The Eleventh Victim

by Nancy Grace

  Meanwhile, C.C.’s longtime supporters, the pro–death penalty groups, were furiously licking their wounds over the reversal. They hoped this single reversal must be a freakish aberration on the part of a fry-’em-like-chicken-ask-questions-later kind of judge. The reasoning behind C.C.’s swing vote remained a mystery, though the legal community was rife with speculation as to the true cause of the vote change.

  Outright disgust with C.C. was evenly matched by the jubilance of the anti–death penalty camp, hailing a new era wherein future Penalty votes would now be one vote in their favor.

  Wrong.

  C.C. knew in his heart this was a one-shot deal, and it was over.

  He planned all along to “leave the dance with the one who brung him.” C.C. was brought to greatness by his die-hard support for the electric chair. He couldn’t and wouldn’t abandon Old Sparky on the cusp of his governorship. That would be bad luck.

  Plus, liberals represented mostly poor, indigent clients strapped for cash. They could never fund his gubernatorial bid, much less a re-election campaign.

  If he ever wanted to live in the Mansion, he had to make nice again with the “fry-babies,” C.C.’s pet name for pro–death penalty groups.

  He took another sip from his flask and spun away from the window.

  Time to call Floyd Moye Eugene.

  34

  New York City

  “NOW HE’S JOINED ‘JDATE.’” KAREN BLEW HER NOSE INTO A Kleenex in Hailey’s office. Again. “It’s online dating for Jewish singles. And that’s on top of Adult Friend Finders, Yahoo Singles, and Match.com.”

  “Is he Jewish?”

  “No…and he’s not single, either! Well, technically, maybe, but…”

  Hailey shook her head. For a half hour now, Karen had been filling her in on James’s latest. The man never ceased to amaze.

  “And you should read the things he says on this JDate…all bullshit, of course.”

  “Like what?”

  “I checked out his profile and he’s got some nerve. The photo he posted of himself is half a picture somebody took of us one night at a party…and I’m cut out of the picture! He’s just standing there with a glass of wine in one hand and his other arm reaching out off the photo. It might actually be funny if it weren’t so…so…”

  “Duplicitous?” Hailey supplied the word Karen was searching for.

  “Exactly. Why is he doing this, Hailey?”

  “He’s not my client, Karen. You are.”

  “I know, I know. You always say that. But what’s your theory?”

  They’d been over and over it. Maybe someday, it would stick. Maybe Karen wasn’t ready to let go, so she subconsciously remained in a perpetual state of limbo.

  “My theory is that all the telephone foreplay and online flirtations make James feel like he’s still out there, a ‘player,’ a nice-looking package of man. It’s all about his insecurities. He prefers anonymity because there’s no fear of failure. We’ve been over this. You agreed just last week.”

  “Remember that bootleg Viagra I told you about?” Karen avoided her avoidance.

  Hailey nodded, almost afraid to hear. “What about it?”

  “I told him about it, and I told him to use it. All the pills are still there, right where I left them in the bathroom cabinet. I secretly counted them so that I could make sure he wasn’t using them somewhere else. He wasn’t…at least, not according to my math.”

  “Well…that’s good, isn’t it?”

  “It’s good he isn’t using them somewhere else…not so good that he’s not using them with me. And the thing is, all this online stuff of his—it’s not just about sex. Last week he e-mailed an Asian escort service and asked some hooker named Lotus if she’d like to go to dinner and a Broadway play. He wrote, ‘Before the tab starts running.’ Dinner and a play, can you believe that?”

  “Taking Lotus the hooker to a Broadway play and Sardi’s after for dinner? No, I can’t,” Hailey said matter-of-factly.

  “But Hailey, do you think he’d actually go through with it? I keep telling myself no, that it’s like all the other online chats and phone-sex services, that he never follows through. Or am I just fooling myself?” Teary-eyed, Karen plucked one of the last tissues from the bottom of the box and looked at Hailey, for reassurance and comforting.

  “Karen, you’ve had the man followed by a private dick eight, is it ten times now? Phone and computer sex aside, if you’re asking whether I honestly think he goes any further than just fantasizing like a million other guys in America, I’d still say no. I’m willing to bet that so far, the worst he’s done is BS strippers in the clubs, and believe me, they’ve heard it all before. He never even takes one home. That we know of.”

  “So that means…”

  “So that means I’m sticking with the international-man-of-mystery theory.”

  Karen burst into laughter and blew her nose. “Remember when Harry double-confirmed James never actually hooked up with that pharmaceutical sales rep?”

  Hailey definitely did remember the emergency wee-hour call she’d received a few weeks ago when Karen found out James had a new phone number on speed dial. Karen matched it up with a number James stashed, hidden under “Chinese Take-out” in his BlackBerry.

  Two thousand dollars later, Harry the Private Eye had discovered the woman was a married pharmaceutical sales rep James met at a hotel bar in Florida. Ever since, the two had burned up the lines with phone sex whenever Sharon hit the road out of Tallahassee to peddle allergy medicine.

  That was abruptly curtailed, however, when Karen called the girl and threatened to tell Lance, her unsuspecting, redneck husband.

  “Karen, I’m just curious, not judging one way or another, but how much more do you plan to spend on private dicks?” The question met with dead silence.

  Hailey went on. “Is it really worth living with all the singles sites, the online chats, the hooker sites? Will you always need to know everything about what he’s doing when he’s not with you? Think about it…when you’re fifty, will you still be going through his pockets and reading his e-mails? Wouldn’t life be great with someone you trust? Or do you even remember anymore what that feeling is like? It’s a wonderful feeling, Karen, and you deserve that in your life.”

  “Come on, you know I hate therapy talk. Fifty years old is still twenty years away.”

  “Karen…this is therapy. You’re paying me one-fifty an hour, remember?”

  “One-fifty’s not bad, and the insurance splits it fifty-fifty with me.”

  “You’re hedging.”

  “That’s because I don’t know all the answers. That’s what you’re for. I come here for answers and you beat me up with questions.” Karen sighed. “Can I just have some hot tea? Maybe with milk, just to be crazy.”

  “I’ll fix it. What kind?”

  “Sleepy Time?”

  “It’s still morning…”

  “To counteract all the caffeine I’ve had already.”

  Hailey, sensing Karen shifting subjects short of reaching any tough decisions, headed to the kitchen to start brewing the tea.

  From her perch on the sofa, Karen called out, “And would you please not call Harry a dick? He’s a certified, licensed private investigator and was highly recommended by a girl at work.”

  “Okay.” Hailey pulled down Karen’s favorite Celestial Seasonings tea from the cabinet over the counter, along with two coffee cups.

  “And he’s worth every penny, just like you are. Even if insurance isn’t splitting his fee,” Karen went on from the next room.

  “I’m so flattered,” Hailey called out.

  Karen went into the suite’s tiny bathroom and Hailey could hear her blowing her nose through the door. The commode flushed, and Karen called out through the closed door, “Hey, why do you keep all these framed law degrees hung in the bathroom? If I had all these, they’d be on display under a spotlight! What’s Law Review?”

  Hailey paused and remembered hangi
ng them over the toilet the day she moved into this office suite and started a new life. “Oh, I don’t know why I did that,” she called back. “Just making fun of all the pompous lawyers I’ve ever known, I guess.”

  She tossed it off as a joke, but inside, Hailey knew why. On a Freudian level, the positioning of Hailey’s law degree, awards, and achievements there in her patients’ bathroom silently spoke volumes.

  No more trying to right a world that was broken when Will was murdered. She had been saturated in her own crusade, a crusade that left her tired and broken at the end of the day, a crusade that forced her to relive Will’s murder with every felon she tried.

  Hanging her law degrees perfectly centered over the crapper seemed to be poetic justice.

  How clearly she remembered packing her trial materials for the last time the night the Cruise verdict came down. She had just watched the mothers, fathers, and loved ones of eleven murder victims troop out of the courtroom for the last time.

  Karen emerged from Hailey’s bathroom with a red nose, but smiling.

  They drank their tea and hugged good-bye, as always.

  Hailey’s next scheduled patient was Melissa Everett, but she still had about fifteen minutes—and that was if Melissa made it on time.

  Leaving her office door unlocked, Hailey went across the hall to knock on Dana’s. Her Post had been missing again this morning, and she had a good idea where to find it.

  “Hailey!” Dana was there, with her coat on and her bag slung over her shoulder. “What’s up?”

  “Are you going somewhere?”

  “Just getting back. I had lunch with Greg. He wanted to make up for breaking our date last night.”

  “That’s nice.” Hailey had heard all about that this morning. Of course Dana had been beside herself, worried that the new guy had already lost interest after they’d been going strong for a whole week.

  Dana had really been looking forward to the date, too. She’d bragged about it for days ahead of time and obsessed over what to wear and how much she weighed.

  Through it all, Hailey wondered whether to mention Adam. Dana pressed her for details after that first dinner, and for days afterward. But when Hailey had nothing more to report, Dana lost interest.

  Something told Hailey not to share Adam’s pursuit. She couldn’t quite figure it out herself. Adam was great…in theory, but some lingering doubt, some nagging concern, something made Hailey leery. It was nothing she could put her finger on. But it wasn’t as if she could get a word in edgewise anyway, with all Dana’s excitement over Greg.

  “You know, he’s really incredible, Hailey. Did I tell you he told me he’s going to cook dinner for me on Valentine’s Day next week?”

  Hailey nodded. “You did.”

  “Greg’s just so sweet, and such a gentleman—he’s got old-fashioned manners. Did I tell you he’s from the South?”

  She had…along with everything else there was to know about Greg, a recent transplant from somewhere. He was great-looking and said he’d never been married—perfect, in other words, for Dana.

  “I can’t wait till you meet him,” Dana said. She hurriedly shed her coat and pulled out a compact. “You’re going to love him.”

  “He sounds really nice. What does he do for a living? Does he have a job?”

  “Something legal, I think. I mean, I know he has a law degree. Hey! Maybe he can get someone for you and we can double date! You’re lawyers…you’d have so much in common.”

  “That’s okay, I hate blind dates.”

  “Hailey, I’m sure you don’t want to spend another Valentine’s Day all alone. I’ll see if Greg has a friend for you.”

  “Isn’t he new in town? I’m sure he doesn’t. And even if he does, I’m not…” She broke off, hearing footsteps coming up the stairs.

  “I hear a client, gotta go. Thanks anyway.”

  She was sure it would be Melissa, but the footsteps turned out to be Dana’s next appointment. Hailey made a beeline for her own office, grateful to be extricated from the whole Valentine’s Day setup thing.

  Only after she’d closed the door did she remember she’d forgotten to ask Dana for her Post. And now she finally had a chance to read it. Five minutes went by, ten, fifteen.

  Hailey looked up Melissa’s home number and dialed it.

  “Melissa, hi dear…it’s Hailey. We had an appointment at two o’clock…did you forget? Don’t worry. I’m here, waiting for you. Give me a call when you get this.”

  She hung up. Being late had become Melissa’s routine, and Hailey had come to accept it, but it didn’t stop her from worrying. Hailey methodically busied herself, finishing paperwork, watering plants, and rinsing out the coffee mugs, keeping one eye on the clock.

  A half hour had passed, then an hour.

  Still no Melissa.

  But Mazz showed up, right on time for his own appointment.

  “I had a new dream about the monkey,” he announced, flopping into the chair opposite Hailey.

  35

  Atlanta, Georgia

  “SO WHAT DO YOU SAY, FLOYD MOYE? HOW ABOUT WE MEET TONIGHT at Bones for a little dead cow and some serious bourbon and branch?” C.C. leaned back in his chair, feet propped on his desk, even more pleased with himself than usual.

  “That’d be great, C.C.,” Eugene agreed. “I’ll see you there at eight.”

  “Eight o’clock it is.” C.C. reached just far enough off his chair to hang up the phone.

  So it was all set. Over dinner at the most expensive steak house in Atlanta, they’d meet with the State Democratic sub-chairman to nail down plans for C.C.’s grand announcement for the governor’s race.

  It had to be classy and steeped in judicial decorum, something he’d learned early on from the other members of the bench. Judges could get away with pretty much anything if they just kept looking judicial, and even more so if they spoke with their robe on.

  But damn, he’d have to invite Betty up from Dooley County for the El Grande Candidacy Announcement Celebration. Somehow, he’d have to ditch Betty and sneak Tina over. This would take some doing.

  Think…think…think!

  Betty’s presence in Atlanta would mean he’d have to say bye-bye to any thoughts of an after-party with Tina. C.C.’s pink fuzzy would be pissed beyond belief. She loved special moments together.

  How on earth could he maneuver this?

  Oh, hell, he’d just have to burn that bridge when he got there.

  He opened his top drawer and pulled out his flask. It was cool and comforting, smooth and familiar to the touch. It had seen him through some mighty tough times, mighty tough. He needed it now—and how.

  The phone call with Eugene arranging tonight’s meeting put him so on edge he could barely throw back a drink.

  Shit. There was something freaky about that man, always so damn secretive, so damn uptight, meticulously demanding all sorts of details about C.C.’s calendar and whereabouts.

  But hey…who gave a crap? C.C. was packing for the state capital, thanks to Eugene.

  He took a pull before his secretary could barge back in. Now that was nice… bourbon, room temp. Why spoil it with ice?

  36

  New York City

  PATIENTS CAME AND WENT. THE AFTERNOON DWINDLED AND DISAPPEARED before Hailey looked out the double windows into the courtyard again, and when she did, darkness was settling across the Village.

  The building was silent—no more muffled noises seeping up through hardwood floors. The ring of office phones, doors below opening and closing, muffled laughter of receptionists and dental hygienists and their patients, even the occasional strains of dentist-office Muzak had all ceased for the day.

  Hailey clicked off one of the floor lamps near the foyer and walked through the office, straightening things here and there, wondering uneasily why Melissa never called back.

  It wasn’t necessarily uncharacteristic of her to ignore a message—but she usually kept her appointments, and when she couldn’t, sh
e always called to cancel.

  According to the microwave’s clock, glowing green in the darkened kitchen, it was already six fifteen.

  Hailey dialed over to Dana to ask if she’d like to have dinner, deciding to forgo running the East River in lieu of companionship tonight. No answer.

  That was strange. Dana always stuck her head in to say good-night.

  Hailey considered trying to catch her on her cell, then opted not to.

  Maybe it was a blessing in disguise; she’d logged eight hours straight without a lunch break, then another hour’s work on an article she hoped to publish, about the origins of self-hatred. Her session with Hayden today had infused her with new thought and perspective, but also left her tired, more mentally than physically.

  She had noticed dark circles showing under her eyes in her office bathroom earlier that afternoon when she’d splashed water on her face between patients.

  Okay. So maybe she’d still skip her jog and try her best to sleep. But before she left the office, she’d try Melissa one more time. She flipped open her appointment book and dialed the number.

  “Hi, it’s Melissa…I’m not here, so please leave me a message. I promise I’ll call you back.”

  The simple greeting was somehow haunting, almost wistful. Maybe a tiny clue of a yearning for a childhood lost.

  “Hey, Melissa…it’s Hailey again.” She made sure her voice was casually upbeat. Melissa didn’t need a guilt trip over the missed appointment. “I wanted to check with you about rescheduling today’s session. I know you have my home and cell.”

  Hailey hung up, hearing footsteps heading up the hallway and into Dana’s office.

  She hurriedly threw the rest of her things into her bag, closed and locked her door, and crossed the hall. She’d make a peace offering of dinner at Candle Café, one of their favorites.

  “Dana?”