James Patterson - WMC - First to Die

Chief Mercer had gotten the skybox at PacBell from one of his wealthy buddies. He invited several of us, including me, Raleigh, and Cheery, to a Giants game. It was a warm summer evening. They were playing the Cards. My father would have loved it. I didn't really want to go, didn't want to feel on display as the cop who'd caught Jenks, but Mercer pressed. And it was Mark McG wire and all, so I put on a wind breaker and went along for the ride. All evening long, Chris and I kept sneaking looks at each other. There was a special energy in the box, a glowing ring around just him and me. The game was background noise. In the third, Mighty Mac hit one off Ortiz that went out of sight and almost landed in the bay. The stadium cheered wildly, even for a Card. In the fourth, Barry Bonds tied it with a shot of his own. Chris and I couldn't stop watching each other. We had our legs up on the same chair, like schoolkids, and every once in a while our calves brushed together. Jesus, this was better than the ball game. Finally, he winked at me. "Want something to drink?" he said. He went over to the bowl of drinks, which was elevated from the seats, and I followed. The others didn't look back. As soon as we were out of sight, he placed his hands on my thighs and kissed me. I felt on fire. "You want to hang around?" "Still beer left," I joked. His hand brushed against the side of my breast, and I felt a tremor. Soft hands. My breath quickened. A flicker of sweat broke through on my neck. Chris kissed me again. He drew me in close, and I felt the cadence of a heart pounding between us. I didn't know if it was his or mine. "Can't wait," he said. "Okay, let's get out of here." "No." He shook his head. "I meant I can't wait." "Oh, Jesus." I sighed. I couldn't hold back. My whole body was heating up to the boiling point. I glanced down at Cheery and Mercer and the two Mill Valley types. This is crazy, Lindsay. But everything lately was crazy, everything speeding out of control. It seemed as if every natural force in the universe was driving Chris and me to find a secluded spot. There was a bathroom in the skybox, barely large enough to put on makeup in. We didn't care. Chris led me into the bathroom while the baseball crowd roared at something. We could barely squeeze in. Jesus, I could not believe I was doing this here. He unbuttoned my blouse, I unfastened his belt. Our thighs were pressed tightly together. Gently, Chris lifted me onto him. I felt as if a shooting star had exploded in my veins. Chris was up against the counter; I was in the palms of his hands; we were squeezed into this tiny space, but we were in a perfect rhythm. A crowd roar echoed in from outside: Maybe McG wire had hit another, maybe Bonds had robbed him- who cared. We kept rocking, Chris and I. I couldn't breathe. My body was slick with sweat. I couldn't stop. Chris kept it going, I gripped on tight, and in a moment we both gasped. Two hero cops, I thought. It was the best, the freest, the most excited I had ever felt. Chris rested his forehead on my shoulder. I kissed his cheek, his neck. Then the strangest thought took hold of me. I began to laugh, a mixture of laughter and exhausted sighs. We were pinned there, spent, a few feet from my boss. I was giggling like a damn fool. I was going to get us caught! "What's so funny?" Chris whispered. I was thinking of Claire and Cindy. And what we had just done. "I think I just made the list," I said.

THE NEXT DAY, Jenks asked to meet again. Jill and I went to see him on the tenth floor. We wondered what was up. This time, there was no cat and mouse, no bullshit at all. Leff was there, but he rose, humbly, as soon as we came in. Jenks looked far less threatening in his gray prison garb. The worried look on his face was a clear message. "My client wants to make a statement," Leff announced as soon as we sat down. I was thinking, This is it. He wants to make a deal. He's seen how ridiculous it is to play this game. But he came out with something unexpected. "I'm being framed!" Jenks announced angrily. It took about a half second for Jill's glance to bump into mine. "I have to hear this again," she said. "What's going on?" She looked at Jenks, then at Leff. "We've got your client tied to all three crime scenes; we've got him in Cleveland at the time of the last murder; we've got him lying about a prior relationship with Kathy Kogut, one of the last victims; we've got his book detailing an astonishingly similar criminal pattern; we've got his facial hairs matched to one found in another victim's vagina. And you're claiming he's being framed?" "What I'm claiming," Jenks said, ashen faced, "is that I'm being set up." "Listen, Mr. Jenks," Jill said, still looking at Leff, "I've been doing this eight years. I've built cases on hundreds of criminals, put over fifty murderers behind bars myself. I've never seen such a preponderance of evidence implicating a suspect. Our case is so airtight it can't breathe." "I realize that." Jenks sighed. "And that I've given you every reason to find my plea implausible. I've lied about being in Cleveland, my relationship with Kathy. On the others, I can't even account for my whereabouts. But I also know setups. I've mapped out more of them than anybody. I'm a master at this. And I assure you, someone is setting me up." I shook my head with disbelief. "Who, Mr. Jenks?" Jenks sucked in a long breath. He actually looked scared. "I don't know." "Someone hates you enough to set all this up?" Jill couldn't hold back a snicker. "The little I know of you, I might buy that." She turned to Leff. "You looking forward to presenting this case?" "Just hear him out, Ms. Bernhardt," the lawyer pleaded. "Look," Jenks said, "I know what you think of me. I'm guilty of many things. Selfishness, cruelty, adultery. I have a temper; sometimes I can't hold it in. And with women… you can probably line up a dozen of them who would help put me away for these murders. But clear as that is, I did not kill these people. Any of them. Someone is trying to set me up. That's the truth. Someone has done a brilliant job."

"YOU BUY ANY OF THAT SHIT?" Jill smirked at me as we waited for the elevator outside Jenks's holding cell. "I might buy that he somehow believes it," I told her. "Give me a break. He'd be better off going for insanity. If Nicholas Jenks wants to narrow down a list of people who might want to set him up, he might as well start with anyone he ever fucked." I laughed, agreeing that the list would be long. Then the elevator door opened and, to my surprise, out walked Chessy Jenks. She was dressed in a long, taupe summer dress. I immediately noticed how pretty she was. Our eyes met in an awkward, silent moment. I had just arrested her husband. My crime-scene team had ripped apart her house. She would have every reason to look at me with complete disdain- but she didn't. "I'm here to see my husband," she said in a shaky voice. I stiffly introduced her to Jill, then I pointed her to the visiting area. At that moment, she seemed about as alone and confused as anyone I had ever seen. "Sherman tells me there's a lot of evidence," she said. I nodded politely. I don't know why I felt something for her, other than she seemed a young, vulnerable woman whose fate had been to fall in love with a monster. "Nick didn't do this, Inspector," Chessy Jenks said. Her outburst surprised me. "It's only natural for a wife to want to defend her husband," I acknowledged. "If you have some concrete alibi…" She shook her head. "No alibi. Only that I know my husband." The elevator door had closed, and Jill and I stood there waiting again. As in hospitals, it would take minutes for it to go down and come back up. Chessy Jenks didn't make a move to walk away. "My husband's not a simple man. He can be very tough. I know he's made enemies. I know how he came at you. From the outside, it must be very hard to believe this, but there are times when he's also capable of tenderness, incredible generosity, and love." "I don't mean to sound unsympathetic, Ms. Jenks," Jill stepped in, "but under the circumstances you really shouldn't be talking with us." "I have nothing to hide," she came back. Then she looked downcast. "I already know what you know." I was dumbfounded. I already know what you know? "I spoke with Joanna," Chessy Jenks continued. "She told me you'd been by. I know what she told you about him. She's bitter. She's got every right to be. But she doesn't know Nick like I do." "You should review the evidence, Ms. Jenks," I told her. She shook her head. "Guns… maybe, Inspector. If that's all there was. But a knife. That first murder. Slicing that poor couple to bits. Nick can't even fillet a fish." My first thought was that she was young and deluded. How had Jenks described it? Impressionable… but something struck me as curious. "You said that you and Joanna talk?" "We have. A lot more in the past year. I've even had her over. When Nick was away, of course. I know she was bitter after the divorce. I know he hurt her. But it's sort of our own support group." "Your husband knew about this?" I asked. She forced a smile. "He didn't even mind. He still likes Joanna. And, Inspector, she's still in love with him." The elevator returned and we said good-bye. As the door closed, I looked at Jill. Her eyes were wide and her tongue was puffing out her cheek. "Whole fucking family gives me the creeps," she said with a shudder.