The Prophet

40

FOCUS HAD NOT COME EASILY all week, and Kent was struggling to attain it Thursday afternoon as he considered the use of a six-man defensive front, wondering if it might allow Chambers to put enough pressure on Rob Sonnefeld, the Saint Anthony’s quarterback, to force him into mistakes, when Stan Salter arrived.

His first thought at the sight of the cop was fear, but he hadn’t even finished the question before Salter answered it.

“Your family is fine, Coach. Nothing’s wrong.”

Fear quelled, what replaced it was a vague irritation. If nothing is wrong then leave me alone in here, I’d finally gotten away from it all, can’t you let me stay in here with the door shut?

“How can I help you, then?” Kent said.

“You probably can’t.” Salter was leaning against the doorframe. “I just wanted to let you know that Clayton Sipes will trouble you no more.”

The statement washed over Kent like a breaking fever.

“You got him?”

Salter shook his head. “We have him. We didn’t get him. Someone else beat us to that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Clayton Sipes was found shot to death by the lake this morning.”

Kent stared at him. Adam, he thought. How did he get him? How did he find him? Video of Saint Anthony’s was still running on the screen, and he clicked the projector off.

“You don’t know who killed him?”

“Not yet.”

“There were no witnesses, nobody who saw–”

“Too early to say. We’re working on all of that, obviously. We just got the positive ID back. I figured you ought to know.”

Kent opened his mouth, then closed it. Salter raised his eyebrows and said, “Yes?”

“I was about to say that I was sorry to hear it happened like that,” Kent told him. “But you know what? That’s hard for me. Right now I’m just… I’m just glad to hear he’s gone.”

“Understandable. But there are some difficulties presented because of it.”

“Such as?”

“Resolution for Penny Gootee for one,” Salter said. “I’ve got a homicide investigation to close. That doesn’t go away with Clayton Sipes.”

“Not the way you want it to, at least.”

“Not in any way,” Salter said. “That case is not closed. Now there’s another one. I need to find out who killed Sipes, too, regardless of what he was. I still need to know.”

Kent nodded.

“Your brother staying with you as some sort of protective measure?” Salter asked.

It was said casually, but Kent felt invaded. “How do you know my brother’s been staying with us?”

“You wanted us to pay extra attention to your home, Coach. I told you we would. When somebody pulls into your driveway these days, we’re running plates. That’s to help you. I thought it was what you wanted.”

“Sure,” Kent said. “I just… I hadn’t heard from you.”

“Well, we’ve been watching.”

“Great.” He didn’t know why the word sounded so hollow. “Yeah, Adam has been a sort of security blanket for us. I know you’re not a fan of his right now, but he’s more experienced with this sort of thing than I am. I just felt better having him around in case Sipes came back.”

Salter nodded. “Fair enough. Well, Sipes won’t be back.”

“I’m not going to pretend I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I’m not going to ask you to,” Salter said. “I didn’t come here with the idea that I was going to be breaking bad news to you, Coach. I know tomorrow’s a big day for you, but I hope you can make yourself available to Agent Dean.”

“Dean?”

“The FBI.”

“Yes, I remember him. Why would he need me?”

“I don’t know that he will,” Salter said. “But I wouldn’t be surprised. You’ll cooperate with him, I’m sure.”

“Of course. I don’t know what I can say that would matter at this point.”

“He may have some ideas about that,” Salter said.

“I’m here if he needs me. I’m just glad that it’s resolved.”

“There’s a lot left to resolve,” Salter said. “For me, at least. There’s a lot left.” He said it absently, then shook his head, as if to remind himself that Kent was still in the room, and swung his body away from the doorframe. “I’ve got to get back to work, Coach. You do the same. Everybody’s rooting for you. Everybody wants a win tomorrow night.”

“Yeah,” Kent said. “We’ll try to get it.”

He left the school and drove to Adam’s bail bond office. His brother was inside with Chelsea Salinas, their desks angled to face each other.

“Hey, Chelsea.”

“Hello, Kent. You doing all right?”

“Hanging in there, yeah.”

Adam was shepherding him toward the door. “I need a cigarette. Let’s talk outside.”

It felt like an obvious move to force the conversation into a private exchange, and Chelsea seemed to read it the same way but let it pass with a quizzical stare and a shrug of her lean shoulders, returning her attention to the computer. They went outside into the fall day, and true to his word, Adam shook a cigarette out and lit it.

“You’ve heard?”

“Yeah. I didn’t know if you had.”

“I work a block from the police station, Kent. I’ve heard.”

“Salter come to see you?”

Adam shook his head and said, “I’ve got a source. People always talking, you know.”

“Sure.” Kent looked at him and tried to find the words. How did you ask something like this? “Are you worried about the investigation?” he said finally.

Adam exhaled a stream of smoke and said, “What?”

“Somebody killed Sipes. They’ll be trying to determine who.”

Adam looked at him with flat eyes and said, “Yes, I’d expect so. I’m sure as hell not going to worry about it, though. What I was worried about was him.”

Twin engines of relief and guilt began to turn over within Kent, and he said, “Right, I just meant… you made a lot of threats, you know, you did a lot of talking.”

“Talk’s an empty thing,” Adam said.

“Okay. Good.”

Adam leaned forward and put his hand on Kent’s shoulder. “Relax, Franchise. The problem is gone. Don’t you get that? Your problem is gone.”

Yes, it was. Kent took a deep breath, let his lungs empty, and said, “I wish I didn’t feel so happy to know that the man is dead, but after the things he—”

“You should be damned happy,” Adam said, his voice harsh. “Anyone who knows anything about it should. That son of a bitch is gone, and we’re better off for it. Everyone. Not just you, or me, or your kids. Everyone.”

Kent nodded. “I’d like to think otherwise, but maybe you’re right. With Clayton Sipes? Yeah, you’re probably right, Adam.”

Adam put the cigarette back to his lips, looking not at Kent but up at the police station, and said, “I hope they find enough to tell Rachel’s mother that it was the right guy.”

“They’re working on it. I don’t know anything about the place where they found him. Whether he was staying there, or what the situation was. I don’t even know if Salter had any idea yet. But hopefully there’s something there. She needs the closure.”

“Yes,” Adam said. “She certainly does.”

“Listen, Adam, I want you to know how much we’ve appreciated—”

“No worries, Franchise. I don’t require a thank-you card, either. I’m just glad it’s done.”

Kent paused, unsettled by the curtness, and then said, “Okay. Just know that it was appreciated. And don’t stay away.”

“You’ll see me around. I’ll be at the game tomorrow night, for one thing. Put up a win for me, would you?”

“I’ll try.” Kent hesitated again. “Listen, I’ve got your gun in the car. Beth’s car, that is. Mine is still missing. I figure… not much need for the gun now. I appreciated having it, but now, I guess I’d rather clear it out of the house. Too easy for something to go wrong, especially with kids.”

“Sure. It was there when you needed it, and if you ever do again, say the word.”

“I hope I never do.”

“Likewise.”

They walked out to the car, and Kent opened the door, unlocked the glove compartment, and removed the Taurus Judge pistol. Passed it over to Adam carefully, still not liking the feel of the thing. It fit Adam’s hands so much better.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt your day,” he said. “I just wanted to tell you, and to thank you. Your willingness to be around when we needed you… it meant a lot. To all of us.”

“I’m a phone call away, Franchise. Remember that.”

“I will.”

“You let me know if you hear anything else from Salter, or the FBI, or anyone. I’d like to know what the situation is.”

Kent promised him that he would, and said that he hoped it would go fast. The quicker all of this went public, the quicker other people could begin to find the same sort of peace Kent was feeling right now.

He called Beth as he drove, and he told her that it was done.

“It’s terrible,” he said. “Hearing that someone was murdered and finding some pleasure in it. But I can’t help that.”

“It’s a human reaction, Kent. He was a threat, and the threat has been removed. We can’t blame ourselves for finding some comfort in that. It’s not as if we just wished death upon someone. We just wished for protection, for safety.”

“Yes. No sin in that.”

“Does Adam know?”

“Yes. I’ve just come from seeing him. He’s been at the office all day, but I guess someone with the police told him.”

“Good,” she said, and he knew from her voice that she’d held the same questions he had. “I was afraid of what we were doing to him, you know.”

“What we were doing to him? I don’t follow.”

“Asking him to sit down there with his gun, asking him to be ready to do things we weren’t ready to do ourselves, it just felt—”

“He’s better at it,” Kent said. “That’s what he does, he deals with criminals, he handles weapons, he’s prepared for what we were facing.”

His voice had risen too loud, too fast, and Beth’s silence condemned him for it.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “You hit a nerve. I was worried about it, too. I just didn’t want to…”

“Say it out loud?” she finished when he did not.

“Yeah.”

“It’s done now,” she said. “That’s what matters. It’s done, and Adam is okay.”

“He’s fine.”

She was silent for a moment, then said, “Tell him not to stay away, please.”

“I already did.”

“He helped me. More than I probably wanted to admit. Knowing he was there helped.”

“Yes,” Kent said. “It did.”

Only half of the promise had been fulfilled. It felt like more than that, certainly, but you couldn’t consider promises things of balance, things that you could tilt enough to count. You either did what you said you were going to do, or you did not.

He had promised to find Rachel Bond’s killer and destroy him, and that was done. He had also promised to tell Rachel’s mother when it happened.

Today, this part seemed almost more difficult. It was an admission of guilt, a confession, impossibly foolish.

It was also what he had promised. And when she’d called him in the night, it was all she had asked of him. He thought about his mother and father, searching for some resolution in the unending smoke of sorrow, afraid to venture away from phones that did not ring, remembered his mother opening a letter from amidst the stacks of useless tips and finding an anonymous complaint from someone who found all of the posters of Marie around town to be depressing, to be just a little too much, and he knew he had to follow through on his word. He could not keep Penny Gootee waiting.

He called her from one of the disposable cell phones he kept, a different model than he’d used on the Bova setup. She answered on the first ring, and again he thought of his parents, of the long, terrible wait.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Penny. I’m the man who made you a promise not long ago. Do you understand?”

A pause. “Yes.”

“It’s done,” Adam said.

When she finally spoke again, her voice didn’t have its sea legs.

“You really mean it? You’re telling me that the man who—”

“I’m telling you that it’s done,” Adam said, and then he hung up. His hand was shaking when he tossed the phone into a nearby Dumpster.