See No Evil (13 page)

“That’s not what I—”

“Right.” Skip rolled his eyes.

Faye interjected. “We can’t start arguing. This is serious.”

“Exactly,” Cami said, crossing her arms over her ample chest. “This is the pinnacle of the plan. Once we execute it, we’ll be truly free of him. It’s perfect.”

“No plan is perfect,” Robbie said, speaking up for the first time.

“You’re not using again, are you?” Cami asked, an undercurrent of anger in her tone.

“Not now.”

“You have to stay clean. At least through tomorrow night. I can’t have you screw this up.”

“I won’t.” He glared at Cami. “I have it under control.”

“You’d better.” She turned away, but Faye didn’t miss the anger in Skip’s eyes. All directed at Cami. She feared he knew what she and Cami had discussed yesterday. At least Cami’s part of the conversation.

She took Robbie’s hand. She didn’t want to kill him. She
really
didn’t want to kill him. “It’s okay,” she said softly. “I’ll handle Cami.”

He softened a bit. “She’s a bitch,” he muttered under his breath.

Robbie didn’t understand Cami like Faye did, but that was okay. Faye knew how to control her friend, that was all that mattered.

“There’ll be a lot of security, so we ditch the gun.”

“Why?”

“You don’t want to be caught with it,” Cami said as if Robbie was an idiot. “It’s part of the plan.”

“I still don’t think it’s a good idea to connect the judge’s death with this,” Skip said.

“It’s a perfect idea. The police will never know what’s happening. It’s our
swan song,
as they say. And if anything goes wrong, you know the escape plan.”

“It’s risky.”

“That’s the thrill!” Cami stood and paced, kicking sand up with her bare feet. “If I can’t trust you guys, I’ll do it myself!”

Faye got up and touched Cami on the arm. “Cam, they’re just getting out the fear. Remember what we talked about? If we go into it scared, we’ll make a mistake. Talking purges the fear.”

Cami nodded, frowning. “Maybe we should do it alone. Just you and me.
Alone.
” She glared at the two boys sitting in the sand a distance away.

Faye shook her head. “We need all four of us for the plan to work. You know that.”

Cami sighed. “I’m just excited and nervous.”

“It’s going to work. But not if we start turning on each other.” She frowned at Skip and Robbie. “That goes for you two as well.”

If they looked at her with a sense of awe or wonder that she seemed to be taking over Cami’s role as leader, Faye barely noticed. She was emboldened after being with her secret lover last night, especially since Cami didn’t know about the relationship, or their history. After all,
Faye
had been his first recruit, not Cami. He had only sent Cami to “recruit” Faye in order to give Cami a sense of control and power.

But Faye held the real power. And after last night she now understood what her role was. The secret thrilled her. Cami thought she was the one in his confidence. Cami didn’t know shit.

For someone as smart as Cami, she could be so dense about some things. Cami thought she had nothing to fear.

FOURTEEN

T
HE GUARDIAN
of the court records was a six-foot-tall fifty-year-old black woman with dreadlocks who wore jeans against the dress code, bright shirts that lit up the dingy basement archives, and hoop earrings so big Julia was certain she could have worn them as bracelets. Selene Borge didn’t take shit from anyone, especially lawyers, but she had a soft spot for Julia Chandler.

Julia knew this had quite a lot to do with her quarterly “donation” to Selene of a Starbucks gift card. The woman lived on hot lattes from the Starbucks across the street.

Julia brought two double lattes to the basement at eleven that morning. Selene smiled, took one before Julia had even offered. “Good morning, Ms. Chandler.” Her French-Jamaican accent was artificially exaggerated. Selene was from Jamaica and spoke fluent French—as well as Spanish and German—but she’d moved to America when she was four and could speak perfect “American” when she chose to.

“How are you today?” asked Julia.

They made small talk while sipping coffee. Julia saw two empty cups on Selene’s desk. So she was no longer the only attorney who knew Selene’s weakness.

Selene finally asked, “What is it you want from me today?”

“Your magic. A list of the case files assigned to a regular court-appointed psychiatrist.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Word is you’re on administrative leave.”

She hadn’t expected word to get out so fast. Julia said nothing.

Selene sat at her computer. She briskly typed. “Name?”

“Garrett Bowen.”

She punched in some numbers and his name. In seconds, a long list of case files was displayed on the screen. She printed them. “I take it you need these files.”

“Only the last two years.”

Another few keystrokes and the list was shortened to about fifteen.

“These are all juvenile cases.”

That meant she’d need a court order.

“I just want to look,” said Julia.

“Juvenile files require the consent of a judge,” Selene said as she slid the printout across the desk to Julia. “I’m sorry I can’t help you.”

“I understand.” Julia folded the paper and slid it into her purse. “I also need a list of every case Victor Montgomery presided over for the last two years.”

Selene frowned, fingers flying across the keyboard. Julia suppressed a smile. She’d seen Selene use only her index fingers in a painstakingly slow fashion when she didn’t like someone. Julia was glad she was on the “good” list.

“Here.” Selene handed her a three-page printout. “I take it you want to look at the files?”

“I’m happy to pull them myself.”

“Good, because I need to take my lunch break. Union rules. Can you stay here until my replacement comes?”

“Sure.”

“You’re a doll.”

Julia watched her leave and mentally thanked her. This was no longer a gray area. Julia was breaking the law. But she had to help Emily, and if this helped her, dammit—

All adult criminal cases were stored in the computer system, so she could access those from her office. Though she was on administrative leave, Stanton hadn’t asked for her ID or keys.

The juvenile files, on the other hand, were not on the network.

The files were sorted by year, then case number. Pulling them was easy. Some were surprisingly thick. She went to the copy room and shut the door, locking it. Her heart beat too loud, the truth of her deception hitting her. It wasn’t just her career on the line, but that of an overworked county bureaucrat and everyone else who was helping her, including Frisco, who promised a copy of the autopsy report in her desk drawer before the end of the day.

She fed dollars into the copy machine and quickly copied the pertinent pages, not spending too much time reading them because she needed to put them back before Selene returned.

One name caught her eye.

Jason Ridge.

Why was that familiar? She glanced at the summary page. Deferred Entry of Judgment—DEJ. Nearly two years ago after a juvenile court trial resulted in a guilty verdict, the judge issued a sentence of Deferred Entry of Judgment, which basically told Jason that as long as he behaved until he was eighteen his record would be expunged.

Jason had gone back to court the week after his eighteenth birthday and the judge wiped his record clean.

According to the records, Jason’s psychiatrist, Dr. Garrett Bowen, testified on his behalf. But these were Bowen’s records, not the court’s, and there was no transcript. She needed to find out exactly what the court said, but it wasn’t in this file.

Because it had been expunged already? She’d never get it if that were the case. Unless one of the attorneys involved still had a copy.

Jason Ridge. Now she remembered why she knew his name, even though it was a juvenile court case. Eight months ago, first game of the season, he had died on the football field for apparently no reason. An autopsy showed steroids in his system and the cause of death was heart failure. She remembered the news story only because it was another example of a young life cut short.

She copied his entire file, though it was much thinner than it should have been. She could ask around, find out who the judge and prosecutor were on the case, but that would get back to Stanton and her job would be in jeopardy. She had to find another way to get the information she needed.

She put the files back when she was done. Selene was at her desk working on the computer.

“Thanks,” Julia whispered as she passed, the copies secure in her briefcase.

“Ms. Chandler, I didn’t know you were here. Do you need anything?”

Julia was confused, then saw two of her colleagues at a table only feet away looking at files. “No, just returning a file.”

“Thanks.”

Julia practically ran out of the building, heart pounding. If Andrew Stanton knew what she’d done, she’d be severely reprimanded. Possibly fired. And the bar wouldn’t look too kindly on her pulling juvenile files
and
copying them. She’d have her license to practice suspended. Or worse, be prosecuted.

She gathered her wits while sitting in her car. She pulled out her cell phone and called Connor.

His voice mail picked up.

“Dammit,” she said, irritated. “Do you deliberately not answer my calls? I have the files and am going home. You have the address.” She hung up. She shouldn’t get angry with him, but she wished he would just pick up for once. He probably saw her number on his cell phone and ignored it.

First, she stopped by her office. Her secretary was still there. “Donnell,” she said, “I have a favor.”

Donnell glanced around, tucked her hair behind her ear. “Anything.”

“Can you print out these files for me? I’ll pick them up tomorrow.”

Julia slid the list of Victor’s cases across Donnell’s desk.

“I’ll bring them to your house.”

“You don’t—”

Donnell nodded. “Stanton ordered me to tell him if you came by.”

“Shit.” Julia ran a hand through her hair. “Fine, I’m here to get my address book. Tell him
that.
”

“I will. Oh, and Frisco came by. He didn’t say why.”

Julia went into her office and looked in her top desk drawer. There was a file folder with Frisco’s small, perfect print.
Julia Chandler, Privileged and Confidential.

Thank you, Frisco.

Dillon learned from Bowen’s secretary that the doctor was having lunch at the La Jolla Country Club, but before he could head out there, his ex-brother-in-law Andrew Stanton called him.

“I need you in my office now.”

Dillon almost refused. “I’m heading out to an appointment. How about we meet—?”

“Dillon, you’ve crossed the line. You brought Connor into Emily Montgomery’s room knowing full well she’s a suspect in a murder investigation who is only being stopped from a police interview because of her physician’s order. You. And I can—and will—get a court order inside of an hour to have Emily Montgomery moved to the criminal psychiatric unit and put under another doctor’s care if you don’t explain yourself to me in person right now.”

Dillon’s hand hurt from clutching the phone so tight. “Don’t threaten me, Andrew. And don’t threaten my patient.”

“You’re playing a dangerous game.”

“It’s no game.”

Dillon felt the tension through the phone.

“Ten minutes,” Andrew finally said.

“In the rose garden.” Dillon wasn’t going to give Andrew the power to sit behind his desk. It was psychological, and Dillon wouldn’t be deterred by Andrew’s power play. Also, Andrew would be less forthcoming in his own office.

Dillon was already near the courthouse, so he parked on the street, fed the meter a couple quarters, and walked to the small rose garden outside the justice building.

Andrew approached at the same time, dressed impeccably, with the aura of importance befitting a man of his position. Dillon saw the pain behind his eyes. Maybe he was the only one who saw it, and maybe that’s why he was the only one in the Kincaid family who still had a relationship with his former brother-in-law. It wasn’t that Dillon’s parents and siblings doubted Andrew’s pain at the loss of his son, it was what had come out about Andrew’s life after Justin’s murder that had turned the family against him.

Dillon harbored a lot of pain from his nephew Justin’s murder—Andrew and Nell’s only son. It changed him in ways he was still discovering now, eleven years later. But unlike Connor, he couldn’t put all the blame on Andrew Stanton, however much he’d like to. The truth was no one was to blame. It was a brutal crime committed by a child predator who had most likely moved on to another city and state to minimize his chances of being caught.

Dillon regularly checked the FBI database for like crimes. He still hoped that, someday, justice would be served.

“I’m ready to deal,” Andrew said.

And Dillon knew then the case wasn’t solid.

“Deal what?”

“Plead her out.”

“I’m not her attorney.”

“You can get the message to Iris Jones.”

“Andrew, do you honestly think Emily is guilty?”

“Yes.”

“She couldn’t have acted alone.”

“She turns in her friends and we’ll be lenient.”

“She says she didn’t have anything to do with Victor’s murder.”

Andrew sighed. “I have evidence that she planned it. Premeditated murder. I will try her as an adult.”

“I know what you have and we can take it apart.”

Andrew’s jaw clenched. “Dillon, you don’t know what’s going on in my building.”

“I have an idea. Judge murdered. You want to nail someone outside the justice system. You don’t want your judges feeling the pressure of their actions, that a criminal, someone they put away, can get to them. What happened with Santos?”

“Detective Hooper is on his way to interview him. But it wasn’t him.”

“And you know this how?”

“Santos wouldn’t have left that girl alive upstairs.”

“If he knew she was in the house.”

Andrew opened and closed his mouth, proving to Dillon there was additional evidence that either discredited the Herman Santos theory, or pointed to Emily.

But a plea? That told Dillon that the police didn’t have a solid case against Emily, grandstanding notwithstanding. It had been less than forty-eight hours. Andrew was getting restless because it was a high-profile case. Pressure came from everywhere.

Dillon wondered whether Santos had in fact pulled off the judge’s murder. On the one hand, the brazenness of the murder suggested payback, and Santos was both brash and arrogant. He could pull it off. But on the other hand, two members of Wishlist had their tormentor killed. Dillon didn’t buy into that coincidence.

“I still have Emily for thirty hours. You’re not getting to her.”

“Dammit, Dillon, we’re on the same side!”

Dillon hadn’t yet trusted Andrew with the information that Victor had sexually abused Emily. The court would have the information soon enough, if the case got that far.

“Emily is innocent. I’m not giving her to you one minute before I have to.” Dillon stared at Andrew. “I’ll commit her myself if I have to, while the police work the case. There’s much, much more to this than a simple domestic violence.”

“Shit, Dillon.” Andrew stuffed his hands into his pockets and paced. “We have blood evidence that she was at the crime scene. Her fingerprints were on his desk. The weapon—pruning shears—was found on the grounds. I can make a case against her. I want her accomplices.”

“What if she’s telling the truth?”

“How would I know? You’ve kept her under medical wraps, we haven’t even been able to talk to her! You’re making this harder on everyone involved, particularly Julia.”

“Why did you put Julia Chandler on administrative leave?”

Andrew stopped walking. “She’s going through a difficult time. She’s getting paid. I just don’t—”

“It’s not because she hired an attorney for Emily. It’s because of Connor.”

At the mention of his name, Andrew reddened. “Connor is a loose cannon. You can’t trust him, even if he is your brother.”

Dillon took a step toward his former brother-in-law. They were the same height, so it was easy to get in his face.

He said in a low voice, “You hate Connor because he exposed your affair after Justin was killed. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“That has nothing to do with it.” But the punch was out of Andrew’s words.

Dillon nodded. “You were in bed with your mistress when your son was murdered, and you’ll live with that truth for the rest of your life. Now Julia is paying for your guilt because you feel better blaming Connor than looking into your own heart.”

Andrew’s mouth opened and closed.

Dillon softened his tone. He didn’t hate Andrew, and he didn’t want to hurt him. “Don’t be so blinded by the past that you jeopardize this investigation. I won’t let Emily be a pawn in your game.”

“In thirty hours, she’s ours.”

“Don’t push me, Andrew.”

“You’re jeopardizing your career.”

“I’ll let Emily talk to the police when I think she’s ready. Not a minute before.”

“When do you think she’ll be ready?” Andrew barely restrained his anger.