Justice for All

by Wayne, Joanna

  Batting zero again. No surprise, but he kept hoping. Sooner or later the killer would make a mistake. It was amazing that he hadn’t already, at least not one that Max or the other detectives who’d been handling the case had discovered.

  The man was thorough, and seemed to have organized his attacks down to the most minute detail. Yet he’d been able to switch gears quickly enough when his first attempt on Bernie’s life had gone awry.

  If he was a member of Courage Bay’s social elite, the kind of person who’d have been invited to Mary’s fundraiser and the Cravens’ garden party, then he had to know that when his identity was discovered, life as he knew it would be over.

  Max was almost back to headquarters when his cell phone rang. Forensics. He hardly dared hope they’d have some news.

  “What’s up?” he asked, instead of bothering with a hello.

  “That list you dropped off yesterday.”

  “Yeah?”

  “We found prints that didn’t belong to Mrs. Craven.”

  “Anyone who was in the database?” Max practically held his breath as he waited for the answer.

  “Oh, yeah, he’s in the database. All the employees in his office are. The prints belong to district attorney Henry Lalane.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  MAX HAD WORKED CLOSELY with Henry Lalane on lots of cases. Lalane hadn’t always liked the way Max’s CSI team or his detectives did their jobs, and Max hadn’t always approved of how Lalane handled the trials or who he allowed to plea bargain. Nonetheless, there had been a mutual respect between them.

  Max’s mind drifted back to the first name on the list Marjorie had found. Dr. George Yube. At one time Yube had been a respected surgeon, chief of surgery at Courage Bay Hospital. And then his past had caught up with him.

  While moonlighting in the hospital’s E.R. during his first year of surgery residency, Yube had partied too hard, shown up for work under the influence and botched an emergency delivery, resulting in a dead baby.

  Figuring he’d be sued and likely kicked out of the residency program, Yube had switched the dead infant for another baby in the hospital nursery. In the process of finding an infant of the same weight, he’d removed three babies from their incubators. After weighing and measuring them, he’d unwittingly returned them to the wrong incubators, and separated twin girls in the process.

  Years later Yube was charged with attempted homicide after he tried to kill Lauren Conway, one of the twins, when she began to uncover the truth of her parentage.

  But that wasn’t the end of the story. On the day Yube’s attorney, Faith Lawton, got the doctor released on a technicality, Yube was fatally shot by a sniper while leaving the courthouse. Faith and Adam Guthrie, Max’s chief of detectives, had both been standing within inches of Yube.

  Eventually the evidence had indicated Felix Moody as the shooter and Adam Guthrie as the assumed target. But before Moody was arrested, he took Faith hostage in her own office. Guthrie had gone to her rescue and Moody had been killed in the showdown. At that point, the case had been closed, and Faith and Adam had gotten married. A hell of a terrific ending to a bad situation.

  Moody had never admitted to being the sniper who’d killed Yube, yet the evidence against him was far too convincing to be circumstantial. So if Yube had been killed by the Avenger, then the Avenger had manipulated the evidence and set Moody up to take the rap, which made this case against the Avenger even more convoluted.

  Max had talked briefly with Adam this morning. He didn’t have any additional insight into the case and had offered to come back to the city, but Max had told him to stay put. The terrorist training seminar was too vital to blow off unless absolutely necessary. Besides, Max had the leads covered and was anxious to talk to Henry Lalane face-to-face.

  As district attorney, Lalane would have been fully aware of the technicality glitch in Dr. Yube’s trial and would have known that a decision was likely coming down that day. But even if Lalane had decided to take justice in his own hands, why had he started with George Yube?

  The baby’s switch had been committed thirty years ago, and was far removed from the type of criminal incident that had claimed the life of Henry’s daughter. Yube’s attempt on Lauren Conway’s life had been thwarted, and the only miscarriage of justice in Henry’s daughter’s death was that the rotten coward who’d shot her had never been identified.

  Still, Max would have to keep an open mind. If he’d learned anything at all during his years in law enforcement, it was to expect the unexpected. And the unexpected was what he planned to hit Henry Lalane with this morning.

  That’s why he hadn’t called first. He wanted to be standing in front of Lalane and scrutinizing his body language, facial expression and even the look in his eyes when Max asked him about the incriminating sheet of paper that held his fingerprints.

  THE DISTRICT ATTORNEY’S office was on the fifth floor of a gray brick building two blocks from the courthouse. Max had seen Henry hundreds of times before, but he found himself sizing up the lawyer the way he would someone he’d never met before.

  Henry was in his early fifties and had the look of a man who’d lived with success all his life. He had for most of it. He’d married Janice as soon as he’d finished law school and had moved to Courage Bay, where her family was firmly entrenched in the financial, social and cultural life of the city.

  He’d gained a reputation early on as a dynamic and effective trial lawyer, and once he’d been hired to work as a prosecutor for the D.A.’s office, it was only a short jump to the position of district attorney itself.

  Henry leaned back in his chair and stared at Max, the look in his gray eyes guarded, though he managed a welcoming smile. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” Henry said. “I was in a time-critical meeting with a defense attorney whose client wants to plea bargain. Actually, I have to get back to it quickly, but my secretary said this was important.”

  Max had said urgent rather than important, but no reason to swat at flies in a nest of wasps. “I appreciate your time.” That was all the apology he was making. If it turned out Henry was guilty of murder, time was all the guy would have, years of it, spent behind bars.

  “So, what can I help you with?” Henry asked.

  Max had no intention of beating around the bush with this. Henry would see through any interrogation tactics anyway. Like all good attorneys, he was a master at asking leading questions himself.

  The note with the fingerprints was being checked by a handwriting analysis expert, but Max had a copy in his shirt pocket. He took it out and handed it to the district attorney. “Have you seen this before?”

  Henry unfolded the note and studied it. His expression definitely changed, but either the guy was totally innocent or he was a hell of an actor. He muttered a few curses.

  “Where did you get this?” he asked.

  “Someone found it on the Cravens’ property after Saturday’s party.”

  “What kind of sick bastard would add Callie Baker’s name to the victim list?”

  “That’s what I intend to find out. Are you saying you’ve never seen this slip of paper before?”

  “Of course not.” Henry looked back at the note. “Do you think it’s possible the Avenger wrote this note and that Callie actually is a target?”

  “I think it’s a possibility.”

  “Sonofabitch! Guess I owe you and Callie an apology, Max. I thought your presence at the party would create unnecessary fear among the guests, but I was wrong. If the Avenger was there, the fear was warranted.”

  Max found it difficult to stay seated. He preferred standing when he questioned suspects, but he wanted to play this low-key. He’d make no accusations. Wasn’t going to read Henry his rights or come at him heavy-handed. Not yet, anyway.

  The D.A. stared down at the note. He tapped the first name on the list with his index finger. “Why is Dr. Yube’s name on this list? Felix Moody killed him. We know Moody’s not the Avenger. He’s dead.” He reached across th
e desk to hand the note back to Max.

  “I was hoping you could tell me why Dr. Yube’s name is on the list,” Max said, keeping his voice low and steady.

  “Don’t have a clue. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to the meeting I was in.”

  “I think the meeting better wait, Henry.”

  Henry met Max’s steady gaze. “You want to tell me what this visit is really about?”

  “The note I showed you is just a copy. The original was fingerprinted. Your prints are on it.”

  Veins popped out in Henry’s neck and forehead as if he were about to explode. “What did you say?”

  “Your prints were on the list. I felt sure you’d have an explanation for that.”

  Henry jumped up from his seat, sending his desk chair rolling across the floor to crash into the bookshelves behind his desk. “There has to be some mistake. There’s no way my prints could be on a victim list that included Callie Baker’s name.”

  Max didn’t respond. He just let Lalane roar and pace from the desk to the window and back again.

  “I’ve never seen that list before today, Max, not even before Callie’s name was added. If I had, I’d have noticed Dr. Yube’s name on there and remembered.”

  Max merely nodded.

  “I swear I never saw that list, so if my prints were on it, they had to have gotten there before the names were typed on the paper.” Henry stopped pacing and put his hands out, palms up. “That’s it. Some sonofabitch is trying to frame me. Either the Avenger or just someone who has it in for me.”

  If that was the case, the note should have been planted where someone was certain to find it, not left to blow around the property and almost over the edge of the cliff. Unless Marjorie Craven had lied about where she’d found the note.

  “I don’t suppose you’d have any objections to taking a lie detector test,” Max said, “just to help clear this up.”

  Henry started to pace again, then dropped back into his chair. “I have plenty of objections, none of them associated with guilt.”

  “Want to explain?”

  “Sure. You know how I feel about Bernie Brusco. Someone asks me if I think he got what he deserved, I have to say yes. If I don’t, the detector’s going to say I’m lying. I think he got exactly what he deserved, and so did Deeb and Esposito and all the other of the Avenger’s victims except Mary Hancock, but that doesn’t mean I killed them.”

  “As long as you tell the truth, it shouldn’t affect the test results.”

  “Unless this stuff leaks out. I don’t believe what the Avenger’s done is right, but I can see why he did it. The system is screwed. It’s about money and power and who’s got the best attorney. Justice isn’t only blind, it’s crippled and on its way to becoming totally impotent.”

  “I can’t overlook the fact that your fingerprints are on an incriminating piece of evidence.”

  “It’s a list, Max. Not a murder weapon. I didn’t write out that list, but even if I had, there are no laws against making lists. I’m innocent, Max. You must know that.”

  “All I know is I’ve got an Avenger out there killing citizens of Courage Bay, and if I don’t stop him, he’s going to kill again.”

  But Max knew he wouldn’t get any more information out of Henry right now, so he might as well let the D.A. return to his meeting. Max had a little more investigating to do before he brought Henry to headquarters for official questioning. In the meantime, he’d have the attorney tailed 24/7.

  His first lead. Max wasn’t about to blow it off, no matter how much Lalane protested. But the truth was, Max had a hunch that Henry was every bit as innocent as he proclaimed. Which meant the fingerprints were one more mystery in the most labyrinthine plot Max had seen in his twenty-two years in law enforcement.

  The Avenger, whoever he was, was intelligent, analytical and vindictive, and drew a deadly aim. If the list belonged to him, he wanted Callie dead.

  CALLIE WOULD HAVE LOVED to avoid Mikki completely today, but unfortunately that was not an option. Mikki stopped by Callie’s office at one-thirty, a half hour before either had an afternoon appointment scheduled. Callie had sent her police guard cum resident to the next room so that she could have a few minutes of privacy during her lunch break.

  “What a morning,” Mikki said, dropping into a chair opposite Callie, who sat munching a turkey and Swiss sandwich while she perused a patient chart.

  “Major problems?” Callie asked.

  “A run on injection-phobic kids. Real screamers. I was afraid Dr. Bisby was going to come over and accuse me of torturing children. No one ever screams in his examining rooms.”

  “He’s a rheumatologist. His patients are older.”

  “Where did I go wrong?”

  “You wouldn’t be happy anywhere but with your little ones.” Callie took a swig of bottled water. “Speaking of little ones, I had a call from Gail Lodestrum last night.”

  “No problems with the pregnancy, I hope.”

  “No. She’s feeling guilty because she doesn’t want to keep the babies.”

  “Poor kid. She’s not much more than a baby herself. But then the thought of having twins would frighten me, and I’m practically twice her age. Adoption does seem a viable option for her, especially since she has no support from her family or the biological father.”

  “She talked to her mother yesterday. They’ll take her back, but not the twins. That sent Gail on a crying jag that wouldn’t stop.”

  “Then you think she wants to keep the babies?”

  “No. I figure it’s more guilt than desire for motherhood that makes her afraid of adoption.”

  “Hopefully the social workers can help her work through this. Keller Center has some of the best.”

  “I encouraged her to talk to them. I think she was in a slightly better mood when she hung up.”

  Mikki reached in the pocket of her lab coat and pulled out one of the brightly colored lollipops she used to reward her young patients. She tossed it to Callie. “Good job, Doc.”

  “Maybe too good. Gail thinks I’d make a good mother for her twins.”

  Mikki nodded. “Might not be such a bad idea.”

  “Maybe you have spent too much time with screamers,” Callie said. “You seem to have completely lost your senses.”

  “Why? You’d make a great mother.”

  “With the hours I keep, I’d have to make an appointment to see my kids.”

  “You work too hard, anyway. It’s probably time you slowed down. Get a husband, a couple of kids, one of those soccer mom SUVs.”

  “I don’t think you can adopt husbands.”

  “You probably can find one on eBay, but I suggest you look yourself. I’m thinking mid-forties, fairly tall, some muscles, dark hair, piercing green eyes. Your basic chief of police type.”

  This was the perfect opening to throw out the fact that she and Max were living together, Callie figured. If Mikki heard it from someone else first, she’d be crushed. But telling her meant that Callie would have to lie about the circumstances, and lying to Mikki would be difficult, if not downright impossible. Mikki knew her far too well.

  Callie stalled. “So, what exciting things do you have on your calendar this week?” she asked.

  “Jerry’s coming over tonight and cooking dinner for me.”

  Cold dread filled Callie. “Dating on a work night? That’s not like you.”

  “I know. This is different.” Mikki uncrossed her legs and wagged a finger at Callie. “Don’t look at me that way. I know I’ve said the same thing before, but this time it really is different.”

  “How so?” Callie asked.

  “The way I feel when I’m with him. My heart actually sings.”

  “Is he more fun than your hot firemen?” Callie hoped the answer would be no and give Mikki food for thought.

  “Not always.” Mikki leaned back and grew pensive. “He can be lots of fun, but he’s quiet sometimes, too. He’s a little mysterious. That’s probabl
y part of the intrigue.”

  Callie slid her hands up and down her arms, trying to calm the fears that were so potent they had raised the hairs on the back of her neck. She’d follow Max’s advice one more day, but if she still felt this way after tomorrow’s visit to Sacramento, she would have to voice her concerns to Mikki. Not that she was certain Mikki would listen.

  “What about you and Max?” Mikki asked. “Still playing the dating game?”

  The question was blatant. There was no avoiding the issue now. Callie sucked in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “We’re living together.”

  Mikki came out of her chair as if she’d been shot from a cannon. She shoved some files out of the way and perched on the edge of Callie’s desk. “And you waited until now to tell me? Come on. Give, girlfriend. What bought this on?”

  “We…He…It’s…”

  She couldn’t do it. It was bad enough she wasn’t leveling with Mikki about her suspicions about Jerry. She couldn’t lie about her relationship with Max, but neither could she tell her friend about the list. That was classified information.

  “It’s police business,” Callie said. “This way I can accompany Max to various social functions without—he hopes—arousing suspicion.”

  “Then he still believes the Avenger was a guest at Mary’s party the other night?”

  “He believes it’s possible. And it’s better if everyone thinks we’re a couple, so you can’t say a word about our real arrangement to anyone, not even Jerry Hawkins.” Especially not Jerry Hawkins.

  “Jerry wouldn’t repeat the info if I asked him not to.”

  “No one, Mikki. I need your promise on that.”

  “Okay. I promise. It’s far more titillating to think of you two as lovers anyway.”