Page 70 of The Chain House

“If the only copy of that manuscript was buried with Emily Hawthorne, how does Minks seem to know every detail of it?”

“It’s obvious he read it before he buried it.”

“And he has a memory like you? Never forgets a detail?”

Batise licked a finger, crumpled the muffin wrapper into a little ball. “Something is troubling you, Sam Harper. What knowledge have you stumbled upon since last we spoke …” He looked at an imaginary watch on his left arm. “Only thirty minutes ago.”

Sam peered out the window overlooking the yard, but felt Batise’s eyes on him, then felt his own jaw quivering.

“Tell me, son. What’s bothering you?”

Sam turned on him, full of as much fuel and fire as he could muster. “Why?”

“Why … what?”

“Why me?”

“Sam and Sal … Sal and Sam …”

“Stop it.”

But Batise had to say once more: “Sam and Sal.”

“Did you know two people from the Freedom Ranch …”

“I knew everyone from the Freedom Ranch, Sam Harper. It was my ranch.”

Sam went on as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “Their names were Raven and Yellow.”

Batise leaned back in his chair, folded his hands in his lap. “My father, from prison, he used to tell me, Take care of your little brother. Take care of Tommy. Take care of Tiny Tommy Batise.”

“Who is Tommy Batise?”

“Who do you think Tommy Batise is?”

“Your relative? Your brother?”

Batise pointed at him. “Very good. Now keep going.”

“Your father asked you to take care of him because he’s your little brother?”

“Right again,” said Batise, “except in this case, my half brother. My father got around, and unlike me, he didn’t always … pull out in time.” Batise winked. “Most the time. But I was told time and time again to watch over Tommy because, yes, he was my little brother, but also so small, ya know? Do you know a grown man who has always seemed kind of … tiny, Sam Harper? Maybe even a grown man you seem to tower over and perhaps you’ve always wondered why?”

“Stop.”

“You wanted to know why, so I’m telling you why. I haven’t got much time left.” He showed him the muffin wrapper balled in his hand. “I just had my last snack. Speaking of lasts, Sam Harper, I have requested you share in my last meal and it’s been granted by Warden Adrian Wren. Steak and potatoes. My favorite.”

“What do you know about my father?”

“I know when he was a little boy, his mind drifted toward the fantastical and the imaginative. He liked to make up his own stories and live in his own little world where he was a raven and he had a mongoose sidekick and together they hunted bad guys. The Raven and The Mongoose, Sam Harper … surely Trevor Harper has shown you the artwork from his childhood.”

“You’re lying,” Sam said, but this was just as Jennifer had told him.

Batise said, “Who can you trust, Sam Harper? Your friends? Are they really your friends? Warden Wren? Agent Givens?” He grinned, said, “Your father? Can you even trust him?”

Sam stood so fast his chair toppled and the guard went on alert.

Batise, chains and all, held up a hand to the guard, as if to hold him off. “Your eyes twitch when you get mad, Sam Harper. They’ve done so ever since you were a boy …”