"So there's somebody you want to protect."
He looked directly at Mac as though every physical feature of the cell existed in a different, transparent dimension.
"What do you mean, Pat?"
"Some person who could actually commit a crime like this. One of any number with the capacity. Right here in our city."
"I told them I did it. I said it.""Saying it is just talk. Anybody can confess to an unsolved case, and believe you me, there's always a welcome mat waiting."
"That guy in the dark suit said they, they had stuff on me."
"They're calling it evidence, yes. But . . . here's the thing." Pat took a swallow.
"I have never seen you be unkind, Mac. Not once, not even close. Not even to rich owners of Mercedes. Or someone pulling a knife on you. I just never thought it would go so far as this. To hand over your life for someone else. "
Mac watched Pat, almost curiously.
"Now you're the kind of guy who's friendly to half the city. Which is not to say you can fill one hand with the names of close friends. Just like anybody else. Can you name them, Mac?"
"You're one, Pat."
The walkie-talkie crackled. Pat sighed and reached to turn it down.
"I'll be back. Count on it."
Pat passes Martin in the corridor and answers the radio.
Mac informs Martin they have confiscated his car. Tim told him. "They took the Mustang to pay for the wrecked Impala before. I don't know what they'll take to pay for the Fury."
Martin assures him not to worry about it, one-fourth of all used auto loans are defaulted. They actually need predictable losses, or the system gets screwed up.
"Well, could you take care of my stuff for me? Do something with it, I mean."
"Sure, I . . ."
"Or give it to John."
"I'll keep it for you. Until whenever."
Martin informs Mac about the upcoming series on the disappearance and discovery of the Reverend for the paper, since Mac had kind of suggested it himself. A while back.
"Uh, sure. That sounds great, Martin." Whatever you say.
"Now, I might as well tell you, there's been some calls. Book agents. For people acquainted with the accused killer. But, no matter what someone else might tell you, nothing's a sure thing. Deals fall through all the time."
"Okay."
"So. I'm saying, you don't have to talk to anybody else if you don't want to. Nobody can make you. Not even me. Not even the court."
"I can talk. I don't mind."
"That's not what—I'm just saying, we do a thing for the paper, and just see? You and me, huh?"
"A book might be a break for you."
Martin reddens. "It's not about me. Really."
He pauses, as if choosing a specific look for his face to display. "I was going to say, but. Well, if things go a certain way it won't help you one damn bit, will it."
Mac sits on the cot, perfectly calm.
"Okay, then. Feel like talking?" As long as it didn't involve Kelly. Her incessant trilling about going to the network farm leagues. Atlanta, no less.
