Fatal Judgment (7 page)

The silence was oppressive.

Closing her phone, Liz leaned back on the low-slung gray couch in the living room, wishing she had more calls to return. More arrangements to make. It was easier dealing with logistics than facing the stark quiet of the impersonal, furnished condo she now called home.

Not that it was a bad place. The open floor plan gave a sense of spaciousness to the compact, two bedroom unit. The living room merged into the dining area, which in turn gave way to a galley-sized kitchen. Modern art hung on the walls, providing the only color in the otherwise neutral palette. The sleek lines were pleasing to the eye, and the furnishings were elegant and sophisticated.

But the decorating didn’t fit her tastes.

And it sure didn’t feel like home.

Maybe the marshals could help her add a few cozy touches, if she asked. They’d been more than accommodating in stocking the kitchen this afternoon with the items on the list she’d compiled at their request.

However, she hoped she wouldn’t be here long enough for the decor to matter much. Once they found Alan, she could go home.

Except the thought of returning to her rental house held no appeal, either. How could she ever go into the family room again without seeing the image of Stephanie’s blood?

Determined to switch gears, she rose and walked over to the picture window. There was probably a great panorama of downtown from this room, if she could see it. The vertical blinds had been closed since she’d arrived, and she’d been told to leave them that way. A quick peek couldn’t hurt, though, could it?

She lifted her hand to tilt one of the slats—just as the doorbell rang. With a gasp, she jerked back. Talk about weird timing.

Doing her best to calm her racing pulse, she crossed the room and checked the peephole, as she’d been instructed to do. Jake stood on the other side, juggling a pizza box. He’d left a few hours ago, after a thorough inspection of the condo and the command post—the CP, as he’d called it—had satisfied him the security precautions were adequate.

He hadn’t said he’d be back, but somehow she wasn’t surprised by his reappearance. He struck her as the kind of guy who took his job seriously and didn’t punch time clocks. She could relate.

She was surprised, however, by the pizza.

Unlatching the dead bolt, she twisted the handle and opened the door.

Now that she had a view of him undistorted by the fish-eye lens in the peephole, she found herself taking another kind of inventory. And liking the results. The shadows under his eyes had faded, and based on his clean-shaven jaw and still-damp hair, it was obvious he’d showered and shaved. He’d also changed clothes. Tonight he wore nice-fitting jeans and a cotton shirt rolled to the elbows. The agents in the CP wore suits, meaning he must be paying an off-duty visit.

“I wanted to stop by and check on things before I called it a night. May I come in?”

“Of course.” She edged aside, and once he cleared the threshold she closed the door and twisted the dead bolt.

“Any problems?”

“No. It’s been very quiet here.”

“That’s our goal.” He hefted the box. “Can I interest you in some pizza?”

Her appetite had been nonexistent all day. But the aromas wafting from the box caused her stomach to growl.

As heat rose in her cheeks, he flashed her a grin. “Shall I take that as a yes?”

“I appreciate the offer. But evidence to the contrary, I’m really not hungry. The other guys brought me some food to stock the kitchen with this afternoon.”

“Did you eat any of it?”

She shifted from one foot to the other under his intent scrutiny. It had been a long while since anyone other than Delores had cared what she ate—or if she ate. Although she knew Jake’s concern was professional—after all, it wouldn’t do much for his career if one of his charges passed out from hunger—it still felt good.

“No. Like I said, I haven’t been hungry.”

“Well, I’m starving, and I hate to eat alone. Maybe you could nibble at a piece or two while I have dinner. I got a deluxe, so there should be some things on here you like.” He paused, and creases appeared on his brow. “Unless you’re a vegetarian.”

“No. I like meat.” She folded her arms. “Aren’t you supposed to be off duty?”

Now it was his turn to look uncomfortable. She wondered why.

“I am off duty. But I knew I’d sleep better if I took another run by here to check the security one more time.”

That explanation didn’t quite ring true, but she didn’t press him. “Did you already do that?”

“Yes. You don’t have to worry. You’re safe here.”

“I’m not worried. Alan accomplished his goal. I’m sure he’s long gone.” Despite her efforts to maintain an even tone, bitterness etched her voice. “Has there been any progress tracking him down?”

“Not yet. But St. Louis County is working the case hard. Springfield has surveillance on his home and office, and there’s a nationwide alert out for his car. They’ll find him, Liz.”

“I’m sure they will. But it won’t bring Stephanie back.” A lump rose in her throat, and she did her best to ignore it as she gestured toward the dining area. “Have a seat. Is diet soda okay? That’s all I asked for.”

“That’s fine.”

She headed for the kitchen, pulling out plates and napkins and retrieving two sodas, keeping busy until she regained control.

When she joined him at the table, he flipped open the box and slid it her direction, letting her take the first piece. She chose the smallest one on her side and deposited it on her plate.

“Did you take a nap this afternoon?” Jake took two large pieces.

“No. I took care of business—personal and professional. I had long conversations with the chief judge and my law clerks. We had to figure out how to juggle the whole docket around. I also spoke with Stephanie’s surgeon. They finished retrieving her organs and discontinued life support.” She felt pressure build behind her eyes again and fought back the tears. “I had a preliminary conversation with the funeral director too. He’s getting the logistics sorted out. Our parents are buried in Kansas City, where we grew up. Doug’s in the same cemetery. I’d like her to be with all of them.”

“I told you we’d help with some of that.”

She lifted one shoulder and began picking the olives off her piece of pizza. “I didn’t mind doing it. Idleness is more difficult than busyness.”

They ate in silence for a couple of minutes. He wolfed down several wedges of pizza while she nibbled at her small piece. His comment about starving apparently hadn’t been much of an exaggeration.

At last he stopped for breath and wiped his lips on a paper napkin. “Is the place okay for you?”

“It’s fine for the short time I expect to be here.”

“Is there anything missing? Anything you need?”

She tried to coax her lips into the semblance of a smile. “A rocking chair would be nice. With an afghan thrown over the back.”

He arched an eyebrow at her as he snagged another piece of pizza. “Funny. I’ve never thought of you as the rocking-chair type.”

Propping her chin in her hand, she gave up the pretense of eating. “What type do you think I am?”

His hand hesitated on the pizza for a fraction of a second. But it was long enough for her to infer he didn’t want to answer that question. And his noncommittal reply confirmed that.

“We’ve only met twice, Liz. I don’t know you well enough to have a good feel for your tastes.” He deposited the pizza on his plate and edged the box toward her. Four pieces remained.

“Thanks. I’m done. Are you finished?” She gestured toward the box.

“Yeah.” He eyed her picked-at wedge and furrowed his brow.

She reached for his plate and stood. “How about some dessert? Delores makes great cannoli, and I put coffee on earlier. It should still be good.”

“I’ll have some if you’ll join me.”

“Sure. I can’t resist her masterpiece. It’s an old family recipe from Sicily.”

He rose too. “I’ll get the coffee while you dish up the dessert.”

It felt crowded in the small kitchen, with Jake’s broad shoulders dominating the close quarters. Liz didn’t recall him projecting such a powerful, compelling presence in their two encounters in previous years. Then again, emotions had been running high on both those occasions. Not that they weren’t now. But this time, she’d spent a lot of hours one-on-one with him. And despite his initial coolness, she’d taken comfort in his steadiness, as well as the authority and competence he radiated.

His attitude toward her had also warmed. Whatever the reason, she was grateful for that too.

“Someone’s already put a dent in Delores’s offering.”

At Jake’s comment, Liz inspected the pan of cannoli she’d just unwrapped. Several were missing.

“I offered Dan a sample earlier when he checked in, and not too long after that Larry showed up at the door. He claimed he was checking on me too, but I think he had cannoli on the mind.”

“These were supposed to be for you.”

She shrugged. “I’ll never eat them all before they go bad.”

Setting two on his plate and one on hers, she re-covered the pan with foil and slid it in the fridge.

Once back at the table, Jake took a moment to examine the pastry shells that had been dusted with powdered sugar and drizzled with chocolate. Then he dived in.

“Wow. This is amazing.”

“Yeah.” Liz poked at the creamy filling with her fork. “The combination of flavors is incredible.” She took a bite, letting the rich, sweetened cheese dissolve on her tongue.

Jake polished off his two pieces before she got halfway through her first one.

“Would you like some more?”

“No, thanks. I’m full. Finally.” He leaned back and took a sip of his coffee, looking relaxed for the first time since he’d walked back into her life last night.

Picking up her own mug, she cradled it in her hands. “I’m sorry to disrupt your weekend. I’m sure you had far better things to do with your Saturday than babysit me.”

She couldn’t interpret the subtle shift in his features. Nor the flicker of emotion in his eyes.

“I’m used to odd hours. And the only thing on my agenda for the weekend was unpacking. Trust me. It’s no hardship to put that off.”

Checking his watch, he set his cup down and withdrew a pen and a business card from his pocket. He flipped the card over, wrote some numbers, and pushed it across the table.

“You have the phone number of the command post, but that’s the number for my BlackBerry. If you need to talk to me about anything, don’t hesitate to use it. Day or night.” He took one final sip of coffee and stood. “You need to get some sleep.”

She rose more slowly as he gathered up their plates and deposited them in the kitchen. The thought of being alone in the condo for the duration of what she expected would be a long, sleepless night held no appeal.

“Will I see you tomorrow?”

“I’ll stop by.” He headed toward the door, and she trailed behind. “Remember, there will be two deputy marshals on duty at all times in the CP monitoring the hall and all building entrances. They’re also available to take care of anything you need. And don’t forget the rules. No venturing out. Don’t answer the door unless it’s a marshal you recognize. Keep the blinds shut.”

He turned at the door, and for an instant she was tempted to ask him to stay. To tell him she couldn’t face the long, dark night alone.

But the truth was, she could. And she would. Though the past few years had been difficult, they’d taught her one thing. She was a survivor. She could make it on her own.

Even if she’d prefer to have someone by her side.

______

Jake slept for twelve hours straight. And when he finally woke up on Sunday morning at 9:00, he still felt as if he’d been drugged.

Not a good way to start off a day that he doubted would give him five minutes of downtime. He needed to check in with the CP at the condo. Call Alison. Get an update from Cole on the missing husband. Unpack at least some of his boxes. Stock his refrigerator.

Heaving a sigh, he decided to give himself five more horizontal minutes before attacking his to-do list.

Two minutes later, the vibration of his BlackBerry on the nightstand beside him hosed those plans.

With a groan, he groped for it and checked caller ID.

Alison.

For a couple of heartbeats he considered letting the phone roll to voice mail. But he’d planned to call her anyway. Might as well talk to her now and cross one item off his list.

“Morning, Twig.” He grinned, waiting for the disgruntled reaction that his nickname for her from her skinny-as-a-rail preadolescent years would evoke.

She didn’t disappoint him.

“I was about to apologize if I woke you, but on second thought, forget it.”

Chuckling at her sassy tone, he sat up and swung his legs to the floor. “No apology needed. I was awake.”

“Too bad.”

“Would you feel better if I said barely awake?”

“Maybe.”

“Then I’ll give you that. Five minutes ago I was out like a rock.”

“Cole told me you had a rough night.”

“Did you talk to him today already?”

“Yes. I called to see if he was interested in joining me for church. You want to go?”

A twinge of guilt tweaked his conscience as he examined a ray of sun brightening the room as it streaked across the hardwood floor. He should go. But he and the Lord hadn’t communicated much since Jen died. Maybe with Alison around to influence—and prod—him, he’d do better.

Not today, though.

“I have a full plate at the moment. And I need to stop by and check on the judge this morning. I’ll think about it next week.”

“I got a no from Cole too.” She didn’t sound happy.

“We both had a long day yesterday. And today could shape up to be just as busy.”

“Yeah. The murder’s all over the news. Cole says the judge was married to your college buddy.”

“That’s right.”

“Weird coincidence.”

“No kidding.” He stood and padded barefoot toward the window, cracking the blinds. The sky was blue, and a light breeze was ruffling the leaves on the trees. A perfect day for a jog.

He added that to his to-do list. Along with an hour on the workout equipment in the next room—the first thing he’d unpacked and assembled after moving in. In his business, it didn’t pay to get complacent about fitness.

“So if things are quiet this afternoon, you want to come by for that welcome-home lasagna dinner you stood me up for a couple of weeks ago? You could also meet Bert.”

“Who’s Bert?”

“My new puppy. I told you about him. He’s a charmer.”

“Right. I remember. Okay, that sounds good. But could we make it early? I want to stop in at the judge’s condo again tonight.”

“How about 4:00?”

“That works.”

“I’m looking forward to seeing you, Jake. It’s been too long.” Affection softened her voice.

“I would’ve been here sooner if you’d let Mom or Cole tell me about the accident.”

Her tone went from affectionate to prickly. “That’s precisely why I didn’t. I don’t want my problems disrupting other people’s lives.”

“We’re not people. We’re family.” Time to play the offensive card. And throw in a little guilt for good measure. “Do you know how terrible I felt, finding out after the fact?”

“I’m sorry about that. But you were in Iraq dodging bullets. The last thing you needed was a distraction. If something had happened to you, I would always have wondered if it was because you were thinking about me when you should’ve been watching your back. I wouldn’t have been able to live with that kind of guilt. But I can live with the kind you’re trying to dish out right now.”

So much for his strategy. Time to regroup.

“Let’s table this discussion until tonight, okay?”

“How about tabling it until you get settled in? Or forever?”

“Nope. You agreed to give me details when I got back in town. I intend to hold you to that promise.”

“Hmph. I could renege on my invitation.”

Silence while he waited her out.

At last he heard a peeved whoosh of air. “Okay. Fine. I’ll let it stand and deal with you after you get here. But if anything comes up and you have to cancel, call. You do have a BlackBerry, you know.”

“Sorry about the last get-together. Things got wild.”

“I understand. And all is forgiven. Unless it happens again.”

He chuckled. “Message received. See you later.”

After the phone went dead, Jake checked in with the command post. Everything was quiet. Good. A quick call to Cole confirmed the husband was still AWOL. Not so good.

But at least that news meant he had time for his jog and a workout before he headed downtown to check on the judge in person.

As for stocking his fridge and unpacking—the former chore he’d take care of after he visited Liz. The latter could wait for another day.

At the soft knock on her door, Liz got up from the glass-topped dining room table, where she’d spread out the contents of her briefcase. Massaging her brow, wishing the subtle ache that had begun in the middle of her sleepless night and intensified throughout the morning would go away, she trudged toward the condo’s small foyer. Must be another visit from one of the marshals in the command post. They’d been checking on her at regular intervals.

Or perhaps word of Delores’s cannoli had spread to today’s crew and they were looking for a sample. Her lips softened into the hint of a weary smile as she approached the door. She was glad to accommodate them, but she wasn’t in the mood for conversation.

When she peeked through the peephole, however, Jake stood on the other side, once again dressed in jeans and a cotton shirt. Must be his standard off-duty attire.

Suddenly she was in the mood for conversation.

Unlocking the door, she pulled it open and ushered him in. “I didn’t expect you to stop by until later in the day.”

He waited in the foyer as she slid the dead bolt into place. “Am I too early?”

“No. I just assumed you’d have things to do and places to go on Sunday morning.”

“My sister invited me to church, but I declined.”

“I hope not because of me.”

“Not entirely. I’ve been less than diligent in my church attendance since Jen died.”

She shoved her hands into the pockets of her jeans. “I can relate. I stopped going to services for a while after Doug died too. Faith is a funny thing. It’s easy to believe while life is rolling merrily along. But in times of trial, it’s tempting to turn away from God. Yet that’s when we need him the most.”

“You sound like Alison.”

“Your sister?”

“Yeah. With her prodding, I’ll find my way back sooner or later.” He gave the condo a quick sweep. “Any problems? Other than insomnia?”

She arched her eyebrows. “I didn’t say I wasn’t sleeping.”

“You didn’t have to.”

Heat crept up her neck under his intent scrutiny. “I look that bad, huh?” She tried for a light tone but couldn’t quite pull it off.

“Not bad. Just very tired. And very stressed. You’ve had a tough couple of days.” He gestured toward the dining room table. “Working?”

“Trying to. I can usually lose myself in an interesting case. It’s not happening today, though.”

“Maybe a nap would help.”

“Maybe.” She gave him an appraising scan. “You look like you caught up a little on sleep.”

“Twelve solid hours. And I jogged this morning and got in a good hour-long workout.”

No wonder he was in such superb physical condition. “Lucky you. I already miss my daily walk.”

“You’re a walker?”

“Yes. Thirty minutes every day on the treadmill, no matter how late I get home. I’ll go back to it after all this is over. Speaking of which . . . I take it there’s no news on Alan?”

“Not yet. I’ll let you know as soon as there’s a break.”

“Thanks.” They were still standing in the foyer, and she motioned toward the living room. “You’re welcome to come in.”

A tinge of some emotion—regret, perhaps?—flashed through his eyes.

“I have a few errands to run. And later in the afternoon I’m having dinner with Alison. I stood her up when I first got back into town, and if I don’t show today I suspect I’ll end up wearing the lasagna the next time she sees me.”

She tried to smile past a sudden surge of panic. She didn’t want him to leave. For whatever reason, he was fast becoming her lifeline to normalcy—and sanity—amid all the craziness.

Although she didn’t move, didn’t say a word, he seemed to discern her thoughts. “I’ll be back later tonight to check in on you again, Liz.”

“Okay.” Relief—and some other emotion she couldn’t identify—washed over her. “Look . . . if she’s serving lasagna, you have to have an Italian dessert. Take some of the cannoli.” She started toward the kitchen.

“If you keep giving them away, you won’t have any left.” His protest was only halfhearted as he trailed after her.

She slid four onto a plate and covered them with foil. “Good food and kindness are meant to be shared. Enjoy.” She held them out.

He took the plate from her in silence, his expression quizzical.

An odd undercurrent in the air unsettled her, and she eased back a few inches. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m not sure. But I’ll figure it out.”

With that enigmatic remark, he turned toward the foyer, calling over his shoulder as he walked. “Lock up after I leave. And expect me again around 8:00.”

He slipped through the door before she could respond. And as she secured the bolt behind him, Liz decided that was just as well.

Because he was talking in riddles. And with fatigue and a headache dulling her thinking, she wasn’t up to solving puzzles today.

But come tomorrow, she might just tackle that challenge.

Alison was way too thin.

As Jake greeted his sister with a bear hug at the door while a golden fluff ball cavorted at his feet, he could feel her bones. Every one of them. Or so it seemed. He loosened his embrace, afraid if he squeezed too hard he’d crush her.

He’d known after talking with Cole yesterday that the accident had been a lot worse than he’d thought. Known his sister’s recovery had been slow and tedious. So he’d expected to see some evidence of trauma.

What he hadn’t expected was her palpable fragility. Though Alison had never carried an extra ounce of fat, she’d always been toned and athletic. Strong. Healthy. Vigorous.

Now she seemed shockingly delicate.

But her spunky spirit appeared to be undimmed. Either that, or she was keeping up a good front for his benefit.