Cruel Justice (49 page)

“Counsel, approach.” Ben and Bullock walked to the bench. “It certainly seems like an appropriate motion to me, Mr. Prosecutor. Any objections?”

“About a million. For all we know, Kincaid may have paid this man—”

Hawkins cut him off. “Paid a member of the Utica Greens Country Club to confess to murder? Turn on your headlights, Bullock.”

“But—” Bullock sputtered pointlessly, but there was really nothing he could say. “No objection,” he growled finally.

Judge Hawkins pounded his gavel. “This case is dismissed. Mr. Rutherford, I think the district attorney would appreciate it if you would not leave town anytime soon. And Mr. Hayes—” Hawkins made eye contact with Leeman. “There is nothing I can say or do to compensate you for the time—the years you have lost. You have my sincerest apologies.” He pounded his gavel again. “And now you’re free to go,”

The courtroom was in an uproar. Ernie Hayes shouted for joy, then raced to the front, the rest of the family close behind him. Ben started to join them when he felt something yank him back.

It was Jack Bullock. “So you did it again, eh, Ben? You must be very proud of yourself.”

“Jack … Leeman was innocent.”

“That doesn’t justify all your courtroom chicanery. If you could prove the man was innocent, why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Jack, I’ve been telling you he was innocent since day one. You haven’t been listening. I didn’t understand the whole story myself until today.”

“Sure. How stupid do you think I am?”

“Jack—” Ben reached out to him. “Now that this trial is over … I was hoping maybe we could … I don’t know … patch things up. We used to be so … close. I mean, you know, we worked together so closely. We could be like that again.”

“Impossible. We’re on different sides now.”

“No,” Ben said firmly. “That’s where you’re wrong. We’re both on the same side. We both have the same goal. We just work from different sides of the courtroom.”

“I’m sorry, Ben,” Jack said briskly. “I hate to say it, but quite frankly, I don’t want anything to do with you.” He turned on his heel abruptly and returned to his table.

Ben watched him go. You were like a father to me, he thought.

And now I’ve lost you, too.

Ben tried to get to Leeman, but Ernie Hayes was blocking the way, hugging his son with all his might. Leeman’s brothers and sisters stood around them, trying to edge their way in. Ernie was pretty choked up; he kept thwopping his son proudly on the back.

They were oblivious to Ben, and Ben wasn’t surprised. He’d seen this, before. While the trial was on, the lawyer was the star of the show, front and center, the main man. But once it was over, he was superfluous. Family was what it was all about now.

Come to think of it, Ben mused, family was what it had been about all along.

B
EN WAS STARTLED TO
see Mike barreling down the center of the courtroom. He burst through the crowd congregating around the defendant’s table and fought his way upstream through the reporters and spectators.

“Is it over?” Mike shouted.

“Yeah. We got the charges dism—”

“I found the apartment.”

Ben instantly knew what he was talking about. “That’s great. Have you told Chief Blackwell?”

“No. I came to see you first.”

“Me? Why me?”

“Because I found this.” Mike dangled the Utica Greens key chain in Ben’s face. “I found a lot of other crap, too. Really sickening stuff. There’s no question about it now. The chickenhawk is not dead. He’s alive and well and he’s planning to kill Abie.” Mike shoved the key chain back into a paper evidence bag. “One of these keys is labeled C-D-Y-S-K. Didn’t you tell me the country-club board members were the only ones who had keys to the caddyshack?”

“No,” Ben said. “I told you that’s how it was ten years ago. After the murder, they restricted access. Now the only one who has a key is”—a sudden pallor washed across his face—“the grounds manager.”

“Who?”

“Mitch. Mitch Dryer.”

Mike grabbed Ben’s shoulders. “Then he’s our man. Do you know where he is?”

Ben tried to answer, but found that his voice had left him.

“Did you hear what I asked? This is important!” Ben finally managed to choke out the words. “I just gave him my address. So he could drop by my apartment.”

“
Where Abie is?
”

“Where Abie is,” Ben echoed. “And Christina. And Joey.”

Wonderful. As if she didn’t have enough to do. Christina wedged the bottle under her chin and gripped the baby tightly. Abie was in the next room working a puzzle; he would surely be all right for a few more minutes. She pushed off the sofa and opened the door. “Yes?”

“You don’t know me,” the nice-looking young man on the other side of the door said, “but your friend Ben Kincaid does. My name is Mitch Dryer. And I have something for you. For all of you.”

“C
OME ON IN,” CHRISTINA
said.

Mitch lifted a large cardboard box filled with paper and entered the room.

“I could use the company of another adult,” Christina added. “Do you by any chance know what
seven, eight
is?”

“I … beg your pardon?”

“You know.
Five, six, pick up sticks.
But I can’t remember what
seven, eight
is.”

“Well,” Mitch hedged, “it’s been a while for me. …”

“Yeah. Me, too. Say, don’t you work at the country club?”

“That’s right,” he said. “How did you know?”

“Oh, I remember seeing your name in Ben’s notes. What brings you here?”

“Ben asked me to sort through a few million pieces of paper and look for connections between board members and foreign countries, especially Peru. But when I reported back, he said he was too busy and told me to bring the stuff to you.”

“That’s my Ben all right.” She nodded toward the north wall. “Put the box down there. I’ll get to it as soon as the baby sleeps. If he sleeps.”

“Being difficult, is he? Here, why don’t you let me try?”

“Sure.”

Christina passed the baby to Mitch. A strange tingling sensation trickled up and down her spine. Now, that’s odd, she thought. She watched Mitch gently rock the baby in his arms. He was good with Joey. So why did she feel so uneasy?

She shrugged it off. Probably some weird offshoot of unrequited maternal instincts. She was becoming attached to the baby, so she didn’t want anyone else to hold him. “You said you brought something?”

“Oh, right.” Still cradling the baby in one arm, he reached into his back pocket. “A new pacifier.” The pacifier was shaped like a bushy black mustache, so that when he popped it into the baby’s mouth …

“Was this Ben’s idea, too?” Christina asked.

“Uh, yeah. How’d you know?”

“It’s so Ben. Practical jokes at the expense of an infant.”

He laughed. “Oh. I have something for Abie, too. Uh, where is he, anyway?”

Christina felt the tingling sensation again. He knew Abie was here? That seemed odd.

“It’s a pennant,” Mitch said as he pulled it out of the box. “You know, to hang on his wall. I understand he’s a major Drillers fan.”

The hairs on the back of Christina’s neck stood on end. He shouldn’t know that.

“I heard he lost his Drillers cap recently, so I thought, what the heck. He might like this.”

“I’m sure he would,” Christina said, forcing herself to smile. He shouldn’t know that, either.

But she knew who would.

“I’m surprised Ben told you Abie was here. We … think someone may be looking for him.”

“You mean that sick pervert? The child molester? God, I hate him.”

“You know him?”

“No, I just mean—I hate the idea. Of taking advantage of children like that. Torturing them. Forcing them to do … things they don’t want to do.”

Christina stole a quick glance at the bedroom door. Abie was not visible in the open passageway. “I understood this man was very nice to his captives.”

“Oh sure. Buy them an ice-cream cone. Take them to Celebration Station. Then rip off their clothes and make them wish they’d never been born.”

That was it. No one else could have known about Celebration Station. That detail had been deliberately left out of the papers.

He was the one.

“Here,” Christina said, “why don’t you let me take Joey off your hands?”

Mitch pulled the baby away. “Oh, he’s no trouble.”

“No, I insist.”

“Really, he’s fine.”

“No.” She laid her hands firmly on the baby. “Look, he’s practically asleep. Please.” Christina took the pacifier out of Joey’s mouth and took him back into her arms. “
Merci.
”

“So … where is Abie, anyway?”

“You know,” she said, trying to keep her voice even, “the funny thing is, Abie isn’t even here right now.” Please God, let him stay in the bedroom!

“He isn’t? But I understood—”

“He was, but—his mother came and got him.”

“His mother?” Mitch’s head tilted to one side. “I saw his mother in the courtroom.”

“Really?” She laughed nervously. “Well, you know how these rich women are. She probably left him with a Swedish au pair.”

“That’s hard to believe,” Mitch said slowly.

“What do you mean? That I’m lying?”

“No, of course not. I just can’t believe that even that rich bitch would leave Abie with a stranger when some maniac is looking for him.” His lips curled. “Next she’ll probably lock him in the closet.”

“I—I beg your pardon?”

“She’ll lock him in the closet, because he’s been bad. Naughty. And he’ll scream and cry and beg to be let out. But she won’t let him out.”

“I don’t under—”

“He’ll scream, ‘Mommy! Please let me out.
Please.
’ ” Mitch’s face was transformed from that of a man to that of a scared little boy. “I’m sorry I was bad!
I’ll do anything to make up for it!
’ And then his daddy will say, ‘Perhaps, son. But first you must be punished.’ ”

Christina tried to maintain a poker face. “Well, I’d better put the baby down for his nap. If you’ll excuse me—”

“What?” Mitch’s face altered again, yanked back to the present. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking about. I’ll go.”

Christina smiled, relieved. “I’ll be sure to tell Ben you came by. …”

And then a small figure appeared in the bedroom doorway.

“Can you help me?” Abie asked, pouting. “I can’t figure out where this puzzle piece goes.”

Mitch’s face contracted slowly. “But …”

Abie scanned the room, first Christina, then Mitch. He stared at Mitch so hard, Christina could almost hear his thoughts. Add a fuzzy red wig. A fake pair of glasses. And—

And then Abie screamed.

In a split second Christina raced between Mitch and Abie. She hit the coffee table, knocking it over. The phone hit the floor; the receiver spilled out of the cradle.

Mitch lunged for her, but stumbled over the table. Christina pushed Abie back into the bedroom. She slammed the door behind them—

Too late. Mitch’s foot was wedged in the door.

“You lied to me,” Mitch said. His voice was dark and heavy. “You bitch. You’re just like all the other lying bitches in the world.” He threw his shoulder against the door.

Christina held back the door with all her might. But she knew she couldn’t hold him off for long. He was far stronger and heavier than she was.

“Don’t let him in,” Abie said, sobbing. “Don’t let him hurt me.”

Christina lifted her shoe and brought the heel down hard on Mitch’s foot. Mitch screamed, then jerked back his foot. Christina slammed the door the rest of the way shut, then locked it.

An instant later Mitch threw his weight against the other side of the door. The thin worn plywood shuddered and bowed, but held for the moment.

“You think that’s going to keep me out? You filthy whore! You’re just like all the rest.”

She heard him remove something from his coat. An instant later the tip of a steely knife protruded through the door.

“You’re going to be punished,” Mitch bellowed. “All of you. That bad boy Abie. That boy baby. And you, you stupid bitch, prancing around in your short skirt, showing yourself to him whenever you can.”

She heard him panting as he thrust his knife through the door once again. “You’re all going to be punished.”

“H
URRY!” BEN SHOUTED. HE
was leaning out of the passenger seat, hovering over Mike as he drove. “Can’t this thing go any faster?”

“I’m doing the best I can,” Mike muttered, clutching the wheel. “Aren’t you the one who normally complains that I drive too fast?” He barreled the Trans Am up the entrance ramp and hit I-244 doing eighty. Once he made it into the fast lane, he pulled his flasher out of the seat divider and snapped it onto the roof of his car. A second later the siren was squealing and cars began to clear out of the way.

“I should’ve seen this coming,” Ben muttered. “The clues were right in front of me. Mitch told me he specially requested the assignment to oversee the caddyshack. Natch. Like you told me—perverts always try to finagle jobs that will put them into contact with kids. What’s more, he told me he hated Rutherford’s guts. That must be at least part of the reason why he’s singled out Abie.”

“Gimme the handset,” Mike commanded. Ben did as he was told.

A few moments later a voice squawked on the other end. “Headquarters.”

“Marty? Mike. I want two squad cars immediately. More if you can get them.” He gave her Ben’s address. “Any idea how long?”

“I’m not sure, Mike. All the rovers in the area are checking out a reported shooting at the Route 66 Café.”

“Damn it, this is an emergency!”

He heard the klickety-klack of buttons on the other end. “I’ll put out the word.”

“But how long?” There was a short pause. “Damn!” Mike threw the handset across the car, narrowly missing Ben’s head. “We’ll get there before they do.”

Ben removed Mike’s car phone from the glove box. He had no idea how to work it. “Get me an outside line.”

Mike punched in the access codes, then Ben dialed a local number. His number.

“Busy signal.” He looked at Mike grimly. “I don’t think Christina would be talking. The phone must be off the hook.”