“I think he’s afraid of what you’ll find. He’s never been sick, you know. He’s so careful to eat right and exercise.”
“Unfortunately, that’s not always enough.” Callie had a full schedule of appointments this afternoon and she wanted to get back to see Gail and the babies. But right now Judge Craven was her top priority. “Where is Lawrence now?”
“He’s outside in the gardens. I’m not sure exactly where.”
When Callie and Marjorie returned to the living area, they found Ted standing by the window, scanning the grounds.
“Have you seen Judge Craven?” Callie asked.
“Is he wearing dark blue slacks and a light blue checked sport shirt?” Ted asked.
“Yes,” Marjorie answered.
“Then I saw him a few minutes ago, just beyond the fountain.”
“We should be able to find him easily enough,” Callie said. “Why don’t you wait here, Marjorie? He may be more receptive to my arguments for getting the proper care if you’re not around.”
“If you think that’s best.”
“I do.” She would have preferred Ted stay as well, but she knew there wasn’t a chance he’d let her venture out on the grounds without him.
“So what’s supposed to be wrong with this guy?” Ted asked, once they were outside. “He didn’t look sick when I saw him.”
“I’m not sure. Max and I ran into him at the airport yesterday and he mentioned having a friend who had an inoperable brain tumor. Now I’m thinking he might be the one who has the tumor. The symptoms fit. And people frequently say a friend has a problem when they’re actually the one.”
“Why would he do that?”
“He might think he’s protecting Marjorie by not telling her the truth, especially if he’s seen a doctor and the tumor or tumors are inoperable.”
“One of those guys who likes to tough it out alone, huh?”
“It’s plausible.” She pushed up her sleeve and glanced at her watch. “Tell you what, I’m running low on time, so let’s split up. You take the right side of the garden, I’ll take the left. First one who spots the judge calls for the other.”
“My job is to stay with you at all times.”
“You’re not making this easy.”
“Easy wasn’t one of the chief’s orders.”
Ted stuck to her like glue as they strolled the path by the rose garden and then turned onto a more narrow one that led back to the view of the Pacific from the cliff. That was the farthest point from the house, but from there they could work their way back down the other side of the garden. If they didn’t find him by then, Callie would have to go back to the hospital without him.
They were almost at the cliff when she heard the crack of gunfire. A second later, she saw the blood running down the back of Ted’s neck, the crimson stain spreading across his shirt. He staggered a few steps and collapsed onto the plush lawn.
Callie fell to the ground beside him and grabbed his wrist, praying for a pulse. There was none. Still, she dragged Ted’s lifeless body behind a low hedge that separated two sections of the English garden.
Her mind spun while she tried in vain to revive him. Someone else was here with them. Someone besides Judge Craven. If it was the Avenger, then the bullet that hit Ted had likely been meant for her.
MAX WAS GETTING NOWHERE with his questioning of Henry Lalane. The guy openly resented that he’d been brought in for questioning and he knew all the angles. Of course, it was also possible Henry was telling the truth and someone was framing him—a possibility that Max couldn’t ignore.
“Did you ever go hunting?” Max asked, changing his tactics.
“Be a little difficult since I’ve already told you I’ve never fired a gun.”
“There’s bow hunting.”
“Then, no. I’ve never hunted. I don’t kill for fun or recreation, and I buy my meat at the market.”
“To each his own.” Max leaned back in his chair as if they were a couple of old friends chatting. “You’re a smart prosecutor. So what’s your story for how your fingerprints got on that square of paper?”
“It’s not as if my fingerprints are a rare commodity. I handle legal documents all the time and they end up in all kinds of places. Pretty much anyone who walks into my office could pick up a sheet of paper from my outbox that would likely have my fingerprints on it. And it wouldn’t have to be a clean sheet of paper,” Lalane added, “since the list was no bigger than half a page.”
Max had already thought of that. “Who comes in and out of your office on a regular basis?”
“Secretaries. All the prosecutors and junior prosecutors who work in the office. Friends. Cops from time to time. Judges. Defense attorneys. You name it.”
“Judge Craven come by often?”
“I wouldn’t say often. He stops in from time to time.”
“When was the last time?”
“You’re not trying to pin this on Craven, are you? The guy’s got enough problems without you hitting him with this.”
“What kind of problems does Craven have?”
“He works too hard.”
“You and Lawrence Craven go back a long way, don’t you? Weren’t you and his older brother good friends?”
“So you’ve done your homework. That doesn’t surprise me, Max. I know you’re good at what you do, but you’re wasting your time trying to pin the avenger murders on me or Lawrence.”
“Could be. I’d like to hear about your friendship with Lawrence’s brother all the same.”
“There’s not much to tell. We were high school friends and later college roommates. My younger brother and Lawrence played football together in high school except for the year Lawrence’s father was the ambassador to Saudi Arabia. Lawrence spent that year in a military school.”
Now that was news to Max. A guy in military school could very well learn to shoot and might also learn about high-powered rifles and small arms. “Lawrence’s sophomore year, wasn’t it?” Max asked, faking it.
“Junior year. You had to be a junior to get in Summarall.”
Max scribbled a note, then went to the door and motioned for one of the officers manning a desk to come get it. “Let me know the second you get something,” he said. “I want it on the double.”
“Tell me again about the day Lorna Sinke was shot.”
Max listened carefully, hoping for some inconsistency in the story Henry had told him right after the hostage situation. There was none. If the man was a liar, he was incredibly good at it. Max was fast losing faith that he was questioning the right man. Still, he wasn’t quite ready to release Henry.
“You said you were just hanging out on Leo Garapedian’s boat by yourself last night.”
“That’s what I said. I’ve got a key and a standing invitation to use it. There’s no law against that.”
“Just seems odd, going out like that in the middle of the night by yourself.”
Henry spread his hands on the table. “Okay, Max. I didn’t want to talk about this, but you’re not going to let it go until I do. Today would have been my daughter’s sixteenth birthday if she hadn’t been killed. I couldn’t handle being in the house with all the old memories last night, so I went down to the marina and spent some time in the Garapedians’ boat. You lose a daughter, you have nights like that. Lots of them.”
The story got to Max. Lalane could be playing the old emotional game. There was no way to really know. But losing a daughter could make a man do strange things.
And if Henry wasn’t guilty, Max was back to square one.
AS SOON AS CALLIE realized there was nothing she could do for Ted, her own survival instincts checked in. She took off running, darting among the bushes for cover. She had no clue who she was running from or if the man had already killed Judge Craven.
She was only a few yards from the edge of the cliff now and could hear the water breaking on the rocks below. She crouched down, sheltered by several trees, and tried to get her breath. If
she kept going in this direction, she’d back herself into a corner. The killer behind her. The treacherous cliff in front of her.
Gunfire rang out again. This time the bullet hit the tree trunk a foot above her head, splintering the bark and sending fragments flying into her face and hair. A trickle of blood ran down her cheek. She had to keep moving or he’d fire again, and this time he might be the lucky one.
It was a good ten feet to the next cluster of trees. She counted to three then took off running. The heel of her shoe caught on a root and she went sprawling into a bed of lacy ferns. Rolling over, she grabbed her ankle, which had twisted in the fall.
And then she felt something cold and hard jam into her back. She looked behind her and down the long, smooth barrel of a rifle.
“You shouldn’t have done it, Callie. You shouldn’t have brought Max Zirinsky into the game when it was almost over.”
Judge Craven.
Only the man she knew had been transformed into someone she barely recognized. The muscles in his face were pulled tight, and his eyes had a wild look, as if he were on drugs or hallucinating. Callie was more certain now that he must be the one with the inoperable tumor, and the pressure from it was affecting his mind.
“Put the gun down, Judge Craven. Please, just put it down and let me help you.”
“It’s too late for that.”
“No. It’s not too late. I know about the tumor. You need medical care. Just put down the gun so that we can talk about it.”
“No more talking. There’s been enough of that.”
“Think of Marjorie. You don’t want her to see you like this. She loves you so much.”
“Stop it.”
He jabbed the barrel of the gun into her ribs again, and a sharp pain all but took her breath away. He was probably beyond reason, but she had to try.
“People respect you, Judge Craven,” Callie said, forcing herself to suppress her own fear and keep her voice steady. “You uphold the law to the letter. You don’t want to ruin the legacy of honesty and justice that you’ve created.”
“There is no justice, Callie. Can’t you see that? Can’t anyone see that? No justice at all.”
“You’re probably right.” Callie realized that she was only antagonizing a very unstable man. “Let’s go back to the house and talk about it. It’s so hot out here.”
“No. I know what you’re doing, but you can’t stop me. I have a mission. I can’t stop until it’s finished. I can’t stop until I make them pay.” He stumbled backward, then caught himself, squinting his eyes as if he were having trouble focusing. “That’s why I have to kill you, Callie. I can’t let you stop me, no more than I could let Mary Hancock stop me.” He straightened and his eyes took on a glassy stare as he pointed the gun at her chest.
“Please don’t do this, Judge Craven. Think of Marjorie. This will destroy her. It will destroy you.”
“It’s too late to think of any of that. I’ve already been given the death sentence. A fatal brain tumor. It’s payback for my sins. Payback for not making the guilty pay. This mission is my only redemption. I have no choice, Callie. You have to die.”
He started blinking repetitively, then swayed forward, rolling onto the balls of his feet before rocking back on his heels. He’d gone totally mad, a victim himself of a ravaging disease and a distorted sense of justice.
Judge Lawrence Craven was the Avenger. He held his finger on the trigger, ready to kill again, and Callie was next on his list.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
MAX STOPPED his questioning when a knock sounded on the door of the interrogation room. He stepped into the dimly lit hall. “Did you find out if Lawrence Craven was actually at Summarall and if he learned to shoot while he was there?”
“No, but I got something else you’re gonna want to know about. Marjorie Craven just called. She found a body in her garden. She says it’s an intern who came out to her house with Callie Baker. From the way she described him, I’d say it’s Ted Gravier.”
“Sonofabitch. Where’s Callie?”
“Mrs. Craven doesn’t know. Or if she does, I couldn’t get it out of her. She’s hysterical.”
“What the hell was Ted doing taking Callie to the Cravens’ in the middle of the day?”
“She was making a house call to check on Judge Craven, at least that’s the message Ted left.”
Max didn’t wait to learn why he hadn’t received the message. He took off for his car at a dead run. He couldn’t bare to think that he might already be too late.
LAWRENCE CRAVEN’S right hand began to shake and his finger slid from the trigger. It wasn’t much of a chance, but it might be the only one she got. Callie scrambled to her feet and took off running in a zigzagging path, the hammering in her chest so loud she wasn’t sure she’d hear if a bullet was fired.
No problem. She not only heard the crack of gunfire but the sound of the bullet whizzing by her head. She kept running in the direction of the closest cover, a skimpy group of trees hugging the edge of the cliff. By the time she reached it, her lungs were burning, as if the oxygen she breathed was pure fire.
She fell against a tree trunk. Evidently Judge Craven’s coordination had improved. Another shot rang out, and the bullet sprayed dirt a few feet in front of her. She took off running again, this time on the narrow path that separated the trees from the very edge of the cliff.
The bullets came faster now, as if Craven were shooting randomly. Callie had to keep moving and hope he gave up or someone came to help. Only there was no reason for anyone to come looking for her. Max thought she was in the hands of a capable cop and that the Avenger was at the police station with him.
Just then Callie lost her balance and grabbed for an overhanging branch to help her stay upright. When she missed, her left foot skidded in the dirt and slipped over the edge of the narrow path. Frantically she grabbed the spindly trunk of a tree growing out of the cliff and held on tightly.
As she struggled for a foothold, she felt both shoes go flying and she caught a quick flash of them sailing down to the rocks below. Panic threatened to overcome her. She couldn’t hold on much longer. Then she’d follow the shoes, crashing onto the jagged rocks until a wave came in and washed her out to sea.
“Let go, Callie. Make it easy on both of us and just let go.”
The judge’s voice made her blood run cold. Either the obsession or the tumor had changed him into a demented demon.
“No. I won’t make it easy, Lawrence. If you want me dead, then kill me like you did the others. But I’m innocent. You know that. I’m innocent, and I deserve to live.”
His face contorted, he lifted his foot and the heel of his shoe slammed against her hand. Her fingers slipped, but so did Judge Craven.
She slid a good five feet before she managed to grab hold of a bush and stop her descent.
Judge Craven wasn’t so lucky. His screams still reverberated in her mind and made her blood run cold as he plummeted to his death on the rocks below.
Or maybe he had been the lucky one, she decided as the roots of the bush began to give, showering her with clods of dirt. Judge Craven had died quickly, likely before he even knew what had happened. Maybe that’s what he’d intended all along. To die while completing his mission rather than from an unrelenting tumor.
She couldn’t hang on much longer, Callie realized. The Avenger would win after all.
She’d had one night with Max, and experienced a passion she’d never dreamed possible. But she wanted more. She wanted all life had to offer. She wanted to be Max’s wife. To hold babies in her arms and rock them to sleep and kiss them good-night. She wanted to live. But she was going to die.
“Oh, Max. I love you. I should have told you that I love you.” Now it was too late.
MAX STOOD AT THE EDGE of the cliff and stared down at the body smashed against the rocks. And then he spotted Callie, her eyes closed, her fingers clutched around the base of a stubby bush that was barely clinging to the cliffside. He raced ov
er to her.
“Callie. It’s Max. I’m here. Hold on, but don’t move.”
She opened her eyes and let her head fall back so that she could see above her. The movement caused more dirt to shake loose.
“Don’t move, Callie. Just hold on. I’m climbing down to get you.”
“No. You’ll fall.”
“No way.”
He hoped he sounded a lot more confident than he felt as he searched for a foothold and crawled down one step at a time. If he had a rope, this would be a lot safer, but there was no time to go get one. He just had to take it slow and easy—but not too slow. He eased down one step more. He was close enough to grab her, but he needed something to support both their weight. Without it, they would plunge to their death.
No, he couldn’t think that way. He wouldn’t give up. A clod of dirt shifted beneath his foot.
“Nice day for rock climbing?”
Max looked up. Jerry Hawkins was standing there. The last man Max had expected to show up for a rescue, not that he was certain Jerry could do a thing to help.
“No use to do that the hard way,” Jerry ripped bis belt from his waist and dangled the length of black leather toward Max. “I’ll hold on to that poor excuse of a tree there and brace myself. You grab the end of the belt and use it for support as you pull Callie up.”
“Can you hold both of us?”
“Probably for longer than that spindly tree will bear our weight. So better make this quick.”
Jerry took hold of the tree trunk, leaned down as far as he could and dangled the end of the belt within Max’s reach. Max clutched it tightly with one hand and held on to Callie with the other. Using the belt like a support rope, he climbed the face of the cliff, barely breathing until they reached level ground.
Max took Callie in his arms and shuddered in relief as the sun beat down on them and the sirens of a half dozen police cars sounded in the distance, he was sure of only one thing.
Nothing in all his life had felt as good as holding Callie right now.
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