"What do you mean?"
"An autopsy can tell a lot about the way a knife fight actually went down. You know, like the angle of the knife wounds, even which wounds came first, almost reconstruct it."
Nat turned it over in her mind. "Graf told us that Upchurch attacked Saunders and then attacked him, and that he, Graf, was able to save himself by turning the knife on Upchurch."
"Right, but that doesn't make sense, according to what Willie told you. If Upchurch was going to stab anybody, it would have been Graf. You know, I've dealt with plenty of prison brutality cases and excessive force cases, in my time."
"And?"
"What if Upchurch pulled the knife on Graf, and then Saunders defended Graf? Maybe Saunders even stepped in front of Graf to save him. Then Graf saw his friend cut down and simply executed Upchurch, in the heat of battle. C.O.s are human beings, like soldiers. Think Haditha or My Lai."
Nat considered it as the Beetle rolled an inch or two and the sky got darker.
"It's entirely possible that Upchurch was no threat to Graf at the time he was killed," Angus continued, sounding intrigued. "For all we know, Upchurch could have been on his knees, begging for his life.
That’s the kind of thing an autopsy would show. The angle of the knife would be different, depending on whether the blow was struck from above or from the same level."
"Why stop there, if you're spinning hypos?" Nat asked, her thoughts clicking ahead. "What if there was no attack by Upchurch at all? What if Graf murdered Upchurch in cold blood? Planned the whole thing. Even planted the knife on him, after the fact?"
"What?" Angus looked over, his blue eyes widening. "Why would Graf have done that?"
"I don't know. For the same reason he bullied Upchurch. There was animosity between them."
"That's a stretch, Natalie. We don't know enough to go there."
"But what if?"
Angus thought a minute. "Then how does Saunders end up dead?"
"He's a casualty, like you said, of war. Graf sacrifices him. He's just there to provide the story that Upchurch attacked him and he acted in self-defense."
"Graf kills Saunders?" Angus's lips parted. "That's crazy! They were best friends. You heard him."
"We've established that he's a liar."
"And a jerk and a bigot. But that's not the same as a cold-blooded killer. That's not how C.O.s work, anyway. They're tight, like cops. Like soldiers, too, come to think of it. Loyal to each other." Angus's car traveled another inch on the clogged road. "You know, we're forgetting something. There's one sure way to find out what really happened in that room."
"How?"
"They have video surveillance all over the prison. Did you see those silver orbs on the ceilings, with the mirrors? There're cameras inside them."
Nat hadn't noticed.
"I know they have videotapes of the riot. The troopers told me they turned them over to the Chester County D.A., as evidence. So they must have videotapes of that room, too."
Nat straightened in her seat, imagining a videotape of a brutal double murder and of her trying to save Saunders's life. Did she want to see it? Could she even watch?
"Which room was it, exactly?"
"I don't know. One of the staff rooms." Then Nat remembered. "Willie said they take inmates into the security office to discuss their write-ups."
"Good," Angus said, nodding. "That's what we need to do. Get those tapes, from the security office." The Beetle finally reached the corner, then Angus took a right off onto another road. Traffic flowed freer, and Nat felt her own gears rev up.
"So how would we do that? They'll never give them up voluntarily."
"If I didn't owe Graf my life, I'd subpoena them."
"What do you mean?"
"I'd file a suit on behalf of the inmate who was killed, Upchurch, for deprivation of civil rights and unreasonable use offeree, along the lines of my theory that Graf killed Upchurch needlessly, in return for Upchurch's killing Saunders."
"Upchurch's estate would be the plaintiff, right? And his family?"
"Yes, I'd have to find them."
"So this would be one of those lawsuits where the burglar sues the homeowner. The kind that endears lawyers to the populace."
"Thank you." Angus's eyes glittered with mischief. The Beetle zoomed ahead, and Nat's spirits lifted when she spotted a sign for 1-95. She had a shot at keeping her hunky boyfriend, which was a good thing. Angus said, "In my younger days, I'd be all over it, but I'm so corporate now. I need a good relationship with that prison, for the clinic."
"But I don't. I can sue the prison, for admitting Buford and Donnell to your class. For failing to adequately safeguard the other inmates, and us. They'd raise an immunity defense but it would be a first strike."
"Not bad." Angus nodded. "That's what Machik is worried about, and he deserves it."
"So we tell him we're going to file, then we give him my settlement demand." Nat shifted forward as a plan began to form in her mind. "We ask for a copy of the videotapes in return for my complete, signed release. Essentially, we offer him a free settlement. If he says no, we know something’s very, very wrong. Who turns down a free settlement? And if nothing incriminating is on the tape, he'll make the deal."
"That's a great idea! It blocks him in." Angus thought a minute. "But why will we say you want the tapes? What do we give as a reason?"
"We say it'll help me process the trauma of the event." Nat wasn't half kidding, but Angus laughed.
"You're an evil genius. Do you intend world domination?"
"Not at all. Tenure, merely."
"Done and done." They took off, and the Beetle hit the ramp for 1-95. They reached the highway, three lanes of flat road headed north into Philly, and the traffic moved fast. The reflected light of cars, houses, and buildings muddied the sky. It was almost nightfall. They whizzed past billboards of pretty people, their supersize smiles illuminated by spotlights from beneath. The Beetle switched into the fast lane, and Nat figured that now she might even get home before Hank.
"Now we're moving," she said happily. She checked her cell phone, but there were no messages from Barb Saunders.
"This is way better." Angus looked annoyed in the rearview. "Except the dude behind me is a tailgater."
"Ignore him. He'll pass."
"How nonviolent of you."
"It's this talk of knife fights." Nat shuddered.
Angus accelerated, but the car behind them blasted the Beetles interior with light. Nat turned around and squinted into headlights, which were higher than usual, above a large chrome grille.
"It's tall, like an SUV," she said.
"I think it's a pickup. He's been weaving through traffic. Must be a drunk. I can't believe Willie ever did stuff like this." Angus accelerated again. White reflective lines on the highway flashed by as one. Road salt made tick tick noises as it hit the Beetle.
"Slow down." Nat gripped the stiff rubber hand strap. "Make him go around you."
"Get off my ass, pal!" Angus shouted at the rearview, and the Beetle's interior finally went dark. The lane to their right opened up, and the pickup darted into the empty spot.
"Good." Nat relaxed. "I'll give him a dirty look."
"Nobody messes with Professor Greco."
Nat looked over and saw it was a black pickup, its F-250 letters and a Calvin decal in view. The Beetle and the truck sped side by side through the twilight. The asphalt glistened in the headlights. A veneer of black ice on the road winked darkly. In the split second before the accident happened, Nat saw it like deja vu. The pickup hit the ice. She screamed. The pickup sideswiped the Beetle in a dark flash of metal, sending both vehicles skidding into the guardrail, spraying sparks and making a hideous scraping noise.
PHOOM! The Beetle's airbags exploded. A hot plastic cushion burst into Nat's face and pressed her back into her seat. The car slid forward, out of control. She kept screaming, praying for the Beetle to stop. She couldn't see anything but plastic. She couldn't hear anything but her own yelling. Everything was heat and fear and a funny smell.