Philip Margolin - Gone ,but not forgotten

Colby nodded sadly. "Part of what you say is true, but not all of it. No one on the task force was corrupt."

"I know about the payoffs," Betsy answered curtly.

"What do you think you know?"

Betsy flushed. She had been spurred on by the coincidences, the improbabilities, to the only possible solution, but she did not want to sound like she was bragging.

On the other hand, letting Colby know how she figured it out would make him see that she could not be fooled.

"I know that a senator's term is six years," Betsy answered, "and that you are in the middle of your second term. That means you've been a United States senator for nine years. Nine years ago, Frank Grimsbo left a low paying job on an obscure, small city police force to assume a high-paying jot) at Marlin Steel, your old company. Nine years ago, John O'Malley, the police chief of that police force, retired to Florida.

Wayne Turner, another member of the rose killer task force, is your administrative assistant. I asked myself how three members of the same small city police force could suddenly do so well, and why they would all do so well the year you decided to run for the United States Senate.

The answer was obvious. They had been paid off to keep a secret and for destroying the files of the rose killer investigation."

Colby nodded. "Excellent deductions, but only partly correct. There were rewards, but no bribes. Frank Grimsbo earned his position as head of security after I helped him get a jot) on the security force. Chief O'Malley had a heart attack and was forced to retire. I'm a very wealthy man. Wayne told me John was having financial problems and I helped him out. And Wayne was working his way through law school when the kidnappings and murders occurred. He graduated two years later and I helped him get a jot) in Washington, but it was not on my staff. Wayne didn't come on board until a year before my first term ended. By then he had established an excellent reputation on the Hill. When Larry Merrill, my a.a., went back into law practice in Manhattan, I asked Wayne if he would take his place. So, you see, the explanations for these events are less sinister than you supposed."

"But I'm right about the records."

"Chief O'Malley took care of that."

"And the pardon?"

Colby looked very old all of a sudden.

"Everyone has something in their life they wish they could undo. I think about Hunter's Point all the time, but I can't see how it could have ended differently."

"How could you have done it, Senator? The man's not human. You had to know he would do this again, somewhere, sometime."

Colby turned his face toward her, but he was not seeing Betsy. He looked completely lost, like a man who has just been told that he has an incurable illness.

"We knew, God forgive us. We knew, but we had no choice."

Nancy Gordon heard a tinkle of glass when Peter Lake broke the lower left pane in the back door so he could reach between the jagged shards and open it from the inside. Nancy heard the rusty hinges squeak. She shifted the covers and trained her eyes on the doorway, straining to see in the dark.

Two hours earlier, Nancy had been alone in the task force office when Lake appeared to tell her he had heard about the shooting of Henry Waters on the late news. As planned, Nancy told Lake she had suspected him of being the rose killer because of the gap between the time he had been seen driving home and the call to 911 and his stakeout of Waters's home. Lake had been alarmed, but Nancy assured him that she was satisfied that Waters was the murderer and had kept her suspicions to herself.

Then she had yawned and told Lake she was heading home. Since then Nancy had been in bed, waiting.

Black slacks, a black ski mask and a black turtleneck helped Lake blend into the darkness. There was an ugly snub-nosed revolver in his hand.

Nancy did not hear him cross the living room. One second, her bedroom doorway was empty, then Lake filled it. When he snapped on the light, Nancy sat up in bed, feigning surprise. Lake removed the ski mask.

"You knew, didn't you, Nancy?" She gaped at him, as if the visit was unexpected. "I really do like you, but I can't take the chance you'll reopen the case."

Nancy looked at the revolver. "You can't believe you'll get away with murdering a cop."

"I don't have much choice. You're far too intelligent.

Eventually you would have realized Waters was innocent.

Then you would have kept after me. You might even have dug up enough evidence to convince a jury."

Lake walked around the side of the bed. "Place your hands on top of the sheet and take it off slowly," he said, gesturing with the gun. Nancy was sleeping a single light sheet because of the heat. She pulled away the sheet slowly, careful to gather it up near her right hip so Lake would not see the outline of the gun that was hidden there. Nancy was wearing bikini panties and a T-shirt. The T-shirt had bunched up beneath her breasts, revealing her rigid stomach muscles. Nancy heard a quiet intake of breath.

"Very nice," Lake said. "Remove the shirt."

Nancy forced herself to look at him wide-eyed.

"I'm not going to rape you," Lake assured her. "It's not that I don't want to. I've fantasized about playing with you quite a lot, Nancy.

You're so different from the others. They're all so soft, cows really, and so easy to train. But you're hard. I'm certain you would resist. It would be very enjoyable. But I want the authorities to believe that Henry Waters is the rose killer, so you'll die during a burglary."

Nancy looked at Lake with disgust. "How could you kill your wife and daughter?"

"You can't think I planned that. I loved them, Nancy.

But Sandy found a note and a rose I was planning to use the next day.

I'm not proud of myself. I couldn't think of a single explanation I could make to Sandy once the notes became public knowledge. She would have gone to the police and it would have been over for me."

"What's your excuse for killing Melody? She was a baby."

Lake shook his head. He looked genuinely distraught.

"Do you think that was easy?" lake's jaw trembled.

There was a tear in the corner of one eye. "Sandy Screamed. I got to her before she could do it again, but Melody heard her. She was standing on the stairs, looking through the bars on the banister. I held her and hugged her while I tried to think of some way to spare her, but there wasn't a way, so I made it painless. It was the hardest thing I've ever done."

"Let me help you, Peter. They'll never find you guilty. I'll talk to the district attorney. We'll work out an insanity plea."

Lake smiled sadly. He shook his head with regret.

"It would never fly, Nancy. No one would ever let me off that easy.

Think about what I did to Pat. Think about the others. Besides, I'm not crazy. If you knew why I did it, you'd understand."

"Tell me. I want to understand."

"Sorry. No time. Besides, it won't make any difference to you. You're going to die."

"Please, Peter. I have to know. There has to be a reason for a plan this brilliant."

Lake smiled condescendingly. "Don't do this. It's not becoming. What's the purpose in stalling?"

"You can rape me first. 'tie me up. You want to, don't you? I'd be helpless," she begged, sliding her right hand under the sheet.

"Don't debase yourself, Nancy. I thought you had more class than the others."

Lake saw Nancy's hand move. His face clouded.

"What's that?"

Nancy went for the gun. Lake brought the revolver down hard on her cheek. Bone cracked. She went blind for a second. Her closet door slammed open. lake froze as Wayne Turner came out of the closet. Turner fired and hit Lake in the shoulder. lake's gun dropped to the floor just as Frank Grimsbo hurtled through the bedroom door, tackling Lake into the wall.