Knight sighed and sat back. “I’m not sure why I did. Perhaps to scare her away from you.”
“I didn’t kill my brother.”
“I believe you. So this missing appeal may be important?”
Fiske nodded. “My brother was killed because he knew what that appeal said. I think Wright was killed because he was working late, came out of his office and saw someone at the Court going through my brother’s office.”
She turned pale. “You believe someone at the Court murdered Steven?” Fiske nodded. “Can you prove that?”
“I hope so.”
“That can’t be, John. Why?”
“There’s a guy who’s spent half his life in prison who’d like to know the answer to that.”
“Does Detective Chandler know all this?”
“Some of it. But Agent McKenna has pretty much convinced him I’m the bad guy.”
“I’m not sure Detective Chandler believes that.”
“We’ll see.”
As Fiske dropped Knight back at the Court, she said, “If everything you suspect is true and someone at the Court is involved in this …” She stopped, unable to continue for a moment. “Do you realize what this could do to the Court’s reputation?”
“I’m not sure of a lot in life, but I’m certain of one thing.” He paused and then said, “The Court’s reputation isn’t worth an innocent man dying in prison.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
Rufus looked anxiously over at his brother, who had just finished an exhausting coughing fit. Josh tried to sit up a little, thinking that would help his breathing. His insides, he knew, were all but destroyed. Something important to keeping him alive might burst at any moment. He still held the pistol against his side. But it didn’t look like a bullet would be needed to end his life. At least, not another one.
It was fortunate for them that Tremaine and Rayfield hadn’t come in an Army vehicle. But the Jeep did have one crushed side from being broadsided by the truck and this would draw unwanted attention to them. At least it had a cloth top, which prevented anyone from getting a good glimpse of what was inside.
Rufus didn’t know where he was going, and Josh moved in and out of lucidity too much to really help him. Rufus flipped open the glove box and pulled out a map. He studied it quickly and traced the route to Richmond with his finger. He had to get to the highway. If he had to he would stop and ask directions. He pulled the little card out of his shirt pocket and glanced at the names and telephone numbers. Now he just had to find a phone.
* * *
When Fiske and McKenna arrived at Fiske’s office, the FBI agent said, “Let’s get to it.”
“We wait for the police,” Fiske said firmly.
Just as he said that, a police cruiser pulled up and Officer Hawkins climbed out.
“What the heck’s going on here, John?” Hawkins asked, perplexed.
Fiske pointed at McKenna. “Agent McKenna thinks I killed Mike. He’s here to get my gun so he can do a ballistics test.”
Hawkins looked at McKenna with hostile eyes. “If that’s not the biggest bunch of bullshit I ever heard …”
“Right, thanks for your official assessment — Officer Hawkins, is it?” McKenna said, coming forward.
“That’s right,” Hawkins said grimly.
“Well, Officer Hawkins, you have the consent of Mr. Fiske to search his office for a nine-millimeter pistol registered to his name.” He looked at Fiske. “I’m assuming you are still giving that consent.” When Fiske didn’t respond, McKenna looked back at Hawkins. “Now, if you have a problem with that, then let’s go talk to your boss and you can start planning another career outside of law enforcement.”
Before Hawkins could do something foolish, Fiske grabbed his sleeve and said, “Let’s just go get this over with, Billy.”
As they walked into the building, Fiske commented, “Your face looks a lot better.”
Hawkins smiled, embarrassed. “Yeah, thanks.”
“What happened?” McKenna asked.
Hawkins looked at him sullenly. “Guy decided to take a ride on drugs. He was a little difficult to arrest.”
There was a stack of mail and packages in front of Fiske’s office door. He picked them up and unlocked the door. They went inside and Fiske walked over to his desk and dropped the stack of mail on it. He slid open the top drawer and looked inside. He stuck his hand in and fumbled through the contents before looking up at both men. “It was right in this drawer. I actually saw it the day you came to tell me about Mike, Billy.”
McKenna crossed his arms and eyed Fiske sternly. “Okay, has anybody else had access to your office? Cleaning crew, secretary, delivery people, window washers?”
“No, nobody. Nobody else has a key, except for the landlord.”
Hawkins said, “You’ve been gone, what, two days or so?”
“That’s right.”
McKenna was looking at the door. “But there’s no signs of forced entry.”
Hawkins said, “That doesn’t mean anything. Person who knew what they were doing could pick that lock and you’d never even know it.”
“Who knew you kept the gun here?” McKenna asked.
“Nobody.”
“Maybe one of your clients took it so he’d have a piece of ordnance to knock over a bank with,” McKenna said.
“I don’t interview clients in my office, McKenna. They’re usually in prison by the time I get the call.”
“Well, it looks like we have a little problem here. Your brother was killed by a nine-millimeter slug. You have a nine-millimeter Sig registered to you. You admit it was actually in your possession as of a few days ago. Now that pistol is missing. You have no alibi for the time of your brother’s death and you’re a half million bucks richer because of his death.”
Hawkins glanced over at Fiske. “A life insurance policy Mike took out,” Fiske explained. “It was for Mom and Dad.”
“At least that’s your story, right?” McKenna added.
Fiske edged closer to McKenna. “If you think you have enough to charge me, then do it. If not, get the hell out of my office.”
McKenna wasn’t fazed. “I believe Officer Hawkins has your consent to search your entire office for the gun, not just the drawer you said it was in. Now, friend or not, I would expect him to carry out his sworn duty.”
Fiske backed off and looked over at Hawkins. “Go ahead, Billy. I’m going down to the corner café for something to drink. You want anything?” Hawkins shook his head.
“I could use a cup of coffee,” McKenna said, following Fiske out. “It’ll give us a chance to have a little talk.”
* * *
Sara pulled her car into the driveway. She took a deep breath. The Buick was there. As she got out of the car, the smell of cut grass hit her. It was comforting, taking her back to high school football games, lazy summers in the peace of the Carolinas. When she knocked on the door, it was jerked open so quickly she almost fell off the stoop. Ed Fiske must have watched her drive up. Before he could slam the door in her face, she held the photo out to him.
There were four people in the photo: Ed and Gladys Fiske and their two sons. They all wore broad smiles.
Ed looked questioningly at Sara.
“Michael had it in his office. I wanted you to have it.”
“And why’s that?” His tone was still cold, but at least he wasn’t screaming obscenities at her.
“Because it seemed like the right thing to do.”
Ed took the photo from her. “I got nothing to say to you.”
“But I have a lot to say to you. I promised someone something, and I like to keep my promises.”
“Who? Johnny? Well, you can tell him that it’s no good sending you over to try to mend things.”
“He doesn’t know I’m here. He told me not to come.”
He looked surprised. “So why are you here?”
“That promise. What you saw the other night wasn’t John’s fault. It was mine.”
“It takes two to tango and you ain’t telling me no different.”
“May I come in?”
“I don’t see why.”
“I’d really like to talk to you about your sons. I think you need to know some things. Some information that might make things a little clearer. It won’t take all that long and I promise you, after I’m done, I won’t ever bother you again. Please?”
After a long moment, Ed finally moved aside and let her pass. He closed the door noisily behind them.
The living room was much the way it had been the first time she had seen it. The man liked things tidy. She imagined his garage full of tools kept in the same manner. Ed motioned to the sofa and Sara sat down. He went into the dining room and carefully placed the photo among the others there. “You want something to drink?” he asked grudgingly.
“Only if you’re having something.”
Ed sat down in a chair across from her.
“I’m not.”
She looked at him closely. Now she could more clearly see the rough outlines of both sons in his face, his build. The mother was there too, though more in Michael than in John. Ed started to light up a cigarette and then stopped.
“You can smoke if you want. It’s your house.”
Ed replaced the pack of smokes in his pocket and slid the lighter back in his pants pocket. “Gladys wouldn’t let me smoke in the house, just outside. Old habits are hard to break.” He crossed his arms, waiting for her to start talking.
“Michael and I were very close friends.”
“I’m not sure how close you could’ve been after what I saw the other night.” Ed’s face started to flush.
“The fact is, Mr. Fiske — ”
“Look, just call me Ed,” he said gruffly.
“All right, Ed, the fact is we were close friends. That’s how I saw it, but Michael wanted more than that.”
“What do you mean?”
Sara swallowed hard, her own face reddening. “Michael asked me to marry him.”
Ed looked shocked. “He never said anything to me.”
“I’m sure he didn’t. You see” — she hesitated for a moment, very nervous about what his reaction would be to these next words — “you see, I told him no.” She shrank back a little, but Fiske just sat there, trying to digest this.
“Is that right? I take it you didn’t love him.”
“I didn’t — not like that, anyway. I’m not sure why I didn’t. He seemed perfect. Maybe that’s what scared me, sharing my life with someone like that, trying to keep my standards up that high for a lifetime. And he was so caught up in his work. Even if I had loved him, I’m not sure there would have been room for me.”
Ed looked down. “It was hard raising those two boys. Johnny was good at most everything, but Mike … Mike was flat-out great at anything he wanted to do. I was working all the damn time and didn’t really see it that good when they were growing up. I see it a whole lot better now. I bragged a lot on Mike. Too much. Mike told me Johnny wouldn’t have nothing to do with him, and wouldn’t really say why. Johnny really keeps to himself. Hard to get him to talk.”
Sara looked past him, out the window, where a cardinal flitted by and settled on the branch of a weeping willow.
She said, “I know. I’ve spent a lot of time with him the last few days. You know, I always thought I’d be able to tell, almost instantly: This is the person I want to spend my life with. I guess that notion seems silly. And unfair. Doesn’t it?”
A tiny smile creased the man’s face. “The first time I saw Gladys, she was waitressing at this little diner across from where I worked. I walked in the door with a bunch of my buddies one day and from the moment I saw her I didn’t hear a word they said. It was like it was just me and her in the whole damn world. Went back to work and made a mess of a Cummins diesel engine. Couldn’t get her out of my head.”
Sara smiled. “I’m well acquainted with the stubbornness of John and Michael Fiske. So I doubt if you just left it at that.”
Ed smiled too. “I went back over to that diner for breakfast, lunch and dinner for the next six months. We started going out. Then I got up the courage to ask her to marry me. I swear to God I would’ve done it that first day, but I thought she’d think I was crazy or something.” He paused for a moment and then said with finality, “We’ve had a damn good life together too.” He studied her face. “Is that what happened to you when you saw Johnny?” Sara nodded. “Did Mike know?”
“I think he figured it out. When I finally met John I asked him if he had any idea why the two of them didn’t seem to be close. I thought that might have been part of it, but they seemed to have drifted apart before then.” Sara tensed. “So that night in the boat, what you saw was me pushing myself on your son. He had been through the most hellish day imaginable and all I could think about was myself.” She looked directly at him. “He turned me down flat.” She thought of last night, the tenderness she and John Fiske had exchanged, both in and out of her bed. And then the morning after. She thought she had figured it all out. That had been a good feeling. Now she was close to overwhelmed by the sense that she knew nothing about the man or his feelings. She let out a troubled laugh. “It was a very humbling experience.” She pulled a tissue from her pocketbook and dabbed at her eyes. “That’s all I came to tell you. If you want to hate anyone, hate me, not your son.”
Ed studied the carpet for a minute and then stood. “Just finished cutting the grass. I’d like an iced tea, how about you?” With a surprised look, Sara nodded.
A few minutes later Ed came back with glasses of ice and a pitcher of tea. As he filled the glasses he said, “I’ve thought a lot about that night. I don’t remember all of it. Had a damn bad hangover the next day. As mad as I was, I never should’ve hit Johnny. Not in the damn gut.”
“He’s pretty tough.”
“That’s not what I meant.” Ed took a swallow of tea and sat back, chewing on his lip. “Did Johnny ever tell you why he left the police force?”
“He said he had arrested some young kid for a drug offense. That the kid was so pathetic and everything, that he decided to start helping people like that.”
Ed nodded. “Well, he didn’t actually arrest him. That boy died at the scene. And so did the officer that backed Johnny up on that call.”
Sara almost spilled her tea. “What?”
Ed looked a little uncomfortable now that he had opened this subject, but he continued. “Johnny never really talked about it, but I got the story from the officers who arrived after it all happened. Johnny stopped the car for some reason. It was stolen, I think. Anyway, he called in for backup. He got the two boys out of the car. Found the drugs. That’s when his backup came. Right before they were going to search them, one of the boys dropped like he was having a seizure. Johnny tried to help him. His backup should’ve kept his gun on the other, but he didn’t, and the other fellow pulled a gun and killed him. Johnny managed to fire, but the boy put two rounds into him.
“They both went down, facing each other. The other boy had just been faking it. He jumped up and took off in the car. They caught him a little while later. The other fellow and Johnny were about a foot apart, both bleeding like crazy.”
“Omigod!”
“Johnny stuffed a finger in one of the holes. It stopped the bleeding a little. Well — and I heard some of this from him while he was in the hospital half out of his head — the boy said some things to Johnny. I’m not exactly sure what, Johnny never would say, but they found the boy dead and Johnny next to him, his arm around him. Must’ve dragged himself over there or something. Some of the cops didn’t exactly like that, what with one of their own lying dead because of the kid. But they checked everything out and Johnny was cleared. It was the other cop’s fault. Anyway, Johnny almost died on the way to the hospital. As it was, he was in there for about a month. Whatever load the boy was carrying in that pistol ripped Johnny’s insides to shreds.”
Sara suddenly thought bac
k to Fiske’s pulling his shirt back down before they made love. “Does he have a scar?”
Ed looked at her funny. “Why do you ask?”
“Something he said.”
He nodded slowly. “From his gut to his neck.”
“Too old for skinny-dipping,” Sara said to herself.
“Guess they could’ve done some plastic surgery, but Johnny had had enough of hospitals. Besides, I think he figured if they
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