Allison Brennan - Playing Dead

It was over.

Jeffrey was walking around whistling Dixie, stating that everything was hunky-dory and everyone should stay calm, but Hamilton saw his entire world crashing around him. Jeffrey was delusional. Money and power bought a lot of things, but it couldn’t buy some people, and it was those untouchables who had the information that would destroy them. Killing Frank Lowe yesterday had only bought them a little more time.

Which Hamilton was using to pull together his resources and disappear. He already had a false identity, a false passport, and a house in South America. He’d suggested that Richie and Jeffrey pull the plug and put their own escape plans in action. Richie was working on it, but Jeffrey balked. And that’s when Hamilton realized he’d never had an escape plan. Fool.

Judge Drake had gotten a message at the courthouse from Claire O’Brien yesterday, and it wasn’t until late last night that he’d heard about her swim in the river. Why couldn’t she have drowned like the other nosy kid? But that wasn’t the worst of it. Frank Lowe had been alive all these years. What if he’d kept a journal? Told someone? What if he’d spilled his guts to the Feds in the car?

No, if that had happened, Hamilton would be in custody already. Hamilton was the only one who knew the terms of the plea agreement because he’d been the one to arraign Frank Lowe. To protect Jeffrey, Hamilton had orchestrated the murders of Taverton and Lowe. It had been perfect. . until now.

Frank Lowe hadn’t seen anyone except Jeffrey the night they had killed Rose Van Alden, as he’d told Taverton, and he hadn’t recognized Jeffrey until the handsome pol was running for Congress. When Lowe got arrested for home invasion robbery, he didn’t want the jail time and squealed.

They would have paid Lowe enough money to disappear, but he’d already talked to Taverton. There was no making him disappear because Taverton knew what had happened, and could go back to the official records. Find out that Hamilton had drafted Van Alden’s will and forged her signature. Find out that Hamilton had profited from Waterstone Development. Find out that they’d been so greedy, they’d set up the Delta Conservancy in order to keep her money-clean-for their political “housekeeping” activities-bribery, primarily.

Oliver Maddox had gotten close to the truth and had to die. But now too many people knew. They couldn’t kill everyone.

Hamilton sensed before he heard someone behind him.

He turned. Fear clawed up his spine.

Not him. He was a psychopath. A cold-blooded killer. Judge Hamilton only had people killed when there was no other choice. This crazy bastard had fun when he killed.

“I told you: No one touches Claire.”

“I’m leaving this afternoon,” Hamilton said. “I didn’t have anything to do with what happened to that girl.”

“I don’t care.”

“I have plenty of money.”

“I don’t give a shit about the money.”

Thirty years ago, Hamilton, Jeffrey, and Richie had followed their fraternity brother to the hills on the far side of Stanford’s vast property. Jeffrey had been getting a blow job in his car when he saw someone pull a body out a first-floor bedroom window and into the trunk of a car.

They’d recognized their frat brother after following him into the hills near the Dish. It was Jeffrey’s idea to dig up the grave and see who it was. It was Hamilton’s idea to take her earring. Richie wanted to blackmail him, ask for two million. The killer’s dad was one of the richest doctors in California. He’d invented some major artificial heart valve and was set for life.

Hamilton suggested they just keep the information to themselves until they needed something. Even in college, the three of them had plans that weren’t entirely legal.

And Bruce Langstrom had been the perfect person to bring in to kill Taverton and Lowe. He’d been living in L.A., could come in, take care of a couple people, then slip away.

Hamilton had never expected him to change his name and stick around.

“Please,” Hamilton begged.

“No one touches Claire but me.”

Hamilton tried to run, but there was nowhere to go. He tried to fight, but the effort was laughable. As soon as he raised his arm, he was in a headlock and bent over the railing of the balcony.

And then the judge was falling. Falling, arms flailing, trying to reach for something, anything to stop himself from hitting the pavement, terror of his imminent death filling his every cell.

Nine seconds later, Judge Hamilton Drake hit the street.

Mitch was waiting outside the hangar for the military cargo plane to land with his prisoner, Professor Donald Eugene Collier. Grant was with him, and while Mitch had a lot of respect for the young agent, he wished Steve were here.

Meg phoned. “Collier land yet?”

“The control tower says fifteen minutes.”

“Judge Hamilton Drake fell from his balcony this morning. He’s dead.”

“Drake? He’s the judge Oliver Maddox had all those articles on.”

“Right. I turned a copy over to Matt, and that’s why he called me when the judge hit the pavement. Twenty-four stories in downtown Sacramento.”

“Suicide?”

“They don’t know. Sacramento PD is working the case. I’ve asked to be kept in the loop, but the PD isn’t as cooperative as the sheriff’s department. Matt’s trying to smooth things over. If nothing else, he’ll let me know if there’s something we need to look at. However, I ran a background check on Drake and something interesting popped up. He was at Stanford when Jessica White disappeared.”

“Shit. How did Oliver Maddox stumble on that connection?” The kid should have been training to be a cop, not a lawyer.

“We don’t know that Judge Drake had anything to do with White’s disappearance,” Meg warned, “so keep a lid on it until I get those files from Palo Alto. I sent Lexie down this morning to retrieve them in person.”

“Why not call the San Francisco field office?”

“First, I’d have to get them up to speed on this, which would take time, and then there’s the issue that I didn’t bring them in when we agreed to O’Brien’s terms of surrender. They technically have jurisdiction over the San Quentin fugitives and should have been consulted. Second, Lexie’s beating herself up over Claire skipping out yesterday, blaming herself that Claire nearly got killed.”

“It’s not her fault,” Mitch said. He shouldn’t have ridden her so hard last night about watching Claire.

“We know that, but you know Lexie.”

“You mean ‘failure is not an option’ Lexie?”

“Right. Now I have Matt and the U.S. attorney on board with the plan, and Matt will sit in on Collier’s interview. The information Claire gave you about his background is accurate-he not only worked for the same law firm as O’Brien’s attorney, but he was involved in the case.”

“Then why wasn’t his name on any of the files? Wait-Claire said many were missing.”

“Matt is pulling together as much as he can from the courthouse and O’Brien’s law firm. We’ll be able to recreate the case files, it’ll just take some time.”

“Claire said the director of the Western Innocence Project had a complete set in his storage. Sizemore, I think his name is.”

“We’ll get in contact with him.” Mitch heard her typing on her computer. “I also have an analyst working on comparing Collier’s background with all the names that have popped up in this investigation, see if there’s anything else that connects him to Drake or O’Brien or anyone else.”

“Good thinking.”

“I’ve been known to think on occasion.”