CHAPTER
29
G EORGE SEEMED TO HAVE LAPSED INTO A STUPOR. WITHOUT his noticing, Raley set the camcorder on the edge of the desk, left it recording, and gave George a verbal nudge. “You had to stop my investigation, so you set me up with Suzi Monroe.”
George took a heavy breath and released it slowly. “Jay’s idea. Two birds with one stone, stop you from finding out what we did to Cleveland Jones, and give ol’ Jay a free shot at your fiancée.” He winked a bloodshot eye. “His plan worked, too, didn’t it? That was our Jay. Everything always went his way.”
Raley recalled the morning he’d awakened to find the girl dead beside him, how Jay had been calmly drinking coffee and reading the Sunday newspaper. Remarkable, that he could be that blasé after having sacrificed a young woman’s life.
“Did Jay kill her?”
“She killed herself.”
“He just supplied the dope.”
“Pat and me, actually.” George’s reply was matter-of-fact. “Jay was to get the girl, we were to get the coke. That was our deal. Jay wooed her into slipping you the Mickey. Told her it would make you last all night, and it damn near did. Finally you passed out. Then we gave her the coke. Urged on by Jay, she…” He sobbed again. It took a moment for him to collect himself enough to go on.
“Next morning she was dead, and it worked out just like Jay had promised us it would. Your life went from sugar to shit. We were off the hook.” George had begun to slur his words, but he was fully aware of what he was saying. He focused his bleary eyes on Raley. “How long before you figured it out?”
“A while. At first I denied it was possible. I didn’t want to believe my best friend could do that to me. Not then, not now.”
“But once you caught on, you didn’t get over it.”
“No, I didn’t get over it.”
George sighed. “Well, I can’t say as I blame you. In your place, I probably would have done the same. Truth be known, I wish you had started with me.”
Maybe George wasn’t as lucid as Raley had thought. Perplexed, he said, “Started what with you, George?”
“Your vendetta.”
“My—”
“I’m relieved, you know. Ever since Pat Senior got popped in that alley, I’ve been waiting for my turn, wondering how you were going to take me out, and when. Gotta hand it to you, the way you dispensed with Jay. That was poetic, man. Using that newswoman and giving her the drug like we gave you. Very clever. Sent us all a message that caused some puckered sphincters, let me tell you.
“After Jay, the rest of us knew we were screwed, that it was only a matter of time. Even Miranda and Les have been nervous, and those two are never rattled. But I can sense it. They’re on edge, wondering if their relationship will be revealed once I’m exposed as a fraud. See, having a big, strapping hero for her husband is the perfect cover for them. And Pat Junior has been about to have a stroke. Of course, he’s as frightened of everybody learning he’s gay as he is of your revenge.”
“George, what the hell are you talking about?”
But by now the man had become lost in the boozy maze of his mind. Raley’s interruption didn’t draw him out of it. “One thing I can’t figure, though. Why’d you cap Cobb Fordyce this morning? He wasn’t even there when we did Jones. He was the real hero of the fire, the only hero. He had nothing to do with Suzi Monroe, either. He even gave you a pass on that. So why’d you do him? No, no, don’t bother answering. Screw it. I don’t really care.”
Suddenly, he raised the pistol and poked the barrel under his chin. Reacting instantly, Raley vaulted over the desk and caught George’s wrist just as he pulled the trigger. The bullet went wide and bored a hole through the paneling.
The desk chair with both of them in it went over backward, crashing into a trophy case. Shattered glass rained down on them. Trophies attesting to George’s athletic ability tumbled from their display shelves. A heavy silver cup hit Raley hard on the head, but he barely felt it. He was intent on his struggle over possession of the pistol.
George was much heavier than Raley, but Raley’s coordination wasn’t affected by bourbon. He wrested the pistol from George’s hand, but George got in a punch, his meaty fist connecting solidly with Raley’s eye. Inside Raley’s skull, new suns were born in blasts of light, but he held on to the pistol.
“Let me do it! Goddamn you!” the man sobbed. “Let me do it.”
“You said the four of you worked Jones over. But then you said Fordyce wasn’t there.”
“Give me the pistol.” George was blubbering, stretching and flexing his fingers toward the gun that Raley held well beyond his reach.
“Who else was in that room, George?”
“Please,” he whimpered. “I’m tired of it all. I just want to die.”
With his free hand, Raley grabbed him by his collar and jerked him up until their faces were no more than an inch apart. “Who was the fourth person, George?” He shook him hard, causing his burly head to wobble. “Who?”
“Candy, of course.”
Raley’s breath came out in a gust. He stared at George’s ruddy, contorted face, but didn’t see any deceit in his sagging expression, only abject misery. He let go of him as though the fabric of George’s shirt had stung his hands. When George’s head hit the floor, there was a crunch of glass, but he seemed impervious to the shards that pierced his scalp. He rolled onto his side, assumed the fetal position, and continued to cry like a baby.
Candy. Of course.
Tightly gripping George’s pistol, Raley surged to his feet and turned, ready to dash for the door. Instead he drew up short and froze.
Standing just inside the room, cradling pistols in their hands and in firing stances, were the two men he’d last seen partially dressed, racing back into their hotel rooms. Butch and Sundance. Both had their pants on now, and their expressions were taut with angry resolve.
“Drop the pistol, Gannon! Drop it now!”
Raley thought of Britt, whom he’d sent to the enemy, to Candy, his supposed friend, the one person in the world he’d trusted with his life. With Britt’s life. He’d sent Britt to Candy for protection, not knowing until now that it was from Candy that Britt needed protection. It was too late to save her. Too late to save himself. Too late for every damn thing. He had absolutely nothing to lose by trying to shoot his way out of this.
These thoughts whizzed through Raley’s mind with the speed of a comet as his finger tightened on the trigger.
Butch shouted, “Drop it! Don’t do it! FBI!”
The man Candy had introduced as Mr. Smith had entered the room with the same silence and aura of hauteur and menace with which he’d walked into Jay’s town house. Making a choking noise, Britt shot to her feet.
Candy laughed softly. “I see you do recognize him. He was ordered not to touch you that night, yet you say he did some fiddling down there. Which of you am I to believe, hmm?” Her cell phone rang. “Would you two please excuse me while I take this call?” The judge removed the cell phone from the pocket of her suit jacket and flipped it open.
As she did, Britt screamed bloody murder, hoping that whoever was on the other end of the call would hear her and come to her rescue, or that someone in a neighboring building might, miraculously, pick up the sound.
Smith responded immediately. He rushed forward and clapped his hand over her mouth and nose, pinning her arms against her body, making them useless.
The judge, frowning at her, calmly returned to her call. “Yes, that was Ms. Shelley, trying to make her presence known. She’s taken care of. Your job is to get Gannon.”
Britt listened with dismay and rising fear as Candy assigned the caller to find Raley and George McGowan and eliminate them both. “Don’t leave any witnesses. Do whatever you have to, but make it look like Raley was responsible. And don’t disappoint me. You’ve fucked up once already this morning.”
She closed her phone with a decisive snap and returned it to her pocket. Britt’s lungs were burning for air. At a small nod from the judge, Smith relaxed his hand, allowing her to breathe but holding her chin. She knew he could break her neck in an instant if he wished. She rasped, “I don’t understand.”
“No? What don’t you get?” Candy asked.
“You were in on it all along?”
“From ‘all along,’ do you mean from the day of the fire?”
Britt nodded.
“Yes. From that day, when Jay called and asked me to come to the police station. He, McGowan, and Wickham were interrogating a skinhead, and they needed someone from the DA’s office to help scare a confession out of him. Fordyce wasn’t available, so I grabbed my briefcase and trotted over.”
“You were there when Cleveland Jones…”
“Had his skull bashed in, yes. We never were clear on who struck the deathblow.”
The scene that this respected judge calmly described left Britt temporarily speechless.
“We managed to keep the secret,” Candy continued, “but for the past five years I’ve kept close tabs on the men. Women are stronger, you know. Much stronger. Anyway, I paid careful attention to my—”
“Coconspirators,” Britt supplied.
Candy smiled. “For lack of a better word. I monitored their lives, looking for any signs of change or weakness. When Jay was given his grim prognosis, that was a serious heads-up. I put a tap on his phone. Good thing, too, because I knew immediately when he called you for a date. Red alert. He was dying and got afraid of going to Hell. I knew what he wanted to confess.
“So I quickly put together a plan to make sure he didn’t tell our secret, or if he did, you wouldn’t remember it. I should have had you killed, too. I realize that now. But at the time, I thought you’d be of better use to me alive. You would appear to be one of Jay’s many jilted lovers who’d finally had enough of his shenanigans and smothered him in his sleep. The plan was to make you the prime suspect, so the police wouldn’t be investigating anyone else. Everything went according to plan.” Her insidious smile faded. “Then you pulled your disappearing act.”
“Raley kidnapped me from my house.”
Taken aback by that, Candy stared at her, then laughed. “You’re kidding. By-the-book Raley Gannon? He kidnapped you?”
Britt nodded.
“What do you know? Those years spent in the woods must have brought out some dormant primitive instincts,” the judge said with amusement. Winking at Britt, she asked, “Do those animalistic urges take over in bed, too? We know about Jay’s sexual talents, because he boasted of them. But I always wondered about Raley’s. He doesn’t kiss and tell the way Jay did. He’s the strong, silent type.”
Shaking her index finger teasingly, she said, “I’ve long suspected there were some strong undercurrents beneath the surface. Am I right?” Britt just stared at her, trying to keep her face expressionless while her mind was scrambling to devise a way out, a means to survive.
“Not gonna share?” the judge said. “Oh, well. Doesn’t matter.” She glanced at her wristwatch. “I’ve got to hurry this along. Where was I?”
“Raley’s primitive instincts,” Britt said. “Which served him well when he dived into the river and saved me from drowning.”
“Ah. The rescuer. Now that sounds like the Raley I know. How did he know you went into the river?”
“I—”
“Never mind. I don’t have time for a long story.”
“I apologize for putting a crimp in your busy schedule.”
“Don’t resort to sarcasm, Britt. It doesn’t flatter you.” The judge paused a moment, then said, “I wasn’t surprised to hear that Raley came out of hiding to attend Jay’s funeral. Considering their lifelong friendship. I wasn’t too bothered to learn that he was there, except that he had singled out George, and some of what he insinuated made George very nervous. Then your resurrection came as a shock. I thought I was finished with you.”
“You intercepted the telephone conversation with my lawyer?”
“We’d tapped his phone, yes. When I heard you tell him that Jay’s death and the police station fire were connected, I had to act swiftly. Mr. Smith here was responsible for your dip into the Combahee.”
“Which, if I were ever found, would look like a suicide.”
“That was the plan, but I see now that too much was left to chance. I assumed we had succeeded and didn’t know you were still alive until you and Raley paid a visit to Pat Junior’s house.”
“He reported that to you?”
“Immediately after you’d left. He’s scared of me, you see. Because even when he was still in the hospital with his jaw wired shut, I warned him that if he ever told anyone I was in that interrogation room with Cleveland Jones, I would expose his homosexuality, which his father had looked upon as a disgrace, and had killed a man in order to keep it secret.
“And periodically, I would remind Pat Junior of that warning, just in case he was under the misconception that I’d forgotten it and he was safe from me. On his wedding day, I told him that, if he ever betrayed me, I would ruin his phony marriage. When his babies were born, I took teddy bears to the hospital and threatened to hurt the children if anyone ever found out that I’d been there when Jones died and the fire was set.”
“You made yourself believed,” Britt said. “He didn’t tell.”
“Bully for him.”
The longer Britt could keep the judge talking, the better her chances were of escape. But how? Smith felt as unmovable as a wall behind her. Even if she could break his hold on her, she couldn’t possibly make it to the door.
Could she go forward? The room had only one window, and it was directly behind Candy. It was a fixed, single-glass pane, without any metal or wood framework. But they were on the top floor of a six-story building. If she could, by some miracle, escape Smith long enough to ram past Candy and throw herself through the window, could she survive a fall from that height? Probably not. But she wasn’t going to survive anyway, so perhaps it was worth taking the chance.
Not yet, though. Not until she had the complete story. Getting the story. That was her job, wasn’t it?
Raley had said she didn’t give herself enough credit, that she could be a star anywhere. She would do this last interview for him.
“The day of the fire, how did you escape the building?” she asked.
The judge guffawed. “Jay set the fire, and we left Jones in the room alone. I didn’t need to stick around, so I took my departure then. By the time I was half a block away, I could smell smoke and the fire alarm had begun to sound. I joined the crowd of spectators who were rushing toward the building to watch the blaze. Nobody realized I’d just left it.”
“And your companions weren’t going to tell.”
“Not without incriminating themselves.”
“You helped engineer the Suzi Monroe incident.”
“I hated doing that to Raley. I truly did.” A vertical line appeared between her heavy eyebrows, making her contrition almost believable. “When we were kids, he was always nice to me. I wasn’t pretty, wasn’t one of the popular girls. He and Jay teased me a lot, but Raley’s teasing wasn’t cruel like Jay’s could be. Raley always treated me kindly.”
“And that’s how you repaid his kindness? By ruining his reputation and destroying his life?”
The line on her forehead disappeared and she shrugged. “As I said, Britt, I never won any popularity contests. And I had to advance my career. No, I had to make my career.”
“Even if it meant killing people,” Britt said. “Cleveland Jones. Suzi Monroe. Pat Wickham, Senior. At least I assume you staged that fatal shooting in the alley.”
“He was breaking down, falling apart. I was afraid that he would confess.” She shrugged, glanced behind Britt toward Smith, said, “I did what was necessary.”
“What did Jay and McGowan think of that timely fatal shooting?”
“I don’t know. I never asked. They might have thought it was an awfully lucky break for them. They might have suspected me of having something to do with it, but in any case, we all pretended that it was a tragedy and never discussed it among ourselves.”
Trying to buy more time, Britt said, “So the secret remained intact another few years. Then Jay got sick. Did you consult George on what should be done about Jay?”
Candy shook her head. “George drinks too much. I couldn’t trust him not to get shitfaced and tell Miranda. So, I acted alone again. Well, alone except for Mr. Smith and his partner, Mr. Johnson.”
“The man who came to Fordyce’s house.”
“That’s the one. Although I doubt his name is really Johnson.”
“Did you find them in the yellow pages? On Craigslist?”
Candy chuckled. “Call it underground classifieds. They’re very handy when you need them. They flew in from St. Louis on the day you met Jay at The Wheelhouse.”
“And this morning Johnson responded immediately to Fordyce’s summons.”
“We’d tapped the AG’s phone and heard him call his assistant, asking that she send a capitol guard to escort you and Raley to a hotel. Lucky for me, he didn’t specify to her why he wanted to keep you under lock and key. Even luckier, Johnson was waiting at the capitol building for you and Raley to arrive for your eleven o’clock appointment. He rushed to Fordyce’s house and impersonated the requested guard.”
Britt remembered Raley saying they would’ve been ambushed before they entered the capitol building, and she recalled Johnson explaining why he wasn’t in uniform. But she was confused. “Are you telling me that Cobb Fordyce believed Johnson to be a capitol guard?”
“Jesus Christ, Britt,” the judge said with asperity. “Aren’t you getting it yet? Cobb Fordyce had nothing to do with either Cleveland Jones or Suzi Monroe. Everything he told you and Raley is the truth.” She smiled as she dropped the small video cartridge into her pocket. “Too bad no one will ever see this video of yours. It probably captured one of our AG’s crowning moments. Which is kind of poignant, when you think about it. He’ll die—”
“Wait!” Britt exclaimed. “What do you mean he’ll die?”
“Oh, jeez. In all the excitement, I forgot to tell you that Johnson shot Fordyce in the head after you ran. You and Raley are being sought for his attempted murder.”
Britt listened with mounting incredulity as the judge described Cobb Fordyce’s precarious medical condition. He had told her and Raley the truth. He had wanted to protect them until he could get to the bottom of the whole ugly story.
Then he had opened the door to his would-be assassin, sent by Cassandra Mellors.
Candy continued. “The real capitol guard arrived at the house to find Mrs. Fordyce in the foyer, cradling the AG’s bloody head in her lap and screaming hysterically. It made for a dramatic news story. It’s a shame you weren’t available to cover it. But you still have celebrity status, Britt. You and Raley are the new Bonnie and Clyde.
“Even if Fordyce survives, there’ll doubtless be significant brain damage. No one will ever know that Johnson shot him. By now he’s probably dealt as effectively with George and Raley.”
Britt gave an involuntary whimper.
“Does this spoil a budding romance?” Candy asked, her lips pursing with regret. “That’s too bad.”
Just then the judge’s cell phone rang again. She took it from her jacket pocket. As soon as she flipped it open, Smith clamped his hand over Britt’s mouth again.
“Yes?” Candy said into the phone. She listened, her face breaking into a wide grin. “That’s wonderful news! When is he due to call? Fine. I’ll be right there.” She closed her phone. “The Senate just voted. I’m the new federal district court judge.”
She spoke the words in a whisper, as though she barely believed the news. Then she met Britt’s gaze. “You understand. Surely as a career woman, you understand, Britt. It’s a man’s world. I did what I had to do.”
Britt jerked her head, and Smith’s hand moved away from her mouth. Trying to keep her voice steady, she said, “You won’t get away with this. You’re bound to know that. Eventually—”
“Excuse me, Britt. I’d love to hear what you think will happen—eventually—but the president is due to call with his congratulations in five minutes, and the media are gathering in my office to cover the event.” She smiled sympathetically. “This would be a big story for you. I’m sorry you won’t be there among your colleagues. I mean that sincerely, because basically I liked you and admired your work ethic. If only you’d told Jay you had other plans that night.”
It didn’t escape Britt that she was referring to her in the past tense. Her heart began to hammer with fright.
But the judge was the epitome of composure as she moved toward the door, saying to Smith as she went past, “Do it quietly. We’ll take care of the body tonight.”
She opened the door to leave, but her exit was blocked by two men.
As they barged in, Britt couldn’t have mistaken them, although they were wearing black bulletproof vests over their golf shirts, shouting for everyone to drop to the floor, sweeping the room with drawn pistols, and identifying themselves as federal officers. Rushing in behind them were several SWAT officers of the PD, in full assault gear.
Bringing up the rear was Raley, also wearing a bulletproof vest.
Smith let go of Britt. She dropped to the floor as instructed by the men waving assault rifles. Smith didn’t drop, or freeze, but instead went for the gun at the small of his back. One of the SWAT officers rushed him and knocked him to the ground, then flipped him face-down and yanked his weapon from the holster. Another of the men in black knelt beside Smith and, planting a knee between his shoulder blades, put restraints on his hands.
Raley ran straight to Britt. She felt his strong hands on her arms, pulling her up. “Are you all right?”
Dazed, she nodded, then stammered, “Y-yes.”
Candy Mellors was screaming invectives at the FBI agent who had her face against the wall and was patting her down. “Are you crazy? The president is about to call me. The Senate—”
The man Raley had nicknamed Butch turned her around to face him. “The president isn’t going to be calling with congratulations, Judge. He got a call from my boss a couple of hours ago. The director advised him to withdraw your nomination, telling him that a full explanation about your alleged criminal activity would be forthcoming. The president took his advice.”
Her eyes were wide, wild, as she gaped first at him, then at Raley and Britt, then back at the agent. “But they approved my appointment. My assistant called just now and said—”
“That call was a ruse, to cover our approach,” the agent told her. “There was no vote today. There won’t be a vote. Ever.” He began reading her her rights.
Raley was still supporting Britt, caressing her upper arms as he held her close. “Is he the one who messed with you?” he asked in a quiet voice. She followed his hard gaze to the man she knew as Mr. Smith.
“Yes.”
Gently, Raley moved her aside and strode purposefully toward the man. “Raley?” she said apprehensively.
Sandwiched between two SWAT officers, Smith must have felt safe from retribution. He saw Raley coming, but all he did was give him an insinuating smirk.
He was totally unprepared for Raley to swing his foot up and kick him between the legs, a kick hard enough to raise him off the floor a couple inches. There was a second or two delay before the agony slammed into his system. Then his whole body shook, he screamed like a girl, dropped to his knees, and toppled face-first onto the floor.
“That’s enough, Gannon!” Sundance barked. “Back down.”
But Britt didn’t think Raley heard him. Or if he did, he didn’t heed him, because instead of backing down, he lunged after Candy, who had used the distraction to break free from the agent. She threw herself against the window Britt herself had considered using as her escape and plunged through the shattering glass.
Raley went through it a nanosecond behind her.
Britt stared in horror at the empty window.