Sandra Brown: Ricochet

“Okay.”

“Whatever it was, I knew the sound was coming from the study.”

“You couldn’t identify the noise, but you knew where it was coming from?”

The judge frowned at the skepticism underlying DeeDee’s question, but he didn’t say anything.

“I know that sounds odd,” Elise said.

“It does.”

“I’m sorry.” She raised her hands palms up. “That’s how it was.”

“I don’t see why this couldn’t wait until tomorrow morning,” the judge said.

Before Duncan could admonish him, Elise said, “No, Cato. I’d rather talk about it now. While it’s still fresh in my mind.”

He studied his wife’s face, saw the determination in her expression, and sighed. “If you’re sure you’re up to it.” She nodded. He kissed her brow, then divided an impatient look between DeeDee and Duncan, ending on him. “She heard a noise, realized where it was coming from, thought-as any rational person would-that we had an intruder.”

Duncan looked at Elise. “Is that what you thought?”

“Yes. I immediately thought that someone was inside the house.”

“You have an alarm system.”

Duncan had noted the keypad on the wall of the foyer just inside the front door. He’d seen a motion detector in the study and assumed that similar detectors were in other rooms as well. Homes of this caliber almost always had sophisticated alarm systems. A judge who’d sent countless miscreants to prison would surely want his home protected against any ex-con with a vendetta in mind.

“We have a state-of-the-art monitored security system,” the judge said.

“It wasn’t set?” Duncan asked.

“Not tonight,” the judge replied.

“Why not?” The judge was about to answer. Duncan held up his hand, indicating he wanted to hear the answer from Elise. “Mrs. Laird?”

“I…” She faltered, cleared her throat, then said more assertively, “I failed to set the alarm tonight.”

“Are you usually the one who sets it?”

“Yes. Every night. Routinely.”

“But tonight you forgot.” DeeDee put it in the form of a statement, but she was really asking how Mrs. Laird could forget to do tonight what was her routine to do every night.

“I didn’t exactly forget.”

These questions about the alarm had made her uneasy. An uneasy witness was a witness who was either withholding information or downright lying. An uneasy witness was one you prodded. “If you didn’t forget, why wasn’t the alarm set?” Duncan asked.

She opened her mouth to speak. But no words came out.

“Why wasn’t it set, Mrs. Laird?” he repeated.

“Oh, for crissake,” the judge muttered. “I’m forced to be indelicate, but seeing as we’re all adults-”

“Judge, please-”

“No, Detective Hatcher. Since my wife is too embarrassed to answer your question, I’ll answer for her. Earlier tonight we enjoyed a bottle of wine together in our Jacuzzi. From there we went to bed and made love. Afterward, Elise was…Let’s just say she was disinclined to leave the bed in order to set the alarm.”

The judge paused for effect. The air in the room suddenly became abnormally still. Hot. Dense. Or so it seemed to Duncan. He became aware of his pulse. His scalp felt tight.

Finally the judge ended the taut silence. “Now, can we move beyond this one point and talk about the man who tried to kill Elise?”

An inactivated alarm system was a significant point in the investigation of a home break-in that had resulted in a fatal shooting. As the lead detective conducting the investigation, that’s what Duncan should have been concentrating on.

But instead, he was having a hard time getting past the idea of a bottle of wine and Elise Laird in a tub of bubbles. To say nothing of an Elise Laird in bed, sexually sated to the point of immobility.

And when an erotic visualization of that flashed into his mind, it wasn’t Cato Laird who was lying with her.

As though reading his mind, DeeDee shot him a look of reproof, then addressed the next question to Mrs. Laird. “When you heard the noise, what did you do?”

As though grateful for the new direction of questioning, she turned to DeeDee. “I went through the butler’s pantry, which is the shortest route from the kitchen into the foyer. When I reached the foyer, I was certain there was someone in the study.”

“What made you certain?” DeeDee asked.

She raised her slender shoulders. “Instinct. I sensed his presence.”

“His presence? You knew it was a man? Instinctually?”

Elise’s gaze swung back to Duncan. “I assumed so, Detective Hatcher.” She continued to look at him for a moment, then turned back to DeeDee. “I was afraid. It was dark. I sensed someone inside the house. I…I took a pistol from the drawer in the hall table.”

“Why didn’t you run to the nearest telephone, dial 911?”

“I wish I had. If I had it to do over-”

“You would be the one on the way to the morgue.” Cato Laird took one of her hands and pressed it between his. He kissed her temple near her hairline.

Duncan interrupted the tender exchange. “You knew there was a pistol in that drawer?”

“Yes,” she replied.

“Had you used it before?”

She looked affronted. “Of course not.”

“Then how did you know it was there?”

“I own several guns, Detective,” the judge said. “They’re kept handy. Elise knows where they are. I made sure of that. I also insisted on her taking lessons to learn how to use the guns to protect herself in the event she should need to.”

She learned well, Duncan thought. She’d shot a man straight through the heart. He was a good marksman, but he doubted he could be that accurate under duress.

To defuse another tense moment, DeeDee prompted Elise. “So you have the pistol.”

“I walked toward the study. When I got to the door, I switched on the light. But I flipped the wrong switch and the light in the foyer came on, not the overhead light in the study. They’re on the same switch plate. Anyway, I illuminated myself, not him, but I could see him, standing there behind the desk.”

“What did he do?”

“Nothing. He just stood there, frozen, looking startled, staring at me. I said, ‘Get out of here. Go away.’ But he didn’t move.”

“Did he say anything?”

She held Duncan’s gaze for several seconds, then replied with a terse no.

He was absolutely certain she was lying. Why? he wondered. But he decided not to challenge her about it now. “Go on.”

“Suddenly he jerked his arm up. Like a puppet whose string has been yanked. His hand came up and before it even registered with me that he had a gun, he fired it. I…I reacted instantaneously.”

“You fired back.”

She nodded.

No one spoke for a time. Finally DeeDee said, “Your aim was exceptionally good, Mrs. Laird.”

“Thank God,” the judge said.

More quietly Elise said, “I got lucky.”

Neither Duncan nor DeeDee said anything to that, although DeeDee glanced at him to see if he thought that shot could be attributed to luck.

“What happened next, Mrs. Laird?”

“I checked his body for a pulse.”

Duncan remembered Baker saying that the victim’s muddy footprints had been smeared, probably by both the Lairds.

“He fell backward, out of sight,” she said. “I was terrified, afraid that he was…”

“Still alive?” DeeDee said.

Again Elise appeared to take umbrage. “No, Detective Bowen,” she said testily. “I was afraid that he was dead. When I got up this morning, I didn’t plan on ending a man’s life tonight.”

“I didn’t imply that you had.”

The judge said brusquely, “That’s it, detectives. No more questions. She’s told you what you need to know. The law is clear on what constitutes self-defense. This intruder was inside our home, and he posed an imminent threat to Elise’s life. If he had survived, you’d be charging him with a list of felonies, including assault with a deadly weapon. Shooting him was justified, and I believe my wife is being inordinately generous by wishing he had survived.”