Joel Goldman: Chasing The Dead

“What about her and Judge Steele? Was there anything going on between them?”

“Not that I knew. . Wait, let me show you something. Meg Adler packed up Robin’s personal stuff from her office and I offered to drop it off at Robin’s house. It’s in my car. I’ll get it.”

Alex started to get up, but Rossi put his hand out.

“Keys.”

He brought her the box from her car, putting it at her feet.

“Show me.”

She retrieved the framed photograph of Robin and Judge Steele, handing it to Rossi.

“That was taken at the state bar convention earlier this year. The judge presented Robin with a service award. Later that night, I saw them having a drink, and they looked so cozy that I kidded Robin about it the next morning. She told me I was being ridiculous because he was married and she was close friends with both the judge and his wife.”

“Hmm. But she kept a picture of the two of them in her office.” Rossi turned the frame over, raising the clips holding the photograph in place, sliding it out, and turning it over. “I think she was a little closer to him than she was to his wife.”

He handed the photograph to Alex. There was an inscription on the back. This will have to do until the next time we can be alone.

“Is that Robin’s handwriting?” Rossi asked.

Alex shook her head. “No. It must be Judge Steele’s. Wow. Who’s that in the video?”

“Robin Norris’s killer.”

Rossi opened his phone and called Wheeler.

“Did you find out who was using the rooms on the west side of the motel?”

“Yeah,” Wheeler said. “Only one room was occupied. It belongs to someone with the initials SFF , but your buddy Milton swears on his life that he doesn’t know who that is.”

“I do. Meet me at the court of appeals.”

Alex stayed in the patio chair while Bethany’s body was bagged and carried out of the trailer. The wooziness she’d felt had passed. Harris approached her.

“You okay to drive yourself home? I can have an officer take you and another one drive your car.”

“Thanks, but I think I can handle it.”

“Okay, then. We’re pretty much wrapped up here.”

“What about Charlotte?”

“We’re combing the area. If she’s on her own, she’s probably fairly close by. If the killer took her, it’s anybody’s guess. We don’t have much to go on.”

“I guess Rossi thinks Judge Steele killed Robin.”

“Yeah, lover’s quarrel and all of that. They’ll have him in custody before you get home.”

She shook her head. “The whole thing is unbelievable. Robin and Judge Steele. How could he do it? How could he kill her?”

“C’mon, Counselor. You spend enough years doing what you and I do and there’s nothing we can’t believe. Look on the bright side. You may not have found the killer you’re looking for, but because of you, Rossi got his guy.”

“Swell.”

Alex took her time going to her car, slow steps less painful than rapid ones. If Rossi was right about Judge Steele, then the judge must have also tried to kill her. But if he had, why invite her to his chambers the next morning? She slid into the driver’s seat, grunting at a flash of pain, and sent Rossi a text, asking him to let her know when he arrested Judge Steele.

As upset as she was about Robin and Judge Steele, she was more worried about Charlotte, ten years old and alone in the world. Had she been home when Bethany was killed and somehow escaped? Was the killer hunting for her because she was a witness? Or had she been out wandering only to discover Bethany’s body when she came home, leaving again because she was afraid and didn’t know what else to do? And if she was on her own, where would she go? Alex could think of only one place: Liberty Park.

She left her car at the north end, just as she had before, making her way south, taking her time, zigzagging from side to side to cover as much ground as possible, calling Charlotte’s name as she went, hearing nothing in reply. The sun was beginning to set, shadows washing in from the west and climbing up the eastern bluff. The ground was covered with a tangle of weeds that grabbed at her ankles, tagging her with burrs and thorns. She caught her foot in a rut, falling to her knees, groaning, her wounds burning.

As Alex neared where Joanie’s body had been found, she hugged the creek bank, hoping to find Charlotte at the water’s edge, but she wasn’t there. The campground was deserted. Even Gladys Knight’s tent was gone. That left the thick woods at the south end, a trek she wasn’t certain she could make. She sat on a tree stump to catch her breath, peering into the creeping dusk for a sign of the girl, a flickering light at the base of the bluff catching her eye.

Taking a deep breath, she made her way toward the light. The closer she got, the more the light danced, and then she realized it was flames coming from a campfire shielded by a low rock wall. A moment later, a voice called out from behind it.

“That’s close enough.”

Alex stopped. “Gladys? Is that you?”

“Who else would I be? The question is who the hell are you?”

“Alex Stone. I talked to you the other day. How are the Pips?”

“Just dandy. Now, go away.”

“What happened to your tent?”

“Blew away. Got me a nice little hollowed-out cave instead. Suits me just fine.”

“I’m looking for the little girl I told you about. Her name is Charlotte.”

“Get lost. Don’t know anybody named Charlotte.”

Alex heard someone rustling around in the cave, then the sound of something being scraped against the rocks and a child humming, though it sounded more like a closed-mouth whine.

Alex scrambled over the wall, finding Gladys sitting cross-legged in front of the fire and Charlotte banging her spatula against the cave. Gladys jumped to her feet, putting herself between Alex and Charlotte.

The hollowed-out cave was exactly that, extending no more than five feet into the base of the bluff, as if it had been carved out with a giant ice cream scoop, the ceiling just high enough for Alex to stand. The campfire was at the mouth of the cave. Gladys’s belongings, including a stack of milk crates filled to the rims, were piled against the back wall.

“You got no right,” Gladys said.

“How long has Charlotte been here?”

“Hmph. Her name’s Charlotte? Never knew what to call her, so I didn’t call her anything. She showed up in the middle of the night last night, same as usual.”

“She can’t stay here. The police are looking for her.”

“Who said anything about staying? She’ll go home when she’s ready like she always does.”

“She can’t, not anymore.”

Gladys scratched her cheek, looking over her shoulder at Charlotte, who was tracing an invisible pattern on the cave wall, oblivious to them. She motioned to Alex to follow her. They walked around the mound of rocks, Gladys leaning against them.

“Why not?”

“Charlotte was living with her mother and aunt in a mobile home park not far from here, and now they’re both dead. Her mother was the woman whose body was found in the creek. Her aunt was murdered last night. Charlotte might have seen who killed both of them.”

Gladys squeezed her eyes tight, shaking her head. “What’s gonna happen to that poor child?”

“I don’t know, but she can’t stay here. I have to call the police and tell them I found her. Someone from Child Protective Services will pick her up, and they’ll probably put her in foster care for the time being.”

“I don’t want no goddamn police coming around here.”

“Then I’ll take her.”

“Like she’d go anywhere with you! She don’t know you. You try and make her and she’ll just run off, sure as hell.”