Dead Reckoning

by Linda Castillo

“I was a cop for twelve years.”

  “That doesn’t give you the right to use those resources to dig into my past.”

  Frank leaned back in the chair and tried to decide how to approach this. He’d broken some rules by running her name through the computer. As far as he was concerned he’d had a good reason. “Kate, someone tried to kill you this morning.”

  “I’m aware of what happened this morning,” she snapped with sudden anger.

  “We need to find this bastard who’s stalking you,” Frank said. “We need to stop him. And in the interim we need to keep you safe.”

  She looked away. Stubborn. Beautiful. Hurting in a way no human being should ever have to hurt. “I don’t want Mike to know about this,” she said.

  “I know where you’re coming from, but—”

  “No,” she snapped. “You don’t know where I’m coming from.”

  “The police will need to see these notes.”

  “Frank, damn it, I don’t want that nightmare dredged up. For God’s sake, I’m a prosecutor. When people look at me, I don’t want them to see a victim.”

  She tossed the word at him like a dirty word. Frank didn’t have any platitudes, so he let it go and said what had to be said. “Kate, your being a prosecutor is precisely the reason why we’ve got to get to the bottom of this. Intimidating a prosecutor in any way, shape, or form threatens our entire criminal justice system. We can’t sweep this under the rug because you don’t want to deal with it.”

  “This is not about my job.”

  Frank sighed, feeling as if he’d stepped into very deep water. “Why don’t we start by getting the facts on the table. Once we get the facts laid out, we can decide how to handle it later, okay?”

  After a moment she raised her head. When her eyes met his they were dry and she was once again in control of her emotions. “I think this is about what happened eleven years ago. The notes appear to be from one of the perpetrators. Whether or not that’s really the case, I don’t know.”

  “Someone could have done some digging, found out what happened. Knowing it might be a sensitive issue for you, they could be trying to use it to intimidate you.”

  “Why?”

  “Let’s face it, Kate. Not everyone agrees with capital punishment.”

  “Maybe,” she conceded. “But I think it’s a weak angle.”

  But Frank could feel his mind shifting into cop mode. “Eleven years ago . . . was there an arrest made?”

  She shook her head.

  “Was there ever a suspect?”

  “No.”

  “What about the voice on the phone? Could it be the same guy?”

  “I don’t know. The voice is raspy, as if he’s trying to disguise it.” She bit her lip. “I wasn’t struck with a sense of familiarity.”

  “Has he ever asked for money?”

  “No.”

  “That night eleven years ago . . . Was it one man?”

  She closed her eyes briefly, then looked down at the pillow she was hugging against her and relaxed her grip on it. “Two. I was able to give the police a description of both men, but they were never able to come up with a suspect.”

  He thought about that for a moment, and for the first time he began to understand what drove her. “So the two men got away.”

  “Scott-free.”

  Something dark and uncomfortable niggled at the back of his brain. “How does Jack Gamble play into this?”

  She had a good poker face, but it wasn’t good enough to hide the lie from him. “I told you. Jack Gamble is looking into another case. My relationship with him is totally unrelated to any of this.”

  Frank wanted to believe her, but he didn’t. “I’ll double check with the TDOC,” Frank said, referring to the alert sent out by the Texas Department of Corrections to all state law enforcement agencies as well as city, state, and county courts notifying the courts and law enforcement when a convicted felon was released from prison.

  Kate nodded. “I’ve already checked the alerts, but maybe someone fell through the cracks.”

  “Anyone else you can think of who might want to hurt you?” Frank asked. “Any enemies? Neighbors? Disgruntled friends? Ex-boyfriends?”

  Kate shook her head. “My life pretty much revolves around work. I know my neighbors well enough to say hello, and that’s about it.”

  “What about family?”

  A shadow he couldn’t quite read passed over her expression. “There’s just my sister, Kirsten, and my parents.”

  “Do you get along with them?”

  “Kirsten suffered permanent brain damage eleven years ago.”

  Jesus. “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “My parents never really recovered. Nobody was the same afterward.”

  Frank knew firsthand how violence could destroy lives. How, like a greedy hand, it could reach out and snatch away happiness and the grand illusion of safety.

  “Life, Inc., usually starts making noise about the time the DA’s office announces it’s going to try a capital case. They’ve been known to get creative in their tactics.”

  “What could they possibly hope to gain?”

  “Maybe they think if you’re distracted you’ll lose the case.”

  “Lawrence Bertrand may be a zealot, but he’s a pragmatist. If he wants something to happen, he’ll take a more direct route.”

  Bertrand was the principal of Life, Inc., an anti-death penalty group based in Dallas. He was outspoken and charismatic and thrived on visibility. He loved media attention and played even the most experienced journalists like a finely tuned violin.

  “Maybe I ought to pay him a friendly visit,” Frank said.

  “It probably couldn’t hurt at this juncture.”

  He smiled. “At last we agree on something.”

  “Probably won’t last.” She gave him a small smile, and then a breath shuddered out of her. “So now you know my deep, dark secret.”

  He wasn’t expecting her to say that, and for a moment he didn’t know how to respond. “We all have secrets.”

  Her gaze met his. “What are yours?”

  Frank didn’t answer.

  “Off limits?” she asked.

  “For too many reasons to count.”

  “It’s not easy having the tables turned, is it?”

  “I’m just afraid if you know all my secrets, you’ll get bored with me.”

  She didn’t smile. “Or maybe you’re like me and you’d rather fight crime than be a victim of it.”

  “You’re not a victim.” He held her gaze, but it wasn’t easy because he was thinking about Gittel. A lovely young woman who’d been so vital, some days he still couldn’t quite believe she was gone. A woman who’d felt passionately about her cause. A cause that, he believed, had ultimately killed her. He stared at Kate, seeing the determination in her eyes, and for the first time saw the parallel between the two women. A parallel that made him feel a little sick . . .

  “I want to put a tap on your phone,” he said. “Maybe a trace.”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because there are procedures and red tape, and I do not want the DA’s office involved.”

  “Sometimes what we want and what we need are two different things.”

  “If the situation escalates, we’ll deal with it then.”

  “The situation has already escalated,” he said sharply. “Someone tried to kill you this morning, damn it. Next time the son of a bitch might succeed. At the very least, you need protection.”

  Her expression turned fierce. “I do not want Mike Shelley to know about this.”

  “Kate, if I keep my mouth shut and something happens to you—”

  “Nothing’s going to happen to me.” Springing to her feet, she flung the pillow at him.

  Frank caught the pillow. It didn’t elude him that she’d winced upon standing or that she was favoring her right leg. Damn stubborn woman.

  “Goddamn it, Kate. Can’t you see that y
ou’re in danger?”

  She spun, crossed to him, and got in his face. “Don’t do this to me, Frank. I mean it. I don’t want what happened eleven years ago dredged up.”

  Frank stared at her, wishing he could abide by her wishes, knowing he couldn’t. He knew if he went to Shelley, it would cost him something precious. Maybe even the tentative friendship he and Kate had forged. But what was the alternative?

  The image of Gittel lying motionless and bloody on the cobblestone flashed in his mind’s eye. He could not—would not—let the same thing happen to Kate.

  TWENTY-ONE

  WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 8, 9:23 A.M.

  One look at Mike Shelley’s expression and Kate knew why she’d been summoned to his office. She steeled herself against the hot flash of fury that ran the length of her body. This was no time for emotion, either hot or cold. Her credibility was on the line, and no matter what the cost, she would walk out of here with it intact.

  Damn Frank Matrone.

  She couldn’t believe he’d done the one thing she’d asked him not to. Even after she’d opened up and told him the truth, he’d disregarded her wishes and gone to her boss without a single thought as to how it would affect her personally or professionally.

  The son of a bitch.

  She knew Frank wouldn’t see it that way. No, she thought darkly, Mr. Ex-cop evidently felt the need to rush in and save her.

  “How are you feeling?”

  Mike Shelley’s voice jerked Kate from her dark reverie. She looked across the span of polished wood desk, forced a smile, and lied through her teeth. “I feel fine.”

  The truth of the matter was it had taken twenty minutes in a hot shower and half a dozen ibuprofen, but she’d made it to work before eight o’clock.

  “You look good.”

  She wanted to tell him to stop beating around the bush and get to the point, but she didn’t think snapping at him would help the situation, so she held her silence.

  “Do the police have any leads?” he asked.

  “I talked to Detective Ruiz this morning. They were able to pick up a partial tread print, but so far it hasn’t been much help.”

  “Let’s hope they get this guy. I don’t like the idea of one of my prosecutors getting mowed down.”

  “I don’t think this has anything to do with my being a prosecutor.”

  Mike looked like a stomach cramp hit him. “Kate, let’s cut the bullshit. You know why you’re here.”

  “You spoke to Matrone.”

  “Don’t blame him. He’s just doing his job.”

  “What did he tell you?”

  “He told me you’re being stalked.”

  That wasn’t what she wanted to know. What she needed to know. All she could wonder was if Frank had told her boss about the rape. The thought sent a rise of pain into her chest.

  She wasn’t sure how she managed, but she laughed. “He has a real knack for melodrama, doesn’t he?”

  “Kate, you should have come to me with this.”

  “I don’t think a few prank phone calls warrants his talking to you about some mad stalker.”

  “He thinks you’re in danger.”

  “He’s overreacting.”

  “He’s an ex-cop, Kate. I trust his judgment.”

  “What are you saying, Mike?” she asked, hating the defensive ring in her voice.

  “I think your safety takes precedence over everything else.”

  “You mean over the case?”

  He sighed. “I’m assigning the case to someone else.”

  “What?” She felt the words like a fist to the solar plexus, but she didn’t let herself react. “Who?”

  “Ricardo Cano. He’s good.”

  “I’m better.”

  “Kate, this isn’t a pissing contest.”

  “I can win the case, Mike.”

  “There’s no way you can give it your all when some nutcase is stalking you.”

  “I can’t believe you’re penalizing me for something I have no control over.”

  “You are not being penalized.”

  “Threaten a prosecutor in Dallas and get a new prosecutor. That’s not a good precedent.”

  “Kate—”

  “Matrone is wrong. He’s out of line.”

  “He made a recommendation. The decision was mine, and it wasn’t an easy one to make.”

  A slow wave of fury rolled through her. “I don’t believe this.”

  “You can’t effectively prosecute this case and deal with a stalker at the same time.”

  “Stalker?” Another laugh squeezed from her throat, but it had a desperate ring to it. “Come on! I received a couple of phone calls—”

  “Someone broke into your house, damn it. He’s called you and left notes. For God’s sake, this bastard tried to run you down in his car! That goes beyond stalking and you know it.”

  Frustration burned through her with such force that her hands curled into fists. Kate wanted badly to argue. The words hovered on the tip of her tongue. Cutting words that would win her no points with her boss. But she knew that to debate the issue farther would cost her precious credibility.

  “I’m sorry, Kate. But until this stalker is caught, you’re off the case and out of the public eye.” He tapped the green expanding folder in front of him. A personnel file, she realized. Her file. “Do you realize you’ve accumulated thirty vacation days in three years? You haven’t taken a single day off since you started here three years ago.”

  “I’ve had a busy caseload.”

  “Don’t think I don’t appreciate it, because I do. But I want you to take some time off.” His expression softened. “I’ll see about getting some off-duty officers to keep an eye on you until they catch this guy.”

  Alarm swept through her. “That’s not necessary.”

  Mike raised his hands. “Don’t argue, Kate. I’ve already got a headache and the day has barely begun.”

  WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 8, 9:33 A.M.

  Kate knew better than to seek out Frank in her current frame of mind. She was dangerously angry. She could feel it pumping through her with every jagged beat of her heart. Adrenaline and negative energy pulsing through in a swift and deadly current.

  I’m assigning the case to someone else.

  Frank had had no right to tell Mike what she’d told him in confidence. He’d had no right to invade her privacy or interfere with her life. He’d sabotaged the biggest case of her career. She’d lowered her guard, shared something painful and private, and he’d stabbed her in the back.

  Heads turned as she strode briskly down the hall toward his office, but Kate refused to let the stares or the whispers stop her. One way or another, she and Matrone were going to have this out.

  She could see that the door to Frank’s office was closed, but it wasn’t going to keep her out. The emotions inside her were ugly. There was a small part of her that hoped she would not find him inside, because at the moment she wasn’t sure what she would do when she saw him.

  She twisted the knob and shoved open the door. A small ripple of shock went through her when she found Frank at his desk, the phone to his ear. His eyes were on her, and within their depths she saw knowledge and wariness and she wondered if her intent was that clear. She closed the door behind her.

  “I’ll call you back.” Frank set the phone into its cradle and looked at her expectantly. “Kate.”

  “I just came from Mike Shelley’s office.” She barely recognized her voice. It was shaking and tight and full of emotion. It was the voice of a woman on the edge of a very steep cliff and about to fall. “He removed me from the Bruton Ellis case.”

  “I know you’re upset—”

  “I’m more than upset, you son of a bitch. I’m furious! I trusted you and you stabbed me in the back. How could you do that?”

  Looking uncomfortable, he rose and came around the desk. “I did what I thought was right to keep you safe.”

  “This was the biggest case of my career and you sa
botaged it.” She stepped toward him. “You had no right.”

  “Kate, you need to calm down.”

  In some far corner of her mind she knew he was right. She knew she was on the verge of doing something she would be sorry for later. But with her temper pumping pure adrenaline, she could no more calm down than she could slow the beat of her heart.

  “Don’t tell me to calm down.” She jabbed her index finger into his chest with the last word.

  Satisfaction rippled through her when she saw the quick flash of anger in his eyes. But she wanted more. She wanted him angry. She wanted him upset. She wanted him frothing-at-the-mouth furious. Just like her.

  Raising his hands as if in surrender, Frank stepped back. “I did not stab you in the back.”

  “You betrayed a confidence.”

  “I did what I needed to do to keep you safe.”

  But Kate was beyond hearing, beyond reason. All she saw before her was a man who’d taken something precious from her. A man she’d trusted with her deepest, darkest secret only to have him use it against her.

  “The things you and I discussed were private,” she said. “I did not want Mike Shelley brought into it.”

  “I didn’t—”

  Using the heel of her right hand, Kate shoved him hard enough to send him back a step. “Don’t lie to me. I just came from his office. He took me off the case.”

  Frank’s jaw flexed. His eyes flicked to the door. Another wave of satisfaction went through her when she realized he wanted out of there. That he did not want to deal with her. Too bad.

  “You had no right to tell him what happened to me.”

  “I didn’t tell him about what happened in Houston.”

  But Kate was too angry for the words to penetrate the black veil of fury. Using her other hand she shoved him back another step.

  “Cut it out,” he snapped.

  “Or what?” She shoved him again. “Are you going to go to Mike Shelley and tell him I’m behaving irrationally?”

  “You are, damn it. If you’d just stop and think about what’s happened, you’d realize I didn’t have a choice.”

  But the rage inside her had built to unmanageable proportions. Kate was beyond listening. Beyond logic or reason. “Here’s a choice for you, Matrone.” She slapped her palm against his chest with the last syllable of his name. “Stay away from me. Stay out of my business. And stay the hell out of my life. You got that?”