House Of Reckoning Part 22

"Amen," Sarah quietly echoed. Then, as Angie rose to her feet, Sarah struggled to her own, her hip threatening to buckle under her.

"It is G.o.d's will that I deliver you to Mitch for whatever punishment he deems fit. He deals with the likes of you every day of his life, and he will certainly know what to do."

Sarah steeled herself against the wave of nausea that rose in her at the thought of what Mitch Garvey might consider a proper punishment, and then she bolted past Angie to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before she began throwing up. She was trying to rinse the bitter taste from her mouth when she caught a glimpse of Angie looming in the doorway, a look of triumph on her face.

"That's the evil in you," Angie said. "G.o.d is casting it out!" Sarah said nothing as she dried her face on a threadbare hand towel. "Mitch is upstairs putting a lock on the attic door," Angie went on. "And he's nailing that window shut." As Sarah hung the towel back on its bar, Angie's fingers closed on her arm, and a moment later she was being half led and half dragged up the stairs to the second floor, and as Angie shoved her up the steep narrow flight to the attic, Mitch smiled down at her.

But there was no warmth in his smile.

"Well, look who's back," he said. "The one who likes to stay out all night."

"I'm so sorry," Sarah whispered.

"Not as sorry as you're going to be," Mitch replied. His fingers clamping down on the flesh that his wife had already bruised, Mitch pulled her into the attic and closed the door. "But you can stop worrying," he went on as Sarah backed away from him. "If I put a mark on you, we'll lose our county money. So you're getting a pa.s.s this time."

Sarah's panic began to subside.

"But you listen to me and you listen to me good. The next time you cause me or my wife any kind of worry at all, I will hurt you." He hefted the hammer as if already weighing the damage it could do to her. "You think about that, understand? You stay up here today and you think about what you did. And I warn you-if I hear that you even tried to leave this room today, I'll fix you so you'll never leave it again." His lips curled into a smile as cold as his eyes. "And I'll fix your father, too. Understand?"

Sarah nodded again.

"Speak!" Mitch demanded, smas.h.i.+ng the hammer down on the table that served as Sarah's desk.

Sarah jumped reflexively. "Yes, sir," she whispered. "I understand."

"Then when I come home from work tonight, I expect to see a different Sarah Crane. Understand?"

The hammer rose again, but this time Sarah didn't wait for it to crash down. "Yes, sir," she breathed.

Mitch left the room, locking the door behind him, and when she was finally alone, Sarah sank down onto the narrow cot, curled herself into a tight ball, and finally gave in to the tears she'd been struggling against for so long.

Ed Crane slowed to a walk as he finished his fifth lap around the prison yard, and used the sleeve of his prison-gray s.h.i.+rt to wipe away the sheen of sweat that covered his brow despite the chill of the air.

"Hey, Ed!" Little Mouse Mostella dropped his own pace as he caught up with Ed, falling in beside him for a moment. "Sonofab.i.t.c.h Mitch wants to talk to you."

Ed's eyes followed Little Mouse's tilting head, and sure enough-there was Mitch Garvey, lounging against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes staring a hole right through him.

"He say anything?"

Little Mouse shrugged, then picked up his pace, leaving Ed behind.

Leaving the track, Ed cut across the yard, weaving through the clumps of prisoners who were huddled close together, their breath pluming in the cold morning air as they muttered among themselves. "You want to see me?" Ed asked. Having learned the hard way that it was always a mistake to come too close to any of the guards, he made sure to stay well beyond Mitch Garvey's reach.

Garvey's lips twisted into a cold smile. "Just wanted to update you on your daughter's progress."

There was a glint in Garvey's eye that made Ed's belly start to churn, and he had to struggle to keep from letting his hands close into tight fists. "Oh?" Unfortunately he didn't quite succeed in keeping the single word as uninflected as he'd wanted, and he saw the pleasure his worry for Sarah gave the guard.

"Oh, yeah," Mitch said. "Just thought you'd like to know we're taking a few 'corrective measures' with your little princess. She's finally going to learn some respect for her parents. Not to mention taking responsibility for her actions."

Blood rose in Ed's cheeks, but he kept his arms and hands relaxed. Don't bite, he told himself. Just let it all go.

"She's a tough one, though," Mitch went on, seeing the angry flush in Ed Crane's face. "Gonna be a job to beat all your candy-a.s.s c.r.a.p out of her, but you can trust me." His twisted smile widened. "I'll get the job done. One way or another, I'll put the fear of G.o.d in her."

The word "beat" hit Ed like a sledgehammer. But what could he do? Even a single swing at Garvey would put him in the hole for a month. Besides, it was his own fault Sarah was where she was, and he wasn't about to do anything that would give Garvey an excuse to make her life even more miserable than it already was. Seething, he kept his tongue as well as his fists under control, but Ed knew Garvey could see his rising anger and was enjoying every second of it.

"I'm a different kind of daddy than you are," Garvey went on, dropping his voice to a pitch that held a far more dangerous note than the mocking tone of a moment ago. "She's going to learn a few things at our house." He leered at Ed. "Actually, that's not quite true. Fact is, she's going to learn a lot lot of things at my house." of things at my house."

Ed's jaw clenched and his hands finally clenched, too, but Garvey merely kept smiling. Don't do it, Ed told himself. Don't give him the satisfaction. But his anger was almost beyond his own control now, and he stepped forward.

And Garvey instinctively shrank back. He recovered almost instantly, though, and his expression darkened. "I wouldn't, if I were you," he snarled. "Do somethin' stupid, and it won't just go hard on you. It'll go hard on your girl, too." Turning away from Ed, Garvey disappeared back into the prison.

Ed Crane was left standing where he was, knowing there was absolutely nothing he could do to help his daughter. Maybe, he thought, it would have been better if he'd died that night, instead of the other guy.

Better for the other guy.

Maybe better for him.

And certainly better for Sarah.

Chapter Eighteen.

Bettina Philips found a spot in the overflowing prison parking lot, pulled into it and shut off the engine, but didn't get out of the car right away. Instead she sat behind the wheel, gazing at the guard towers, the high walls topped with glittering loops of concertina wire, and the uniformed officers going in and out of the front door. Maybe she was doing the wrong thing. Maybe she was taking this thing with Sarah Crane too seriously.

Maybe she was getting too involved.

But Bettina was a teacher, and every teacher she knew cared about their students, especially the ones who were getting a raw deal. And Sarah Crane was getting the rawest deal Bettina had ever seen. She hadn't been in cla.s.s that afternoon, and a quick visit to the office told her that Sarah hadn't been at school all day.

Her gut told her that Sarah hadn't told the Garveys where she'd been all night and was now being punished for it. And going to the Garveys herself would only make things worse for Sarah. Nor could she go to her princ.i.p.al; Joe Markham would only tell her that her relations.h.i.+p with Sarah was "inappropriate" and that she should mind her own business, which would be his way of telling her she was on the verge of giving the school board the reason they'd been looking for to fire her.

That left only Sarah's caseworker, and Bettina didn't know who that was. She could, of course, start wending her way through the county bureaucracy, but that might take days.

On the other hand, she could go see Sarah's father, who was bound to know who had legal responsibility for his daughter.

She checked the dashboard clock. Visiting hours at the prison would be over soon-if she was going through with this, she'd better get in there.

Shep Dunnigan packed the thick stack of financial printouts into his briefcase along with the budget projections the warden had asked him to review, and snapped the locks shut. He'd get more done on them in an hour in the quiet of his study at home than he would in two days at the office. He checked his e-mail one last time, shut down the computer, then stopped at Bonnie's desk to check any messages before heading for home.

She handed him a half-dozen pink slips. "Nothing that can't wait until tomorrow," she said. "And if you lose them, don't worry-I've got copies."

Shep gazed dourly at the stack of messages. "These," he p.r.o.nounced, "are why I can't work these figures here." He flipped through them quickly and handed them back to her. "And I won't lose them, because I'm not even taking them home."

"Fine with me," Bonnie said. "Have a nice evening."

"Yeah," he said wryly. "Me, a bottle of wine, and the budget printouts. Very romantic."

He swiped his ID card through the security reader and waited as the barred door slid open. He was just about to step through it when a woman came through the outside doors, then pushed her way through the double doors leading to the visitors' check-in area.

A woman Shep instantly recognized.

Bettina Philips.

He stood where he was, letting the metal door slide closed again in front of him.

What the h.e.l.l is she doing here?

The last time that nut job had shown up at the prison, it was to propose art cla.s.ses for the inmates, but he had put an end to that plan before it got started. It was bad enough that his own wife sometimes went out to have Bettina read the tea leaves-or whatever it was she read-without having the woman coming into the prison, too. So what was up? Was she trying again?

He reswiped his card, walked to the doors to the visitors' center, and peered through the gla.s.s window. Bettina Philips was still at the counter, but a moment later she surrendered her identification, took a badge from the guard behind the desk, and was let through the door leading to the actual visiting area. As soon as she was gone, Shep pushed through the double doors and asked the officer at the desk for a look at the visitor log.

And there she was, the last visitor of the day: Bettina Philips. Her printed name, signature, and driver's license number.

But she hadn't been here to see the warden or any of the staff.

She'd come to visit Ed Crane.

What possible business could she have with Crane? The man was in for murder, but what could that have to do with Bettina Philips? Then he remembered: Ed Crane was also the father of the crippled girl Nick had been hanging out with lately, the one Mitch and Angie Garvey had taken in.

But that still didn't explain why Bettina Philips had come to see Crane, unless she'd taken some kind of extra interest in his daughter. And if that was it, he'd see to it that Nick had nothing more to do with the girl-the last thing he needed was for his son to get mixed up with the one woman in town who everyone thought was crazier than he was.

c.r.a.p!

As he left the building, Shep added Bettina Philips to the list of things he had to deal with.

Fifteen minutes after she'd entered the prison, Bettina found herself sitting at a round Formica table in a barren room filled with inmates, their wives, mothers, and children, and the noise produced by all of them as they tried to hear each other. A moment later a tall, gaunt man whose tired eyes were filled with worry was escorted into the room and seated across the table from her.

"Mr. Crane?" Bettina said, reaching across to shake his hand. "I'm Bettina Philips. Sarah's art teacher?"

At the mention of his daughter, Bettina saw Ed's eyes come to life, and he slid the plastic chair closer to the table and leaned forward. "She's good, isn't she?" he asked, his voice reflecting his pride in Sarah's talent. "I mean, really good-not just high school good."

"She is indeed," Bettina a.s.sured him. "I'm not sure I've ever seen another student with as much pure talent as Sarah." She paused for a moment, then decided to seize the opening Ed had offered her. "Which is one of the reasons I'm here, Mr. Crane."

"Call me Ed," Crane said. "Sarah's crazy about you, you know."

Bettina smiled. "And I'm pretty fond of her, too. But I'm not so sure her foster family's as supportive of her talent as you and I." The light in Ed's eyes when he talked about his daughter instantly faded, and Bettina knew she'd struck a nerve.

"What's she told you?" Ed asked, his voice dropping and his eyes flicking toward the closest guard. "What's Garvey done?"

"I'm not sure he's done anything at all. But do you know who Sarah's caseworker is? Perhaps I could talk with her."

Ed opened his mouth, then closed it again, and a moment later his whole body seemed to sag in the chair and his eyes took on the same exhausted look they'd held when he first came into the visitor's room. "What kind of father am I?" he muttered more to himself than to Bettina. Then he tried to pull himself together. "Would you believe I only remember her first name? It's Kate Something-or-other," he said. "Can you believe that? I got so wrapped up in my own problems I can't even remember who's supposed to be looking after my daughter." His voice turned bitter. "Except that I know who's supposed to be looking after her-I'm supposed to be looking after her. But instead ..." His voice trailed off, and when he finally met Bettina's gaze, she saw a sadness in his expression so deep that she wanted to reach across the table and hug him. "I'm sorry," he said. "I just-" He fell silent for a moment, then shook his head. "I'm sorry." supposed to be looking after her. But instead ..." His voice trailed off, and when he finally met Bettina's gaze, she saw a sadness in his expression so deep that she wanted to reach across the table and hug him. "I'm sorry," he said. "I just-" He fell silent for a moment, then shook his head. "I'm sorry."

Feeling utterly helpless, Bettina put out a hand as if to touch him, but one of the guards shot her a look of warning so severe she yanked her hand back as if her fingers had just been scorched, and cast around in her mind for something-anything-to distract Ed Crane from his misery. But of course she knew what to talk about.

"You've raised a wonderful girl," she told him. "She's kind, and sweet, and obviously got a lot of talent from somewhere."

"Well, she sure didn't get it from me or my wife," Ed sighed.

Bettina c.o.c.ked her head. "A grandparent, then?"

Now Ed shrugged. "Maybe so, but I wouldn't know." He looked at Bettina again. "The thing is, Marsha and I adopted Sarah when she was two days old." He cupped his big farmer's hands and held them out. "She fit right in there. I could hardly believe it. She was so tiny, and so helpless, and I swore right then-" Once again he faltered, but this time he forced himself to complete the statement, no matter how painful it was for him. "I swore I'd take care of her the rest of my life. Fine mess of that I made, huh?"

Bettina sat silent, waiting for him to speak again, and finally he did.

"Never knew who her folks were," Ed said. "Never heard from them at all."

"Sometimes that's for the best," Bettina replied as a two-minute warning came over the loudspeaker. She wrapped her scarf around her neck and slipped her arms into the sleeves of her coat. "I'm sorry," she said, leaning forward. "Maybe I shouldn't have come. But I'm glad I did-it was good to meet you, Ed."

Ed seemed not to have heard her, and Bettina rose to her feet as the other visitors began moving toward the door. But just as she was about to turn away, he spoke again.

"Keep an eye on her for me, okay?" he asked, his eyes brightening with tears. "And I'll try to remember Kate's last name, too."

"Don't worry about it," Bettina replied. "I'll find her name. And I'll see that Sarah's all right, too. Try not to worry."

"Can't help worrying," Ed said. "Not much else to do here. But I'm glad you came-at least I know someone besides me cares about my little girl."

Bettina, no longer trusting her voice, nodded at him, then quickly threaded her way between tables, chairs, and people, and through heavy security doors that led to the visitors' reception area. She signed out, then pushed through the doors into the fresh New England air, but the chill that suddenly seized her body was far colder than the day.

She had no idea how she was going to keep the promise she'd just made to Ed Crane, but she would find a way.

She had to.

Chapter Nineteen.

"They locked you in?" Nick said, pressing the phone so hard against his ear that it was starting to feel numb. He was perched on the edge of his bed, barely able to believe what Sarah was telling him. What if the house caught fire? How was she supposed to get out?

"Go help her," help her," one of the voices in his head whispered. "Go one of the voices in his head whispered. "Go right now." right now."

"Kill them," another voice suggested. another voice suggested. "I can help you. I'm strong ... stronger than you ...just get me in there ... we can do it... we can- "I can help you. I'm strong ... stronger than you ...just get me in there ... we can do it... we can-"

"No!" Nick tried not to voice the word, but didn't quite succeed. Now he squeezed his eyes closed in the vain hope that if he focused on nothing but Sarah's whispered voice, the ones in his head might fall silent. But they didn't.

"Ask her," one of them was saying now. one of them was saying now. "What did she draw? Did she draw what I showed you? Ask her... ask her now or-" "What did she draw? Did she draw what I showed you? Ask her... ask her now or-"

Nick shuddered, trying to close his mind to the whispering voice, but it was too late. The demon inside him wanted to know.

"Nick?" Sarah said, her voice penetrating the din in his head. "You okay?"