Joel Goldman - Chasing The Dead

She understood why she couldn’t escape him in her dreams, but that wouldn’t stop her from confronting him about Robin Norris’s death. Had he told Robin how to handle Jared Bell’s case? Had she refused and unwittingly signed her death warrant? What would drive him to such extremes? She would demand answers, and if she wasn’t satisfied, she’d go to Rossi and tell him everything because there wasn’t room on her conscience or in her dreams for Robin.

The door from the hallway swung open, making her jump, clutching her hand to her chest, wondering how she would explain her presence in his chambers to Judge West’s secretary, until she realized it wasn’t his secretary. It was a wan-faced, slim-shouldered man dressed in a charcoal-gray suit, his silver hair buzzed close to his scalp, patchy in places. A round gold pin the size of a quarter was stuck to his lapel, an eagle perched at the top, its wings wrapped around the sides.

“Oh,” the man said, staring at her through his black-framed glasses, his eyes more curious than startled.

Before Alex could answer, Judge West came through the door from the courtroom, his black robe billowing around him like a storm cloud. He glanced at Alex and the man, then, hanging his robe on a coat stand, lumbered to his desk and dropped into his chair.

“Her I know,” he said, pointing at Alex, “but who the hell are you?” he asked the man.

The man chuckled and tugged at his collar, then shook his head. “I’m sorry. I get so turned around in these big buildings I’m not sure where I’m supposed to go or how to get there. I’m looking for the probate court and I’m guessing this isn’t it.”

“Next floor down,” the judge said.

“Thank you, and I’m sorry for intruding,” the man said and left.

“Who was that guy?” Judge West said.

“Beats me,” Alex said. “I’ve never seen him before.”

“Jesus fucking Christ! I’ve told the county a dozen times we need more money for courthouse security and they keep telling me I’m crying wolf. Well, mark my words, one of these days, some nutcase is going to waltz right past our five-and-dime security team of overweight and out-of-shape deputies and spray a few hundred rounds into a jury pool, and then we’ll see who’s crying wolf, by God!”

“He didn’t look too dangerous to me. He was probably an out-of-town lawyer who doesn’t know his way around the courthouse.”

“That’s not the goddamn point, Alex. The goddamn point is that a stranger walked right into my chambers and nobody asked him who he was, why was he here, and did he have an appointment.”

Alex nodded.

“For that matter, I could say the same thing about you, except for the part about you being a stranger. So what are you doing here?”

He was a bully and bluster was his natural state. At times, she let herself believe that he’d bullied her into joining forces to railroad her most heinous clients into a life behind bars, but in her honest moments she knew that wasn’t true. She’d been a willing partner. He’d exploited her guilt-driven weakness, but that didn’t make him responsible for what she’d done. She owned that, which made it easier to stand up to him in spite of his threat to ruin her life.

“Robin Norris is dead.”

He rocked back in his chair, arms folded across his belly.

“So I heard. Damn shame.”

Alex balled her fists, arms at her sides. “Is that all you can say?”

He spread his hands. “What would you have me say? I didn’t know her well, but from what I knew, she did a good job and I assume she had a family. But accidents happen and some days life is a shit sandwich. Seems to me that damn shame covers that and a lot more.”

“The police think it wasn’t an accident.”

West leaned forward, shuffling papers on his desk, not looking at her. “What makes you say that?”

Alex watched him for a moment, his nonchalance not what she expected, wondering if it was too practiced, his way of keeping his emotions in check.

“Because two detectives came to my office to talk to me about it.”

“Why would they do that?” he asked, leaning back in his chair again.

“You think they’d tell me? One of the detectives, a guy named Wheeler, is in the accident investigation unit, but the other detective was Hank Rossi, and he’s strictly homicide. If he didn’t think Robin might have been murdered, he wouldn’t be involved in the investigation.”

Judge West laced his fingers together across his belly. “Why are you telling me this?”

She looked at him, hesitating for a moment, then plunged in. “A woman from the St. Louis PD’s office, Meg Adler, is filling in for Robin. She brought me Jared Bell’s file first thing this morning. She said she found it on Robin’s desk with a Post-it note with my name on it, but the file was never logged in. It just showed up out of nowhere.”

West narrowed his eyes. “Get to the point, Counselor.”

Alex took another deep breath. “You told me I was going to be assigned to Jared Bell’s case. The next thing I know is that Robin is dead, Bell’s file is on her desk with my name on it, and no one knows how it got there.”

The judge pulled his chair tight against his desk, color flooding his cheeks. “If I were you, I’d be very careful with the next thing that comes out of your mouth because I don’t like your tone or your implication.”

Alex planted her palms on his desk, boring in on him. “Did you talk to Robin about Jared Bell’s case? Did you tell her how I was supposed to do my job?”

Judge West eased back, a thin-lipped smile cutting across his face. “No. Anything further, Counsel?”

Alex didn’t blink. “Yes. Where were you last night at ten fifteen?”

He gave her a weary grin like a parent whose patience has been strained to the limit. “In bed listening to my wife snore.”

“Did you have anything to do with Robin Norris’s death?”

The judge remained impassive. “No.”

Alex hung her head for a moment, then straightened and turned away.

“Anything further, Counsel?”

She shook her head, her back to him.

“Then let me give you some advice. The next time you accuse me of murder, try digging up some evidence first, like a photograph maybe. In my experience, that’s much more persuasive to a jury.”

Alex stiffened at his mention of the photograph, unwilling to let him turn the tables on her. She faced him, her jaw set.

“Photograph or no photograph, if I find out you’re responsible for Robin’s death in any way, so help me God, I will burn you down!”

“Really?” West said, his face as calm as that of a card player holding a winning hand. “When did you take up arson? I thought you favored shooting the unarmed and defenseless.”

She cocked her head to the side, showing him a steely smile. “I’ll make an exception for you.”

Alex pounded down five flights of stairs to the street, taking her anger and frustration out on each step. She couldn’t decide what was worse: that she’d let Judge West goad her into threatening to kill him or that she’d accused him of murder.

By the time she reached the first floor, she’d burned enough energy to think clearly. What mattered was whether she believed his denial and his alibi. She couldn’t picture him rear-ending Robin’s car, forcing her off the road. It was easier to imagine him whispering in someone’s ear about a problem that had to be solved in a hurry, never mind the details.

If the judge was responsible for Robin’s death, she was culpable as well, even if the law wouldn’t draw that link. She’d given in to her weakest self by joining hands with West, making it easy to draw a straight line from that moment to this. She had to find out the truth about Robin’s death, no matter the consequences. She couldn’t leave it up to Rossi, because he wouldn’t hesitate to use the investigation as another way to bring her down. And she couldn’t ask anyone for help without putting them at risk by dragging them into the deal she’d made with the devil.