The Night Killer

contingencies.
    Frank reached for her, then looked, startled, at the moaning men behind her. He looked back at Diane, his expression going from surprise, to worry, to anger. He turned to the sheriff and in a flash had him by the collar of his suit, pushed up against the cell bars.
    “What kind of piece of garbage are you that you would do this?” Frank pulled him forward a few inches and slammed him against the bars again. “Get her out now!”
    “You can’t . . .” the sheriff sputtered.
    “I can and I will,” said Frank. “Get her out. Now.” He let go. “Now, you sorry son of a bitch.”
    “You’re going to answer for this,” said Agent Mathews to the sheriff. “This is a disgrace to law enforcement—putting a woman in the cell with a bunch of men.” He looked at the empty cell and at Liam and back at the sheriff. “Disgraceful.”
    “Unlock the door now,” said Colin Prehoda. “This isn’t going to go well for you, Conrad.”
    The sheriff looked at each of their faces, his lip curled. As if just noticing the three men holding their pained body parts and whimpering, he opened his mouth and looked at Diane in amazement.
    “You need to call nine- one-one,” she said. “These men need to get to a hospital.”
    “Why’d you do it, man?” said the guy on the bed. “Why’d you put her in here with us?”
    The sheriff went to the intercom and punched a button. “Bob!” he yelled. “Get your ass down here.”
    Bob, the painfully thin deputy she’d met at the Barres’, must have already been on his way, for he came running through the door.
    “You were supposed to watch her,” said the sheriff. “Where the hell were you?”
    “I’m sorry, Sheriff, but, you know, I ate at that new Mexican place and something just tore me up inside,” he said. “I was coming down as soon as I could.”
    “He was supposed to get her out if there was trouble,” said the sheriff. “I was trying to teach her a lesson.”
    “Teach her a lesson?” said Liam. “They tried to rape her.”
    Bob looked at the men in the cell. “She did that?”
    The sheriff unlocked Diane’s cell and opened it.
    Diane glared at him as she walked out of the cell. The sleeve of her jacket was almost ripped off and at some point she had torn her skirt up the side, probably when she broke the big guy’s knee.
    “The best thing you can do for yourself now, Conrad, is resign,” Diane said. “Let Liam out.” Frank put his arms around Diane and she leaned against him.
    “You can’t . . .” the sheriff began again.
    He was red faced and angry. He still hated her, still wanted to say this was his county. She could see he wanted to put her back in the cell. But there was also something else, some other emotion she couldn’t quite identify.
    “I can,” said Agent Mathews. “Open the door and let him out. There’s a lot we have to do here and a lot of questions you have to answer.”
    “I’ve got questions for him,” said the sheriff, pointing to Liam.
    “He has more credibility than you,” Diane interrupted. “He has more character witnesses than you. Let him out. You think I’m going to be a problem for you? He’s going to be worse.”
    “What are you talking about?” said Conrad. “He was in the woods with a knife.”
    “Show me a man in these woods who doesn’t carry a knife,” said David. “He’s a Medal of Honor recipient. How close have you ever come to serving your country? Slapping a yellow ribbon on the bumper of your truck?”
    Diane watched Conrad. Only now did he have a look of panic on his face, and she thought that was curious.
    The sheriff stood immobile for a moment, undecided. Then he unlocked the cell and Liam walked out.
    “Call an ambulance,” said Diane. “Your prisoners need medical attention. They may be sorry examples of humanity, but they don’t need to suffer.”
    Diane began walking out of the cell block toward the doors. The others followed. She heard Bob apologizing to the sheriff.
    “My insides were just real tore up,” he was saying.
    “Shut up, Bob,” said the sheriff.
    Mike, Neva, and Andie were in the sheriff’s office. Diane grinned at them. They looked back at her in horror. Neva, however, didn’t miss a beat. She took out her camera and began photographing Diane with the sheriff in the background.
    “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” the sheriff yelled at Neva.
    “Documenting,” she said, without looking up. She took close-ups of the rips in