Ted Dekker - Sanctuary

He wanted to say something, but his mind was awash with conflict. In the warden’s words, he was hearing his own thoughts of not so long ago. He’d never motivated others with the threat of sadistic punishment, but he’d killed them just the same.

“Just say something, for heaven’s sake. It’s not easy doing this sort of thing.”

Danny started to speak, but his voice cracked and he had to clear his throat.

“No,” he said. “It’s not easy.”

“So you approve then.”

The overwhelming emotion he’d felt only a minute earlier was gone. Now he felt mostly relief for himself and simple empathy for the warden. He did owe the man his life, because the man had spared his life, but he couldn’t find it in himself to voice support.

“You see? You still don’t get it, do you? But you will soon. I have great confidence in you, Danny. A profound respect.”

The warden let the words settle, then walked to the end of the table and began to release the leather straps that held Danny’s legs. When he spoke again, his voice had taken on the firmer, more assured tone that Danny had grown accustomed to.

“The ugly business of corrections is worthless unless we conform to what is right, my friend. All of this is lost unless you can truly expose that lingering core of depravity in your soul. Once we force it out into the light, we can go about correcting it. I hope you can appreciate that more now.” He looked up at Danny. “Your legs will ache for a few days, but you’d be surprised at how quickly the puncture wounds will heal.”

The doctor wiped the blood from his leg like a tattoo artist cleaning the skin as he worked. A transparent salve covered five tiny red pinpricks on his shin.

“I’ll give you a few hours to gather yourself before they take you back up.” He unfastened the straps on his left leg. “It’ll help if you get the blood flowing through your legs again. You’ll have some bruising on your heels, your tail bone, and the back of your head, but otherwise you’re no worse off for the wear.”

He undid the last strap and brushed his palms against each other. “Almost good as new. Bend your legs for me.”

Danny slowly turned his ankles, then drew his stiff legs up, one at a time. A dull pain throbbed in his shin, but on balance he was surprised he didn’t feel more.

“See?”

“Thank you.” The words sounded empty.

“It’s the least I can do.” Pape slipped his hand into his pocket and came around the table, staying clear of Danny’s legs. “You seem like a good man on the outside, but you’re here because you’ve broken the law. You strayed from a more righteous way. Until I am confident you can be truly rehabilitated, I can’t consider you for the privileged wing or for early release.”

“I’m not asking for either.”

“No, you’re not asking, are you? The question you should be asking is are you still a killer?”

“I didn’t kill Randell.”

“True, but that was hardly a sufficient test. And by refusing to obey you earned yourself some correction. You have to learn to follow my rules, Danny. No one else’s, only mine. Do that and perhaps you’ll win my confidence. It’s really that simple.”

“Even if it means killing.”

“If I command it, yes. Trust me.”

“I’ve taken a vow of nonviolence.”

“Sounds nice and cozy, but if I ask you to go to war, you must. Will you drop the bomb for me, Danny? There’s always a time for killing, and in my sanctuary I decide when that time is. Doesn’t God kill? As the good books say, ‘Vengeance is mine, says the Lord.’ And in here”—he spread his hands—“I am he.”

“I’m not sure you know who God is.”

“Don’t be absurd. God is God. They’re all the same.”

“All of this so that I’ll kill again.”

“No. All of this so that you never will unless I demand it. I need to lay you bare to see who you really are.” The warden lowered his arms. “I’ll leave you to consider that. Hopefully the worst is behind us.”

Pape headed for the door but turned back when he’d opened it.

“Oh, and a bit of news you might find interesting. Renee has decided to join us. She brought along a new friend.”

Danny blinked. “Renee?”

“Yes, Renee. She’s been put through the ringer and finally led here, where she can be of some use to all of us. Maybe she can fill Peter’s shoes. Maybe you’ll get a conjugal visit out of it. Remember to move your legs around. Good for the circulation.”

Danny didn’t hear the door shut. He heard nothing but the roar of blood rushing through his head. He didn’t actually see the warden leave. His vision had gone blank.

One thought alone consumed his mind. Renee was here. Renee was in Basal.

His bride was in hell.

Danny’s body began to shake.

34

JUST LIKE THAT.

Keith and I had broken into Basal and were being given a quick tour by Michael Banning, the warden’s assistant, and no one was stopping us. All was at ease.

The inmates were hanging out in small groups over card games, or wasting time alone, when we entered the common area, but we managed to attract most of their attention. I did, that is. All of the guards I’d seen were men; I was a woman. A cute blonde with teacher glasses. It made me wonder if the warden knew something in particular when he’d suggested that there were men here who’d like to get to know me better.

“The yard’s through that door,” Banning was saying, motioning across the large common area. “Think of the layout as like a compass cross and you won’t get lost. Administration behind us, that’s north; infirmary, cafeteria, recreation, et cetera, directly opposite, south; commons, the largest wing, to our right, west. And the privileged wing, east.”

“Privileged?” Keith said. He’d left his coat and his briefcase with the receptionist. Everything we needed was on me, under my loose slacks.

“Essentially an honors program for qualified members who earn certain privileges. Best accommodations in the state.”

“I see. And segregation?”

“Below the administration wing. If you need access, just let me know.”

“We will,” I said.

“Of course. You’d like to go there first?”

“Yes,” I said.

Keith glanced at me. “Give us half an hour to conduct a few interviews among the general population first.”

“Of course.”

Something was wrong, I knew it in my bones. Sicko was still out there, and we didn’t know who he was.

Danny was in here and we didn’t know where.

His name wasn’t on the roster given to us by the warden’s assistant, and in my mind that meant he must be in the hole. I had to get to Danny. I had to see him. I had to speak to him and give him the letter, but we couldn’t ask for him by name because that might raise suspicions.

We also had to get to Randell, and his name was on the register, cell 134 in the commons wing.

“Right,” I said.

Banning glanced between us, then motioned at the south wing. “Our milk stock’s behind the cafeteria. You sure you won’t need me to accompany you? It would make—”

“That’s generous of you, but it’s better for us to maintain the integrity of our inquiries,” Keith said. He lifted the stapled roster already opened to the third page and marked off a few names. “If you could please inform these inmates that we’d like to speak to them in their cells, we would appreciate it.”

He handed the clipboard to Banning, who quickly scanned the list. “Watkins, Collins, Randell. I can assure you of their full cooperation.”

“No assurances needed. Just have them report to their cells as soon as possible. We’ll take it from here.”