Fatal Judgment (18 page)

“I can’t eat another bite.” Alison groaned and pushed her plate away.

“About time. I was beginning to think we’d have to order another pizza.” Jake helped himself to one of the three remaining slices in the box on the table, which Liz had cleared of files for the occasion.

“A word of warning, brother. If you go out with Alison for dinner, order Dutch. Otherwise, your stomach may be full but there’ll be a hole in your wallet.” Cole grinned at his sister and claimed another slice of pizza too.

“Brothers!” Alison gave Liz a pained look and picked up her soda. “Good thing you’re here, or they’d
really
beat me up.”

Liz chuckled and leaned toward the box, her hand hovering over the last piece. “Anyone want this?”

“It’s all yours,” Jake answered on behalf of his siblings. He’d hoped a relaxed evening of food and conversation would ease some of the strain in her features—and persuade her to eat a real meal—and he was pleased on both counts. She hadn’t added much to the conversation at first, but she’d smiled a lot, even laughed a little.

As the evening had progressed, however, she’d joined more in the banter. Now, with the meal winding down, she was chatting with Alison as if they’d known each other for years, her eyes alive for the first time since he’d stepped into the ER eight days ago and found her reeling from shock, her sister’s blood staining her fingers.

Mission accomplished.

“Why not? Jake’s going.”

At Alison’s mention of his name, he pulled himself back to the discussion. “Going where?”

“To church. Cole’s still resisting, by the way.”

“I’m not resisting. I’m busy.” Cole turned his attention to his older brother. “How on earth did Alison manage to strong-arm you into going back?”

“You’re going to church with Alison?” Liz gave him a surprised—but pleased—look.

Jake shrugged, hoping the flush warming his neck stayed there. “It was time.”

“Since when?” Cole cocked his head and appraised him, then shifted his attention to Liz. “Are you a churchgoer, Liz?”

His brother’s tone might be innocent, but the speculative gleam in his eyes wasn’t. Jake shot him a silent warning.

“Yes. When I’m not sequestered.”

“Ah.” A smug smile settled over Cole’s lips. “I’m beginning to see the light.” He finished off his last bite of pizza. “You two have been spending a lot of time together, haven’t you?”

Jake was about to growl a response when Alison took care of the problem by kicking Cole under the table.

“Ow!” Cole leaned down and rubbed his shin, frowning at Alison. “What was that for?”

“Figure it out.”

“Thanks.” Jake lifted his soda can toward his sister.

“My pleasure.” Alison shook her head at Liz. “Like I said, brothers. But whatever you did to make Jake reconsider church attendance, my hat’s off to you.” She lifted her own soda in her hostess’s direction.

Liz’s gaze connected with his, and Jake read the apology in her eyes. He couldn’t very well follow his impulse and take her hand to assure her he didn’t mind the ribbing from his siblings. He settled for a wink instead.

To his surprise, a soft, becoming flush spread over her cheeks before she dipped her head to play with the edge of her napkin. It was a shy, eminently charming side of her he’d never seen. And it captivated him.

When the silence lengthened, Jake pulled his gaze away from Liz and glanced at his siblings. Alison was grinning at him. Cole had a knowing smirk on his face.

A change of subject was in order.

“Who’s ready for dessert?”

Alison’s eyes widened. “You’ve got to be kidding! After all that pizza?”

“I’m game.” Cole folded his arms across his chest. “What are we having?”

“How about Ted Drewes?”

“Bring it on,” Cole declared.

“Okay, okay. I’ll find room somewhere,” Alison capitulated.

Liz furrowed her brow. “What’s Ted Drewes?”

“Just the world’s best frozen custard. He sells most of it out of a little stand in the city. It’s a St. Louis landmark,” Alison offered.

“That sounds great. I can also contribute homemade Italian wedding cookies, delivered earlier today by my neighbor.”

“The killer cannoli lady?” Alison asked.

“Yes.”

She groaned again. “Then I know they’ll be great. Watch out, hips!”

“You can afford to gain some weight.” Sliding back his chair, Jake rose before she could respond. “I stashed the Ted Drewes in the freezer in the CP next door. Give me two minutes.”

He was back in less, depositing a bag on the table and withdrawing four large cardboard cups. “Take your pick. I got strawberry and chocolate chip. Liz?”

“Strawberry.”

“Good choice.” He handed it over as his siblings divvied up the rest.

“Wow.” Liz’s eyes flew open at her first bite. “This is amazing. You can ply me with Ted Drewes anytime.”

“I’ll remember that.” Jake gave her another wink, which elicited a second endearing blush.

As they enjoyed the custard and cookies, Alison shared a charming story about a little boy she’d placed in a foster home that day. Jake had never been able to fathom how his softhearted sister managed to remain so upbeat when her job with the Children’s Division of the Department of Social Services brought her into contact with abused and neglected youngsters every day. But he admired her for her commitment to giving those kids a better life.

Liz added a few humorous comments about the Morettis’ visit and their reaction to being swept by a security wand. When it had beeped loudly over Delores’s tin of cookies, she’d been happy to provide samples to the marshals on duty as proof her offering was innocuous.

“Well, as much fun as this has been, I have to be up early for church.” Alison scraped the sides of her cup for the last dregs of her custard, licked the spoon, and pointed it at Jake. “So do you.”

“I wish I could join you.” Liz dug deep for the last bite of her treat too.

“We can arrange for you to attend services if you want us to,” Jake offered.

She dropped her spoon into her empty cup and regarded him. “I have to believe that would be a major security headache for you.”

“We’ve handled more complicated assignments.”

“I don’t doubt that. But I also don’t see any reason to make your job more difficult than it already is. I’m sure God will understand if I communicate with him from a different location for a few Sundays.”

“I appreciate the consideration. But if you change your mind, let me know.” He rose to collect the empty cups, noting with satisfaction that Liz had finished the whole thing. As far as he knew, this was the first good meal she’d had in more than a week.

As he disappeared into the kitchen, Alison and Cole also stood. By the time he rejoined them, Alison had collected her purse and Liz was walking them to the door.

After a flurry of good-byes, Jake found himself alone with Liz in the foyer. “I should be going too.”

She nodded and gripped the edge of the door. “Thanks for tonight. I had a good time . . . despite the guilt.”

At her tacked-on caveat, he frowned. “What guilt?”

Shrugging, she examined the area rug at her feet and dropped her voice. “After everything that’s happened in the past week, it seems wrong somehow to laugh or feel happy.”

Jake’s throat tightened with empathy. “I felt the same way after Jen died.”

She lifted her head, searching his face. “Do you still?”

“Sometimes.” He swallowed and shoved his hands in his pockets. “But I try to remember how much she loved life. How she believed every day was a gift to be cherished and enjoyed. And how she never lost hope, even when things weren’t going well. Living forever in the shadow of grief wouldn’t honor her memory.”

“She sounds like Steph. And I admire your take on how to approach life without her.”

“If you want my opinion, I think it’s okay for you to take whatever moments of happiness you can find right now, Liz.” His words came out tender. Husky. Revealing more than he’d intended to.

Several beats of silence ticked by. When at last she spoke, her soft comment surprised him. “You’re a good man, Jake Taylor.”

The candid statement, plus the sudden longing in her eyes, stirred him in a way nothing had for a very long while. And not for the first time, he was tempted to pull her close and wrap her in a comforting hug. But he was within sight of the surveillance cameras that were trained on her doorway and being monitored in the CP as they spoke. Plus, he was determined to keep their relationship strictly professional until this assignment ended.

That didn’t mean he couldn’t pass on a clue about his feelings, though.

“Liz . . . when this is over . . . I don’t want to lose touch with you. How would you feel about continuing to see me in a nonprofessional capacity?”

Her soft blush and the graceful lift of her lips gave him her answer before she spoke. “I’d like that, Jake.”

He smiled, relishing the flicker of warmth that thawed a long-cold place in his heart. “Count on it, then.” Keeping his hands in his pockets through sheer force of will, he took a step back. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Sleep well.”

“I think I might tonight.”

As she shut the door with a quiet click and a final smile, he hoped their exchange did help her sleep better. But until they caught the killer who wanted her dead, Jake knew that for him, peaceful slumber would remain elusive.

______

When a knock sounded on her door at 6:30 Sunday night, Liz was just topping off the FBI
no
pile with the final file from her review of five years’ worth of cases.

Assuming her caller was Jake come to discuss plans for tomorrow, she decided the timing of her wrap-up was perfect.

A peek through the peephole confirmed her visitor was, indeed, the tall, dark-haired marshal, and she flipped the dead bolt to usher him in.

He smiled as he moved past her. “Did you think I forgot about you?”

A whiff of his rugged aftershave wafted her way, kicking her pulse up a notch. “No. You said you’d be by. And you strike me as a man of your word.”

“Always.” He shot her a steady look, then strolled toward the dining room and perused the tidy stacks on the table. “Did you meet your goal?”

“Just. Literally. You have impeccable timing.”

His mouth twitched into a wry grin. “Not according to Alison. Whenever I call I seem to catch her in the middle of drying her hair or chasing her new puppy or on her way out the door. So did you come up with any more files for Mark?”

“Six.” She motioned toward the shortest stack.

“He’ll want to walk through them with you, like he did with the first batch. First thing in the morning is my guess, but I’ll confirm that later tonight. Want to talk about your schedule for this week?”

“Sure. I was about to reward myself with some of Delores’s cookies. Would you like a few?”

He grimaced and patted what she suspected were killer abs. “If I keep eating her goodies, I’ll have to double the length of my morning workout. But okay . . . if you’re twisting my arm.”

She grinned. “How about some coffee too?”

“Sounds good. I’ll get that while you focus on the cookies.”

Following her to the kitchen, he withdrew two mugs and filled them from the coffeemaker as she popped the lid off the cookie tin. Balancing them in his hands, he gave the table a dubious survey through the pass-through between the counter and the hanging cabinets. “I don’t think your dining room can accommodate both cookies and case files.”

She peeked through the pass-through herself. Almost the entire glass surface of the table was covered with regimented rows of files.

“Let’s eat in here, if that’s okay.”

“Fine by me.” He set the mugs on the granite counter and straddled a stool. “This is what I do at my apartment—the few times I’ve eaten there since moving back, anyway.”

“It hasn’t exactly been a peaceful homecoming, has it?” She claimed the stool beside him.

He shrugged. “That’s the nature of my job. Never a dull moment.” Taking a sip of coffee, he examined the dining room table through the pass-through. “Looks like you’ve got a job ahead of you just putting things back in order.”

“Believe it or not, the piles make sense to me. It won’t take long.”

He motioned toward a small, neat stack of files set apart on one corner. “What are those?”

“Round two. If the FBI doesn’t unearth any leads from the first batch I gave them, these are the next cases I plan to turn over. Do you know if they found anything interesting in round one?”

“Nothing so far.”

She bit into the rich, crumbly cookie filled with ground almonds, enjoying the spurt of sweetness as the powdered sugar coating melted on her tongue. “I’m not surprised. To be honest, I’ve been pulling files based on gut feel. There’s no rational reason to single any of them out.”

“Don’t discount your gut. It’s saved my hide on more than one occasion.”

Although she’d have liked him to expand on that intriguing comment, he wrapped his hands around his mug and changed the subject before she could formulate a question.

“Okay, let’s talk about this week. What’s your ideal schedule?”

She rested an elbow on the counter, propped her chin in her palm, and gave a wistful sigh. “Fly to Bermuda, throw on a bathing suit, and spend every waking hour soaking up rays on a pink-sand beach surrounded by tropical flowers and blue ocean.”

The flicker of a smile teased the corners of his mouth. “You like Bermuda?”

“Never been there. But I like what I’ve heard about it. Maybe someday.” She took a sip of coffee, folded her hands on the counter, and got back to business. “In the meantime, I plan to spend tomorrow morning putting away the files I’ve reviewed and talking to Mark about the new ones I pulled. In the afternoon, I’d like to go to the courthouse and meet with Walter Shapiro, the chief judge. We’ve been staying in touch by phone, but I need to sit down with him and work out a reasonable schedule that will allow me to keep on top of things at my job while I continue my case review for the FBI. How does that sound?”

“Manageable. I knew you wanted to get back to work, so I’ve set security protocols in motion for your return.”

“Such as?”

“You’ll be stuck with me and Spence in the courthouse, for one thing. We’ll be outside your chambers, and we’ll accompany you to your courtroom. We’ll also be present during any proceedings you preside over there. When traveling back and forth between here and there, Spence and I will be in the car with you, and we’ll have follow and lead vehicles, like we did for the trip to KC. We’ll also keep two marshals at the command post 24/7.”

Frowning, she broke a cookie in half and poked at it with a manicured, crimson nail. “The level of security is amazing. And more than a little unsettling.”

“You don’t need to worry about your safety, Liz. We’re very good at what we do.”

She shook her head. “That’s not what I mean. I absolutely trust you to protect me. I just mean the whole notion that someone might be out there planning another attack freaks me out.”

“If he or she is doing that, we intend to find them long before they have a chance to carry it out.”

“Cat hair doesn’t give you much to work with.”

“We also have the files you earmarked for further investigation.”

“I’m not hopeful they’re going to be a lot of help.” She set the cookie aside and gathered the crumbs into a neat pile with her finger.

“Hey.”

At Jake’s soft summons, she looked up. His steady gaze was confident and reassuring as it captured hers.

“I know this is hard for you. But it will be over soon. Mark Sanders is one of the FBI’s finest, and he’s giving this investigation top priority. Plus, you’ve got the U.S. Marshals Service protecting you. Not to mention Delores Moretti supplying you with fantastic desserts. Hang in there, okay?” His expression softened, and he reached over to brush his fingertips against her cheek. “Powdered sugar.”

Liz stopped breathing.

His fingers lingered on her skin far longer than necessary to deal with some errant powdered sugar, and she watched his Adam’s apple bob. Saw a muscle in his jaw clench. Heard him suck in a sharp breath.

Knew he wanted to kiss her.

Knew, also, that he was struggling to maintain a professional demeanor despite the electricity zipping between them. She could see the conflict in the depths of his brown irises as duty and desire duked it out.

She remained motionless, neither encouraging nor discouraging. Leaving the decision to him, despite the fact her operative
caution
word was strobing across her mind.

In the end, his professionalism won the battle. In one fluid motion, he removed his hand, wiped it on a napkin, wadded the paper square into his fist, and dropped it on the counter. “I need to go.”

Even as he made the hoarse comment, he was beating a retreat to the front door. She followed more slowly, pausing a few feet away when he stopped with one hand on the knob, his back to her. “I’ll be on duty in the CP tomorrow. We can talk about the specifics of your trip to the courthouse then.”

“Okay.”

At her soft reply, he angled toward her. Noting the distance she’d left between them, he gave her a strained smile. “Don’t worry. I’m too much of a pro to give in to my hormones. But I have to admit, this assignment is proving to be quite a test of my willpower.”

She wrapped her arms around her middle. “If it’s any consolation, I’m having the same problem.”

The strain in his smile eased. “That’s good to know. And it gives me an incentive to wrap this case up as soon as possible.” He flipped the dead bolt. “Lock up, okay?”

Stepping into the hall, he pulled the door shut behind him. As usual, he waited to hear the lock flip into place before continuing down the hall. She watched through the peephole, craning her neck until he disappeared from sight.

Left alone, she wandered back to the kitchen to clean up the remnants of their snack. After wiping the counter clean, she rinsed their mugs and stacked them in the dishwasher.

But her mind wasn’t on her task. It was thinking ahead, to the day she could resume her normal life.

Except somehow, now that Jake was in the picture, she had a feeling her definition of normal was about to change. For the better.

Clinging to that thought, she pressed her finger to the small pile of powdered sugar crumbs she’d gathered earlier, then popped it in her mouth to savor one last burst of sweetness. Because she had an uneasy feeling that before her life took an upswing, there were still some unpleasant days ahead.

From four houses away, hunkered down behind the wheel of his car, Martin watched Harold Moretti pull out of his driveway. The couple seemed to do everything together, except when Harold dropped Delores off after church every Sunday and went to the nearby park for a brisk hour-long walk. Nothing seemed to interfere with his solitary Sunday hour, even heavy rain. But today the man was running weekday errands alone.

That wasn’t a problem. It might even work to his advantage.

Turning the key in the ignition, he released the brake and put the car in gear. Once Harold reached the stop sign at the end of the street, he followed. Now that his plan was beginning to jell, he didn’t want to make any mistakes. Tip anyone off. The piece of information he needed today was important, and it required him to get up close and personal with Harold. But if he played it right, in the right location, he didn’t think anyone would consider his behavior suspicious.

Harold’s first stop was at a hair salon that featured discounts for seniors on Wednesday, according to a sign in the window. Martin admired the guy’s frugality. But it wasn’t a good spot to get the information he needed. Parking several spaces away in the crowded mall lot, he waited him out.

Forty-five minutes later, Harold emerged with his buzz cut whipped into shape at a bargain price, his gray hair standing at attention. Ex-military, no doubt. Lifting his digital camera, Martin zoomed in on Harold’s face and snapped a photo. A quick assessment of the image told him it was good enough for his purposes. Setting the camera on the seat beside him, he put the car back in gear to continue tailing him.

Harold’s next stop—Home Depot—was promising, and Martin’s pulse accelerated.

Again, he parked down the row from Harold. Tugging his baseball cap low over his forehead, he followed the man into the store, moving closer, closer, closer until he was within speaking distance.

But he wasn’t here today to talk to Harold.

He just needed to check his height.

The ideal opportunity presented itself when Harold headed for the plumbing fixtures. As the judge’s neighbor conversed with a clerk, Martin eased in close, pretending to examine the workmanship on a cabinet. Across the aisle, in a display of vanity mirrors, he caught a reflection of the trio.

And got the answer he needed.

Edging away, he zigzagged through the aisles, toward the exit.

If everything else fell into place this easily, he should be ready to implement his plan soon.

And the world would find itself with one less terrocrat.