Justice for All

by Wayne, Joanna

  When the song was over, he sucked in a ragged breath and escorted her off the floor.

  “I hate that,” Callie said, tugging him to a stop.

  “I’m sorry. I guess I should have warned you that I’m not much of a dancer.”

  “I’m talking about the way Jerry’s making a play for Mikki.” She nodded toward the dance floor as the small band started a new song.

  Max scanned the dancers until he spotted the couple. “Mikki looks like she’s happy,” he said, noting that her head was on her partner’s shoulder, and there was a dreamy look on her face.

  “He’s a blind date. She knows absolutely nothing about him.”

  “I thought you said his mother was a regular volunteer at the hospital and a friend of yours.”

  “His mother’s my friend. Not him. He could be the Avenger for all we know.”

  “So could anyone here.”

  “Did you investigate him?” she asked.

  “I ran a check. He’s had a couple of speeding tickets and numerous parking violations, but no felony charges.”

  “What does he do?”

  “He owns a very successful construction business in Sacramento. I think you’re getting worked up over nothing.”

  “Maybe, but I have this feeling about him. I can’t explain it, but I don’t trust him.”

  “Did you tell Mikki that?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Then why don’t you wait and let me do some more checking on him. If I find anything that looks suspicious, I’ll let you know.”

  “I guess I can live with that.” But she didn’t sound happy as she turned back to the couple in time to see Jerry whisper something in Mikki’s ear that made her smile and snuggle closer.

  “Here comes Janice Lalane,” Callie warned in a low voice. “Stick close, smile and act as if you like me, boyfriend.”

  “I’ll give it my best shot,” Max promised.

  CALLIE WAS TOTALLY BUMMED out by the time she slipped out of the white sundress and curled up in front of the TV for an old episode of Friends. If Max had learned anything of value at the Cravens’ party, he’d kept it to himself. He’d hardly talked at all on the drive back to her place, and had refused her invitation to come in for a drink.

  He clearly didn’t want to become involved with her in any personal way. She should be grateful for that instead of letting it get to her. Pickering trotted over and licked her hand. She scratched him behind his ear and he wagged his tail fast and furiously.

  “It’s a woman thing, Pickering. We just can’t stand the thought that we can be resisted.”

  Mikki wasn’t likely having any thoughts of rejection tonight, not the way Jerry Hawkins had held her while they danced. Callie had half a mind to call her friend and warn her that the guy might not be what he seemed. But Max was right. She was probably overreacting.

  If only Jerry hadn’t sounded so venomous when he’d spoken about Bernie that night. It was clear Jerry didn’t think the man deserved to live. His remarks might have made a little more sense if the two men had lived in the same town, but Bernie operated out of L.A., and Jerry lived in Sacramento.

  And why had Abby mentioned her daughter Elizabeth several times and not once mentioned Jerry until Callie had told her she’d met him? There were just too many things that didn’t add up with him, like the fact that he was boating and dancing and going to parties when he was supposed to be recovering from some kind of injury.

  Restless, Callie turned out the lights and walked out to the pool. Her deck area was separated from her neighbors’ property by a privacy fence, making it perfect for skinny-dipping. She slipped out of her yellow silk robe and let it fall to the tiles before climbing onto the diving board and taking a plunge into the cool water.

  Pickering got down on his haunches and chewed on one of his rubber toys while she swam lap after lap until the stress of the day dissolved into a gentle ache in her arms and shoulders.

  Rolling over, she floated on her back, staring up at the stars and the crescent moon. Finally she started to climb out, then caught a reflection in the pool that sent frightening images rushing through her mind.

  Mary’s naked body at the bottom of the pool.

  A scream stalled at the back of Callie’s throat and an icy chill settled deep in her bones.

  Pickering rose, as if sensing her fear, but instead of coming to her, he walked to the edge of the deck, lifted his head and stared in the direction of the beach.

  He growled threateningly and Callie grabbed for her robe and pulled it around her, suddenly struck with the sensation that someone was nearby, in the darkness, watching her house, waiting for her to appear.

  Was this what it had been like for Mary before she was murdered?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CALLIE RACED INTO the house and with trembling fingers locked all the doors. Her nerves were shot from finding Mary’s body, and she knew her imagination was likely working overtime. But even inside with the doors locked, she couldn’t shake the feeling that someone had been watching her.

  This kind of paranoia was not like her, but still, as she slid her arms through a heavy robe from the downstairs closet, she felt chilled and uneasy. She considered calling Max and having him send a patrolman by to check the area around the house, but she was afraid he’d come himself. She didn’t want him to see her like this. If she threw herself into his arms, he’d hold her and make her feel safe—then run away for another eight years.

  Besides, she paid well for the neighborhood security system. There was no reason not to use it. She punched in the number and asked to have one of the security guards check around her house for signs of a voyeur or trespasser.

  She’d moved into this house right before her divorce from Tony. This was the first time she’d felt threatened. The area was private, and the beach was frequented only by the residents who lived along this section of the road and boaters who occasionally moored in the bay.

  Still, she was uneasy as she waited, and started when Pickering barked and ran to the door before the bell chimed. She peeked through the peephole. The guy was in uniform and wearing a gun at his waist. Still, to be on the safe side, Callie turned on the intercom. “Could you show me some ID?”

  “Sure thing, Dr. Baker.” He pulled out his wallet and held it so she could read his name and see the Lansing Security logo. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, but I had the distinct feeling someone was nearby when I was in the pool, and my dog was growling at the fence as if someone was out there. To be honest, I can’t imagine anyone could see over the fence, but I’d appreciate it if you’d have a look around.”

  “I’ll check everything out and get back to you.”

  “Thanks.”

  She walked the floor as she waited, trying to be sensible and objective about this. She knew there was some risk involved when she’d offered to help Max. But Mary had been her friend. Callie couldn’t just ignore that fact.

  And even if the Avenger had been at the Craven party and hadn’t bought the idea that Max was her date, there was no reason to think he’d bother with her. What threat did she pose for him?

  The doorbell startled her again, although she’d been expecting it.

  “I did a thorough check and couldn’t find any sign of an intruder. If there was someone out there, he’s long gone now.”

  “It was probably nothing,” she said, trying to sound a lot more assured than she felt.

  “Always best to be safe, and that’s what we’re here for. Do you want me to check the inside of the house before I go?”

  “No. If someone were in here, Pickering would let me know. He’d probably lick the intruder to death, but at least I’d know he was around.”

  “A dog’s the best warning system there is. And he might surprise you. A dog can sense danger. He wouldn’t let anyone hurt you without first taking a few chunks out of the guy.”

  Pickering barked his agreement. The security guard reassured her again, then walked back
to his car.

  Callie filled a glass with cold water, sipped it slowly, then walked upstairs behind Pickering, who was bounding ahead. She’d spent entirely too much time this week thinking of murders and avengers—and Max. And she was too physically and emotionally drained to deal with any of it now.

  In spite of the fear she’d felt earlier, she drifted into a semisleep a few minutes after her head hit the pillow. She was back at the garden party. The women were dressed in shimmering gowns the color of blood. The men all carried guns.

  Callie jerked awake and sat up straight in bed. Moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a stream of silver across her breasts. Moonlight and murder.

  The contrast was as bizarre as her life had become. And she had a feeling that things were about to get a lot worse.

  MAX SAT IN HIS OFFICE on Sunday morning nursing a cup of strong black coffee and staring at the crime-scene photos and autopsy reports he’d spread across his desk.

  Dylan Deeb. Bruce Nepom. Lorna Sinke. Carlos Esposito.

  Their deaths spanned almost a seven-month period, one every two to three months. Although all four were suspected criminals, there was no proof they’d been killed by the man known as the Avenger.

  Bernie Brusco and Mary Hancock had been murdered within days of each other. Bernie had been involved in illegal activities, but the only motive Max could see for killing Mary was that the Avenger was afraid she knew something that could lead to his identification. But what was it he thought she knew?

  When Max had become chief of police, he could never have imagined such a killing spree in quiet Courage Bay. And the Avenger wasn’t the only one out for justice. The previous month, Nora Keyes, the police bomb squad specialist, and Sam Prophet, the fire department’s arson investigator, had barely missed being victims themselves of an arsonist known as the Trigger. Firefighters at the downtown station were still reeling from the discovery that the arsonist was Bud Patchett, their popular mechanic.

  Bud’s brother Tim was injured while test-driving a car containing a defective computer chip and died shortly after. When the company Tim worked for refused to accept responsibility for his death, Bud set out on a personal quest for revenge.

  Bud had been killed when the cell phone he’d rigged with explosives had detonated in his own truck. One murderer gone. One still to find.

  Max picked up a pen and started randomly jotting down a projected profile of the Avenger. He’d likely be male, since he’d been strong enough to strangle one victim and bludgeon another to death. He knew how to use a gun, but wasn’t a hundred percent accurate, especially if he was responsible for shooting Lorna Sinke.

  His firearms expertise might indicate military experience or policework. He’d likely be involved in the criminal justice system, and might have experienced some perceived injustice himself.

  The most confusing aspect of the murders was that there was no pattern to the types of crimes. They ranged from sexual exploitation to drug dealing.

  Max tore off the sheet, wadded it into a ball and tossed it into the wastebasket. He printed the word suspects at the top of the next sheet.

  Number one: every cop on his force. The nature of their job made them all suspects. But Max had no real reason to believe any one of them was guilty.

  Number two: Leo Garapedian, former chief of detectives. The guy thought the judicial system coddled criminals and was livid whenever a criminal walked on a technicality. But Leo worked off his stress at the gym. Besides, he was in love. No reason for him to go off the deep end.

  There was Judge Lawrence Craven. In his prime. Successful. Followed the law to the letter. Hard to believe he’d just up and start killing suspected criminals. The guy was too ambitious to risk his career.

  And then there was the district attorney. Henry Lalane had been hard on crime before his daughter was killed. Now he was rabid on the issue. And he had been in the room when Lorna Sinke was shot. But Max needed something more solid than circumstance and supposition.

  He needed a weapon, DNA, an eyewitness, something concrete to hang a case on. Or a scrap of information to put him on the right track. He’d hoped to get that at the garden party he’d attended with Callie, but the only information he’d received had been Mary’s remarks to Judge Craven about being on the trail of the Avenger. Max seriously doubted there was any basis to her suspicions.

  Callie was worried about Jerry Hawkins, but a successful building contractor who lived in Sacramento seemed an unlikely candidate for Courage Bay’s serial killer.

  Max pushed his notes aside and shoved away from his desk. Just the thought of Callie and things started revving up inside him. She turned him on the way no other woman ever had. And not just physically, though getting a hard on every time she got close was a given. She burrowed deep under his skin and just stayed there, ready to distract him at the most inconvenient times.

  Like right now, when he had a murderer to stop.

  It would be easy to give in when he was with her, especially when she seemed so receptive to him. But for her it would just be a date, a nice dinner and a bottle of wine. A couple of kisses. Maybe they’d make love.

  Damn. Thinking about it twisted him inside out. Eight years later and he still wasn’t over a kiss. If he made love to her, he was pretty sure he’d never recover.

  That’s why he had to keep his distance. He was too damn old to fall apart over Callie Baker again.

  CALLIE WAS GRATEFUL when Mikki called midmorning on Sunday and asked her to meet at the country club for a couple of sets of tennis. There was nothing like exercise to clear the mind and get the kinks out of the body. And dispel the threat she felt hovering on the edges of her awareness.

  The brunch crowd had eaten and gone by the time they finished their sets and took quick showers in the change room.

  “Let’s eat on the veranda,” Mikki said. “It’s too gorgeous to stay indoors.”

  “Fine by me.”

  They found a table in the shade with a view of the first tee box. “What can I get you to drink?” the waitress asked as she handed them the menu.

  “Ice water,” they answered in unison.

  “You must have been on the courts,” the woman said. “Tennis players always want water. Golfers are usually ready for a serious drink.”

  “Two sets,” Mikki confirmed. She glanced at the menu. “Any interesting specials?”

  “The soup’s a corn and smoked chicken chowder. People have been raving about that. There’s a summer tomato and shrimp salad with balsamic-cabernet vinaigrette, roasted garlic, blue cheese and fresh herbs. And there’s a tuna steak with Chef Pierre’s secret sauce.”

  “Tough choices,” Mikki said. “I was thinking about a club sandwich, but everything you mentioned sounds yummy.”

  “It is. Let me get your water while you think about it.”

  “The soup and salad sounds tempting,” Callie said, scanning the rest of the menu. “But then I love the egg dishes on the brunch menu.”

  Callie settled on eggs Benedict. Mikki ordered the soup, salad and a dozen fried oysters with fries.

  “How did the date go with your sexy police chief?” Mikki asked once the waitress had walked away.

  “I’m not sure if we fooled anyone, especially since we were barely together. Max spent most of the afternoon mingling with other people.”

  “Wasn’t that the plan?”

  Callie nodded. “I just thought we might mingle together a bit more.”

  “I saw the two of you dancing.”

  “One dance, and even then he would have kept daylight between us if I hadn’t forced him to come a bit closer.”

  “Knowing all eyes were on you in that scrumptious white dress probably made him nervous. So let’s get down to the good stuff. What happened when you got back to your place?”

  “Absolutely nothing. I think he set a new record for the sprint to his car.” Callie took a sip of water, deciding not to mention that she’d called security to do a grounds check
last night. No reason to worry Mikki when the guard hadn’t found anything amiss.

  “How did it go with you and Jerry?” she asked, ready to change the subject.

  “Great. He’s really a neat guy. Smart, funny and charming.”

  This was not what Callie wanted to hear, especially not in the bubbly tone Mikki usually reserved for hot firemen.

  “You didn’t…never mind. It’s none of my business.”

  “Sure it is. We’re best friends. But the answer is no. We didn’t do the deed, though we probably would have if it had been left to me. One kiss and I was putty in his big, gorgeous hands. Definitely the hottest blind date I’ve ever had.”

  “I think you should go slow with this, Mikki. You hardly know the man.”

  “When have you ever known me to go slow with anything?”

  Never, and that worried Callie all the more. “Did he say what kind of injury he was recovering from?”

  “He never mentioned an injury.”

  “Abby said that’s why he’s in town.”

  “I just figured he was on vacation. He’s part owner of a construction company in Sacramento. Hawkins and Reilly Design and Construction. They build skyscrapers. How cool is that?”

  “Cool, but that’s another reason you don’t want to get in too deep with him. He’ll be going back to Sacramento soon.”

  “Why do I get the feeling you know something you’re not telling me. He’s not married, is he? Or gay?”

  Callie traced a line of condensation on her glass. “You know I’d tell you if I found out something like that. It’s just…”

  “Say it, Callie. What is it about Jerry that you don’t like?”

  “I didn’t say I don’t like him. It’s just that with a serial killer throwing the city into terror, I think you should be careful about dating people you don’t know anything about.”

  “When did you become so paranoid? Give me a break. It’s not like Jerry’s some guy I picked up in a bar. He’s Abby’s son. He’s no more the Avenger than I am.”

  Her concern did sound paranoid when put that way, Callie silently admitted.