Dead Write: A Forensic Handwriting Mystery (34 page)

Leaving her with her head bent between her knees, Claudia flew down the last three flights. At the bottom, she cracked open the door marked L.

Halfway across the lobby, she heard a shout from the elevator. Whirling, she saw the doors closing on Ace and Mike. Claudia ran full tilt for the front doors, never so happy in her life to hear the sound of police sirens. Glancing back, she saw the elevator doors opening again, but it didn’t matter anymore. The sirens had stopped right outside.

Detective Izzy Perez was professional and detached as he directed operations at the Bernard Building. Sitting in his vehicle wrapped in a blanket, Claudia couldn’t stop shivering. She watched them bring Ian out on a stretcher, then Grusha. And she was still shivering when Marcus, Ace, and Mike were brought out in handcuffs—not plasticuffs, the real metal ones—hands locked behind their backs.

She knew they couldn’t see her, but thinking about what had just happened and realizing what a close call she’d had brought on a wave of nausea. If she had known what was waiting for her in New York, would she have come? That was a question Claudia had some trouble answering. She was glad she had done the right thing and gotten the police involved, even when Grusha didn’t want her to. Without the information she had provided, Marcus might have been successful in framing Ian for his crimes, and Grusha would be dead.

Annabelle’s ring tone sounded. Claudia, still wearing the headset, tapped the talk button. “Annabelle, I can’t talk to you right now—”

“Claudia.” Annabelle’s voice was shrill and scared. “You have to come home. Joel got shot.”

The world stopped as Claudia tried to make sense of the words. Before she could react, Pete’s voice sounded in the background; then he came on the line. “Sis? I’m sorry you had to hear it like that. She called you before I could stop her. She’s pretty upset.”

“He—Joel—what—”

“He’s in surgery right now. The girls and I are at the hospital. Don’t worry; we’re gonna stay here as long as it takes.”

“How bad is it?” The long pause scared her. “Pete, tell me the truth.”

“We’ll know more when he’s out of surgery. He took at least one in the gut.”

“I . . .” What could she say? That she’d been busy trying to escape from a killer and his thugs? “I’ll be on the first flight I can get.”

No time to think about the possibility that Jovanic might not survive. That she wasn’t there with him. Grusha would have to take care of things by herself, and the police could wait for her formal statement. She opened the door and climbed out of the car.

Chapter 35

Jovanic was asleep, his lashes a dark fringe across his too-pale face. His hair was standing up in little salt-and-pepper tufts. After an overnight flight back to L.A., Claudia sat next to the bed, smoothing his hair, stroking his hand, careful to avoid the IV that snaked to a drip bag. Swallowing the lump of emotion that threatened to choke her, she thanked whatever guardian angels or spirit guides had been watching over him.

His lips curved into a smile and he half opened his eyes. “Hey, Grapholady . . .” His speech was slurred from the pain medication, but he grabbed her hand and held on.

Claudia leaned down and kissed his forehead. “Hey, Columbo. What are you doing here?”

“Had to get you to come home somehow.”

“That’s not even funny.”

“Don’t cry, honey. Wasn’t too bad. No major organs.”

In fact, the doctor had already reassured her that he would make a full recovery. They had removed his spleen and repaired the damaged abdominal muscles. He would eventually need physical therapy, but she shouldn’t worry.

So far, no one had been able to tell her the circumstances of the shooting.

“Are you feeling a lot of pain?”

He gave her a dopey grin. “Morphine. Now I know why they get addicted. It’s greaaaat.”

Claudia smiled. “I love you, Joel. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Sleepy, babe.” He released a long breath and closed his eyes.

Claudia fell asleep holding his hand. When she awoke, Annabelle was peeping around the door. Claudia smiled and stretched her stiff limbs, put a finger to her lips so the girl wouldn’t awaken Jovanic. She got up and went into the hallway, where she was instantly mobbed by Annabelle, her niece, Monica, and her brother, Pete.

“He’s gonna be okay, isn’t he, Claudia?” Annabelle demanded to know when the group hug ended. Monica echoed the question.

“Yes, he’ll be fine. He has to take a little time off work and have therapy, but he’ll be back to normal and harassing you girls before you know it.”

Pete hugged her and said, “We’re heading to the cafeteria. How about some coffee?”

“I’ll join you in a few minutes,” Claudia said. “There’s something I have to do first.”

Chapter 36

Alexandra Vega was sitting alone in the waiting room. At the moment, she didn’t look like a tough police detective; she looked like a woman in pain, snuffling into a waterlogged tissue, her eyes red-rimmed from crying. She glanced up as Claudia approached and jumped out of her seat. “I’m sorry,” she said, and burst into tears. “I’m so sorry.”

Claudia’s gut tightened. “You’re sorry?”

“I didn’t mean for him to get so badly hurt. I swear, Claudia, I didn’t want that.”

“What does that mean, Alex? What did you do?”

The young detective dug in her jacket pocket and found a plastic minipack of tissues. She unfolded one and pressed it against her eyes as she tried to get hold of herself.

“What did you do?” Claudia repeated in a cold voice. She had a feeling that whatever was causing Jovanic’s partner this level of grief had nothing to do with her attempts to seduce him.

“I should have had his back,” Alex said in a strangled sob. “It was my fault. I didn’t—” She broke off in a fresh torrent of tears.

“Let me guess,” said Claudia. Blood flooded her face and neck, mottling them bright red with anger. “You were pissed because you couldn’t lure him into your bed. So when he needed you to cover him, you didn’t get his back. And that’s why he ended up in
this
bed instead, with two bullets in him.”

She knew by Alex Vega’s silence that she had pegged it. Her eyes narrowed. “You’re lucky he survived, Alex. Otherwise, I . . .” Claudia was shaking so hard, and she was so angry, that she couldn’t finish. She turned on her heel and walked away.

That afternoon, as she sat by Jovanic’s bedside, Claudia thought about revenge. The revenge of a man whose self-concept was so weak that he had engineered the murders of three innocent women to make himself feel better about his sexuality. The revenge of a woman scorned, which had nearly resulted in the death of her partner. She thought about the utterly useless waste of energy generated by that kind of hatred. And she thought about the revenge that she had, thankfully, never had the opportunity to exact against the man who had stolen her innocence. She would never forgive him, but she had to believe that somehow, wherever he was now, he would have to face his own judgment.

Claudia had almost lost the love of her life because Alex had felt humiliated and wanted to assert her control by allowing him to get hurt. Alex had learned the hard way how powerless and unsatisfied that act had left her. The ancients described revenge as a dish best served cold. It could never change the past, but it could destroy the present and the future. The way Claudia saw it, revenge was a dish better left unserved.

Jovanic stirred, opened his eyes. “Are you really here? I thought I was dreaming.”

“Was it a good dream?” Claudia leaned over and laid her cheek against his.

“Mm-hmm. A very good dream. Lie down here with me.”

She slipped off her shoes and stretched out on her side next to him. “How’s this?”

“I like it. How about we do this forever?”

Epilogue

Claudia spoke with Detective Perez over the phone. As she had expected, he told her she would need to return to New York for Marcus Bernard’s trial, but that would be many months down the road.

“You gotta understand my position,” he said. “It wasn’t that I didn’t believe you, but . . .”

“You and I both know you didn’t,” Claudia said. “But I do understand. I’m just glad you believed me when it counted. Are you sure Marcus’ money isn’t going to get him out of this one?”

Perez snorted. “Multiple murders? No freakin’ way. The judge wouldn’t grant bail. Bernard is a major flight risk.”

She hoped he was right. “How’s Dr. McAllister doing?” The pipe wrench had left him with a serious skull fracture.

“Not so good. He’s still in a coma. You might want to say a prayer for him if you’re inclined that way.”

“I will.”

He had told her that Ryan Turner’s death had been determined to be a genuine accident, coincidental to the murders of the three women.

Grusha Olinetsky never knew that Claudia had learned her secret. She wrote Claudia a handwritten letter, thanking her for saving her life, and offering her a trip to Europe as a bonus. The handwriting was shaky and she said she was still on a lot of drugs, but she had hired Dr. Pollard’s secretary, Dorothy French, who was taking good care of her. She had the best plastic surgeon in New York to repair the cuts to her face, but best of all, the notoriety she had attained in the media as a result of her role in Marcus’ drama had brought a flood of requests from new clients. Sonya was scheduling them for after her recovery from surgery.

Claudia couldn’t help laughing as she read that line. She had a feeling that no matter the situation, Grusha would always rise to the top.