Max - Bey Deckard Page 0,55

have trusted my own guts and chased you off when you came sniffing around for her.”

Swallowing, Crane drew his hand back into his lap. If he thought too long about the speech that Brian had given at his wedding—about welcoming a new brother into the family—he’d break down. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I didn’t do the things they said I did. I swear it.”

“Yeah, you and all the other guys in here,” said Brian with an ugly laugh. He stood to go, tucking the papers into his satchel.

“Brian, please… Tell her I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

Brian patted his hair back, his fading brown waves receding from a crumpled and pockmarked forehead. “I’m not telling her shit. She’s better off not hearing from you again. You know, it’s a good thing she’s got Eddie to talk to. Else she’d be—”

“Eddie?” It came out like a shot fired, startling Brian into taking a step back. The guard at the door looked over with a frown.

“Yeah. Eddie. That kid you fucked up? Remember him?” Brian said, scowling.

“Oh God, Brian… What is Eddie doing with Mary?”

Brow beetled, Brian stared at Crane. “I’d say that’s none of your damned business.” Then he turned and left.

Crane didn’t sleep a wink that night.

10:15 a.m., Sunday, May 28th

Crane was sitting on his cot, scribbling out his thoughts in one of the notebooks he was allowed to have, when a short, wiry guy with sallow skin and droopy, tired-looking blue eyes stepped into his cell. The stranger stood there, hand stroking his bald head, blinking at Crane.

“Can… I help you?” Crane asked nervously. No one had ever come into his cell to talk to him before.

“Yeah… Yeah, I got somethin’ for you,” the man said, fidgeting. Then he jumped over to the toilet and pulled his pants down.

In shock, Crane could only stare at him.

“Don’t look, man. You’re makin’ me nervous, man.”

Crane quickly turned his head away, his pulse fast and light. What in the hell?

After some quiet grunting, Crane heard the man run some water in the sink. He was curious but he didn’t dare turn his head.

“There. There you go.”

Crane looked at the plastic bag in the man’s outstretched hand.

“Um. No… Thank you,” he murmured.

“Ah, man. I washed any caca off it, man. It’s all good. Here… It’s for you.”

Hesitantly, Crane took the item from him and unwrapped the plastic. It was an old-fashioned flip-phone.

“Christ!” he whispered and turned his back to the hallway, hugging the phone to his chest. It was warm in his hand, an uncomfortable reminder of how the man had smuggled it in. He looked over his shoulder, his brows high. “Are you trying to get me in trouble?”

“It’s okay. Gros Alphonse is on the lookout. You gotta open it. You gotta hit Redial. Okay? Yeah, man,” said his visitor, slouching nonchalantly by the door. He gave a little salute to someone down the hall, then nodded again at Crane. “Go on.”

Slowly, Crane flipped the phone open and powered it on. The Talis logo flashed across the screen and a menu popped up. He clicked the Down button a few times, looking for how to redial a number. Finally, he found it. Holding his breath, he lifted the phone to his ear. It rang twice before a familiar voice picked up.

“Hey, baby, what’s up?”

“Max,” Crane choked out, his heart crashing like a whole orchestra of cymbals.

“Yes, it’s me, sweetheart. How are you? Are you keeping okay?” The false concern in Max’s voice made Crane want to be sick, but part of him was giddy just to hear from him.

“What the fuck do you want?”

“Touchy, touchy, Doc. I’m just checking in to make sure no one’s laid a finger on you. I’m spending good money keeping you safe.”

“What?”

“You’ve got a round-the-clock security detail, courtesy of little ol’ me. Gosh, Doc… What do you take me for?”

Crane swallowed, crushing the phone in his hand. “Why, Max? Why did you do this to me?” When the short, twitchy man by the door put his finger over his lips, Crane lowered his voice. “Why, just tell me… why?”

“Why?” Max’s laugh was lighthearted, his amusement genuine, and Crane gritted his teeth. “Why not?” It was the final blow—proof that Max had purposefully and methodically destroyed his life and left him to rot in jail for crimes he hadn’t committed.

“I never did anything to you,” Crane rasped, tears gathering in his eyes.

“You didn’t need to. I was bored, I guess,” Max said matter-of-factly. “If it