James Patterson - The 6th Target

They crossed the main lobby, went through the leather-studded double doors to the second lobby, cleared security outside the courtroom, and after going through the glassed-in vestibule, took their places behind the table.

The courtroom had filled up as word spread. Court TV set up their cameras. Reporters from the local papers and stringers from the tabloids, wire services and national news, filled the back row. Cindy was on the aisle.

Yuki saw Claire and Lindsay sitting in the midsection, but she didn't see the defendant's mother, Elena Brinkley, anywhere.

Mickey Sherman came through the gate wearing a flattering dark-blue suit. He put his metallic briefcase down in front of him, nodded to Yuki, and made a phone call.

Yuki's phone rang. "Len," she said, reading his name off the caller ID, there's a verdict ."

"I'm at my fucking cardiologist," Len told her. "Keep me posted."

The side door to the left of the bench opened, and the bailiff entered with Alfred Brinkley.

BRINKLEY'S BANDAGE HAD BEEN REMOVED, exposing a line of stitches running vertically from the middle of his forehead up through his hairline. The bruises around his eyes had faded to an overboiled egg-yolk color, yellowish-green.

The bailiff unlocked Brinkley's waist chains and handcuffs, and the defendant sat down beside his lawyer.

The door to the right of the jury box opened, and the twelve jurors and two alternates walked into the courtroom, dressed up, hair sprayed and styled, a sprinkling of jewelry on the women's hands and around their necks. They didn't look at Yuki and they didn't look at the defendant. In fact, they looked tense, as though they may have been fighting over the verdict until an hour ago.

The door behind the bench opened, and Judge Moore entered his courtroom. He cleaned his glasses as court was called into session, then said, "Mr. Foreman, I understand that the jury has a verdict?"

"We do, Your Honor."

"Would you please hand your verdict to the bailiff."

The foreman was a carpenter, with shoulder-length blond hair and nicotine-stained fingers. He looked keyed up as he gave a folded form to the bailiff, who brought it to the bench.

Judge Moore unfolded the form and looked at it. He asked the people in the gallery to please respect the protocol of the court and to not react outwardly when the verdict was read.

Yuki clasped her hands on the table before her. She could hear David Hale's breathing beside her, and for a fraction of a moment, she loved him.

Judge Moore began to read. "In the charge of murder in the first degree of Andrea Canello, the jury finds the defendant, Alfred Brinkley, 'not guilty' by reason of mental disease or defect."

A wave of nausea hit Yuki.

She sat back hard in her chair, barely hearing the judge's voice as each name was read, each charge a finding of "not guilty" by reason of insanity.

Yuki stood up as Claire and Lindsay came forward to be with her. They were standing around her as Brinkley was shackled, and they all saw how he looked at Yuki.

It was an odd look, part stare, part secret smile. Yuki didn't know what Brinkley intended by it, but she felt a prickling of hairs rising at the nape of her neck.

And then Brinkley spoke to her. "Good try, Ms. Castellano. Very good try. But don't you know? Someone's got to pay."

One of the guards gave Brinkley a shove, and after a last look at Yuki, he shuffled up the aisle between his keepers.

Sick or sane, Alfred Brinkley was going to be off the streets for a long time. Yuki knew that.

And still – she felt afraid.

A MONTH LATER, Conklin and I were back in Alta Plaza Park, where it all began.

This time, we watched Henry Tyler come down the path toward us, his coat whipping around him in the wind. He reached out a hand to Conklin, gripping it hard, and then stretched his hand out to me.

"You've given us back our lives. I can't find words to thank you enough."

Tyler called out to his wife and to the little girl playing on a hexagonal construction, some new kind of jungle gym. Face brightening in surprise, Madison dropped down from the bars and ran toward us.

Henry Tyler swung his daughter up into his arms. Madison leaned over her father's shoulder and put an arm around my neck and Rich's, gathering us into a three-way hug.

"You're my favorite people," she said.

I was still smiling when Henry Tyler put Madison down and said to us, his face radiant, "We're all so grateful. Me, Liz, Maddy – we're your friends for life."

My eyes watered up a bit.

It was an excellent day to be a cop.

As Richie and I took the path back toward the car, we talked about the hell we have to go through to solve a case – the drudgery, the up close contact with killers and druggies, the false leads.

"And then," I said, "a case turns out like this and it's such a high."

Rich stopped walking, put his hand on my arm. "Let's stop here for a minute," he said.

I sat on one of the broad steps that had been warmed by the sun, and Rich got down beside me. I could see that there was something on his mind.

"Lindsay, I know you think I have a crush on you," he said, "but it's more than that. Believe me."

For the first time it hurt to look into Rich Conklin's handsome face. Thoughts of our grappling in a hotel in LA still made me squirm with embarrassment.

"Will you give us a chance?" he said. "Let me take you out to dinner. I'm not going to put any moves on you, Lindsay. I just want us to… ah…"

Rich read the feelings on my face and stopped talking. He shook his head, finally saying, "I'm going to shut up now."

I reached out and covered his hand with mine.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"Don't be… Forget it, Lindsay. Forget I said anything, okay?" He tried to smile, almost pulled it off. "I'll deal with this in therapy for a few years."

"You're in therapy ?"

"Would that help? No." He laughed. "I'm just, look, you know how I feel about you. That's almost enough."

It was a tough ride back to the Hall. Conversation was strained until we got a call to respond to a report of a dead body in the Tenderloin. We worked the case together past quitting time and into the next shift. And it was good, as if we'd been partners for years.

At just after nine p.m., I told Rich I'd see him in the morning. I'd just unlocked my car door when my cell phone rang.

"What now?" I muttered.

There was a crackle of static, then a deep, resonant voice came out of that phone, turning night back into day.

"I know not to surprise an armed police officer on her doorstep, Blondie. So… fair warning. I'm going to be in town this weekend. I have news. And I really want to see you."

MY DOORBELL RANG AT HOME.

I stabbed the intercom button, said, "I'm coming," and jogged down my stairs. Martha's dog sitter, Karen Triebel, was outside the front door. I gave her a hug and bent to enfold Sweet Martha in my arms.

"She really missed you, Lindsay," Karen said.

"Ya think?" I said, laughing as Martha whimpered and barked and knocked me completely off my feet. I just sat there on the threshold as Martha pinned down my shoulders and soaked my face with kisses.

"I'll be going now. I see that you two need to be alone," Karen called out, walking down the steps toward her old Volvo.

"Wait, Karen, come upstairs. I have a check for you."

"It's okay! I'll catch you next time," she said, disappearing into her car, tying the door closed with a piece of clothesline, cranking up the engine.

"Thank you!" I called out as she drove past me and waved. I returned my attention to my best girl.

"Do you know how much I love you?" I said into one of Martha's silky ears.