“Freddy,” Carver said calmly. “I want you to tell me again.”
“I’ve already told you!”
“Then tell me again. I need to know exactly what was said because I need to know exactly the extent of the damage.”
“There is no damage. Nothing!”
“Tell me again.”
“Jesus!”
He drove the point of the shovel angrily down into the hole, the impact on rock and sand producing a sharp sound that echoed across the empty landscape. Carver looked around again to make sure they were alone. In the distance to the west, the lights of Mesa and Scottsdale looked like a brush fire spreading out of control. He reached behind his back and gripped the gun. He thought about it, then decided to wait. Freddy could still be useful. Carver would just teach him a lesson this time instead.
“Tell me again,” Carver repeated.
“I just told him that he was lucky, all right?” Stone said. “That’s all. And I tried to find out who the bitch was that was waiting for him in his room. The one that fucked the whole thing up.”
“What else?”
“That was it. I told him that someday I would get his gun back to him, that I would personally deliver it.”
Carver nodded. So far Stone had said the same thing each time he had recounted the conversation with McEvoy.
“Okay, and what did he say to you?”
“I told you, he didn’t say much of anything. I think he was scared shitless.”
“I don’t believe you, Freddy.”
“Well, that’s the—oh, there is one thing he said.”
Carver tried to remain calm.
“What?”
“He knows about our thing.”
“What thing?”
“About the irons. That thing.”
Carver tried to keep the urgency out of his voice.
“How does he know? You told him?”
“No, I didn’t tell him shit. He knew. He just knew somehow.”
“What did he know?”
“He said the name he was going to give us was the—”
“He said ‘us’? He knows there are two of us?”
“No, no, I don’t mean that. He never said that. He doesn’t know that. He said the name he was going to put in the paper for me, because he thought it was only me, was Iron Maiden. That was what they were going to call us—I mean, me. He was just trying to get me mad, I think.”
Carver thought for a moment. McEvoy knew more than he should know. He must have had help. It was more than access to information. He had insight and knowledge, and that made Carver think about the woman who had been in the room, waiting. The woman who saved McEvoy’s life. Carver now thought he might know who she was.
“Is this deep enough or not?” Stone said.
Carver put his thoughts aside and got up. He stepped over to the grave and pointed his flashlight down.
“Yes, Freddy, that will be fine. Put the dog in first.”
Carver turned his back while Stone reached over to pick up the little dog’s body.
“Gently, Freddy.”
He hated having to kill the dog. She had done nothing wrong. She was just collateral damage.
“Okay.”
Carver turned. The dog was in the hole.
“Now him.”
McGinnis’s body was on the ground by the end of the grave. Stone reached forward and grabbed the ankles and started backing up in the grave, pulling the body into it. The shovel was leaning against the far wall of the excavation. Carver grabbed the handle and pulled it out as Stone moved back.
Stone walked the body in. McGinnis’s shoulders and head dropped down the three feet with a dull thud. While Stone was still stooped forward holding the ankles, Carver swung the shovel and slammed the heel of it down between the younger man’s shoulder blades.
The air blasted out of Stone’s lungs and he fell forward in the grave, landing face-to-face with McGinnis. Carver quickly straddled the grave and pushed the point of the tool into the back of Stone’s neck.
“Take a good look, Freddy,” he said. “I had you dig this one deeper so I could put you in it on top of him.”
“Please…”
“You broke the rules. I did not tell you to call McEvoy. I did not tell you to engage him in conversation. I told you to follow my instructions.”
“I know, I know, I’m sorry. It’ll never happen again. Please.”
“I could make sure it doesn’t happen again right now.”
“No, please. I’ll make up for it. I won’t—”
“Shut up.”
“Okay, but I—”
“I said shut up and listen!”
“Okay.”
“Are you listening?”
Stone nodded, his face just inches from the lifeless eyes of Declan McGinnis.
“Do you remember where you were when I found you?”
Stone dutifully nodded.
“You were going to that dark place to face endless days of torment. But I saved you. I gave you a new name, I gave you a new life. I gave you the opportunity to escape from that and to join me in embracing the desires we share. I taught you the way and I only asked one thing in return. Do you remember what that was?”
“You said it was a partnership but not an equal partnership. I was the student and you were the teacher. I must do as you say.”
Carver pushed the steel point deeper into Stone’s neck.
“And yet here we are. And you have failed me.”
“I won’t let it happen again. Please.”
Carver looked up from the grave and at the ridgeline. The jagged lines were cut more sharply now as the sky drew orange light. They had to finish up here quickly.
“Freddy, you have that wrong. I won’t let it happen again.”
“Let me do something. Let me make it up.”
“You’ll get that chance.”
He pulled the shovel back and stepped off the grave.
“Bury them now.”
Stone turned and looked up tentatively, fear still in his eyes. Carver held the shovel out to him. Stone got up and took it.
Carver reached behind his back and pulled out the gun. With great delight he watched Stone’s eyes go wide. But then he pulled the handkerchief from his front pocket and started wiping the weapon clean of all fingerprints. When he was finished he dropped it into the grave by McGinnis’s feet. He wasn’t worried about Stone making a grab for it. Freddy was totally under his command and control.
“I am sorry, Freddy, but whatever we do about McEvoy, we won’t be returning his gun to him. It’s too risky to keep it around.”
“Whatever you say.”
Exactly, Carver thought.
“Hurry now,” he said. “We’re losing the dark.”
Stone quickly started shoveling dirt and sand back into the hole.
TWELVE: Coast to Coast
As I should have expected, my segment on the morning show did not come up until the second hour. For forty-five minutes I sat in a small, dark studio and waited while watching the first half of the show on the camera monitor. It included a feature on Eric Clapton and Crossroads, the addiction recovery center he created in the Caribbean. The segment ended with concert footage of Clapton performing a bluesy, soulful version of “Somewhere over the Rainbow” that was wonderfully moving and hopeful in relation to the piece but truncated by a cut to a commercial.