Redemption Road: A Novel by John Hart

because he’s an innocent kid who’s never hurt a fly in all the days of his life, because he weighs a hundred and fifteen pounds and has a bullet where no bullet should ever be. I can ask you that because I more or less raised him, and because he looks just like the woman you were convicted of killing. So, until I know for sure you’re not the one who shot him, we’ll do this my way.”
    Her voice was loud by the time she finished, and both of them were surprised by the outburst of emotion. Elizabeth couldn’t hide her feelings when it came to the boy. She was overprotective, and Adrian saw it.
    “I just want to know he’s okay. That’s all. He lost his mother and thinks it’s my fault. I just want to know he’s alive, that he hasn’t lost everything.”
    It was a good answer, Elizabeth thought. Honest. Fair. “He’s in surgery. I don’t know more than that.” She paused. “Beckett says Conroy is the one who shot him. Is that right?”
    “Yes.”
    “Was it self-defense?”
    “The boy came to kill me. Conroy did what he had to do.”
    “Would Gideon have done it?”
    “Pulled the trigger? Yes.”
    “You sound certain.”
    “He said it’s what a man would do. He seemed convinced.”
    She studied his fingers, which looked as if they’d been broken and poorly set. “All right. I believe you.”
    “You’ll tell Beckett?”
    “Beckett. Dyer. I’ll make sure everyone understands.”
    “Thank you.”
    “Adrian, listen—”
    “Don’t.”
    “What?”
    “Look, it’s nice to see you. It’s been a long time, and you were good to me, once. But don’t pretend to be my friend.”
    They were difficult words, but she understood. How many times had she driven past the prison since his conviction? How many times had she stopped? Gone inside? Not once. Not ever.
    “Can I do anything for you? Do you need money? A ride?”
    “You can get out of the car.” He was looking at Beckett and a group of men standing by a dark sedan on the edge of the road. Suddenly pale and sweating, he looked as if he might be sick.
    “Adrian?”
    “Just get out of the car. Please.”
    She thought about arguing, but to what end? “Okay, Adrian.” She swung her legs into the heat. “Let me know if you change your mind.”
    *   *   *
    Elizabeth walked away from Adrian and met Beckett halfway across the lot. Behind him, men slipped into the sedan, which turned across traffic and accelerated toward the prison. She recognized a face in the window, a flash of profile, quickly gone. “That was the warden.”
    “Yes.”
    “What did he want?”
    Beckett watched the car for long seconds, eyes narrowed. “He heard about the shooting and knew it involved one of his prisoners.”
    “Were you arguing?”
    “Yes.”
    “About what?”
    “The fact he has no business on my goddamn crime scene.”
    “Take it easy, Charlie. I’m just asking.”
    “Yeah. ’Course. Sorry. Did you get anything from Adrian?”
    “He confirms the bartender’s story. Gideon came looking for revenge. Conroy shot the boy to save Adrian’s life.”
    “Damn. That’s brutal. I’m sorry.”
    “What are you going to do with him?”
    “Adrian? Take a statement. Cut him loose.”
    “Does Gideon’s father know?”
    “We haven’t found him yet.”
    “I’ll do it.”
    “He’s a deadbeat drunk in a county full of shit-heel bars. Who knows what rock he’s crawled under for the day?”
    “I can track him down.”
    “Tell me where you think he might be, and I’ll send some uniforms.”
    Elizabeth shook her head. “We’re talking about Gideon. His father should be with him when he wakes.”
    “His father is an asshole who hasn’t done two good things for that boy in his whole life.”
    “Nevertheless, I’d rather find him myself. It’s personal, Charlie. You understand.”
    “Your interview with the state police is in three hours.”
    “I said I’d do it.”
    “Okay. Fine. Sure. Whatever.” He was angry, but it seemed everyone was.