Greg Iles - The Devils Punchbowl

The foyer falls silent, and Walt Garrity speaks with quiet conviction.

“‘No man in the wrong can stand up against a fellow that’s in the right and keeps on a’comin’.’ Cap’n Bill McDonald said that. Don’t you boys forget it, either, just ’cause things look black.” The old Ranger nods once for emphasis. “I'’ll catch you on the turnaround.”

Kelly opens the door, checks the street, then leads Walt out to his Roadtrek. Dad and I follow, my hand on the pistol in my pocket. As Walt reaches his door, I hear the whine of a small engine being driven hard, then headlights flash over us. A Volkswagen runs the stop sign at Union Street, races up to where we stand, and skids to a stop.

Kelly has his pistol out a full second before I do, the weapon light mounted beneath its barrel illuminating the face of Kim Hunter, the reporter for the

Examiner.

The guy holds up both hands and shouts, “Penn, it’s me! Kim!”

“He’s okay!” I tell Kelly. “What are you doing here?”

“Are we safe out here?”

“Safe as anywhere.”

“I'm getting out.” Hunter climbs out of the Volkswagen, then walks to the rear of the vehicle and pops open his trunk. “Come here.” He bends out of our sight. “Hurry.”

Kelly lifts his gun again, but as we get to the back of the car, I'm stunned to find Caitlin staring up out of the small trunk. Her face is gaunt and her feet are a bloody mess, but her eyes are filled with tears of relief.

“She wouldn'’t let me call the police,” Hunter says. “Or take her to the hospital. I’'ve been driving around the block trying to see if it was safe to stop. When I saw you come out, I decided to go for it. She’s scared to death, and she can barely walk. What the hell’s going on?”

“We’'ve got her,” I say, lifting Caitlin bodily from the trunk and holding her shivering body. “Thanks, Kim. Go home, before somebody sees you. Don’t talk about this to anybody, and don'’t let anybody at the paper print one word.”

“Okay. Are you sure she’s going to be all right?”

“We’'ve got her,” Kelly says. “We owe you, buddy.”

“No, you don'’t. I love that lady, man.”

Kelly grins and pushes Hunter toward the open driver’s door. “Get going.”

As the Volkswagen pulls away, Kelly ushers Caitlin and me back toward my porch, his back to us as he turns left and right, covering the street behind us with his pistol. As we move through the door, I see Dad wave at Walt in the driver’s seat of the Roadtrek. Then the long, silver RV rolls up the street after the Volkswagen.

“Linda Church is dead,” Caitlin says, her bruised hands wrapped around a mug of coffee. “She hanged herself. I saw it. I mean, I found her right afterward. She was being held next to me. In a dog kennel.”

Caitlin’s sitting on my knee at the kitchen table, her bandaged feet resting on a pillow, my arms wrapped around the blanket my father put over her shoulders.

“How did you get away?”

She shakes her head as if there’s too much to explain.

“Do you know where the kennel was? We flew the river for hours looking for you.”

“I don'’t. I walked so far, and everything looked the same. They took my cell phone, and I knew I couldn'’t call you even if I had it, because they might hear. I saw a few cars, but I didn't dare risk flagging anyone down. I kept thinking about that story your father told us, about the girl who got away from the brothel. I was afraid to talk to anyone.”

“How did you find Kim?”

“I finally came to a building in the middle of nowhere. A farm equipment place. I broke in and used their telephone. I figured Kim was my safest bet. But I was afraid to wait there for him. I thought the police might come.”

I lay my cheek against her back and hold her tight. “It’s going to be all right. You’re home now.”

“You don'’t have any idea where Linda’s body might be?” Kelly asks, ever practical.

Caitlin closes her eyes and shakes her head. “I don'’t…the dogs—”

“I'm going to put her in bed,” I say, seeing that she’s about to break down. “Dad, I want you to call every cop you ever treated and put a ring of steel around this house. I'’ll talk to Logan in a few minutes. Kelly—”

“I'm there, bro. Going to the mattresses. About fucking time.”

Dad’s already picking up the phone.

To my surprise, Caitlin allows me to carry her to the ground-floor guest room. When I pull back the covers, she raises her arms for me to remove her sweat-soaked top, then pulls her pants off and climbs under the sheet.

“Did they hurt you?” I ask, surprised by how afraid I am to hear the answer.

She lies on her side, staring blankly toward my hip. “Not really. But the things I saw…what they did to Linda. I wish I’d let Kelly kill them. Quinn…” Caitlin lifts a shaking hand to her eyes, as though to hide them from some awful sight. “He made me watch him rape Linda, and she was

sick.

I don'’t understand it.”

Almost afraid to touch her, I stroke her hair gently. “Beyond a certain point, there isn’t any understanding it. Sometimes the only way to deal with people like that is on their own terms.”

She lets her hand fall and blinks back tears, as though still wit

nessing some immutable horror. “I never really understood that. I'’ll

never

be the person I was before. I'’ll never talk to another victim of a crime the same way again.”

“Don’t think about it now. Just try to rest.”

She closes her eyes, then opens them again.

“What about what Kelly asked?” I say. “You don'’t have any idea where Linda might be?”

“I'm sorry, I don'’t. Kim can probably tell you more than I can.”

“But you’re positive she’s dead?”

Caitlin blinks twice, then her chin begins to quiver, and tears stream down across her nose. “Penn…I had to use her body to get away.”

I don'’t quite understand this statement, but something tells me not to ask for details.

“To distract the dogs,” she whispers. “I don'’t…I don'’t think there’ll be anything left to find.”

I lay my hand on her forehead and say, “Shhh,” just the way I do with Annie.

Caitlin wipes her nose and looks up at me, her eyes pleading for absolution. “I tried to get her to go with me. I tried so hard. But they’d broken her. You understand? She was alive, but there was nothing really left of her.”

“I'm sorry. Whatever you did, I'm sure it was the right thing.”

She squeezes her eyes tight, then nods once. “She couldn'’t have made it. She knew that. She was so brave…. I see now. She gave her life for me.”

“I want you to stop thinking about it, if you can. You’re never going to forget what happened, but right now you need to let it go, just for a while. You’re alive, and you deserve to be. Sometimes survivors don'’t get that. I'm going to go out there and make some decisions. But I want you to call me if you can’t sleep.”

She tries to smile but fails. “I will.”

I stand slowly, shattered by the sight of this woman I know to be so strong reduced to near helplessness.

“Will you do me one favor?” she asks softly.

“Anything.”

“I want Seamus Quinn dead.” Caitlin locks her fingers around my wrist and squeezes until her arm shakes. “Not just dead. I want him to

suffer.

”

I nod but don'’t reply.

“Will you promise?” she asks, her eyes bright in the shadows.

“Let’s see how you feel after some sleep. We can talk about it then.”

Her eyes hold mine for several seconds, then she releases my wrist and turns over. “Nothing’s going to change my mind,” she says quietly.

“I'’ll see you when you wake up.”

“Nothing.”

CHAPTER

63