enemies than I can count.”

“But there has to be someone…A case that stands out. A sentence that kept you awake at night. Anything above and beyond.”

The man hesitated, then shook his head slowly. “We do our best.”

“Well tonight your best is going to get you killed.”

“And you’d spend the rest of your life in prison. As you said, I have security. It includes surveillance. Both of you are already on tape, off site. If anything happens to me, the law’s going to see that footage.”

That caught us both off guard. Keith glared at Thompson. “The law’s the least of our concerns. None of us will survive long enough.”

I lowered my arms. “Keith, can I talk to you a minute?”

He faced me, flushed with frustration, then gave a shallow nod. We stepped outside the office and around the corner. The house was still dark except for the light from the office, and more spilling down the stairs from a wall lamp.

“He’s lying,” Keith said.

“Probably, but if he’s got the money we’ll have to tear the house apart to find it or wait until the banks open tomorrow, like he said. I don’t think this has anything to do with Randell’s drug money. I don’t like it.”

“None of this makes sense.” Keith waved his gun absently. “None of it! Why would he send us here to kill a judge?”

“That doesn’t matter now.”

“He’s got us on tape.”

“We’re being played, Keith. You said it yourself, this is about Danny. A judge who has it out for Danny.”

He looked up at me. “You think this guy’s Sicko?”

I glanced at the door and kept my voice low. “No. But I mentioned Danny’s name before you came in, and he recognized it.”

“You’re sure?”

“I know a man’s face. I want to find out what he knows about Basal and Danny.”

“We’re screwed now, I hope you realize that. He’s got us on tape .”

“We’ve been screwed for a week,” I said. “Forget about the money. We have to find out what he knows about Danny.” I stared into his eyes, determined. “I don’t care what it takes.”

“We need leverage, something to hold over his head.”

“All right, we need leverage, but this is about Danny. And I want to do it my way now.”

“Fine. Your way.”

“I want to talk to him alone.”

He wasn’t expecting that. “Alone? Why?”

“Because I think I can talk to him as a woman.”

“I don’t see what—”

“Sometimes a woman can do things to a man that a man can’t. Just give me ten minutes with him. Alone. With the door closed.”

He stared at me, unsure.

I reached my hand out. “Give me the gun.”

“You can’t use the gun.”

“I need leverage. What do you think I’m going to use, my body? Give me the gun.”

“You can’t kill the man.”

“I’m not going to kill him! We have nothing to lose. Gun.”

He hesitated, then handed it over. “I don’t like this.”

“You don’t have to. Just watch the front door.”

I entered the office and closed the door behind me. Locked it. I’d made a vow to never divulge any of Danny’s crimes, which meant Keith couldn’t know what I knew about Danny’s first victim.

The judge couldn’t either. Unless he already knew.

Thompson had managed to move his chair a few inches closer to the side of the desk. I had no idea what he hoped to accomplish. His hands were taped to the chair’s rear legs. It wasn’t like he was going to reach some hidden weapon.

I yanked a tapestry off the wall and wrestled it under the front legs of his chair to keep the carpet clean. Then I grabbed a second wooden chair from its grouping around a small chess table in the corner, plopped it down in front of the judge, and sat facing him with my hands around the gun on my lap. For a few seconds I just stared at him, torn between grabbing his hair and knocking it against the desk until he told me what he knew, or taking a more crafty approach as I knew Danny would.

“Now you listen to me, judge. I’m not a violent person, you have to know that. I’m not like the murderers and rapists you send away for life. What I am is a woman. I need you to understand what that means. Do you know how it feels to be a woman?”

He looked at me with blank eyes.

“No, you don’t. Then let me help you out. Most women give birth to babies. It’s in their blood to protect those children at any cost. They can’t help it. It’s in their DNA. You can’t convince them otherwise, because it’s actually a part of themselves they’re protecting. They’ll give up their lives to save their children if they have to. Even you…If you had a son, you’d do anything to save him. Wouldn’t you?”

It took him a moment, but he finally dipped his head. Yes .

“Maybe even if that son had done something wrong,” I said, thinking about that pedophile.

The man’s eyes held steady.

“Take that impulse you feel, and double it,” I said. “I don’t have a son, but I still have that crazy-mother DNA, and I have someone as precious to me as any child. I’ll do anything to save him. If that kills me or puts me in prison for the rest of my life, so be it. Nothing’s going to stop me. Which means you have a very serious problem in front of you. You have a desperate woman who will do anything, and I mean anything , to find out what you know about the man she would give her life for.”

His breathing was even. No denials, no confessions. Not yet.

“I lived in a nice house like this once,” I said, glancing over his shoulder at the curtains. “It had very thick walls. Like yours. And at least double-pane glass. I don’t think the neighbors will hear a gunshot, do you?”

“Using a gun won’t save anyone.” His voice was firm.

“It’s not just anyone, it’s my husband,” I said. “His name is Danny Hansen. You don’t fear me because you look in my eyes and you know I’m not a killer.” I lowered my eyes to the gun and turned it over in my hands. “But there’re other things I can do with this gun.”

I stared at his knees, then at his crotch. I didn’t know if Thompson was the father of the pedophile Danny had killed, but in my mind’s eye he became that man. Danny had cut off his son’s penis because he’d abused and killed a boy after being released from prison early, thanks to some fancy footwork by his father, the judge.

My eyes lingered on his zipper, then I drew them up his chest. To his face.

“I think you know why I’m here, Mr. Thompson. I don’t expect a confession. Frankly, I don’t care what you’ve done in your past. It doesn’t matter what you did to upset whoever sent us here. I really don’t care what you do tomorrow or the day after that. But tonight…tonight you’re going to tell me what you know, do you understand?”