Fatal Judgment Page 5

  And so was the niece or nephew she’d never know.

  She closed her eyes, the double loss and the sudden, empty feeling of utter aloneness twisting her stomach into a tight knot and choking off her breath.

  God, please give me strength!

  When she at last felt capable of moving forward, she eased free of Jake’s grip and walked toward the head of the bed. Tape covered much of Stephanie’s lower face, holding the endotracheal tube in place. A white dressing swathed her upper head. Very few of her sister’s features were exposed.

  But the black eye Alan had inflicted stood out. Visible evidence of the attack that had convinced Stephanie to flee to the refuge of her sister’s home. To a place she’d mistakenly assumed would be a safe haven.

  A bone-deep coldness settled over Liz, and she shivered.

  Seconds later, a jacket infused with warmth was draped over her shoulders. Angling toward Jake, she noted the faint parallel creases etched between his eyebrows. Felt the concern—and compassion—radiating from the depths of his brown eyes. The latter warmed a place deep in her soul much as his jacket was chasing the chill from her skin.

  “Thank you.”

  He acknowledged her expression of gratitude with a nod.

  Turning back to her sister, she reached for her hand. It was warm and supple, the fingers long and tapering and graceful. The hand of a ballet dancer. Stephanie had aspired to that career, once upon a time. Until Liz had discouraged her, urging her to choose a more practical profession instead. And so her sister had, earning a business degree that had led her to an executive assistant position. Which had, in turn, led her to Alan.

  So much bad advice.

  So many mistakes.

  Liz’s throat tightened, and she stifled a sob. Fought for control.

  Holding on to her emotions by the flimsiest thread, she leaned down and pressed a kiss to her sister’s forehead.

  “Good-bye, Steph.” The whispered endearment was more breath than sound. “I’m sorry for all the ways I failed you. I hope you’re happy now. And at peace. And I hope you finally get your chance to dance. Always remember how much I love you.”

  A tear slipped past her lashes, leaving a dark splotch on the pristine sheet. Another followed.

  Straightening up, Liz groped inside her purse for a tissue. Swiped at her eyes. Tried to stem the flood of tears.

  Failed.

  She felt Jake move beside her.

  Was it time to go? Already?

  But much to her surprise, instead of urging her to leave, he laid a hand on her shoulder.

  That silent gesture of support gave her more comfort than any words he could have said.

  For an instant, she was tempted to lean back against his powerful chest, to let his solid strength support her physically as his touch had shored her up emotionally. But he was already doing far more than his job required. She didn’t want to overstep the bounds of professional propriety.

  Taking her sister’s hand once more, she gave it a final squeeze, choked back a sob . . . and commended her to God.

  As she turned away, she kept her watery eyes downcast and fiddled with her purse. “I’m ready to leave. But I’d like to stop by the chapel on our way out, if that’s possible.” Though she made a valiant attempt, she couldn’t stop the quiver that ran through her voice.

  “I’ll see what we can arrange.”

  Jake pulled the curtain aside and she started toward the exit. But three steps outside the cubicle, her vision blurred and she stumbled. He was beside her at once, his hand again firm on her arm through the thin leather of his jacket, supporting her, guiding her as they wove through the ICU.

  Once they reached the door, he settled her against the wall beside it, signaling to his colleague on the other side of the glass entry. “Wait here while I talk to Spence about the chapel, okay?”

  Not trusting her voice, she simply nodded.

  He pushed through the door, and she watched as the two men conversed, aware that Jake was keeping tabs on her. They conferred with a passing aide, and then Jake rejoined her.

  “We’ll leave by way of the chapel and check it out. If it’s not crowded, we can make this work. Let me introduce you to Spence, who will be part of your security detail.”

  Jake ushered her through the door, and she found her hand engulfed in a strong grip. She liked Jake’s colleague at once. As tall and dark-haired as her husband’s best friend, he, too, projected a powerful presence. His eyes were sharp and incisive, and he radiated competence and integrity.

  But Jake didn’t waste time on social niceties. Before she’d even finished shaking hands, he was propelling her down the hall. Spence fell into step on her other side.

  Fortunately, the chapel was empty when they arrived. After escorting her to a pew near the rear, the two men retreated to the back.

  Grateful to have a few quiet minutes alone with God before she was plunged back into the craziness that had become her life, Liz closed her eyes, bowed her head, and resolved to make the most of them.

  Because she didn’t know when she might have this luxury again. And she needed every bit of comfort, fortitude, and strength the Almighty was willing to impart during this brief moment of spiritual communion.

  “What’s the exit plan?” Standing half in and half out of the chapel, the door propped open with his shoulder, Jake kept one eye on Liz and the other on the hall as he directed the soft question to Spence.

  “The Suburban’s waiting near a service entrance on the lower level. Dan and Larry are inside. You might have met them on your orientation tour.”

  “Yeah.” As he recalled, Dan O’Leary had the ruddy complexion stereotypical of his Irish heritage, reinforced by strong auburn tints in his brown hair. Larry Olsen, lean and a little gangly, had reminded him of a cowboy in an old western.

  “They’re good men. Very experienced. Dan’s checking out the most expeditious route from the chapel to the service entrance as we speak. Once we’re in the Suburban, they’ll drop us off at our cars. When we leave, I’ll lead, they’ll follow, you’ll take up the rear.”

  “That works. We’ll swing by the judge’s house first, then head to the condo. Where is it?”

  “A high-rise downtown. Not far from the courthouse. We’ve used units there before. There’s good security already in place, but it’s being beefed up on the judge’s unit as we speak, including a camera in the exterior hall. We’ll also link into the feed from the security cameras at the entrances to the building. Matt got an adjacent unit for us. The command post is being set up there.”

  “Sounds like everything is under control.”

  “On our end, anyway.” Spence glanced toward Liz. “I’m not so sure about the judge.”

  Jake took in Liz’s bowed head, the slump of her shoulders. “Not surprising, in light of everything that’s happened. But she’s a strong woman.”

  “Good thing.” Spence cocked his head. “You two have a history?”

  “She’s the widow of my best friend. I’ve only met her twice, though.” He pulled his BlackBerry off his belt. “My brother’s the lead detective on this case. Hang tight in here while I alert him we’re about to leave for the house.”

  Stepping into the hall, Jake let the chapel door close behind him and stood in front of it as he speed-dialed Cole.

  His brother answered on the second ring.

  “I’ve been wondering when I’d hear from you. A couple of your guys showed up at the scene, so I assume you’re going to be there soon.”

  “We got delayed. The judge’s sister didn’t make it.”

  Cole muttered a word that wasn’t pretty. “We’re gonna nail this guy.”

  “Any sign of him yet?”

  “No. But it’s only a matter of time. What’s your ETA?”

  “Half an hour, max. Liz is in the chapel now, and we’re out of here as soon as she’s ready to leave.”

  “Okay. I’ll meet you at the house. The technicians are just wrapping up inside.”<
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  As the line went dead, Spence cracked the door. “I think she’s about done here.”

  Jake looked past him. Liz was settling her purse on her shoulder. “You want to call Dan and see if he’s finished mapping our route to the service entrance?”

  “Yeah.”

  He slipped past Spence and reentered the chapel as the other man took his place in the hall.

  Liz rose, exited the pew, and walked toward him. Though a profound sadness still echoed in her eyes, they seemed more serene. And she’d regained some of the composure he recalled from their previous encounters.

  He hoped it lasted once she left this quiet, peaceful place.

  “Thank you for giving me this time. It helped a lot.”

  “We try to accommodate requests from our charges whenever we can. Are you ready to leave?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. Here’s the plan. We’ll be exiting through a service entrance on the lower level, into a Suburban. Besides being safer, that will allow us to avoid any media people who might be lurking around. We want to do this fast. No stopping.”

  “All right.”

  “When we leave here, we’ll swing by your house. The police need you to check for missing items. We can’t rule out robbery yet. While we’re there, you can also pack some things to take to the condo.”

  Her face went blank. “What condo?”

  “Sorry. I guess we haven’t gone over that.” What was normal protocol for him would be new for her. She’d only been on the federal bench for four months. “In a situation like this, with so many unknowns, it’s standard procedure to move a federal judge to a place we can more easily secure.”

  She took a deep breath. “Right. I knew that. I just never thought it would apply to me. But it’s better than staying at the house after . . .” She swallowed. “I understand the need to check out the robbery angle, but I don’t have to go in the family room, do I?”

  “Is there anything in there worth stealing?”

  “No. Besides, most of my stuff is still in boxes. I’m just renting the house while I look for one to buy, so I haven’t bothered to unpack.”

  “Then you can avoid that room.” If Cole didn’t agree with that decision, tough.

  “How long will I be in the condo?”

  “Until it’s safe for you to leave.” He knew she wanted a more definitive answer, but that was the best he could offer.

  The door opened, and Spence stuck his head inside. “Any time you’re ready.”

  Jake took Liz’s arm. “Now is good. Let’s move.”

  Guiding her out, he set a brisk pace as they traversed a maze of corridors and took a service elevator to the lower level. As it descended, Spence tapped in Dan’s number and alerted him they were moments away.

  The transfer to the Suburban was smooth and swift. Spence stepped outside the door. The vehicle pulled close to the exit, and he opened the back door. Jake hustled Liz into the car, sliding in next to her. Spence circled the vehicle and took a seat beside her on the other side. He was still closing his door as the vehicle pulled away from the curb.

  “Wow. That looked choreographed.” Liz’s hand tightened on her purse strap, the thread of strain back in her voice.

  “We’ve all been through these kinds of drills a few times. Buckle up.” Jake tapped her seat belt. “Liz, meet Dan O’Leary behind the wheel, and Larry Olsen. Guys, this is Judge Elizabeth Michaels.”

  As Dan lifted his hand in greeting, Liz dredged up the ghost of a smile for Larry. “Marshal Olsen and I met during one of my first cases here. How’s your wife doing?”

  “Better. Thank you for asking. But it’s been a tough pregnancy, and that book of crossword puzzles you sent home with me couldn’t have been better timed. It helped get her through one of her roughest weeks.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.”

  His curiosity piqued, Jake glanced at Liz. But the Suburban was already pulling to a stop in the ER parking lot, giving him no chance to dwell on her exchange with Larry.

  “Spence and I are going to get our cars, Liz. He’ll be in front of the Suburban. I’ll be behind.” He angled toward the door, stopping when she touched his arm.

  “Do you want your jacket back now?”

  “Later is fine.”

  After a quick sweep of the parking lot, Jake opened his door and slid out of the vehicle. Spence did the same on his side. Jake waited until he heard the automatic locks click behind him before he headed for his Trailblazer. Spence was already climbing into his Grand Cherokee a few spots down.

  As their little motorcade pulled out of the hospital and headed for I-64, Jake checked the clock on the dash: 7:55.

  Ten hours ago, he’d been boarding his delayed flight in Denver after nine intense days tracking and arresting a fugitive on the most-wanted list. Ten weeks ago he’d been dodging bullets in Iraq after a mob tried to storm a courtroom during an incendiary trial. Ten months ago, he’d been executing a court order to seize assets belonging to a domestic terrorist group and working a special security detail for a Supreme Court justice in Washington DC.

  One thing for sure. This job was never boring.

  That was what he liked about it.

  But much as he thrived on challenge, much as he relished being pushed to his limits, he wished this assignment had passed him by.

  And his reasons today had nothing to do with his negative feelings toward Liz Michaels. Much to his surprise, those had softened during the traumatic hours they’d spent together. In fact, she’d managed to awaken in him a protective instinct that went far beyond what his job dictated.

  Jake didn’t understand that. Wasn’t sure he wanted to understand it.

  But he did understand risk. Plus, he had a nose for danger. That’s why he was good at what he did.

  And he was smelling danger now.

  For both Liz—and himself.

  The first rays of morning sun filtered through the dense woods, reflecting off the small, shiny gold cross in his hand. Looping the delicate chain around his fingers, he lifted it toward the heavens.

  How odd that this had been among the handful of jewelry he’d snatched before leaving the house.

  But it was fitting.

  Because this symbol of pure, perfect, unselfish love—the kind that showed mercy and kindness, that honored vows and commitment—was a stark reminder of her failures.

  Worst of all, she’d betrayed the solemn promise she’d made before God.

  And wronged him in the process.

  Now she’d paid the ultimate price.

  As the cross dangled from his fingers, glinting in the clear morning light, he took its presence in his cache as a sign that God approved of his action.

  Slowly he inhaled, filling his lungs with the fresh country air.

  It was done.

  Lowering the cross, he let it drop into the Ziploc bag with the other jewelry and picked up the camp shovel. Brittle, frost-nipped oak leaves had formed a thick carpet on the forest floor, and he brushed them aside with the blade, then began digging. The ground was soft from recent rains, and it took him less than half a minute to create a deep cavity in the fertile earth.

  He weighed the bag in his hand for a few seconds, then wedged it into the bottom of the hole and replaced the earth. Once more using the tip of the shovel, he spread leaves over the disturbed ground.

  Stepping back, he surveyed the spot. It looked exactly like the ground around it. There was no indication that anything was buried beneath the surface.

  Good.

  For all intents and purposes, the jewelry had ceased to exist.

  Just as she had.

  And as he turned away, two words echoed in his mind.

  Good riddance.

  “My pearls are missing. So are a couple of costume-jewelry rings, a silver bracelet, and the gold cross necklace I always wear under my robe when I’m presiding.”

  Finishing her inventory, Liz stepped back from the jewelry box, which was covered with li
beral amounts of fingerprint powder, and crossed her arms tightly over her chest.

  “You need anything else?” Jake directed the question to Cole, who continued to write in his notebook. They’d been through the rest of the house—except for the family room—and nothing else appeared to be missing.

  “No. That should do it. When you have a minute . . .” He tipped his head toward the hall. “Thank you, Judge.”

  As Cole exited the bedroom, Liz slipped Jake’s jacket off her shoulder and handed it back to him.

  “Borrowed for the last time, I hope. Thank you.”

  He took it, resisting the temptation to lift it and inhale her scent. Instead, he handed her the plastic bag containing her blouse. “We can have this cleaned for you.”

  She peeked inside. Rolled the bag into a ball. Set it on the dresser. “Thanks. But I can’t imagine ever wearing it again. What’s next?”

  “Pack as much as you think you’ll need for a week.” He picked up the suitcases they’d retrieved from the guest-room closet during her inventory tour and set them on the bed.

  “Would it be okay if I took a shower and changed clothes while I’m here?”

  Jake hesitated. He’d prefer to leave ASAP, but there were six deputy marshals, a police detective, and several patrol officers on the premises. It didn’t get much safer than that.

  “Sure. Keep the shades drawn. I’ll be in the kitchen when you’re ready to leave.”

  After closing the door behind him, Jake headed down the hall of the modest bungalow, night-and-day different from the upscale Jefferson City home Doug had shown him through on his one, impromptu visit, when Liz had been out of town. Cole waylaid him en route to the kitchen and directed him toward the dining room, where stacks of boxes were waiting to be unpacked.

  The place reminded him of his condo.

  “Where’s the judge?”

  “Packing. Taking a shower. Changing clothes.”

  Cole surveyed him. Leaned close. Sniffed.

  “When’s the last time you changed clothes? Or showered? It’s a little rank in here.”

  Jake narrowed his eyes and propped his fists on his hips, not in the mood for humor. “Unlike you, I never made it home last night. Back off a few feet if my aroma offends your delicate sensibilities.”