The truth of the matter

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Don’t Ever Be Afraid

Detective Rose stepped into the house-and now law enforcement officers came pouring in behind him. It seemed there was a whole army of them: state troopers in khaki, local cops in blue, detectives in jackets and ties. They filled the living room. Some of them grabbed hold of the fat guard. They threw his large body against the wall roughly. They wrestled his hands behind his back and snapped handcuffs on him. Others grabbed hold of the guard lying on the floor. He was starting to moan and shift around there. His eyes fluttered open and he let out a groan. By then a pair of troopers had him under the arms and were hauling him to his feet. They put his hands behind his back and handcuffed him too.

“This one’s dead,” said another trooper, kneeling over Waylon.

Rose nodded, holstering his gun. “We’re all gonna miss him,” he said drily. “He brought the world so much joy.”

“Detective,” said Margaret. The words seemed to break out of her: “My son. I sent him out to hide in the woods. He must be out there somewhere. He must be so afraid. Please find my son.”

“We’ve already got him,” said Rose.

“I’m here! I’m here, Mommy!”

A patrolman in a blue uniform came to the door holding Larry by the hand. The child broke away from him and ran into the room. He ran to Margaret and threw his arms around her.

Margaret hugged him, closing her eyes, tears pouring down her cheeks. It was a long hug, but finally, Margaret kneeled down so that she was at eye level with her son. She held him by the shoulders.

“Are you all right?” she said, crying. “Are you hurt? Where were you?”

“I didn’t go into the woods, Mommy,” Larry said in his piping voice. “I know you said to, but I didn’t want to leave you alone. I ran down the street to Mrs. Carter’s house. I used her phone and called the number.”

Margaret shook her head, confused. “What number?”

“The number you kept saying. The one on the card. You and Charlie were trying to call it, but the phone was broken. You kept saying the number, so I remembered it and I called it and told Detective Rose we were in trouble and he came.”

“We had a search headquarters set up just down the road,” said Rose. “We were less than two minutes away.”

Margaret wrapped her arms around Larry and started to sob helplessly.

“Second floor’s clear,” said a cop on the stairs-and as he spoke, Sport, released from wherever he’d been locked up, came bounding down to us. He joined Larry and Margaret and danced around them, panting happily.

“What about this one?” said a trooper. He was standing next to me. He put his hand on my arm.

Rose looked at me. His flat face was expressionless. His sharp eyes were distant and cold.

“Cuff him,” he said. “He’s a fugitive wanted for murder. I’m here to take him back to prison.”

The trooper grabbed me by the arm and the shoulder. “Hands behind your back,” he ordered.

I put my hands behind my back. I kept looking at Rose. Rose kept looking at me, his eyes cold. But still, somehow, I thought I saw something in them. Some recognition. Some message of encouragement. I hoped I saw that anyway. I hoped I was right about him and that he really was my ally.

The trooper put handcuffs on my wrists.

Sport barked a protest at them.

“Why are they arresting Charlie?” Larry cried out in distress.

I smiled down at him. “It’s all right, Larry,” I said. “It’s going to be all right.”

“But they’re arresting him, Mommy! Why are they arresting him?”

“Ssh,” she said.

“Don’t worry, Larry,” I told him, trying to smile. “Don’t be afraid. It’s going to be all right, you hear me? Don’t ever be afraid.”

The trooper grabbed me by the shoulder again. He started pressing me toward the door.

I held back. I turned to Margaret. “Thank you,” I said. “God bless you.”

She shook her head. “God bless you,” she said. “Don’t you be afraid either.”

“I’m not afraid,” I told her. “I’m not afraid.”

The trooper turned to Rose. Rose kept looking at me.

“Charlie West,” Rose said, “you’re under arrest for murder and escape.” Then he added to the trooper, “Take him in.”

The trooper marched me out the door and into the darkness.