Perfect Justice

65.

BEN SAT BESIDE CHRISTINA, hopeless and defeated. He had failed miserably. He hadn’t saved them. All he had done was buy time, and not much time at that.

Christina’s coughing had subsided, but in its place was a deep, rasping noise. Her breathing was heavy and labored. Ben knew she was hurting.

“You did all you could,” she managed to say. “Don’t blame yourself.”

“Why would I?”

Christina tried to smile. “You always blame yourself. For everything.”

Ben turned away. He couldn’t stand to see her like this. Despite what she said, it was his fault she was here, and he damn well knew it.

He glanced down through the trapdoor. The room below was ablaze; there was nothing left but the yellow flames that destroyed everything in their path. The fire was barely inches away from the roof.

“Christina,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”

She coughed again, a harsh hacking cough. “Told you not to blame yourself,” she whispered.

“It’s not that. I’m so screwed up. I should’ve—”

“You did what you could.” Another deep, rasping breath. “You always do.”

“But it isn’t enough. You deserve better. I—” He clasped her hand. “I want you to know before it’s too late that I—”

He was interrupted by a strange sound, a noise in the background he hadn’t heard before. What was it? Some bizarre Ouachita wildlife? It seemed to be coming from the sky. A bird? No, that wasn’t it. It was more like—

Like a chopping noise.

Ben pointed toward the clouds. “It’s Portia!”

Christina strained to see. “Who?”

A bright headlight shimmered through the smoke clouds. “I mean, it’s Mike, in Portia. He got the damn thing fixed!”

The chopping and whirring noises grew louder as the helicopter came almost directly overhead.

“That’s great,” Christina said, watching the flames catch the roof. “But how do we get from here to there?”

As if in answer, the passenger-side door opened and a red rope ladder fell out the side.

“That looks pretty dodgy to me,” Christina said.

“Consider the options.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Christina, I never cared much for heights, but I’m still going up that ladder. And if I can do it, I know you can!”

“Well, maybe, but—”

“You first.”

He walked her to the ladder and placed it in her hands. She slowly stepped up the ladder, one rung at a time. When she was halfway up, Ben stepped onto the ladder. The rungs were soft and they gave much more than he would have liked. But it held him. He was off the roof.

“Get us out of here!”

The helicopter eased away from the blazing church. Ben saw two heads poking out the side of the copter. It was Sheriff Collier—and Loving. The ladder was on a winch and they were reeling it in.

When he was about halfway up, Ben heard a tremendous crash below him.

He knew he shouldn’t look down, but he couldn’t stop himself. The roof of the church had crashed down into the flames. The entire building was consumed; there was nothing left but a gigantic glowing fireball.

Just in time, Mike. Just in time.

The conflagration had taken more than just the church. As Ben could see from his aerial perch, it had spread in all directions. The familiar loblolly pines were ablaze, as well as the kennel, and the garage that once held all that incriminating evidence.

But most importantly Ben saw that the fire had spread a hundred yards to the south.

To Coi Than Tien.