Philip stares down at my hand on his sleeve. I slowly let him go.
“You’re still in danger,” he says. “Even if I put you in solitary. Even if I get you an immediate transfer. A correctional officer who is now claiming a vendetta wants you dead, plus you still have Ross Sumner and the Sumner fortune on your back—all of that is not conducive to a healthy outcome.”
“So what do I do?” I ask.
Philip replies by opening the door to his office, the one I had visited just yesterday. When I see Philip’s son Adam standing there in his full police uniform, my heart soars for the first time in I don’t know how long. For a moment, I just stare at my best friend. He smiles and nods as if to tell me that this is real, he is there, right in front of me. I let my mind fall back to another era, to the locker room before basketball practice at Revere High or double-dating with the Hancock sisters at Friendly’s or hanging out in the last row of the Fenway Park bleachers and razzing the opposing team’s right fielder.
Adam spreads his arms and steps forward and I fall into his bear hug. I squeeze my eyes shut because I’m afraid I’ll cry. I feel my legs give way, but Adam holds me up. How long has it been since I’ve experienced any physical affection? Almost five years. The last person to hug me with any genuine feeling or caring? My father, who now lay dying, on the day the jury read the guilty verdict. But even with him, even with the father I loved like no other man, I had sensed some hesitancy in the embrace. My father loved me. But—and perhaps this is me projecting—there had been some doubt, as though he wasn’t sure whether he was embracing his son or a monster.
There is no doubt in Adam’s hug.
Adam doesn’t release me until I finally let go of him. I step back, not sure I can even speak. Philip has already closed the door. He stands next to his son.
“We have a plan,” Philip says.
Chapter
10
What plan?” I ask.
Philip Mackenzie nods at his son. Adam smiles and starts unbuttoning his shirt.
“You’re about to become me,” Adam says.
“Say again?”
“I would have liked more time to plan,” Philip says, “but I meant what I said. If you stay here, no matter how hard I try to protect you, it won’t end well. We got to do this now.”
Adam takes off his uniform shirt and hands it to me. “I’m wearing the smallest size I have, but it’ll still be loose.” I take hold of the shirt. Adam undoes his belt.
“Here’s the plan in a nutshell,” Philip continues. “You set us up, David.”
“I did?”
“You came to me yesterday for the first time—that meeting is on file—and you said that you wanted to be rehabilitated for your crimes. Gave me a whole big sob story of how you wanted to make amends and confess and get real help.”
I slip off my hospital gown and throw Adam’s white T-shirt over my head. Then I shrug into the uniform. “Go on.”
“You begged me to bring your old pal Adam in to see you. That’s where you wanted to start—with someone who’d listen and still accept you. Because of my loyalty to my old friend—your father—I fell for it. It made sense to me. If anybody could pull you back from the abyss and get you to confess the truth, it was Adam.”
Adam hands me his pants. He is grinning.
“So I arranged a long visit today—just like I told the correctional officers out there. You and Adam were going to spend the day together.”
The pants are too long. I roll them up and create cuffs.
“What I didn’t know was that you had a gun.”
I frown. “A gun?”
“Yes. You pulled it on us. You made Adam undress and then you tied him up and locked him in the closet.”
Adam smiles. “And me being afraid of the dark.”
I return the smile, though now I remember that as a child Adam had a Snoopy night-light near his bed. It kept me up sometimes when I slept over. I would stare at Snoopy and not be able to close my eyes.
Funny the memories that stay with you.
“Then,” Philip continues, “you put on Adam’s uniform, including his trench coat and cap. You forced me at gunpoint to take you out of here.”
“How the hell did I get a gun?” I ask.
Philip shrugs. “It’s a prison. People smuggle in a lot of things.”
“Not guns, Philip. And I just spent the night in the infirmary surrounded by three guards. No one is going to buy that.”
“Good point,” Philip says. “Wait, hold up.” He opens his desk drawer and pulls out a Glock 19. “You took mine.”
“What?”
Philip opens his suit jacket to reveal an empty holster. “I had the gun on me. We were reminiscing. You started to cry. I foolishly moved to comfort you. You caught me off guard and grabbed my gun.”
“Is it loaded?”
“No, but…” Philip Mackenzie reaches into his drawer and draws out a box of ammunition. “It is now.”
This plan is insane. There are a dozen holes. Big holes. But I am being swept out to sea in the riptide. There is no time for second-guessing. This is my chance. I have to get out of here. If Philip and Adam end up facing consequences or making sacrifices, so be it. My son is alive and out there somewhere. Selfish or not, that trumps all.
“Okay, so what’s next?” I ask.
Adam is down to his underwear. I take a seat and slip on his socks and start on the shoes. Adam is two inches taller and while we used to be around the same weight, he probably has twenty or thirty pounds on me now. I tighten the belt to keep my pants from falling down. I throw on the trench coat, which helps.
“I had Adam wear his cap on the way in,” Philip says, tossing me the police hat. “That’ll cover your hair. Walk fast and keep your head down. We only pass one checkpoint on the way out to the parking lot. When we get to my car, you will order me—at gunpoint, of course—to drive to my house. Stupid me, I went to the bank yesterday and took out five thousand dollars in cash. I would have taken more but that would be too obvious.”
Adam tosses me his wallet. “I have a thousand dollars in there. And maybe I’ll forget to cancel one of my credit cards. That Mastercard maybe. I never use it anyway.”
I nod and try not to get too emotional. I need to focus, stay in the moment, think it through while still moving. The Mastercard, for example. Could I use it? Or would that make it too easy to track me?
Later, I tell myself. Think about it later. Concentrate. “So when do we head to your car?”
Philips checks his watch. “Right now. We should get to my house before nine. You’ll tie me up, and I’ll escape at, say, six tonight. That should give you a decent head start. I’ll be panicked when I finally get free, especially because you tied up my son and left him in the closet. I’ll rush back here to let him out before I tell anyone what’s going on. Then I’ll sound the alarm. Probably around seven tonight. That should give you a solid ten-hour head start.”
I tighten the laces of Adam’s shoes so they don’t slip off. I have the cap’s brim tilted down over my eyes. Adam thinks about putting on the hospital gown, but there’s no point in that.