The Seven-Day Target (17 page)

Libby rested her chin on her palm. “Do you think that’s where he met this benefactor, at the country club?”

“Could be,” Henzel said. “We never talked about it. I didn’t want to know. But at the beginning, when he was first arrested, he was desperate to get out of jail. He said that he needed to work and that his wife needed his support. Then he changed.”

“Changed? How so?” Nick asked.

“He wasn’t as desperate to get out of jail. He seemed untroubled by the usual court delays.” Henzel frowned. “Then one day he told me he knew who the real killer was, that he was...how did he put it? ‘Negotiating a price.’”

“Negotiating a price? With the Strangler?” Nick leaned forward over the table.

“Yes. That’s the way I understood it.”

“Henderson was in prison this entire time, wasn’t he?” Libby asked.

“Yes. He was being held without bail.”

“So if he was having visitors,” Libby said, her brow creasing as she thought, “then the prison would have a record of that.”

Henzel shook his head. “Except that there was no such record. I checked. Henderson’s wife came to see him every now and again, and that was it. If he was negotiating something with the benefactor, then that benefactor had friends who didn’t make him fill out the visitor paperwork.”

“So if I understand this correctly,” Nick began, “Henderson professed his innocence and seemed impatient about being held in jail, but then he received a lot of money from an anonymous benefactor. Later he signed a statement confessing to have played a part in the murders.” Nick sat back against his chair and stared out the window as he thought about this. “You think that he was paid to take the fall?”

“I do. I think that the Strangler was a very powerful person in Arbor Falls, and I think that he must have cut some kind of a deal with Henderson. If I had to guess, Henderson was promised the things he’d always wanted. Money. Respect. Notoriety. In return, Henderson would sign a confession, plead guilty to lesser offenses and suffer through the trial. There had to be a murder trial. The mayor wanted his pound of flesh. In return Henderson would be treated well in jail and his wife would be cared for.” Henzel’s face darkened. “But his wife wasn’t cared for. Not for long, anyway. Shortly after Henderson was sentenced, she was found dead in their home. Strangled.”

Libby felt a wave of coldness wash over her. “Was she killed by the Strangler?”

“The police never made that connection. If they had, they would have had to admit they’d locked up the wrong person. No, the medical examiner ruled her death a suicide by hanging. But Henderson told me she’d been killed. He was certain of it.” Henzel was quiet. “That’s when Henderson started telling anyone who would listen that he was innocent, that the Strangler had paid him to take the fall. As soon as Henderson started talking, of course...”

“He was killed,” Libby finished in a whisper.

Henzel nodded. “Whoever did it made it look like a suicide, but I never believed it.”

“We found newspaper accounts of a woman who claimed to have seen the Strangler walking from a victim’s house, covered in blood,” Nick continued after a brief silence. “Why didn’t you call her to the stand? She could have introduced reasonable doubt.”

“Yes, Mrs. McGovern was one of the first people I tried to contact when I received Will’s case.” He sighed. “Unfortunately she’d died a year or two earlier. Natural causes. I suppose that can happen when it takes ten years to arrest a suspect.” His tone was bitter. “I offered those newspaper articles into evidence, and I even called the reporter who interviewed her to the witness stand. The state countered with evidence that Mrs. McGovern had been legally blind, and the reporter admitted he didn’t know whether she’d been wearing her glasses or not. It was a disaster.”

“But someone must have known something,” Nick said. “Henderson was talking, people were being bribed to look the other way when a mysterious visitor came calling at the prison—”

“Believe me,” Henzel replied, “even if someone knew something, no one was willing to
say
anything. It was a death sentence. And for what? A sense of justice?” He snorted and shook his head. “No one ever said a word.” He was quiet for a moment. “No, I take that back. There was a prison guard who approached me once, telling me that Henderson had been receiving a strange visitor, that all kinds of rules were being broken to protect this visitor’s identity. The guard told me that something was going on, but he wouldn’t get more specific than that. He said he was going to speak with his superiors about it.” Henzel closed his eyes. “He was found dead in his home a few days later. Shot in the head.”

“Oh!” Libby covered her mouth with her hands.

“The police report said all signs pointed to an apparent burglary. I knew better.”

Libby shivered as a silence fell across the room. Then Henzel continued. “Henderson only confessed to planting the signs. That was the arrangement, I suppose. I think he thought that he would have some leverage with the Strangler if he didn’t confess to all of the crimes, that he could turn state’s witness if the Strangler stopped making payments. Will Henderson wasn’t the smartest client I’ve ever had. Some people took advantage of that.”

Libby bit her thumbnail as she thought. If the Arbor Falls Strangler was a powerful, well-connected person in the community, there could have been a vast conspiracy to convict Henderson. She felt sick to her stomach. What had her father done? What had her father
known
when he went to trial? Her mouth was dry as she said, “Do you think my father knew about this?”

Henzel’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I would have no way of knowing that.”

“I’m only asking your opinion. I would ask my father directly, but he passed away last week.”

“I’d heard. I’m sorry for your loss.” Henzel remained unmoved.

“We need to know what Judge Andrews knew,” Nick said.

“For your book, I suppose?”

Libby swallowed and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Based on his icy response, she suspected that Henzel knew something about her father, something that made him think less of him and of her. Guilt by association, just as she’d experienced with Judge Hayward.

“Look, I don’t know what my father did. I’ve learned over the past few days that you can know someone your entire life without ever actually
knowing
them.” The words brought tears to her eyes, and she blinked them back. “I just want to understand what happened. That’s all.”

Henzel’s face softened, and he took a deep breath. “Your father was a complicated man, Libby. He had many sides, and he was capable of things that surprised me.”

A tear rolled down her cheek, and she wiped it away. Nick placed his hand on her knee. She let him.

Henzel sighed. “I believe that your father knew everything. I believe he knew that Henderson was being paid to do the time for someone else, and he knew that he was prosecuting the wrong man.”

Libby brought her hand over her mouth. Her head reeled to hear those words.

“Someone had to take the fall.
Some
one had to pay when the public was in a panic about a serial killer.” Henzel’s voice was low.

“Why Henderson?” Nick asked. “Was it because he needed the money?”

Henzel smiled tightly. “I’ve wondered that myself. Unfortunately he never told me.”

The nausea was back, rolling over Libby in another wave. She rested her hand on her stomach. “Really, Henderson was another victim.” She felt hot again, as if there wasn’t enough air in the room.

Nick was watching her. “I think we’ve taken enough of your time, Attorney Henzel.” He stood and extended his hand. “Thank you. This information has been invaluable.”

Henzel shook his hand mutely, but his eyes were fixed on Libby with an expression of concern. “I’ve upset you.”

“No, you haven’t.” Libby stood and pressed his hand warmly as she tried to force a smile. “You had nothing to do with this.”

She tried to take her hand from his, but he was clutching it, staring at it. She was alarmed by the expression on his face: a haunted, fearful look. “Attorney Henzel?”

He looked up at her with hollow eyes. “Not a day goes by that I don’t think about that trial and wonder what I could have done differently.”

Nick approached them. “Like Libby said, this wasn’t your doing. You didn’t know what was happening.”

“I could have talked to someone. I could have done something.” His lips were shaking. He dropped Libby’s hand. “I knew the killer had gotten to the prosecutor. I was afraid that he had also gotten to the judge, or even the jurors. I didn’t know who the good guys were anymore.”

“You could have ended up like that prison guard. No one could blame you for keeping quiet.” Libby bit her lower lip. “It would be easier if the good guys dressed in white.”

A sound like a short laugh escaped from Henzel’s lips, and he wrapped his arms around himself as if he’d caught a chill. “Isn’t that the truth.” He brushed a hand over his face. “Yeah, that would be almost too easy.”

Chapter 12

N
ick wrapped his arm around Libby as they walked to the car, darting his gaze right and left. They were miles away from Arbor Falls, but the killer had found them in Stillborough yesterday, and today he would be looking to put Libby in a life-and-death situation. More life-and-death than a fire in a locked room or a bullet fired outside her window as she slept. Nick pulled her closer.

“Hey, I can’t walk like that.” Libby shuffled a few steps off-balance.

“Sorry.” He loosened his hold, but only slightly.

When they reached the car, Nick performed what had become a routine examination of the vehicle carriage, checking for strange marks and wires—anything that might have changed since he’d parked. Finding nothing different was a relief, but it quickly turned to a burning in his stomach. “Nothing” meant they were still waiting for the sign.

He’d just turned the key in the ignition when Libby’s phone rang. She frowned as she read the number. “Hello, Cassie?”

Nick waited while they talked, hearing only Libby’s end of the conversation. “I can’t tell you where I am...Now?...Is everything okay?...We’re about half an hour from the center of town...I can meet you...Okay, see you then.” She hung up and looked at Nick. “I told Cassie we’d meet her at the diner in the center of Arbor Falls.”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

Libby took great care in placing her phone into her pocketbook. “Nothing. I don’t know. She just said she wants to see me.”

“And nothing’s wrong?”

“You want a reason?” She pulled her seat belt across her lap. “We just lost our dad. She just had a baby. I’m being chased by a serial killer. She could be a target, too. Take your pick.”

“Arbor Falls isn’t safe.”

“No place is safe. But I want to see my sister, and she’s in Arbor Falls.”

They locked gazes like bulls locking horns, and then Nick backed the car out of the parking space and made the drive to Arbor Falls without further argument. “Is she going to be waiting inside the diner?”

“Yes. She wants to have lunch. Just to talk.” Libby reached over to stroke his forearm lightly. “Thanks.”

Even now, with his shoulders tight and his mind racing, her touch triggered a response. Her fingers were warm, but he knew that already because the smell of her perfume filled the car, fleeing from the heat of her skin in waves of jasmine and musk. He gripped her hand and brought it to his lips.
Mine.
He’d found her again. She was
his,
and no one was going to touch her.

A lunch crowd was gathering at the diner, but Cassie wasn’t among them. “She said she might be late,” Libby explained. She glanced around, obviously uncomfortable to be back in town.

A waitress approached them and reached for menus. “Table for two?”

“Three,” Nick said, and waited for Libby to pass in front of him.

They sat in a booth with duct tape on the seats and permanent coffee rings stained into the Formica. They didn’t open the menus, but when a waitress came to the table, Nick ordered a coffee.

“Just a water for me, thanks,” Libby said.

The coffee arrived in a brown ceramic mug with a chip on the lip. It was lukewarm and tasted as if it had been sitting on the burner for hours. Nick sipped it. Libby didn’t touch her water. They both watched the door.

* * *

The diner hadn’t changed since the first time her parents had brought her here. The blue-and-white gingham wallpaper was pulling from the walls at the edges, but who would notice those details amid such a distracting amount of kitsch? The ceramic animals lining the randomly placed wooden shelves had to be at least fifty years old—perhaps the only items in the diner actually older than the booth cushions. An entire wall was decorated with old dented license plates collected from around the country. Old advertisements for corn flakes and white bread cluttered another wall. The Main Street Diner was simultaneously unique and exactly like every other diner Libby had ever visited or passed by. The familiarity offered little comfort as they waited for Cassie to arrive.

Something was wrong. Libby had heard it in the tone of Cassie’s voice as clearly as if her sister had made a confession. Her hands were clammy, and she wrapped them around her glass of water and reminded herself to breathe.
Cassie is safe. Sam is safe. Breathe.

She saw her hair first. The blond curls caught the sunlight as she bounded up the steps. Cassie was carrying the car seat, and Sam was covered to his chin with a blue receiving blanket. Libby nearly choked with relief as she rose to embrace her sister.

“I’m sorry I’m late.” Cassie swept a hand down her curls. “I’m still figuring out the timing with an infant. Everything takes longer.”

Cassie sat down opposite Nick and Libby and rested Sam on the bench beside her. “I was worried when you called and wanted to meet like this,” Libby said. “Is everything all right?” Cassie looked down and away, and Libby’s pulse quickened. “What’s going on?”

“Don’t be mad at me.” Her gaze shot to Nick. “You, either.”

Nick sat forward. “Cassie—”

“Mad at you? Why? What happened?”

Cassie ducked her chin slightly to make her large gray eyes appear even larger. This was a remnant from childhood that Libby was certain still served Cassie well with some people. Not her.

“You can’t be mad at me. You have to promise.”

Nick mumbled a curse. “Stop playing games!”

“Cassie.” Libby’s stomach sickened. “What did you do?”

She twisted her lips as if she was deciding whether or not to ask for more assurance. Then she cocked her head to the side and said, “I’m staying with Dom.”

“What?”
If the table hadn’t been bolted to the floor, Nick would have knocked it over. Instead, he struck his legs against it before landing solidly back in his seat.

Cassie looked at Libby imploringly. “He’s not the...
guy,
Libby. It’s not him! He’s been nice to me, and I
like
him—”

Libby’s stomach heaved. “Cassie.” She stopped, unsure of where to begin. “You have no idea. You have no
idea!
” She tensed her fists and struck her upper thigh. Then she caught the look on Cassie’s face and her heart stalled. “Oh, my God. Is he here? Did you actually set me up?”

She had the decency to look guilty. “It’s not like that. He’s trying to
help
you, and you won’t let him do his job! He said there was some kind of fire yesterday and you didn’t tell him about it until hours later! You’re hiding information from him.”

Libby’s eyes were drawn to the large windows that lined the side of the diner. A tall figure was heading to the front door.
Dom.
She clasped her hands across her mouth.

Nick saw him at the same time. He touched Libby on the shoulder as he rose, reaching under his jacket to unfasten his holster. “Stay here.”

Libby ducked lower and watched as Nick stopped Dom at the front door and led him down to the sidewalk. Conversation in the diner stalled when Nick grabbed Dom by the lapels and pushed him up against the wall. Two officers ran up behind Nick and pulled him away from Dom, but Nick pushed them off and advanced again. Libby heard the clinking of silverware striking the tables and the muffled shouting outside.

Cassie’s jaw was open. “Geez. Nick’s pissed off.” Patrons were gathering by the window now, fixated on the scene. “I’m going to watch.” Cassie jumped up, leaving Sam asleep in his car seat, still on the bench.

Libby rubbed at the tension in her forehead, not completely aware that she was one of the few people left inside the diner as the conflict outside escalated. She heard the shouts but couldn’t make out the words. She didn’t care. She wanted to crawl under the table.

“That your boyfriend?”

She hadn’t seen him approach, but now he stood beside the table: a man in a black jacket and a New York Yankees baseball cap. He gestured to the fight scene with a tilt of his chin. “What, he get a parking ticket or something?” The man chuckled at his own joke.

Libby edged farther into the booth. He was standing too close. “I don’t know,” she mumbled.

“Someone should tell him he ain’t winning.” The guy smirked, revealing the bottom edges of a row of pointed teeth. “All those cops.”

She rose to her feet to look out the window, but a crowd blocked her view. “I can’t even see anything.”

“Your guy is taking swings at cops. That’s gotta be a crime, isn’t it?” He shrugged. “I mean, you would know.”

A chill shot through her. “What—what do you mean?”

He turned his dark eyes to her, and Libby’s pulse went jagged. She tried to step away from him but only wound up stepping farther into the booth. “You’re Elizabeth Andrews. Haven’t you memorized the penal code?” He shook his head again. “All those cops out there, fighting with each other.”

Her vocal cords felt paralyzed as she tried to formulate a response. He chuckled again, but this time there was no forced warmth. “We should get out of here.” He pointed to his pocket. “I have a gun.”

Her lips trembled. “No.” She stole a quick glance at the car seat as Sam squeaked and sighed.

“I know you don’t want him to get hurt, so let’s make this easy.” His mouth tightened as he chastised her. “It’s not time yet, Elizabeth. Got it? It’s only day five. Don’t make me break the rules. Now,” he flashed the pistol, “let’s get some air.”

* * *

By the time the junior officers pulled the two men apart, Dom and Nick were doubled over, breathless. Dom had the beginnings of a black eye, and Nick’s mouth tasted like copper. His ran his tongue across the cut on his lower lip.

“Damn it, Nick!” Dom rose to his full height and rested his hands on his hips. “We were partners for four years, man! You know me!”

Nick broke his arms free from the officers who’d restrained him. He knew them both; they’d been rookies when he’d left Arbor Falls, and that was probably the only reason he wasn’t in handcuffs. “You set us up. That’s low. How the hell am I supposed to trust you?” He was tired, but he still had adrenaline to burn.

Dom ran a hand over his face, avoiding a spot on his cheek that was starting to swell. “You’re so damn hotheaded. I’m on your side—how many times do I have to tell you that?”

“You’re the only one who knew!” Nick advanced, then halted when he saw the officers prepare to restrain him again. He held up his hands to them. “Explain it. You knew we were at my parents’ house, and that’s where McAdams was killed. You knew we were going to Stillborough, and we were locked in a burning room. How is that possible?”

Dom’s face remained tight. His neck was corded with effort to restrain his rage. “I can’t explain it. Because I’m not the guy. You think I’d kill one of my own men?” His eyes glistened. “You ever tell a woman her husband just died? The father of her kids?” He broke off and turned away with a dismissive wave of his hand. “You’re crazy, you know that? I’d never hurt one of my men, and I’d never hurt you or Libby.”

Dom walked over to where Cassie was waiting on the cement steps to the diner. She had one hand on his forearm while the other rubbed his shoulder affectionately. They looked awfully cozy for having met only a few days before.

Nick didn’t see Libby. He shouldered his way through the crowd and back into the diner. They were getting out of this town, and they were going to go somewhere far, far away. He’d drive straight through the night if he needed to, maybe straight to Canada. He glanced through the diner. She wasn’t in the booth.

He walked closer and then froze. The car seat was still there, with Sam in it.

A chill brushed over him. “Libby!” She’d never leave her nephew unattended. Not by choice.

His heart rocked in his chest as he checked under the tables and behind the counter. She wasn’t in the kitchen or the restroom. “Libby!” He pulled out his BlackBerry and dialed her number. She didn’t answer.

He picked up the car seat and pushed his way through the crowd of patrons who had filed back into the diner. Dom and Cassie were still on the sidewalk. The steel in their glares didn’t register. “She’s gone. Libby’s gone.”

Cassie’s eyes narrowed, and she reached for the car seat. “She didn’t leave. She’s probably in the bathroom.”

“She’s gone. I checked everywhere.”

Dom’s swollen face darkened. “What are we looking for, Nick? Have you figured out the signs?”

His stomach tensed. “A life-and-death situation.” He glanced at the officers milling about the scene. They were listening with interest. “I need your help, Dom.”

Dom didn’t hesitate. “All right.” He raised his voice to the officers standing in wait. “Ask around, see if anyone saw a woman with long black hair leaving the diner. Someone must have seen something.”

Nick sprinted up the stairs and into the diner. The officers were talking to patrons one table at a time. Someone had to have seen her leave.

And what if no one had?

A man tapped him on the shoulder. “Hey, you looking for that girl?”

Nick spun around to face a middle-aged man with the haphazard beginnings of a salt-and-pepper beard. He was dressed in dirty old blue jeans and a red flannel shirt. “You saw her?”

He ran his index finger against his temple. “Yeah, I seen her. She left with a man wear’n a Yankees hat. She didn’t want to go with him.” He pointed to the back door. “They left out there.”

“And you didn’t see them again? Were you watching?” The frantic tone of his voice startled even Nick.

“I didn’t see them.”

That meant they hadn’t walked past the windows on three sides of the diner. Nick gave the man a quick tap on the arm and a hurried thanks before he darted back out the front door. He didn’t slow except to say, “They went south!” as he ran by Dom and turned the corner.

He didn’t stop to think about where he might be going or what he had to do. There was the pounding of his feet on the cement sidewalk and the sound of his breath in his ears. The rest of the world had fallen away.

* * *

He pushed her through a wooden gate into a narrow alleyway. The nozzle of the gun was shoved painfully against her spine, and Libby had difficulty walking straight. “You can relax the gun,” she snapped. “You’ve made your point.”