Inmate 1577

71

Vail, Burden, and Dixon ran to the edge and peered over. Walton MacNally lay atop his son, blood pooling on the concrete of the recreation yard.

Burden swung away and started dialing his phone. Carondolet ran off, back toward the cellhouse.

And Vail stood there, numb. No thoughts, other than perhaps sadness.

A hand on her shoulder. Roxxann.

“You okay?”

Vail slowly turned to her. “I-I need to sit.” She helped Vail to a seat on the cold surface of the rooftop. “I had a flashback. My ex-husband. And my son. The arguments I had with Deacon over Jonathan-” She stopped and turned away. “The choices I’ve made in my life, Roxx. They haven’t always been good ones. For Jonathan.”

“Come on, Karen. I know you. I know you’ve been a good mother.”

Vail faced Dixon. “Have I? My son was in a goddamn coma and where was I? I was out trying to catch a killer. Does a good mother do that?”

“I’m sure you didn’t want other women getting killed. You did what you thought would save the most lives at the time. You made a tremendous personal sacrifice. That’s what makes you such a good cop.”

“But does it make me a bad mother? I made a sacrifice all right. But it wasn’t the right choice.”

Burden cleared his throat and knelt down in front of them. “Excuse me, ladies. But we just caught us a prolific killer. I think this moment calls for congratulations, no?”

Dixon got up, then extended a hand and pulled her friend to her feet.

Vail sighed deeply and wiped her eyes. “You’re right. Congratulations, Burden. You did an awesome job. You’re a hell of a cop, one who I’d go through a door with any day.”

Burden looked at Dixon. “Is she-is she being sarcastic?”

“No,” Dixon said, studying Vail’s face. “I think she meant it.”

Vail turned and walked away, away from the fallen bodies of Walton MacNally and Clay Allman. And as she did, she pulled out her phone to call Jonathan.

VAIL HAD HAD ENOUGH OF the confining cabins of helicopters. She wanted to feel the wind blowing in her face, through her hair. She needed something to reinvigorate her.

Dixon, Burden, and Vail boarded the Coast Guard cutter as it prepared to push off from the dock.

Burden leaned both forearms on the railing. “I feel like I should’ve joined them over the side. You know how many meals I’ve shared with Allman the past twenty years? The poker games, the nights in countless bars. The Giants games.” He kicked the wall of the boat. “He was right. I was totally fucking clueless. What kind of a cop am I?”

Vail moved closer to Burden, up against his forearm. “You couldn’t have known. You realize how many people have been fooled over the years by intelligent psychopaths? The list is long, and contains a lot of prominent names. You’re looking at one of ’em.”

Burden sighed long and hard, then hung his head.

Vail turned and looked at the Alcatraz cellhouse, the wind full in her face, the chill going down to her bones. But it didn’t help. The numbness ran too deep. She needed Robby. She wanted to talk with him, to bare her thoughts, fears, and…guilt.

She needed to hug her son.

A few moments later, she stood up straight and looked out at the cellhouse as the cutter eased past it. “What is it about this place?”

Dixon followed her gaze to the top of the island. “What do you mean?”

“It’s a legend, mythical almost. It housed the worst of the worst. Yet, I can’t help but think that the criminals we turn out nowadays are more violent, malevolent, evil. And we don’t know how to deal with them. Do we execute them? Lock ’em up? We can’t release them, but sometimes…we do. And a lot of them kill again. Because that’s the way they’re wired. Others don’t know how to survive in society and fall back on what they know how to do. What they find comforting.”

Burden watched as the boat jolted a bit, and then with a roar of the engines, its speed increased. “It’s always been that way, for as long as cops, and laws, existed. For as long as humans have existed.”

The bellow of a fog horn blared in the distance. Vail closed her eyes and took a deep breath of cold, salty sea air. “I guess all we can do is keep on keeping on. They break the law, we track ’em down and throw ’em behind bars.”

Dixon combed windblown blond hair from her face. “I have to think we’ll find a better way. Someday.”

They were silent as the place known as Devil’s Island retreated behind them. Whether or not “a better way” would be found remained to be seen. The evil Vail had personally fought for so many years gave her substantial doubt as to whether they’d ever find an effective means of dealing with society’s incorrigibles.

For the rest of her career, Alcatraz, and places like it, would likely remain the de facto standard. And for now, she was okay with that. Because at least behind bars, on rocks in the middle of oceans, or behind electrified fences and razor wire, the offenders could prey only on themselves. And the way Karen Vail saw it, that was the best she could hope for.