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Excerpt
The Ascent
Argento took in the group in front of him. Two men in suits who looked like cops: one Black and middle-aged, with a solid frame; the other younger, white, and lean, with a ratty mustache. Next to them was a skinny guy with graying hair in a cheap brown suit. He looked skittish. Rounding them out was a woman, midtwenties with long brown hair tied back. She came in at about five-seven with a triathlete build and wore a plain gray sweatshirt and running shoes. Not staff, Argento reasoned, because she wasn't wearing any kind of uniform. Then he saw she was holding a notebook. Some kind of tourist. On a tour that had just gone very much awry.
Everyone but Argento started talking at once, Argento's group trying to explain what they had just witnessed and the men in the other camp demanding answers.
"We have a homicide scene we need to lock down in medical," LeMaines said. "Check that, two homicide scenes."
"What? So why isn't ... why aren't you there instead of here?" Brown Suit demanded.
"Because we can't get radio reception and we can't get a fucking call through," Aguilar interjected.
"Did Dr. Lau come this way?" Rachel asked.
Brown Suit shook his head. He jammed his thumb on the intercom button. "McVay, what the hell is going on?" he shouted. "Call the warden, call MDC, give me status on comms and medical, and how about opening this damn door."
The Black man in the suit had stepped protectively in front of the woman in the running shoes. He was watching Argento intently. He pulled a lanyard out of his front shirt pocket that held a gold badge that said State Highway Patrol with an eagle on top and underneath read State of Missouri.
"Drop the stick," he said. "Right now."
Argento was still holding Spentz's collapsible baton. He would have preferred to hang on to it, but all things considered, it seemed best to comply. He let it fall to the floor and, as a courtesy, kicked it over to the trooper, who picked it up and shoved it in the back of his beltline.
The trooper gestured at Argento. "What's his deal?" he said to Aguilar and LeMaines.
"He saved me," Rachel offered. "Three prisoners killed one of our officers and came after me, and he stopped them."
The trooper gave the two correctional officers a questioning look. "Seems that way," Aguilar nodded. "We lost one of our guys, and there's one dead prisoner and two mangled ones."
"What are you in for?" the white man with the mustache demanded. Argento figured he was Trooper Number Two and had already taken an instant dislike to him. Argento said nothing.
"Does it speak?" the white trooper said, taking a step closer to Argento.
"Assault," Aguilar said. "He beat up some deputies."
"Thanks for helping the nurse," the Black trooper said, locking eyes with Argento, "but you can go back to your cell."
Argento knew how he looked to outsiders. It wasn't just the prison orange he found himself in, or the blood decorating the front of his sweatshirt. His hair was cropped short, his eyes expressionless, his build that of someone who could hurt people. One of Emily's friends had once confided to her that he had a cruel set to his face. Pedestrians would occasionally cross the street to avoid him, especially late at night. Or lock their car doors. A female jogger had taken out her pepper spray once when he had walked in her direction. He resembled a short-tempered cattle rustler.
"He should stay," Rachel said. "He helped me. He can help you."
"He gets points for all that. But he's a convict we don't know," the Black trooper said.
The white trooper said, "So go screw."
"All right," Argento said. "They haven't assigned me a cell yet. Anywhere in particular you'd like me to go?"
"Yeah," the white trooper said, pointing in a random direction. "Fucking ... away."
"Wait," Rachel said. "Just wait."
Excerpted from The Ascent by Adam Plantinga. Copyright © 2024 by Adam Plantinga. Excerpted by permission of Grand Central Publishing. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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