'Stop that!' Rusty roared. He still looked bewildered, but now he looked angry, as well. 'Stop that right goddam now!'
He tried to get up, but Linda put both of her arms around him and held him down. 'Don't,' she said. 'Don't, he's dangerous.'
' What?' Rusty turned his head and stared at her with disbelief. 'Are you crazy?
Barbie was still holding his hands up, showing them to the cops. Doubled over as he was, it made him look like he was salaaming.
'Thibodeau,' Randolph said. 'Step back. That's enough.'
'Put that gun away, you idiot!' Rusty shouted at Randolph.'You want to kill someone?'
Randolph gave him a brief look of dismissive, contempt, then turned to Barbie. 'Stand up straight, son.'
Barbie did. It hurt, but he managed. He knew that if he hadn't been prepared for Thibodeau's gutpunch, he would have been curled on the floor, gasping for breath. And would Randolph have tried kicking him to his feet? Would the other cops have joined him in spite of the spectators in the hall, some of whom were now creeping back for a better view? Of course, because their blood was up. It was how these things went.
Randolph said, 'I'm arresting you for the murders of Angela McCain, Doreen Sanders, Lester A. Coggins, and Brenda Perkins.'
Each name struck Barbie, but the last one hit the hardest. The last one was a fist. That sweet woman. She had forgotten to be careful. Barbie couldn't blame her - she had still been in deep grief for her husband - but he could blame himself for letting her go to Rennie. For encouraging her.
'What happened?' he asked Randolph. 'What in God's name did you people do?'
'Like you don't know,' Freddy Denton said.
'What kind of psycho are you?' Jackie Wettington asked. Her face was a twisted mask of loathing, her eyes small with rage.
Barbie ignored them both. He was staring into Randolph's face with his hands still raised over his head. All it would take was the smallest excuse and they'd be on him. Even Jackie, ordinarily the pleasantest of women, might join in, although with her it would take a reason instead of just an excuse. Or perhaps not. Sometimes even good people snapped.
'A better question,' he said to Randolph, 'is what you let Rennie do. Because this is his mess, and you know it. His fingerprints are all over it.'
'Shut up.' Randolph turned to Junior. 'Cuff him.'
Junior reached for Barbie, but before he could so much as touch a raised wrist, Barbie put his hands behind his back and turned around. Rusty and Linda Everett were still on the floor, Linda with her arms wrapped around her husband's chest in a restraining bearhug.
'Remember,' Barbie said to Rusty as the plastic cuffs went on... and were then tightened until they dug into the scant meat above the heels of his hands.
Rusty stood up. When Linda tried to hold him, he pushed her away and gave her a look she had never seen before. There was sternness in it, and reproach, but there was also pity. 'Peter,' he said, and when Randolph began to turn away, he raised his voice to a shout. 'I'm talking to you!You look at me while I do!'
Randolph turned. His face was a stone. He knew you - were here for him.' Sure he did,'Junior said. 'He may be crazy, but he's not stupid.'
Rusty took no notice of this.'He showed me his arms, his face, raised his shirt to show me his stomach and back. He's unmarked, unless he raises a bruise where Thibodeau suckerpunched him.'
Carter said, 'Three women? Three women and a preacher? He deserved it.'
Rusty didn't shift his gaze from Randolph.'This is a setup.'
'All due respect, Eric, not your department,' Randolph said. He had holstered his sidearm. Which was a relief.
'That's right,' Rusty said. 'I'm a pateh-em-up guy, not a cop or a lawyer. What I'm telling you is if I have occasion to look him over again while he's in your custody and he's got a lot of cuts and bruises, God help you.'
'What are you gonna do, call the Civil Liberties Union?' Frank DeLesseps asked. He was white-lipped with fury. 'Your friend there beat four people to death. Brenda Perkins's neck was broken. One of the girls was my fiancee, and she was sexually molested. Probably after; she was dead as well as before, is the way it looks.'
Most of the crowd that had scattered at the gunshot had crept back to watch, and now a soft and horrified groan arose from it.
'This is the guy you're defending? You ought to be in jail yourself!'
'Frank, shut up!' Linda said.
Rusty looked at Frank DeLesseps, the boy he had treated for chicken pox, measles, head lice picked up at summer camp, a broken wrist suffered sliding into second base, and once, when he was twelve, a particularly malicious case of poison ivy. He saw very little resemblance between that boy and this man. 'And if I was locked up? Then what, Frankie? What if your mother has another gallbladder attack, like last year? Do I wait for visiting hours at the jail to treat her?'
Frank stepped forward, raising a hand to either slap or punch. Junior grabbed him. 'He'll get his, don't worry. Everyone on Barbara's side will. All in good time.'
'Sides?' Rusty sounded honestly bewildered.'What are you talking about, sides'? This isn't a goddam football game.'
Junior smiled as if he knew a secret.
Rusty turned to Linda. 'Those are your colleagues talking. Do you like how they sound?'
For a moment she couldn't look at him. Then, with an effort, she did. 'They're mad, that's all, and I don't blame them. I am, too. Four people, Eric - didn't you hear? He killed them, and he almost certainly raped at least two of the women. I helped take them out of the hearse at Bowie's. I saw the stains.'
Rusty shook his head. 'I just spent the morning with him, watching him help people, not hurt them.'
'Let it go,' Barbie said. 'Stand back, big guy. It's not the ti - '
Junior poked him in the ribs. Hard.'You have the right to remain silent, assmunch.'