Wait a minute. He scooped the fax up. He didn’t normally read other people’s messages, but before he’d even realized it was for someone else he’d read more of it than he could disregard.
His eyes quickly scanned the short message. Jesus God—could this possibly be true?
He saw the name at the bottom of the page. This message was from Ben. So it had to be correct.
His buddy was going to be pissed that Mike had read his message. Tough. Mike couldn’t overlook this. He snatched the nearest phone receiver and began dialing.
“Maurice? I need three patrol cars immediately. Here’s the address …”
“Police!”
Mike didn’t give them a second chance. He shouted “Police” again, then knocked down the door.
It was an old door, well worn and probably cheap to begin with. It didn’t take much effort. He swarmed into the apartment, Sig Sauer at the ready. Six uniformed police officers closed in behind him.
“I have a warrant,” Mike shouted, as he glided through the apartment. “A warrant to search, and a warrant to arrest.” He motioned to the officers. “Spread out,” he told them. “Cover the whole place. Fast.”
Mike was the lucky one who burst into the bedroom. He recognized the persons inside immediately. Keri Dalcanton was on one side of an unmade bed, throwing on a white T-shirt. Nearly naked, Andrea McNaughton was on the other side.
The bedspread was thrown off and the sheets were dangling crossways. This bed had obviously seen some spirited action. Clothes were strewn about all over the floor. The room was stripped almost bare; everything was in the packing boxes that littered the apartment.
But those weren’t the details that ranked most prominently in Mike’s mind. There was one other.
Andrea McNaughton was holding a gun.
“Please lower your weapon, Mrs. McNaughton,” Mike said, in a voice that sounded a lot calmer than he really was.
She looked back at him with eyes as cold as frost. “No.”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Mike continued. He could hear the other officers gathering behind him. But the doorway created a bottleneck; they couldn’t get in. And at the moment, he couldn’t move without quite possibly getting himself shot. “I have a warrant for your arrest. Please lower your weapon.”
“Don’t do it,” Keri snarled. “Aim for his head.”
Andrea did not lower the gun.
“I have a warrant for your arrest, too, Ms. Dalcanton.”
She laughed at him. “The hell you do. I’ve been acquitted, asshole.”
“I’m arresting you for perjury,” Mike explained. “You lied on the stand. And given more time, I’ll bet I can think up a few more charges to nail you with.”
“Son of a bitch.” Keri turned toward Andrea. “Kill him, Andrea. It’s our only chance.”
“There are six other officers standing behind me,” Mike said quickly. Keeping his voice calm seemed to get harder the longer that gun was pointed at his forehead. “You have no chance. Give it up.”
He watched Keri’s eyes flash all around her. Like a trapped rat in a cage, she was desperately looking for a way out. And not finding any.
“She’s the one who did it,” Keri said suddenly, pointing at Andrea. “I knew about it, but she was the one who killed Joe.”
Andrea kept her eyes trained on Mike. “Keri, shut up!”
“She’s the one you want,” Keri continued. “She’s the killer. She did all the sick stuff, with the knives. She’s a psycho, totally.”
“Keri!” Andrea shouted. “Shut your goddamn mouth!”
She didn’t. “I’ll turn state’s evidence. You’re going to need a witness, right? Give me immunity and I’ll give you a killer.”
Andrea’s face trembled with rage. “Keri, close your fucking mouth!”
“I’m offering to talk. Please. You have to protect me from her. She might hurt me!”
“Me hurt you? You ruined my life!” Spittle flew out of Andrea’s mouth. “You stole my husband. You butchered him.”
“See?” Keri said. “See how crazy she is? Give me immunity, and I’ll tell you everything that—”
“You traitorous bitch!” In the blink of an eye, Andrea whipped her gun around and fired. The bullet struck Keri in the neck. She fell backward onto the carpet. A second later, Mike fired. He hit Andrea in the arm, knocking the gun out of her hand.
“Call for an ambulance!” Mike shouted. He rushed inside. Keri was already unconscious. He ran to Andrea. Her arm was gushing blood and her eyelids were fluttering, but she was still awake.
“I don’t know what … happened to me,” Andrea said. Her voice was too soft to even be considered a whisper. “All my life, I’ve never done anything wrong. I was a good girl. And then … then … all at once … I blew it.”
“You’re going to live,” Mike reassured her. “I’m going to get you to the hospital.”
Her eyelids slowly closed. “Please … don’t bother.”
“Your honor, this is an outrage!”
In all the years she had worked with him, Christina had never seen Ben so angry. His face was red, he was breathing too fast, and every word came out as a shout.
“That was confidential information, your honor! The police department had no business reading my confidential communications!”
Judge Hart’s lips were firm and set. She tapped her reading glasses against the bench as she spoke. “Major Morelli has already explained how he obtained the information, Mr. Kincaid. Do you dispute his story?”
“No, I don’t dispute it. But it’s no excuse. That information was absolutely privileged.”
“Maybe it was, but he got it, just the same. And Keri Dalcanton was not his client. He had no duty to her. To the contrary, he had a duty to see that any information pertaining to a murder was turned over to the law-enforcement community. As far as I can see, he acted entirely properly.”
“He had no business being in my office in the first place!”
Judge Hart turned her attention to Mike, who was standing next to Assistant D.A. Dexter, both of them pointedly not making eye contact with Ben. “How did you get into the office, Major?”
Mike cleared his throat. “I have a key. Ben—er, Mr. Kincaid gave it to me on a previous occasion.”
“And why were you there?”
“I was looking for Mr. Kincaid. We’d made an appointment, and he didn’t show up. I didn’t mean to read the message intended for his associate, Ms. McCall, but before I even realized to whom it was addressed, I’d read more of it than I could ignore.”
Judge Hart shrugged her shoulders. “He’s committed no crime. I suppose if you want to sue him for invasion of privacy you could, although I don’t think I’d recommend it.”
“Your honor,” Ben said, “I strongly urge you to invalidate this improper, unconstitutional search and to suppress all information obtained as a result.”
“Wait just a minute, Mr. Kincaid.” The judge looked at him sternly. “I gave you what you wanted before, when the police were using photocopied search warrants. That was a violation of fourth amendment rights. But there’s no constitutional violation here. And there is no way on God’s green earth I’m going to exclude critical evidence in this case again. Your motion is denied.”
“Your honor,” Ben shouted, “you can’t condone this egregious conduct when—”
“Mr. Kincaid, I’ve ruled. Now give it a rest or I’ll hold you in contempt.” She rapped her gavel and strode out of the courtroom.
“It doesn’t matter anyway, Ben.” This came from Mike, who slowly crossed the courtroom to Ben’s table. “We just got a message from the hospital. Keri Dalcanton is dead. Died from the gunshot wound.”
Ben’s lips parted wordlessly.
“Andrea McNaughton is going to be okay. She’ll stand trial for her crimes.”
Ben glared at him coldly. “You had no business reading Christina’s fax.”
“I know that,” Mike said flatly. “I
told you—I didn’t mean to. But after I did, there was no way I could pretend I hadn’t. Not after I knew that those two had conspired together, and that they were preparing to leave town and might never be seen again.”
Ben’s expression did not change.
“Ben, I’m a cop, not a defense attorney. I can’t let the bad guys get away. Not if I can help it.” He looked at Ben earnestly a few more seconds, then frowned and left the courtroom.
52
AS SOON AS HE got the call on his cell phone, Ben blitzed through rush hour traffic to St. John’s. Barely half a minute later, he was racing down corridors, up stairwells, across hallways, until he finally arrived, breathless, outside Room 522.
“How long?” he asked, barely catching his breath.
The whole office staff was crowded into the small hospital room—Christina, Loving, Jones. Jones was seated beside the bed, Paula’s hand clasped in his.
And Paula’s eyes were open.
“She came around about half an hour ago,” Christina explained. Ben pressed forward, trying to maneuver his way closer. “She’s still groggy. But she seems to understand what we’re saying.”
“Has she spoken?” he said in hushed tones.
“A little bit. Not very informative.”
“Does she remember—?”
Christina shook her head. “She remembers being stabbed. But she never knew who it was. You know what she was so anxious to tell us that night? She’d found a memo in a file indicating that the Stroud police suspected Keri was involved in her parents’ death. But they could never prove anything.” She looked down at Paula. “She was way ahead of us.”
Ben didn’t comment.
Jones was speaking in hushed soothing tones, stroking Paula’s hands. “I was so worried, Paula. I can’t tell you how I felt. It was like—like—I can’t even explain. It was horrible.”
Paula’s lips were chapped and dry, but she still managed a small smile. “Didn’t … feel so hot on this end … either.”
Jones squeezed both her hands between his. “I don’t want to ever be separated from you again, Paula. Never.”
Her tired eyelids fluttered. “Quite a … commitment … from a modern guy like you.”
“I mean it. I really do. I—”
They were interrupted by the sound of the pneumatic door swooshing open. Ben saw a nurse with brown hair and brown eyes enter the room carrying a clipboard. Billie Barnett, R.N., according to her nametag.
“How’s my patient?” she asked.
Jones wiped his eyes. “She’s still awake. And still talking.”
“Wonderful. Any trouble communicating?”
“No. She seems … just like she always did.”
“Except duller,” Paula added.
Barnett smiled. “You’ll get your strength back in time. It’s going to take a while, though, before you’re really up to snuff.” She pressed her hand against Paula’s forehead, then quickly took her pulse. “How do you feel?”
“Tired.” Her eyes wandered over to Jones. “But happy.”
“After all you’ve been through,” Nurse Barnett said, “that’s pretty darn good.”
“So what’s the prognosis?” Ben asked.
“The prognosis is terrific,” Barnett answered, slapping a pencil against her clipboard. “Mind you, her body has been through a terrible shock, and her brain has been struggling to deal with that. But she’s on the mend. The doctors see no indications of any permanent damage, not to her body or mind. Another week or so and she can probably get out of here. And in two months, maybe three, she should be just like new. Except for the scars.”
“Will they hurt?” Paula asked.
“Hurt? No, no. But you’ll probably want to get rid of your string bikinis.”
Jones grabbed the nurse by her arms. “Do you mean it? She’s gonna be just like new?”
“Yes, of course. That’s what I—”
Jones whirled around like a top. He crouched down and clasped Paula’s hand in his. “Marry me.”
Paula blinked “What?”
“You heard. Marry me.”
Christina’s eyes went bug-wide. “No!”
“I didn’t ask you, Christina.” Jones leaned close to Paula, his face open and imploring. “Please, Paula. I know there’s nothing special about me. But it would mean so much to me.”
Christina bounced up and down. “I can’t believe it!”
Jones looked at her harshly. “Then step outside.” He turned back to Paula. “Since I met you, everything about my life has changed for the better. I know I don’t have much to offer you. I know I’m difficult and complicated and—and—”
“Quirky,” Christina suggested.
“Obnoxious,” Loving offered.
“Reserved,” Jones said, pointedly ignoring them. “I know I don’t always express my feelings like I should.”
Paula smiled faintly. “As I should, puddin’.”
Jones persevered. “I know sometimes I don’t tell you how important you are to me. I know I’m not your dream man. I’m just a crummy office manager in a crummy law firm—”
“Hey!” Ben said. “Watch that.”
Jones’s head twisted around. “Who invited you clowns to this proposal, anyway?”
Chastised, they all took a step back. But didn’t leave.
“Anyway,” Jones said, returning his attention to the matter at hand, “I know there’s no reason on earth why you should want to be married to me. But you’re the most special woman I’ve ever known.” He pressed her hand against his cheek. “So would you please do me the very great honor of becoming my bride?”
Paula’s head trembled. “You are so wrong,” she said tremulously.
His face fell. “I am?”
She nodded. “There’s something very special about you.”
He inched forward. “Does that mean—?”
“Of course I’ll marry you, you big galoot. C’mere.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him as tightly as she could.
Ben nudged Christina. “Maybe we should leave these two—” He stopped short. “You’re crying!”
Christina dabbed her eyes. “That’s the sweetest thing I’ve seen in my whole life.”
Ben led her outside to give the newly engaged some privacy. Loving and the nurse followed their lead. When Ben and Christina got to the waiting area, she was still dabbing her eyes.
“Don’t you just love it,” Christina said, composing herself, “when everything has a happy ending?”
“Yeah,” Ben said, voice flat. “Very happy.”
“You’re still thinking about Keri, aren’t you? Ben, I’m sorry about the way that turned out.”
Ben shook his head. “I should’ve listened to you. Your instincts are always better than mine. You understand people. And you never liked Keri. That should’ve told me something. But instead of being smart, I just assumed you didn’t like her because—well, I should’ve paid better attention, that’s all.” He turned slightly. “I won’t make that mistake again.”
“Keri was sociopathic, Ben. Deeply. The more I think about, I think she wanted people to know she was a killer. She may not have been conscious of it but, bottom line, I think that’s why she wrote ‘faithless’ on McNaughton’s chest, and used her own chains, and so on. She wanted the police to know she had killed him. And that there was absolutely nothing they could do about it.”
“She was counting on me to save her. That was her one mistake. Because in the end, I was the one who betrayed her.”
Christina led Ben to a sofa and sat beside him. “Ben, you’ve got to stop beating yourself up about what happened. I know you think Mike shouldn’t’ve read that fax. But let’s be honest here. Keri was a murderer. Several times over. It’s hard to get too choked up about it.”
“Those were confidential communications, Christina. If we allow the cops to invade that once, it could erode the whole privilege.”
“I don’t think that’s likely. But at an
y rate, I don’t want you to blame Mike. He’s a true friend, and you shouldn’t treat him otherwise. What happened was not his fault. You were careless, making it possible for Mike to get that information. If Keri’d lived, she could’ve sued us for malpractice.”
“She was a multiple murderer, Christina. No jury would ever award her damages.”
“Still, you should be more careful. You knew Mike had that key. You knew you were late for that football date. And it was only logical that when Mike couldn’t find you at home, he’d try your office. He just lives a block away. You should have known that he would—”
All at once, Christina froze. Her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, my God. Oh, my God.”
Ben’s forehead crinkled. “What’s your problem?”
“You did know! You knew all along! That’s why you sent that fax. You wanted him to find it!”
Ben looked away. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m right, aren’t I? You did it on purpose.”
“Christina, just leave it alone.”
“You did. I know you did.”
“Christina, if the bar committee thought I’d intentionally revealed a client confidence, I could be disbarred. Let it be.”
“Okay.” She tried, but it was impossible. “But I’m right, aren’t I?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His eyes drifted to the bay window. The sun was setting, giving the rolling hills of Tulsa a crimson patina. “Believe it or not, I’ve been thinking about Sergeant Matthews.”
“That blowhard?”
“That blowhard was right. So tell Loving not to punch his lights out, okay? Wouldn’t seem right, somehow, given the circumstances.”
“True.”
“You remember what he said? When he arrested me?”
“I remember a lot of nasty things he said. What did you have in mind?”
“What he said when he snapped the cuffs on me, back at the office.” Ben continued looking toward the window, but his gaze seemed to turn inward. “Justice is never simple.”
Acknowledgments
FIRST, I WANT TO thank my friend and editor Joe Blades. My life and work have been enriched by his editing genius and continuous support.
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