A new chapter debuts every Friday through Jan. 9
EW.coms exclusive excerpt ofJohn GrishamsThe Associatecontinues today with Chapter 3.
(Click here if you missed Chapter 1 orChapter 2).
Kyle had passed it a hundred times and never seen it.
Credit: Maki Galimberti
Behind it was a pancake house, and next door was a large discount appliance store.
He turned off the lights but left the engine running and the heater on.
A light snow was falling.
Why, exactly, was he sleepwalking through their little plan?
In the past hour hed thought of calling his father, but that conversation would take far too long.
John McAvoy would provide sound legal advice, and quickly, but the backstory had many complications.
But again, there were too many blanks to fill in and not enough time.
Hed thought of calling two of his Beta brothers from Duquesne, but why bother?
Any advice they might give would be as unsound as the strategies racing through his mind.
No sense ruining their lives.
And in the horror of the moment hed thought of the various schemes he could use to disappear.
A mad dash to the airport.
A clandestine car ride to the bus station.
A long jump off a tall bridge.
But they were watching, werent they?
And probably listening, too, so all phone calls would be shared.
Someone was watching at that very moment, he was certain.
If the Valium was working, he couldnt tell.
He walked bravely across the asphalt, each step leaving footprints.
Could this be his last moment of freedom?
He could still run, to somewhere.
He was hearing things, seeing things, imagining things.
Apparently, the Valium had reversed itself and had him ready to jump out of his skin.
He nodded at the decrepit clerk behind the front counter, but there was no audible response.
Why was he doing this?
He had never seen it.
He did not know anyone who had seen it.
I did nothing wrong.
I did not touch that girl, not that night anyway.
No one touched her.
At least that was the sworn and battle-tested version within the Beta fraternity.
But what if the video proved otherwise?
He would never know until he saw it.
The noxious smell of fresh paint hit him as he stepped into the hallway on the second floor.
He stopped at room 222 and glanced at his watch to verify he was not a minute too early.
He knocked three times, then heard movement and muffled voices.
Kyle stepped inside, leaving the old world behind.
The new one was suddenly terrifying.
Identical nine-millimeter Berettas, with matching holsters and black leather harnesses.
Good move, Plant said, nodding now.
Actually, Kyle thought in the haze of the moment, coming here was a very stupid move.
Room 222 had been converted into a makeshift field office.
The king-sized bed had been pushed into a corner.
The curtains were tightly closed.
Central York High School, class of 2001.
Tacked to the bare wall behind the folding tables were eight-by-ten color photos of three of his Beta brothers.
At the far end, almost to the curtains, was one of Elaine Keenan.
The room adjoined another, and the door between them was open.
5 walked through it same gun, same holster and glared at Kyle.
A ton of paperwork.
All this effort, all this work, all these men, just to nail me?
Kyle felt light-headed as he observed the power of his government in action.
Do you mind emptying your pockets?
Ginyard said as he offered a small cardboard box.
You think Im armed?
You think I might pull out a knife and attack you guys?
5 saw the humor and broke the ice with a good laugh.
How about a pat down?
Plant said, already moving toward Kyle.
Oh, sure, he said, then raised his arms.
All Yale students are heavily armed.
Plant began a very soft and quick frisk.
He finished just seconds after he started, then disappeared into the other room.
Detective Wright is across the hall, Ginyard said.
When it opened, Kyle entered alone.
Bennie Wright displayed no weaponry.
He offered a quick handshake while spitting out, Detective Wright, Pittsburgh PD.
A real pleasure, Kyle thought but said nothing.
What am I doing here?
What do you have in mind?
Kyle asked without moving.
Lets talk, Kyle, he said pleasantly, and Kyle realized he had a slight accent.
English was not his first language, though there was almost no trace of his native tongue.
But it was odd.
A man named Bennie Wright from Pittsburgh should not have a foreign accent.
There was a small video camera mounted on a tripod in one corner.
Wires ran to the table, to a laptop with a twelve-inch screen.
hey, Wright said, waving at one chair as he settled himself into the other.
I want all of this recorded, Kyle said.
Wright glanced over his shoulder at the camera and said, No problem.
Slowly, Kyle walked to the other chair and sat down.
Wright was rolling up the sleeves of his white shirt.
His necktie was already loose.
To Kyles right was the laptop with a blank screen.
To his left a thick, unopened file.
Turn on the camera, Kyle said.
Wright punched the laptop, and Kyles face appeared on the screen.
He looked at himself and saw nothing but fear.
No, Kyle said softly.
First we need to see your badge and some identification.
This irritated the detective, but only for a few seconds.
Kyle examined the bronze badge, and it did indeed show signs of age.
Benjamin J. Wright, Pittsburgh Police Department, officer number 6658.
How about a drivers license?
