“Of the brother? Doing what?”

“It doesn’t matter.” X shrugged to make the point. “Reading a book. Walking the dog. What I require is a current photograph of good quality.”

“That’s it?”

“Bring me that, and the blonde is yours.”

Reece licked dry lips, nodding in ill-concealed eagerness. “You said there was a condition.”

“There is, and it’s important.” X leaned closer, so there would be no mistake. “You’ll take the girl after I’m dead, and not before.”

Sudden emotion flared in Reece’s eyes, panic first, then disappointment and anger, his need for the girl as great as any junkie’s need for a fix. “I’m sorry, sir. I don’t understand.”

“If you think about it, you will. Take a moment.” X studied Reece’s face as the wheels turned. The man’s need was a living thing, and it warred with his very legitimate fear of retribution. He’d seen what happened to men who crossed X—Reece had killed a few himself—and none of those deaths had been quick or easy. X repeated his condition. “After I’m gone, and only then.”

“Yes, sir. It makes sense.”

“Explain it to me so I know you understand.”

“Umm, you want Jason French to remain here at Lanesworth. That means there can be no doubts about who killed the brunette.”

“And if the blonde turns up dead?”

“People might wonder if Jason really is the killer.”

“Police.” X stressed the word. “Prosecutors.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you understand how unhappy I would be if something like that happened?”

“I do.”

“So tell me the terms of our agreement.”

“Bring pictures of the brother. Wait for the girl until after you’re dead.”

“It’s very simple.”

Reece nodded a final time, and stood. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Just the pictures, please.”

Reece said he would handle it, and X knew he would do it quickly. Calling the guard, X waited as he led Reece to the world outside. When the guard returned, X was pacing restlessly. He felt better with Jason inside, not alive but close enough to remember how it felt; and right now, it felt good.

“I want a fighter,” he said. “Now. Tonight.”

The guard asked for a preference, and X thought for a moment. He knew everything about Jason French, and much about the doings of the prison.

“A Pagan,” he said at last. “The biggest one you can find.”

22

Dinner at Chance’s house was simple and pleasant. His mother told jokes, and asked about his day. When the meal was finished, they argued over who would do the dishes. “Don’t be silly.” His mother stood, gathering plates. “Be with your friend.”

In Chance’s room, he hooked a thumb at the kitchen. “Sorry about that.”