Текст книги "The Two Deaths of Daniel Hayes"

Автор книги: Marcus Sakey

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Текущая страница: 18 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

Bennett didn’t let go of Daniel’s hand, didn’t take his eyes off the man. “Put it in my pocket.”

Laney hesitated, then moved up beside him. He felt her hand steal into his pants, felt the sharpness of the stones. Hello, Mexico. With Laney’s hand still in his pocket, Bennett winked at Daniel. “Good. Now. Let’s all take a stroll.”

Laney started to protest. “But you said—”

“Easy, sister. I’m not going to kill either of you. I only want a few more minutes of your time.”

Daniel said, “Maybe you should just leave.”

“Sorry. I can’t trust you not to run to one of the bouncers. No, the three of us are walking out together. Once we’re outside, we’ll go our separate ways.” He released his grip on Daniel’s hand, stepped back. “It’s almost over. Hold it together for a few more minutes, and then everything will be fine. I promise. Here.” Bennett tucked the gun in his belt. “See?”

Maybe it was the words. Maybe it was the action. Maybe it was desperate, animal hope. But Daniel and Laney looked at each other, and then Laney picked up her purse. With what must have been a heroic effort, she turned her back on him and started for the alley door. Daniel followed, and Bennett took up the rear, close enough that neither would bolt, but far enough that they couldn’t make a suicide play for the gun.

Every detail was crisp and sharp. The constellation of freckles spilling up the décolletage of a girl raising a martini glass. Each star in the crystalline heavens above the dance floor. The texture of Hayes’s suit jacket and the safety pins serving as temporary hems on the cuffs of his pants; the tension in Laney’s bare shoulders and the sweat beading her neck. The beat was thoom-thoom-thoom and it was the beat of his heart, the strike of his footsteps. Half a million dollars in his pocket and a gun tucked in his belt and the pure sure rush of victory.

If there was another reason to be alive, he couldn’t think of it.

5

Laney’s heart hammered a hundred beats a second. Her breath came shallow. The dancers seemed warped and slow, their motions twitchy in the flashing light. She could feel the music but couldn’t hear it.

It’s going to work. The plan is going to work.

There had been a moment, at the bar, when she had thought everything was coming apart. Daniel obviously suspected her. Had he remembered what had happened? The truth behind what drove him so close to the edge?

She didn’t know. But he had been fishing for something, and the war inside her had raged fierce and brutal. Half of her had desperately wanted to tell him the truth, no matter what it would do to him. The other half remembered how very close the truth had come to destroying him, and argued that every moment spared that pain was a victory. In the end, it had been a pragmatic decision—she couldn’t risk him coming undone. Not now. They just had to get through.

Laney glanced over her shoulder. From five feet back, Bennett tapped the gun hidden beneath his shirt. She winced, looked forward. Used the move as a cover for letting one purse strap slip so the bag fell open. She could feel the extra weight, and the hard edges.

She’d been afraid that Bennett might ask about the purse, or even search it. When he’d come up behind them, all he would have had to do was look into the bag and it would all have been over.

Daniel walked half a step behind her. Once they’d made it out the door, she would be in a perfect position to reach into the bag, find the snub-nose revolver, and pass it back to Daniel. That was the plan.

Only, she had a modification in mind. It was her mess. She was the one who had brought Bennett into their lives. She was the one who should clean it up.

Somehow, her heart managed to beat even faster.

This is right. Daniel has done enough. It’s time you did your share.

Fast, too fast, they had crossed the crowded floor. The door was painted black and partly hidden by velvet curtains. Laney glanced over her shoulder again. Daniel wouldn’t meet her eye. He knows you lied to him.

It doesn’t matter. In a few seconds, it will all be over. She pushed open the door. Night air poured over her sweating skin. The loading dock was broad and bright, a sodium lamp on the building casting remorseless light down on concrete stained and pitted. Two huge Dumpsters ran along the wall, the metal rusty. The air smelled sour.

Let them both get outside. Then finish it.

She took a few extra steps, ears straining. She could sense them behind her by the way they blocked the sound. Wait until—

The heavy door banged shut, turning the music down.

Now.

Laney reached into her purse, feeling for the revolver. Her fingers traced the hard, cool edges of the—

—glass?

She jerked her hand out, found herself holding a heavy-bottomed tumbler, a couple of drops of amber liquid still in the bottom.

An image flashed across her eyes. Bennett coming up behind them. Close enough to her purse that all he had to do was look down.

He must have seen the gun and slipped it out of her purse, trading the glass in for weight.

Oh god. Oh, god, no.

She turned, wanting to warn Daniel, to tell him to run, but Bennett was right there. His smile was bland and cold. “So, Daniel, you were wrong. At your house today, you said at the end of the night, you’d be holding a gun”—Bennett reached for his waist, drew the pistol, and pointed it at her beautiful husband—“and I wouldn’t.”

No, it won’t work, not now, no—

“Tell me something. You’re a writer, you’re supposed to understand the human heart, all that stuff. Why is it that when you tell people to trust you, they tend to?”

“We want to believe in each other.”

“Simple as that?”

Daniel shrugged. “I wouldn’t say simple.” He looked at Laney. He’s waiting for you to hand him the gun. And all you have is a

glass.

Her head and heart screamed to move, to try something, to charge Bennett.

“Never made sense to me. Words are just breath with sound. For example, I promised I wouldn’t hurt you.” Bennett pulled the trigger.

The hammer fell with a click, as she expected.

“Actually,” Daniel reached behind his back and pulled out the snub-nose revolver. With his left hand, he drew out a handful of shells from his pocket. “What I said was, I’d be holding a loaded gun, and you wouldn’t.”

It was like she’d been bound by iron bands and someone had cut them. She could suddenly breathe, smile, even laugh. He’d done it. Somehow, her baby had pulled it off.

Then Daniel turned and pointed the gun at her. “Go stand over there with him.”

5

There was a high-pitched hum ringing through his brain, and he knew it for the howl he wouldn’t let himself make.

She lied to you. She and Bennett are in this together. There’s no way to win. But that doesn’t mean you have to let them.

Better all three of them end up on the concrete.

Laney said, “What?”

Bennett said, “How?”

“I hid two guns in the bathroom. We picked up this one,” he moved it to point at Bennett, “at the house this afternoon, and I hid it in the ceiling. The plan was to put it in Laney’s purse in case you searched me. But that was before I knew she was lying to me.”

“Daniel, what are you doing?” Her voice frantic. “What are you—”

“I saw your cell phone. You talked to him yesterday. From the hotel.”

She looked at Bennett, then back at him. “Yes. But it’s not what—”

“I don’t want to hear it.” His headache was an avalanche, a stampede, a typhoon. “You know, ever since I lost my memory, I’ve been looking for you. I thought you were the center of my world. But you were the reason I tried to kill myself, weren’t you?”

Bennett’s mask of cool had slipped, revealing the creature behind it, all angles and cunning. He looked from the gun to Laney to the street beyond the loading dock, then took a half step back.

“Don’t move, fucker.” Daniel raised the gun. It felt so right in his hand. No, wrong, it feels wrong, not right, you don’t want to, not ag— He blinked, tried to steady his hand. At this range, there was no way he could miss. All he had to do was pull the trigger. Swivel his aim a couple of degrees, at Laney, and pull it again. Then, finally, put the barrel in his mouth and finish what he’d started in Maine.

Laney’s eyes were pools of wide panic. She stepped toward him.

“Stay there.”

“No.” She stared at him, the woman who’d been lying to him– the woman you love—her face beautiful—terrible—a monster– your life—“You’re not going to do this, Daniel.”

“I have to.”

“No, you don’t. Don’t you remember?” She spoke softly. “I know you do. That’s why you couldn’t shoot him at Sophie’s house, and why you keep having that dream—”

“What are you—”

“—about the concrete canyon.” She took another step. “Only it’s not a canyon, Daniel.” Her eyes hypnotizing him. “It’s the river basin.” He felt dizzy, almost as if he were—

“Where you killed Bennett last time.”

—falling.

5

EXT. L.A. RIVER BASIN—EARLY EVENING

The sky is crimson and gold above a concrete canyon with a narrow trickle of water down the center. The skyline looms.

A silver BMW splashes through a puddle.

INT. BMW—CONTINUOUS

DANIEL HAYES pulls to a stop near an overpass. He clenches and unclenches his hands.

He peers out the windshield. Beneath the bridge, headlights blink on and off once.

On the seat beside him, his cell phone vibrates. The display has a picture of LANEY THAYER.

He looks at the phone, but does not pick it up. DANIEL

No, baby.

He opens the glove box, takes out a paper bag. DANIEL (CONT.) Not after what he did to you.

EXT. L.A. RIVER BASIN—CONTINUOUS

Daniel walks toward the overpass. He holds the bag in his left hand.

After a dozen steps, he stops at the edge of the shadow.

Footsteps ring on concrete.

A STRANGER’s silhouette appears. His features resolve as he comes closer. A stocky man of average height, with a shaved head and tattoos down both arms.

STRANGER

You’re late. Where’s your wife?

DANIEL

It’s just me.

The stranger digests this, then nods at the bag, holds out his hand.

STRANGER

Give it here.

DANIEL

I know about you. You’re a cockroach. STRANGER

Wow. Tough guy.

The man’s smile is bar fights and prison time. DANIEL

We’re not afraid of you. I’m giving you one chance, one, to leave us alone. STRANGER

Or else what? This isn’t a TV show. DANIEL

I’ll give you this, but I’m telling you now. You’ll do better to walk away and leave us alone.

STRANGER

What are you, laying a Buddhist trip on me? Fuck you.

DANIEL

No.

He reaches into the bag and pulls out a GLOCK. STRANGER

Wait—

DANIEL

Fuck you.

Daniel pulls the trigger, once, twice, three times.

Each bullet is a hammer blow. The man stumbles. Blood spurts from a hole in his neck and spatters Daniel’s T-shirt.

A childish look of fear and bafflement crosses the stranger’s face.

Then he collapses.

Daniel stares at him. Then at the gun.

The body twitches on the ground. Lips twist in agony.

Blood spills onto the dirty concrete.

Daniel stares. He looks like a man waiting for someone to yell “Cut!”

No one does.

The stranger coughs red, and dies.

Daniel looks around. His face is pale.

The skyline looms, the high-rises leaning like hooded judges.

A sudden convulsion takes Daniel, and he doubles over, claps a hand over his mouth. Barely holds the vomit down.

Staggers back to the car.

INT. BMW—CONTINUOUS

Daniel collapses into the seat.

The gun in his hand trembles.

He stares out the windshield at the man he murdered.

Then he yanks open the glove box, throws the gun inside, and squeals away.

The drive is a blurry montage of neon and darkness.

Horns squeal out of time.

Daniel’s knuckles squeeze the steering wheel. His face is wan and sticky.

He mutters to himself, word fragments of an argument in his head. Angry and scared and horrified.

DANIEL

Had to . . . he would . . . didn’t . . . I didn’t . . . meant to . . . why . . . fuck . . . oh fuck . . .

The city rages and burns outside his windows. The PCH is a guttering candle. The ocean is cold steel.

The night is slithering horror.

INT. DANIEL & LANEY’S MALIBU HOME—MOMENTS LATER

LANEY THAYER sits on the steps in their foyer. She speaks into a cell phone.

LANEY

Daniel, please, whatever you’re going to do, don’t. I know you’re trying to protect me, but you don’t want to do this.

(a beat)

Answer your phone, baby.

(a beat)

Answer your phone!

At the sound of a car engine, Laney jumps. She runs to the front door, yanks it open just as Daniel comes in.

His white T-shirt is stained crimson.

LANEY

Oh my god.

He pushes past her.

LANEY

Are you okay?

She hurries after him, to the . . .

BATHROOM—CONTINUOUS

where Daniel crouches in front of the toilet. He vomits explosively.

LANEY

Talk to me! Are you hurt?

Daniel’s chest heaves. He straightens, looks at her.

His eyes belong to a man hanging from a cliff– and slowly losing his grip.

Laney rushes to him, begins to pat at his body. LANEY

Where is it coming from?

DANIEL

It’s not mine.

The words gut punch Laney.

Daniel’s fingers clutch porcelain.

LANEY

What did you do?

DANIEL

I didn’t mean to.

He wipes at his mouth with back of his hand, and stares at something far away.

DANIEL (CONT.)

I gave him a chance. Told him to leave us alone.

(a beat)

Maybe I did mean to.

Laney paces.

DANIEL (CONT.)

It feels different than I thought it would. Worse.

(a beat)

When I shot him, it was just like on a set, with squibs and dye packs. I even, I thought, wow, this guy is good– he’s playing it well. I almost believe he’s really . . .

Another wave of nausea hits, and he vomits into the toilet, coughing and spitting between heaves. Laney kneels behind him and slowly rubs his back.

Daniel finishes. Folds his arms across the porcelain and lays his head down on them. LANEY

It’s . . . okay. We’ll figure it out. (a beat)

I wish you’d told me. I would have stopped you.

(a beat)

Or come with you.

DANIEL

I didn’t think it would be like this. LANEY

Did anyone see you?

Daniel seems not to have heard.

DANIEL

There’s no way back from this. Is there? Once you’ve done this, you’re a different person.

(a beat)

Forever.

(a beat)

It’s too high.

Laney seems like she wants to say something, but doesn’t know what that would be.

DANIEL (CONT.)

After all Bennett did to you, I wanted to. I was so.

(a beat)

But he didn’t kill anyone. I did.

A muffled sound, perhaps a man’s voice. Laney digs her cell phone from her pocket, finger already stabbing to shut it off.

But then she sees the name on the display. She stares.

Uncomprehending.

And then getting it.

Horror.

She watches Daniel as she answers.

BENNETT (O.S.)

You know, I always thought that line about not killing the messenger was just a metaphor.

Laney whimpers. Daniel looks up from the floor. BENNETT (O.S.)

How’s Dan feeling? He know he shot the wrong guy?

(a beat)

Think the police will help you now?

5

–dizzy, almost as if he were falling. Daniel wobbled on his feet, sucked in a breath of cool air. Reeling from the force and abruptness of the memory, from the crystal clarity, from the echoes of nausea and horror.

Laney stared at him. Something in his eyes must have told her that he remembered. “Now you see why I had to lie baby. Why I’ve kept us from going to the police, and why I wanted to just give him the necklace, even now. I didn’t want you to have to remember this. I didn’t want you to face it again.”

Oh fuck me.

In the instant the memory had flowed through him, he’d been lost in it, but now he found himself here again. Back in a concrete canyon holding death in his hand. A loading dock instead of a dry river basin, but the decision the same.

Only heartbeats had passed. The snub-nose revolver was still pointed at Bennett. Through the walls of the club, bass still throbbed. The glaring buzz of the sodium light was unchanged.

But everything was different. He knew what he’d done.

And what it had cost him.

Bennett had his mask back in place, his features collected. He held his hands out and vaguely up. “Easy, brother. Easy. You tried this once, and you didn’t like it.”

Daniel stared down his arm. Shoulder, bicep, elbow, forearm, hand, pistol. All connected. A gun is just a tool of your will. You pull the trigger, the man in front of it dies.

It’s not the gun that does the killing.

“Tell you what.” Bennett lowered his hand.

“Don’t!” Daniel’s mouth was dry. His throat closed tight.

“Easy! I was just getting your necklace. Okay?” Very slowly, Bennett slid two fingers into his pocket, pulled the glittering chain out. “Here.” He dropped it on the concrete. “See?”

It all comes down to this. Every mile you drove, every memory you chased, every moment you’ve had of this too-short life. Everything you’ve learned along the way. All conspired to bring you right back where you started.

Sweat dripped down his forehead, and he wiped it away with his other hand. Laney watched him. His Laney, the woman he loved, and who loved him.

My god. You almost—you were going to—

“I’m so sorry, baby. I didn’t know. I didn’t—”

“It’s okay. I understand. I love you.”

“Listen, Daniel.” Bennett’s voice calm. “We can work something out.”

You’re here again. Only this time you realize what it means.

When he’d driven to the river basin, the gun in his glove compartment, he had been telling himself that he would give the man a chance to walk away. But he’d known that he didn’t really want that. He’d wanted the man to give him a reason to kill. He’d gone there with murder in his heart.

Only you didn’t understand. You thought it was just another story you were writing. Didn’t understand how taking a life would change you. How part of you would die too. Didn’t realize you were living the last days of Daniel Hayes. At least the Daniel Hayes you thought you were.

But pulling a trigger is different than typing words on a keyboard. Different than imagining the story of your life. Different even than writing a real-life scene, the way you scripted the one for Bennett’s cameras, and the twist that left you with the loaded gun.

“You’re not a killer, Daniel.” Bennett spoke calmly. “Let’s just all walk away.”

“Shut up!” Laney turned to Daniel. “You don’t have to.”

“What choice is there?”

She held out one hand. “Give me the gun.”

“What?”

“I’ll do it.”

The words tore through him like a fist through a screen door. He could see the fear in her eyes, the dread. See that she remembered what killing had done to him, and knew that the same thing might happen to her. That some part of her would die along with Bennett. And yet she was willing to do it. Not because she wanted to, but to save Daniel from going through it all a second time.

He shook his head. “No. I won’t let you.” He wanted to lie down somewhere and close his eyes. Somewhere with cool breezes and the smell of flowers. You are who you choose to be. Make sure you can live with the decisions you make.

He lowered the gun.

Bennett smiled.

“I’m sorry, baby.”

“Don’t be,” Laney said. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

You are who you choose to be.

“Yes,” Daniel said, “I do.”

He turned, snapped the gun back up, and pulled the trigger. In the confines of the loading dock, the explosion was enormous. It left his ears ringing enough that the second shot seemed quiet in comparison. The silence that followed pressed heavy.

Make sure you can live with the decisions you make.

Bennett staggered. His legs went wobbly. He raised one hand, touched his chest. Stared at the blood that soaked his fingers. Eyes wide and stunned. Like he couldn’t believe what he was looking at. Then he collapsed.

Daniel stared. It all flashed through him in that moment. The long journey of the last days. The terror, the confusion, the stakes. The road and the loneliness and the exhaustion and guilt. Laney and the life he’d lost and then found again.

Sophie. Most of all, Sophie.

He looked at the body on the concrete.

I can live with that.

Daniel Hayes put his arms around the woman he loved and drew her to him.

5 INT. TELEVISION STUDIO—MORNING

A graphics package for THE TODAY SHOW wipes from the screen, revealing a desk in front of huge windows. The windows look out onto a cold morning in Manhattan. A crowd of tourists bundled in snow gear peer in the windows, snapping pictures and waving.

Four people sit at the desk: MEREDITH VIEIRA, a girl-next-door beauty; AL ROKER, kind-eyed and smiling; DANIEL HAYES, looking uncomfortable; and LANEY THAYER, radiant and at ease.

MEREDITH

We have the most amazing story to share with you this morning. You’ve all heard about the terrible accident involving our guest Laney Thayer. And of course we all know about the media circus that followed, including a police investigation and implications of murder. This morning, for the first time, Laney and her husband screenwriter Daniel Hayes, are going to share what happened to them. And what a story it is. Laney, Daniel, thanks for being here.

LANEY

Thanks for having us. We’re big fans. MEREDITH

We’ve all heard the official version. But, Laney, can you share your personal take on everything that happened?

LANEY

Sort of.

(she laughs)

That’s the problem with amnesia.

AL

Tell us about that.

LANEY

Well, it’s really called a dissociative fugue. What happens is that in a traumatic situation, sometimes your mind loses track of itself. The doctors think it’s a way of coping, a last-ditch effort the mind can make to protect itself. But it’s so rare they don’t know much about it.

MEREDITH

And in your case, it was triggered when your car went over the cliff.

LANEY

We think so.

Video feed from a news chopper is cut in, showing a powder-blue Volkswagen Beetle upside down in the ocean, the car crumpled and torn. LANEY (V.O.)

All I remember is waking up in the ocean. I was cold, and everything hurt, and at first I was just trying to get to shore. But when I did, I realized that I couldn’t remember how I had ended up in the ocean in the first place. Or anything else.

The camera cuts back to the desk.

AL

That must have been terrifying.

LANEY

It was. I was so confused. I could remember how to walk, and drive, and count, but I couldn’t remember who I was.

MEREDITH

What did you do?

LANEY

Well, this might sound strange, but the doctors say it’s normal. I bluffed. (she laughs)

I was sure that my memories would come back to me, so in the meantime, I just sort of became this other person.

AL

A natural thing for an actress to do. LANEY

I think that was part of it. I’m used to pretending to be other people.

MEREDITH

Why didn’t you go to the police, or the hospital?

LANEY

I was scared. Everything seems menacing if you can’t remember who you are. MEREDITH

And of course, Daniel, you didn’t know she was alive.

DANIEL

I did, though. I just knew it. Part of it was that the police hadn’t found her body. But it was more than that. Somehow I knew she was alive, and that she needed my help.

MEREDITH

But the police were questioning your involvement.

DANIEL

I don’t blame them. They were just doing their job. But all I cared about was finding Laney. So I went looking for her.

MEREDITH

And we’ve all heard about what happened then. Your drive across the country to the beach where you’d gotten married; coming back to Los Angeles; even running from the police.

DANIEL

I know that my behavior might seem wrong to some people. But to me, it was simple. The woman I loved was in trouble, and nothing else mattered.

AL

That sounds like something out of a mystery novel.

DANIEL

It kind of was.

MEREDITH

It’s incredible, the way the two of you were looking for each other, that you were connected even in these impossible situations. What did you learn from all of this?

Daniel and Laney look at each other. LANEY

That life is a raindrop.

Daniel smiles at her, takes her hand. MEREDITH

Life is a raindrop?

DANIEL

Someone I loved once told me that. Basically, I guess it means that everything you think you are is exactly as real as you choose for it to be. But that no matter what you choose, your life can change in a moment.

LANEY

So choose carefully.

DANIEL

(squeezing her hand)

And never let go.

Laney smiles, then leans over and kisses him. MEREDITH

“Never let go.” What an amazing story—and a wonderful couple.

(she turns to the camera)

And speaking of wonderful, after the break Jamie Oliver will share his secret for making a perfect roast chicken dinner for your family. Stick with us!

5

Out the windows, Los Angeles, bleary and smudged.

So tired. Sleep hadn’t gotten any easier. Some of it was the things they’d been dealing with—the lawyers, the media, their appearance on TV, flying to New York. Doctors and tests. The cold fact that no one could tell him exactly when—or if—his past would return to him.

But mostly, it was the memory of a concrete canyon. The horror of that moment hadn’t lessened. Every time he closed his eyes, he found himself back. Every time, he woke in sweat and panic. The dream wouldn’t go away.

It never will. Until you pay for it.

Laney was driving again. Probably best given his nerves. Out the windows, Los Angeles, sun-drenched and blurry-bright. Taquerias and Thai joints, day spas and massage parlors, holistic healing centers and high-end boutiques and a thousand places to get a cup of coffee. Cars and cracked sidewalks, billboards and boulevards.

“I still don’t like this,” Laney said, again. “It could be a trick.”

“Maybe.” His voice raspy. “But he said he had something to tell me, that it was important. We can’t hide behind our lawyers forever.”

“What if he arrests you?”

“Then call Jen Forbus and tell her to go to work.” The criminal lawyer had been dying to strike first, to file suits against the LASD and the media for their portrayal of Daniel as a murderer. We won’t win, she’d said, but we can make damn sure it will cost them way more than they’re willing to pay.

“That will only work if he’s arresting you for running from him,” Laney said. Dappled shadows fell through trees as they wound uphill. “What if he knows about Bennett?”

“Then we’ll deal with it.” He leaned back against the passenger seat, closed his eyes. “I have to face this. It’s something I need to do.”

“I just don’t want to lose you again.”

“Hey.” He straightened, turned. “You will never lose me again.”

Laney smiled at him. She’d dyed her hair back to its proper shade, and her eyes burned bright as the California sky. “What if I start to smell?”

He returned the grin. “I’ll buy nose plugs.”

Five minutes more and they’d reached the top of Mount Hollywood. By evening the parking lot would be jammed with tourists watching the sunset, but at this hour, she found a parking place easily enough. “At least let me come with you.”

“No. He said he wanted to talk to me alone. Besides. Someone has to be able to call our lawyer.” And more important, you might try to stop me. Might even sacrifice yourself. I won’t let you do that. He reached for the door handle.

“Daniel.” She leaned over. “Be careful, okay?”

“I will. I love you.” He stepped out of the BMW. Ahead of him, the Griffith Park Observatory loomed. A building from an earlier age, it looked like a sultan’s palace, white and massive and capped by gray domes. Children scampered back and forth on the lawn while their parents posed for photographs. Daniel followed the path around the side. A stone rail rose to waist height. Beyond it the mountain fell away, yielding a breathtaking view of the city shimmering with heat and smog.

Detective Roger Waters sat on the railing, back to Daniel, feet dangling off the far side.

Daniel took a deep breath. He’d hated having to lie to Laney, but she would never have understood the truth. Never have understood that he had to turn himself in. How could she? No one who hadn’t gone through it would.

Killing Bennett he could live with. Bennett was a monster. But the man in the river basin. That had just been some guy Bennett twisted. The same way he’d twisted the two of them. He’d been a victim.

Which made Daniel the monster.

You are who you choose to be. Be sure you can live with the decisions you make. Daniel squared his shoulders. He said, “I don’t think you’re supposed to sit on the ledge like that.”

“Benefits of the badge.” Waters didn’t turn. “You get to break a few rules.” He patted the concrete beside him. “Have a seat.”

“I’ll stand.” He took a breath. “Listen—”

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” The man stared out into the distance. “People say Los Angeles is fake, but that’s not true. It’s just that it’s got no memory. Am I right?”

“I.” What was this? “I guess. There’s something—”

“Reason I asked you out here, I wanted to tell you a story.” The man bulldozed him. “About a guy named Larry Morgan. Larry was born in Reseda, but this story doesn’t start till he was nineteen, when he started selling coke. He wasn’t very good at it. LAPD busted him, he went up for five years. Inside he joined the Brotherhood—you know the Aryan Brotherhood?—probably mostly to stay alive.”

Daniel leaned against the railing. Was this some sort of scare tactic, hit him with tough-guy talk about prison? “This is gritty and all, Detective, but I have something I need to—”

“Somewhere along the line, Larry decided the Brotherhood made good arguments. So when he got out of prison, he decided to align his business and racial philosophies. Went back to dealing, but instead of cocaine, he moved to crack. That way he was selling mostly to blacks. He used kids, all under sixteen. You know why?”

“Prosecuting them is harder?” The writer in Daniel unable to resist.

“That was part of it. Other thing is, kids can sell in schoolyards. Which let Larry expand his interests. See, he’d give the prettier girls credit for a while. But when the bill came due and they couldn’t pay, he’d turn them out. Get them tricking for him.” Waters looked over. “I’m talking little girls, eleven, twelve.”

Daniel swallowed. “Sounds like an asshole.”

“He was.”

“Was?”

“Yes.” The cop looked away again. “Three weeks ago he was shot and killed under a bridge on the L.A. River.”

The city swam in front of him. Daniel was glad he’d chosen to stand. He fought to keep the reaction from his face, wasn’t sure he made it. “Really.”

“Yep. Three bullets, a nine-millimeter.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

Waters brushed a speck of dirt off his trousers. “The law is a good thing. It’s what separates us from animals. But sometimes it’s a little strict.” He paused. “No one is going to miss Larry Morgan. The world is better with him not in it. But the law doesn’t care. If someone were to come forward and confess to killing him, that person would be tried for murder. They would lose everything. They would go to prison, which is not a happy place. And it wouldn’t matter that Larry was a piece of shit.”