William Bernhardt - Murder One

But those weren’t the details that ranked most prominently in Mike’s mind. There was one other.

Andrea McNaughton was holding a gun.

“Please lower your weapon, Mrs. McNaughton,” Mike said, in a voice that sounded a lot calmer than he really was.

She looked back at him with eyes as cold as frost. “No.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Mike continued. He could hear the other officers gathering behind him. But the doorway created a bottleneck; they couldn’t get in. And at the moment, he couldn’t move without quite possibly getting himself shot. “I have a warrant for your arrest. Please lower your weapon.”

“Don’t do it,” Keri snarled. “Aim for his head.”

Andrea did not lower the gun.

“I have a warrant for your arrest, too, Ms. Dalcanton.”

She laughed at him. “The hell you do. I’ve been acquitted, asshole.”

“I’m arresting you for perjury,” Mike explained. “You lied on the stand. And given more time, I’ll bet I can think up a few more charges to nail you with.”

“Son of a bitch.” Keri turned toward Andrea. “Kill him, Andrea. It’s our only chance.”

“There are six other officers standing behind me,” Mike said quickly. Keeping his voice calm seemed to get harder the longer that gun was pointed at his forehead. “You have no chance. Give it up.”

He watched Keri’s eyes flash all around her. Like a trapped rat in a cage, she was desperately looking for a way out. And not finding any.

“She’s the one who did it,” Keri said suddenly, pointing at Andrea. “I knew about it, but she was the one who killed Joe.”

Andrea kept her eyes trained on Mike. “Keri, shut up!”

“She’s the one you want,” Keri continued. “She’s the killer. She did all the sick stuff, with the knives. She’s a psycho, totally.”

“Keri!” Andrea shouted. “Shut your goddamn mouth!”

She didn’t. “I’ll turn state’s evidence. You’re going to need a witness, right? Give me immunity and I’ll give you a killer.”

Andrea’s face trembled with rage. “Keri, close your fucking mouth! ”

“I’m offering to talk. Please. You have to protect me from her. She might hurt me!”

“Me hurt you? You ruined my life! ” Spittle flew out of Andrea’s mouth. “You stole my husband. You butchered him.”

“See?” Keri said. “See how crazy she is? Give me immunity, and I’ll tell you everything that—”

“You traitorous bitch!” In the blink of an eye, Andrea whipped her gun around and fired. The bullet struck Keri in the neck. She fell backward onto the carpet. A second later, Mike fired. He hit Andrea in the arm, knocking the gun out of her hand.

“Call for an ambulance!” Mike shouted. He rushed inside. Keri was already unconscious. He ran to Andrea. Her arm was gushing blood and her eyelids were fluttering, but she was still awake.

“I don’t know what … happened to me,” Andrea said. Her voice was too soft to even be considered a whisper. “All my life, I’ve never done anything wrong. I was a good girl. And then … then … all at once … I blew it.”

“You’re going to live,” Mike reassured her. “I’m going to get you to the hospital.”

Her eyelids slowly closed. “Please … don’t bother.”

“Your honor, this is an outrage!”

In all the years she had worked with him, Christina had never seen Ben so angry. His face was red, he was breathing too fast, and every word came out as a shout.

“That was confidential information, your honor! The police department had no business reading my confidential communications!”

Judge Hart’s lips were firm and set. She tapped her reading glasses against the bench as she spoke. “Major Morelli has already explained how he obtained the information, Mr. Kincaid. Do you dispute his story?”

“No, I don’t dispute it. But it’s no excuse. That information was absolutely privileged.”

“Maybe it was, but he got it, just the same. And Keri Dalcanton was not his client. He had no duty to her. To the contrary, he had a duty to see that any information pertaining to a murder was turned over to the law-enforcement community. As far as I can see, he acted entirely properly.”

“He had no business being in my office in the first place!”

Judge Hart turned her attention to Mike, who was standing next to Assistant D.A. Dexter, both of them pointedly not making eye contact with Ben. “How did you get into the office, Major?”

Mike cleared his throat. “I have a key. Ben—er, Mr. Kincaid gave it to me on a previous occasion.”

“And why were you there?”

“I was looking for Mr. Kincaid. We’d made an appointment, and he didn’t show up. I didn’t mean to read the message intended for his associate, Ms. McCall, but before I even realized to whom it was addressed, I’d read more of it than I could ignore.”

Judge Hart shrugged her shoulders. “He’s committed no crime. I suppose if you want to sue him for invasion of privacy you could, although I don’t think I’d recommend it.”

“Your honor,” Ben said, “I strongly urge you to invalidate this improper, unconstitutional search and to suppress all information obtained as a result.”

“Wait just a minute, Mr. Kincaid.” The judge looked at him sternly. “I gave you what you wanted before, when the police were using photocopied search warrants. That was a violation of fourth amendment rights. But there’s no constitutional violation here. And there is no way on God’s green earth I’m going to exclude critical evidence in this case again. Your motion is denied.”

“Your honor,” Ben shouted, “you can’t condone this egregious conduct when—”

“Mr. Kincaid, I’ve ruled. Now give it a rest or I’ll hold you in contempt.” She rapped her gavel and strode out of the courtroom.

“It doesn’t matter anyway, Ben.” This came from Mike, who slowly crossed the courtroom to Ben’s table. “We just got a message from the hospital. Keri Dalcanton is dead. Died from the gunshot wound.”

Ben’s lips parted wordlessly.

“Andrea McNaughton is going to be okay. She’ll stand trial for her crimes.”

Ben glared at him coldly. “You had no business reading Christina’s fax.”

“I know that,” Mike said flatly. “I told you—I didn’t mean to. But after I did, there was no way I could pretend I hadn’t. Not after I knew that those two had conspired together, and that they were preparing to leave town and might never be seen again.”

Ben’s expression did not change.

“Ben, I’m a cop, not a defense attorney. I can’t let the bad guys get away. Not if I can help it.” He looked at Ben earnestly a few more seconds, then frowned and left the courtroom.

52

AS SOON AS HE got the call on his cell phone, Ben blitzed through rush hour traffic to St. John’s. Barely half a minute later, he was racing down corridors, up stairwells, across hallways, until he finally arrived, breathless, outside Room 522.

“How long?” he asked, barely catching his breath.

The whole office staff was crowded into the small hospital room—Christina, Loving, Jones. Jones was seated beside the bed, Paula’s hand clasped in his.

And Paula’s eyes were open.

“She came around about half an hour ago,” Christina explained. Ben pressed forward, trying to maneuver his way closer. “She’s still groggy. But she seems to understand what we’re saying.”

“Has she spoken?” he said in hushed tones.

“A little bit. Not very informative.”

“Does she remember—?”

Christina shook her head. “She remembers being stabbed. But she never knew who it was. You know what she was so anxious to tell us that night? She’d found a memo in a file indicating that the Stroud police suspected Keri was involved in her parents’ death. But they could never prove anything.” She looked down at Paula. “She was way ahead of us.”