Sandra Brown - Ricochet

DeeDee had been listening in silence and with evident satisfaction to his exchange with Elise. She finally spoke. “I hate being the one to remind you that so far you’ve got no trap to spring.”

He outlined his plan to DeeDee. She responded with a decided lack of enthusiasm. “I don’t know, Duncan. It doesn’t feel good to me.”

“The gloves have to come off, DeeDee. It occurred to me yesterday that we’re never going to nail these guys using strictly legal methods. We can’t play by the book and expect to convict them. They know all the loopholes in the legal system. They know how to beat it. The only way we’re going to get them is by bending a few rules.”

“Which rules?” she asked worriedly.

“I’m just saying…” He let the sentence trail off and got no more specific than that. “You’re gonna have to grant me some leeway. Are you in or out?”

“I’m in,” she said, but with uncertainty. Then, “Of course I’m in.”

He looked at Elise and gave her a tender smile. “You must agree that this is the best way.”

He didn’t put it in the form of a question, effectively giving her no choice other than to agree. After a long hesitation, she nodded.

Duncan decided to leave his car with Elise. “Use it only if you must,” he instructed as he handed her the keys. “Stay in the house as much as possible. When you have to go out, keep a low profile. You cannot be seen until this is over.” With affection, he ran his hand over her spiked hair. “Can’t have any Elise Laird sightings reported, okay?”

“Okay.”

He reinstalled the house phone and told her that if he called, he would let the phone ring twice, hang up, then call right back. “Otherwise, don’t answer. Use it only on an emergency basis. I can’t stress that enough.” He also gave her the extra pistol he’d hidden above the knickknack cabinet.

“It’s easy to use.” After acquainting her with the pistol, he put it and extra ammunition in an accessible place.

When the time finally came for him and DeeDee to leave, Elise’s distress was plain. “I’m afraid.”

“You’ll be fine.”

“I’m not afraid for myself. I’m afraid for you.”

“I’ll be careful.” He rubbed her arms reassuringly. “DeeDee will be at my back.”

Close to tears, she whispered, “Please be careful.”

“I promise I will. You, too. Don’t take any chances. None. Understand, Elise?”

“I understand.”

They clung to each other as they shared a lengthy good-bye kiss. When he finally pulled back, he gave her a look rife with meaning. “Remember everything we said this morning.”

“Every word.”

He touched her lower lip. “I’ll see you soon.” Then he turned away quickly and ushered DeeDee out the door.

They discussed the plan on the drive back to Savannah. As they crossed the Talmadge Bridge and turned into the downtown area, DeeDee tried one last time to dissuade him against implementing his plan of attack before clearing it with Captain Gerard.

“It’s dangerous and crazy to try and go this alone, Duncan.”

“I’m not alone. I’ve got you.”

“We could bring in Worley, a couple of others who-”

“No. Me, Laird expects the worst from. Better if it looks like I’ve reached my limit, flipped out, become a loose cannon.”

She covered several city blocks before she said, “Are you absolutely, one hundred percent positive that Elise Laird didn’t cook up this elaborate story and screwed you until you believed it?”

He shot her a hard look. “To what end? You yourself said she’s got a cushy nest. Why would she want to destroy it, unless what she says is true?”

“I’m only saying it’s a little strange that in all the time she’s been married to Cato Laird, she hasn’t collected one shred of evidence that he’s anything other than a devoted husband, upstanding citizen, and honest judge.”

“We’ll get the evidence. Eventually.”

“If you say so.”

“Once we have Savich, it’ll be easy.”

“Mrs. Laird-”

“Don’t call her that.”

“She didn’t agree with your priorities.”

“In the end she did. Stop at my house.”

“What for?”

“I need to change clothes. I don’t want to meet the judge in T-shirt and jeans.”

“We’re not ‘meeting’ him, Duncan. We’re abducting him.”

CATO LAIRD FELT SO GOOD IT WAS DIFFICULT TO KEEP HIS posture stooped and his expression aggrieved.

“Work is my tonic,” he’d said to those who expressed shock and concern when he returned to his office so soon after the tragedy that had befallen him.

He explained that aside from the healing he would derive from plunging back into work as soon as possible, he had a responsibility to the community. The criminal justice system was backlogged enough. He wouldn’t allow his personal tragedy to create a heavier workload for his colleagues.

Yada, yada. People ate it up.

Leaving the Chatham County Judicial Center, he waved good-bye to the security officers and, for their benefit, made it appear as though he had barely the strength to push open the heavy glass door.

But his footsteps were light as he made his way across the parking lot. The sun was low. He noticed what a tall, trim, and impressive shadow he cast on the pavement. Then another shadow joined his, equally tall, trim, and impressive. Simultaneously he was addressed from behind by a friendly voice.

“Hello, Judge.”

He turned just as Duncan Hatcher closed a strong hand around his biceps. The detective was smiling, but it was a cartoon character’s smile-that of the wolf up to no good. “How’s it hanging, Your Honor?”

“As well as can be expected, thank you.”

“When’s the funeral?”

“Under the circumstances, I’ve decided to forgo the customary service. I’m keeping the observance private.”

“Are you having the body cremated?”

“Your concern is touching, Detective. But, as I said, I’m keeping these matters private.”

Hatcher’s lupine leer vanished. “Get in the car.”

During their exchange, Hatcher had practically been dragging him toward his Lexus sedan, where Detective Bowen stood waiting, door open, motor running. “Good evening, Judge.”

“You broke into my car?”

“Part of the extended service now provided by the police department,” she said. “Driving home VIPs after a hard day at the office.”

“A judge who’s tough on cops and soft on criminals gets special treatment,” Hatcher said.

Cato tried to wrest his arm out of the detective’s grip, knowing before he even tried that it would be futile. He looked around for help, but the parking lot was deserted. “Let go of me.”

“As soon as you get in the car.”

“I’ll have your job for this, Hatcher.”

“Possibly. Probably. But not before I sing loud and clear for all to hear the sad ballad of the late Mrs. Laird’s alliance with professional criminal Robert Savich.”

So far, that had been kept out of the media. The judge wanted to keep it that way. He stopped struggling.

“Ah!” Hatcher said. “I see you know that tune.” He tightened his grip. “Now get in the car, or I’m going to break your arm, and actually nothing would give me more enjoyment.”

Hatcher’s eyes said he wasn’t bluffing. Obviously DeeDee Bowen thought the same. She was looking at her partner with consternation, and maybe a little fear.

“You’ll go to jail for this.” Despite the threat, Cato got into the backseat of his sedan. Hatcher scrambled in behind him. Detective Bowen got into the driver’s seat, conscientiously buckled her seat belt, then drove them out of the parking lot.