to the first trooper he could find. “I want to talk to Hamilton.” The state cop was six-three and solid, unflinching in the brimmed hat and dove-gray uniform. “Don’t give me that dead-eye, state-cop fucking stare. Go find him.”
It took a few minutes. When Hamilton came out, Beckett didn’t waste time. “Is she talking?”
“That’s why you brought me out here?”
“Has she given you anything? Yes or no?”
Hamilton studied Beckett’s face, thinking about what he saw on it. Determination maybe. Maybe desperation. “She’s staring at the table. Hasn’t said a single word.”
“You’ve had her for two hours.”
“She’s a tough little nut.”
“Walk with me.” Beckett moved for the back stairs.
Hamilton trailed along. “There’s nothing I can do for your partner. You know that.”
Beckett led him into the break room downstairs. “You want a Coke?”
“Indictment, man. Come on. My hands are tied.”
“It’s all right. Have a Coke.”
Beckett fed a bill into the machine, pushed a button, and waited for the bottle to drop. When it did, he opened it and took a sip. “What does your boss want?”
“Your partner tortured and executed two men. What do you think he wants?”
“Reelection.”
“Funny.”
“Will he take the case capital?”
“Death penalty. Life in prison. Do you really think it matters?”
“Yeah.” Beckett bought another Coke. “Damn straight.” Beckett handed over the bottle, then bent for his change to buy time. When he straightened, the decision was made. “I can make her talk.”
“Channing? I seriously doubt it.”
“Do you want to know what happened in the basement or not?”
“Of course, I want to know.”
“Give me five minutes alone with her.” Beckett sipped from the bottle, and his eyes were flat. “The kid will fucking talk.”
* * *
When Beckett walked into the interview room, the girl sat alone at a metal table. He sat across from her, empty-handed. Channing kept her head down, but Beckett saw a pearl of blood at the quick of her nail, the places she’d chewed her bottom lip raw. “I’m Detective Beckett. I’m Elizabeth’s partner.” She stirred at the name, but kept her eyes down. “I know you’re Liz’s friend. I know you care. I’m her friend, too.” Beckett put his elbows on the table. “Do you believe me?”
“I believe you’re her friend.”
“That’s good. Thank you for that. Do you understand that there’s an arrest warrant with her name on it?”
“Yes.”
“That she’s charged with double homicide for what happened in the basement?”
The girl nodded.
“That means she could go to prison for life and might be executed. Do you understand that, too?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think that’s fair?”
Nothing.
Stillness.
“What if she gets hurt when they arrest her? There’re a dozen state patrolmen in the county looking just for her. Every cop in the state has her picture. What if she gets shot or wrecks a car or hurts somebody trying to elude arrest? What happens to her, then? Life on the run? Life with nothing? You understand that North Carolina is a death-penalty state?”
“She told me not to say anything.”
“I know she did. And I know why, too.” The girl looked up at that. “It’s okay. I know what happened.”
“She told you?”
“I’m a cop. I figured it out. Others will, too.” The girl looked away, and Beckett waited for her to look back. “Does the name Billy Bell mean anything to you?” It did. He saw it in the twitch of her hands, and in the sudden flush he knew was shame. “He works as a gardener for your parents. I spoke to him this morning.”
“So?”
She was on the edge, and Beckett made his voice hard because on the edge meant nothing. He needed her broken.
“Billy bought drugs for your mother. Mostly, he bought them from Brandon and Titus Monroe. Pills. Cocaine. That went on for years. That’s fact. But you knew that, didn’t you? That your mother’s a user. That your gardener had a connection. You wanted to meet that connection. You and your friends. You wanted to be bad. You wanted the thrill.” Channing tensed, a moment of terror in her eyes. That’s when Beckett knew he was right. “Do you know what an affidavit is?”
“Maybe.”
“It’s a sworn statement, admissible in court. Billy Bell signed one this morning. Would you like to read it?”
“No.”
Beckett withdrew a folded paper from his pocket and placed it on the table. “You would have never been in that basement if you and your friends hadn’t wanted to walk on the wild side. But that’s what happened, isn’t it? You bought drugs from the Monroe brothers, and they came back and they took you.