Ricochet (49 page)

Savich sneered. “You never would have fired that sixth bullet.”

“Now, Bobby,” Duncan said in a singsong voice, deliberately using the diminutive of his name, which he knew Savich loathed. “You didn’t sound so confident about that sixth bullet a few minutes ago when you were screaming like a girl.”

“That confession is worthless to you. It was made under duress. This cowboy act of yours was for nothing.”

“Wrong. But in any case, I would have done it just for fun.”

“You wanted to impress your new girlfriend.” He slid a glance at Elise, then gave Duncan a sly smile. “Does she let you come in her mouth?”

Duncan’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “You know what, Savich? You’re still pissing me off. And, you may be right. That confession may not hold up in court. Besides that, it looks to me like you’re trying to escape.”

He whipped the pistol from his waistband, aimed it at the bridge of Savich’s nose, and pulled the trigger.

T
HE FOLLOWING AFTERNOON,
R
OBERT
S
AVICH STILL APPEARED
as shaken as he’d been the previous night when he was hauled out of his office in handcuffs. After a brief stop at the ER, he’d spent the night in the detention center, no doubt shivering on his cot, reliving that split second when he’d experienced the mortal terror he had inflicted on so many others.

“Orange isn’t his color,” DeeDee remarked.

She and Duncan were sitting in the gallery of the superior court room, watching with interest as Savich was escorted to his place at the defense table for his bond hearing. Earlier in the day, in another court, he’d been arraigned for the murder of Meyer Napoli. Not surprisingly, on behalf of his client, Stan Adams had entered a plea of not guilty.

During his previous trial, conducted in this same courtroom only weeks earlier, Savich had been dressed to the nines each day. Today he looked like a different man, wearing the orange jail jumpsuit and sneakers without laces. Despite the thick bandage on his right hand, he was shackled. His ankles were connected by chains to the bands around his wrists. His hair hung loose. The diamond was missing from his earlobe.

“Yeah, but ain’t he a pretty sight?” Duncan stared at the man’s profile, willing him to turn and look at him, knowing that Savich wouldn’t. Duncan had won. Savich couldn’t endure his victory.

“Stop fidgeting.” DeeDee clamped her hand over his knee to keep it from bobbing up and down. “Why are you nervous?”

“I’m not nervous. More like excited.” Feeling the weight of his partner’s stare, he turned his head toward her. “What?”

“It’s real, isn’t it? The thing between you and her. It’s like… the kind of thing that counts.”

“For me, definitely. For her, hopefully.” He looked toward the bench, now empty, but where Cato Laird would soon begin presiding over the courtroom with his customary arrogance and aplomb. “She’s gotta get past this. Start living as herself, not as his wife. It’ll be an adjustment. She’s lived on guard and in fear for a long time. It may take a while before she’s entirely free from all that.”

“Well, I just want you to know — not that you need my permission or even my approval — but, I’m cool with it. With the two of you together, I mean.”

He turned and smiled down at her. “Thanks.”

“Just in case you wondered.”

“Thanks,” he repeated. He glanced at his wristwatch. “They’re late getting started.”

She nodded toward Savich, who appeared not to have moved since he was seated. “He’s trying to pretend he isn’t here.”

“But he is. He’s had his last day of freedom, and he knows it.”

“You can bet he hates being treated like a common criminal.”

“He’s common enough,” Duncan said. “When I pulled the trigger, he messed his pants.”

“Can’t say as I blame him. I nearly did myself. Lucky for him you had left the last chamber of the revolver empty. Why did you? Because you figured it would come down to that last pull of the trigger?”

“Exactly,” he said. “And if that bullet had been loaded, I’d have killed the son of a bitch.”

“All rise,” the bailiff intoned.

DeeDee, dumbfounded by Duncan’s last statement, came to her feet a bit more slowly than did everyone else in the courtroom as Judge Cato Laird strode in and assumed his seat.

He glanced over the assembly, his gaze alighting briefly on DeeDee before shifting to Duncan. Their eye contact lasted for several significant seconds, then he proceeded.

“Mr. Adams, you’re representing Mr. Savich?”

“Yes, Your Honor.” Stan Adams stood up.

“He’s been charged with the murder of Meyer Napoli.”

“To which he’s entered a plea of not guilty. Before we continue, Your Honor, I submit that the restraints on my client are unnecessary and request that they be removed for the duration of these proceedings.”

“These proceedings won’t take that long, Mr. Adams. Your request is denied.” For effect, he banged his gavel.

Duncan noticed that Laird avoided looking directly at Savich.

“Mr. Nelson,” the judge said, “you’re representing the DA’s office?”

“Yes, Your Honor.” Mike Nelson came to his feet behind the prosecutor’s table, but not before glancing meaningfully at Duncan, whose heart had begun to beat hard and fast.

“Your Honor,” the prosecutor said, “Robert Savich has also been charged with conspiracy to commit murder in the death of Chester Joel Rollins.”

Attorney Stan Adams turned his head so quickly, his neck popped audibly, but Duncan’s eyes were trained on Cato Laird’s handsome face. The judge was smiling slightly, poised to speak, when his brain processed what his ears had heard.

His smile faltered. He blinked several times. He looked at Duncan, whose stare conveyed all the enmity he felt for the man. It also conveyed what he wished he could stand up and shout:
And you thought I had you by the balls
yesterday.

He saw the judge swallow. “Uh, Mr. Nelson, this is a bond hearing. That’s not the…” He stumbled, tried again. “That’s not the case before—”

Stan Adams was back on his feet. “Your Honor, what is going on here?”

“I’m trying to ascertain that for myself, Mr. Adams. Mr. Nelson, the case you… uh…” As he stammered, his attention was drawn to the rear door of the courtroom. Duncan watched his features turn slack with dismay, then appear to melt as though made of wax, until his entire face was sagging heavily.

Unsteadily he came to his feet and leaned upon the podium for support as Elise made her grand entrance, flanked by Bill Gerard on one side, Worley on the other. Gerard’s countenance, normally affable, was stony with resolve. Worley’s toothpick was at a particularly jaunty angle, like he’d just told the dirtiest joke ever.

As for Elise, she looked confident and poised. “Hello, Cato.”

“Elise!” he cried. “How… This is… My God!”

“Stop pretending, Cato. You’re anything but overjoyed.”

Upon seeing Elise, supposedly a dead woman, astonishment had rendered Stan Adams silent.

Duncan left his seat and stepped into the aisle just ahead of Elise and her escorts. Without breaking stride, he went to the side of the judge’s podium and stepped behind it. Taking the judge by the arm, he literally dethroned him and pulled him from behind his bench.

“Cato Laird, you’re under arrest for the murder of Chet Rollins. You have the right to remain silent.”

“Elise, what… What is this?” He waved his arms in an attempt to throw off Duncan. The wide sleeves of his robe flapped like the wings of a grounded crow. Duncan deliberately articulated his words as he read him his rights.

The judge’s dismay turned to anger. “Gerard, what is going on?”

“Just like Detective Sergeant Hatcher said. You’re being arrested for conspiring to commit murder.”

“This is outrageous!”

Elise stepped up to him. “You had my half brother killed, Cato. He was going to expose you and Savich, so you silenced him.”

He looked beyond her at Gerard. “She’s delusional.”

But Gerard said nothing as Elise went on, undeterred. “At the time, Chet was the only person in my life who loved me. The only person I loved. And he died naked and in fear on a cold shower floor, slowly choking on a bar of soap.”

Cato looked around frantically, seeking an ally. None was to be found. Everyone in the courtroom was riveted by the drama being played out. Some were regarding the judge speculatively. Others had already made up their minds about the truthfulness of Elise’s accusation and were looking at him with contempt.

He shouted, “This woman is unstable! She’s a liar. She killed a man in our home, and I, like a fool, protected her from prosecution. She’s been pretending to be dead, for crissake.”

He pointed a finger at Duncan. “Yesterday, he… he kidnapped and assaulted me. She can tell you,” he said, pointing wildly at DeeDee. “They’ve all turned against me. They hate me. You can’t believe anything they say!”

Elise continued in a calm, clear voice. “For years you’ve been taking money from Savich in exchange for favorable rulings. Lenient sentencing. Sometimes you dismissed cases and declared mistrials.”

She produced the USB key that had been taken from Savich’s computer during the search of his office that had followed his arrest. Despite his claim of having firewalls that couldn’t be cracked, they had been last night by the department’s computer experts.

“All your transactions are recorded on this. Savich was invoiced by your family’s shipping company for its transport services. But he was charged a usurious rate, sometimes twice what other clients were charged for the same service. The overage he paid went into your private account in the Cayman Islands.”

The judge’s face had turned red with fury. He confronted Gerard. “You can’t treat me like this!”

“Yeah, I can.”

“I want my lawyer.”

“You’ll get your phone call, Judge.”

Looking past the others, the judge snarled at Savich, “Did you set me up?”

Savich shouted back, “You were going to feed me to these dogs.”

Stan Adams told him to shut up.

Ignoring the advice of his attorney, Savich said, “It’s her you have to thank for this,” and motioned toward Elise with his head. “Her and her boyfriend Hatcher.”

“Be quiet!” Adams grabbed Savich’s arm and tried to yank him into a chair, but he stumbled on his chains and fell to the floor.

Duncan gave Cato Laird a nudge. “Say good-bye to your bench. You’ve made your last ruling.”

“You son of a bitch,” the judge said, spraying spittle. “You lied to me. You…” He divided a wrathful look between him and Elise. “You
are
fucking her, aren’t you? Well, have her. You deserve the bitch. You deserve each other.”

Duncan’s eyes drilled into those of the judge and he held his arm in a bone-crunching grip. Lowering his voice to a menacing pitch, he said, “I advise you to leave this courtroom now, before you say something for which I’ll be forced to hold you in contempt.”

Recognizing the words he’d said to Duncan, Cato lunged toward him and Elise. Two uniformed cops rushed to Duncan’s assistance, and it took the three of them to restrain Laird. Feral sounds issued from his throat. The blood vessels in his forehead looked ready to burst.

Elise didn’t recoil. In fact, she stepped closer to him. Suddenly the judge ceased his struggles and became perfectly still except for his raspy breathing.

“What Savich says is true, Cato,” she said. “I set you up. But you have only yourself to blame. From the day you were born, you were handed every advantage that could possibly be granted to a person, and you abused them all. What a sick, selfish individual you are. As well as criminal.

“I’m sure you realize how unpopular you’ll be among the prison population. You’ll have enemies already in place, anticipating your arrival. That means every day for the rest of your life, you’ll be looking over your shoulder, living in fear, like Chet did.

“Fear will be your constant companion, Cato. Every minute of every day, you’ll have to be on guard against ambush, rape, torture. Execution.” She took a deep breath, then added softly, “May God have mercy on you. I have none.”

Duncan admired her restraint. In her situation, he wouldn’t have been nearly that eloquent. But then, she had waited a long time for this day. Maybe she had known exactly what she would say to him if ever given the opportunity.

She turned her back on Cato Laird. Duncan relinquished the judge to the policemen and moved up beside her, taking her elbow. She’d won the respect of Gerard and Worley during the long and detailed telling of the whole story last night. They preceded her and Duncan up the aisle like bodyguards.

They were about halfway to the exit when the shot rang out. Acting on instinct, Duncan dove to his right, knocking Elise to the floor and covering her with his own body.

Screams and warning shouts echoed in the courtroom.

“Stay down!” Duncan yelled at her. Then in one fluid motion, he rolled onto his back and came up into a crouch, aimed and ready to fire his drawn weapon.

But the threat was over. There had been only one casualty.

T
HE
N
OVEMBER DAY WAS SUNNY BUT COOL.
A
BREEZE RIPPLED
the surface of the channel between Beaufort and Lady’s Island. It was a good day to be outdoors, but Duncan and Elise preferred getting their fresh air through the open window while they languished in bed.

They’d arrived late the previous evening. It was the first time they’d been to this house since they’d departed it separately, he with DeeDee, she alone in his car on her way to confront Savich.

The intervening four months had been turbulent. They hadn’t discussed when they might return to Lady’s Island, but they seemed to tacitly agree that they wouldn’t come back until they could celebrate the end of their ordeal, until their return marked a new beginning.

Yesterday afternoon at 4:38 — Duncan had checked his wristwatch when the verdict was read — Robert Savich was found guilty of murdering Meyer Napoli.

Adams had argued for three days that Elise be disallowed to testify.