The Price of Justice (25 page)

They had enough to confront Max Dolan. And that’s just what Tommy planned to do.

C
HAPTER

44

D
ani cradled her head in her hands as she struggled to find a way to use the information she’d learned. Dolan, of course, would deny he’d killed Carly. And the testimony of the other women probably wouldn’t even be admissible. A judge would likely rule that prior bad acts didn’t necessarily prove the commission of the current act, and it would be too prejudicial for a jury to hear their statements. Just then, Tommy burst into her office.

“We got him. The money to Letitia went through Dolan’s company.”

“It’s not enough,” Dani said. “He’ll claim he was just processing a client’s request. That he had no idea what it was for.”

Dani watched Tommy march back and forth in her small space, as though he were a tiger pacing its cage, smelling the red meat on the other side of the bars.

“Not if I tell him Amelia Melton spilled.”

“You can’t do that. It’s not true, and it’ll only put her in jeopardy. Win wouldn’t want that.”

“I was wrong about Kincaid. I’m positive that we’re right about Dolan. And it’s time to do something about it.”

Tommy flopped down on the chair in Dani’s office. “What if I can get inside Dolan’s apartment and search for the corsage? It has to be there.”

“How are you going to get invited to his apartment? I don’t want you breaking in.”

“Couldn’t even if I wanted to. He’s in one of those luxury high-rises in Fort Lee, complete with two doormen and a concierge.”

“So, what are you thinking?”

“We need to enlist Win’s help.”

Dani looked at him blankly.

“Win can get into Dolan’s apartment. He can search for the corsage.”

“Oh, Tommy, it’s too dangerous for Win.”

“Not if we set it up right.”

“No. Absolutely not. But we do have to warn Win. He needs to know what we’ve discovered about his best friend.”

Once again, Dani went back to the Melton home, Tommy at her side. This time, they were there to see Win. She’d called the night before and said they’d like to stop by, see how Win was doing. Once again, the butler led them inside. When they entered the family room, Win was sitting on the couch, game console in hand, busily working his way through a jungle on the television screen, fighting off predators as he used a machete to pave a way through the thick foliage. He looked up briefly and smiled at them.

“Be with you in one moment. Got to finish this game.”

Dani and Tommy sat down on chairs adjacent to the couch and waited. Jonah loved video games. Dani had rules, though. Only after homework was completed. Never more than one hour at a time, unless it was the weekend and he was playing it with a friend. Then it could be two hours. Never during family time, which was always the half hour before dinner and the half hour after. Dani wondered if Win imposed any rules on himself, or if he played the games day and night, helping fuel his self-imposed exile from life.

“Damn!” Win screamed as the game came to an end. He turned to Dani. “I was on track for my high score, then blew it.”

“How’s it going?” Dani asked. “You getting out at all?”

Win yawned. “I see my therapist twice a week. Once in a while, Max comes over. Last week, I went to a movie with him.”

“Really? What did you see?”

Win gave her the name of a foreign film she’d never heard of.

“Do you ever go to Max’s place?” Tommy asked.

Win shook his head. “Too soon.”

“Do you think you could? If I told you it was important?”

“Tommy, stop it,” Dani said. “I told you, it’s too dangerous.”

Win looked back and forth between Dani and Tommy with a quizzical expression. “What’s going on?”

“We believe that Max murdered Carly Sobol,” Dani said.

Win stared at her. “You’re joking, right?”

She shook her head, then watched as the color drained from Win’s face.

“You’re wrong. He couldn’t have done that.” Win’s voice was hoarse.

“I’m sorry. I know this is hard for you.”

Win stood up and paced the perimeter of the room, not saying a word. When he finally came to a stop, he stood over Dani, his hands on his waist. “Max would never have let me take the blame for something he’d done. Never.”

“Think back to Princeton. Did you know some girls accused him of rape?”

“Sure, they made claims, but they were all bogus. You know, after-sex regrets.”

“Maybe if it was one girl. But two? And that’s just in your dorm.”

“Still, they talked to each other. Maybe they were in cahoots. Thought it’d knock him down a peg.”

“No, Win,” Dani said, her voice soft. “I spoke to them. He did things to them that matched what happened to Carly. He tied their hands behind their backs. He forced them to have sex. He wrapped his hands around their necks and choked them during it. Only with Carly, he didn’t stop until she died.”

Win sunk down into the couch and buried his head in his hands. “No, no, no, no,” he kept saying, over and over. Finally, he lifted his head, and his cheeks were smeared with tears. He wiped them away with the back of his hand. “What should I do now?” he asked in a monotone. “He can’t get away with this.”

“I have an idea,” Tommy said.

“No, Tommy,” Dani said, a sharp tone to her voice. She moved over to the couch and sat next to Win. “I know some New Jersey prosecutors. I’ll try to convince one to get a search warrant for his apartment.”

“Do you think you can?”

Dani shook her head slowly. “It’ll be difficult. The only thing we have are his past rapes, and those are probably not admissible.”

“I need to do something. He took away seven years of my life.”

Dani picked up Win’s hand and held it. “Win, I’m sorry. There’s nothing you can do.”

C
HAPTER

45

W
in had been in a state of fury ever since Dani told him her theory. If it were true, his best friend had betrayed him beyond anything he could have imagined. He felt a murderous rage toward him that wouldn’t go away. He had to do something. He needed to know with certainty if Dani was right.

The next day, he gave Tommy a call. “What was it that Dani didn’t want you to say?” he asked.

Tommy told him about his plan. Get inside Max’s apartment. Tommy would create a distraction to get Max out. Search for the carnation.

The following Saturday, the chauffeur, Burt, drove Win to Max Dolan’s condo building in Fort Lee. The anger he’d felt the past few days was held in check. He was just here to be with an old friend. Win felt remarkably calm as he walked into the building and announced his presence to the concierge. He’d told Max that his therapist thought this was the next step for him, and Max had readily agreed. He rode the elevator up to the twenty-first floor and, when he got out, made his way to Apartment 2112. The door was open, and Max already had a beer in his hand for Win.

“Here,” Dolan said as he handed Win the bottle. “Let’s get the party started.”

Win froze momentarily, afraid that Dolan had invited others, but as he looked around, he saw that they were alone. “Nice digs. Your own bachelor pad. We used to talk about what it’d be like, living on our own. Is it what we expected?”

“Even better. You’ll see. Before you know it, you’ll be back on your feet.”

“How about a tour?”

Dolan led him through the living room, past the kitchen and dinette, and down a corridor to two bedrooms, one of which had been turned into a study. Back in the living room, he pointed out the sixty-inch flat-screen TV on the wall, and four different gaming consoles on the cocktail table in front of the leather couch.

“So, what’ll it be? Wii, PlayStation, Xbox, or OUYA?”

“You choose.”

Most of the games and the consoles were new to Win. Most technology was new to him. Dolan had already introduced him to Xbox and taught him some games. Playing a game with a stranger located in the ether seemed otherworldly. His mother had to explain to him what a smartphone and an iPad were, and how to read books on a screen instead of holding the bound pages in his hand. YouTube and Facebook had begun while he was still in school, but the mass usage of those websites astounded him. Instagram and Pinterest were completely foreign to him.

Dolan chose an Xbox game, then showed Win how to play it. Midway into their third soccer game, Dolan’s cell phone rang.

“Shouldn’t you get that?” Win asked.

“Just ignore it. It’ll go to voice mail.”

Five minutes later, it rang again. Dolan paused the game, then reached over for his cell phone. The caller ID read, “Morristown Medical Center.”

“What the hell?” said Dolan as he answered the call. He wrinkled his brow, kept biting his lip as he listened silently to the voice on the other end, then said, “I’ll get there as soon as I can,” before hanging up.

His face ashen, he turned to Win. “My parents were in a car accident. They’re at the hospital. They’re both in surgery right now. I’m sorry, I’ve got to leave.”

Win reached his hand out to touch Dolan’s shoulder. “Go. I’ll buzz Burt to come pick me up now. He was staying nearby.”

As Dolan rushed out the door, Win shouted out to him, “Call and let me know how they are!”

The front door slammed shut, leaving Win alone in the apartment, as planned. He stood by the living-room window, looking out over the street, waiting to see Dolan’s blue BMW convertible pull out of the underground garage. Three minutes later, he spotted it. Now he had to get to work.

Dani phoned Win’s home to check up on him. She’d given him devastating news the other day and wanted to see how he was handling it. Thankfully, he had a therapist. Dani hoped he could work out his feelings over it with her.

“I’m sorry, Master Winston isn’t here,” the butler said when he answered the phone.

Dani was surprised. He wouldn’t be seeing his therapist on a Saturday, and Max had been the only one who’d gotten him to leave his house. But how could he see Max after what she’d revealed about him?

“Did he go someplace with Max?”

“He’s at Mr. Dolan’s apartment. I suspect he’ll be there a few hours.”

Dani froze. It couldn’t be. Tommy wouldn’t have done it. She quickly thanked him, hung up, and then went looking for Tommy. He wasn’t at his desk. She ran back to her office and dialed Tommy’s cell phone.

“Hi, doll.”

“Where are you?”

“Just doing some errands.”

“I mean it, Tommy, what exactly are you doing?”

There was silence on the other end for a moment, and then Tommy spoke. “I told Win my plan. He’s over at Max’s now.”

“Oh, God, Tommy. What have you done? If we’re right, Dolan is a murderer. Win is completely defenseless.”

“I’ve got it under control. Don’t worry, babe.”

Dani hung up, furious. She looked in her notes for Max Dolan’s address, then grabbed her sweater, ran down the stairs, and retrieved her car from the parking lot. As she drove, she dialed the police precinct in Fort Lee, New Jersey.

Win figured he had forty minutes at most to search the apartment. Maybe less, if Dolan had the pedal pressed down all the way. With normal driving, the hospital was twenty minutes away. Once Dolan arrived, he’d quickly learn his parents were fine, that there’d been no accident. Tommy had persuaded someone in the hospital’s security office to make the call.

Tommy had e-mailed Win the picture of Carly on the night of the dance, wearing her party dress, with the corsage on her wrist. A second picture had the carnations enlarged. If Dani was right and Dolan had killed Carly, then kept the corsage, it would no longer look anything like the picture. But it could be identified by the purple band that held the flowers.

He began in the bedroom, opening each drawer, rifling through the clothes, then making sure everything was straightened before moving on to the next drawer. Nothing.

He moved over to the walk-in closet. Each suit, each pair of slacks, each shirt was neatly hung. His eyes turned up to the shelves over the rods. Two piles of textbooks, three boxes, and a musical-instrument case, no doubt containing the saxophone Dolan played in high school. He reached for the textbooks first—a logical place to hide a pressed flower, he thought. He went through each page and found nothing. After placing the books back up the shelf, he next took down the three boxes. The first contained only sweaters, the second only old photographs. Win flipped through a few and saw they were taken during Dolan’s childhood. The third box was filled with papers. Carefully, Win took out each one and made sure none contained a pressed flower.

Gradually, Win began to feel more relaxed. Dani was wrong. Dolan hadn’t murdered Carly, and he hadn’t kept her corsage as a souvenir. Still, he’d promised Tommy a thorough search, so he continued. He checked under the mattress and the bed, and both were bare. Scanning the room, he saw no other place where it could be hidden.

Win moved into the living room. It only took a few minutes to ascertain nothing was there. The kitchen was next. Although there were a lot of cabinets and drawers, it was quickly clear that it contained only kitchen items.

Finally, he stepped into the office and headed first for the desk. He sat down on the chair and opened each drawer, one by one. Sitting on top of a stack of papers in the second drawer was a pistol. He reached in and lifted it out, then turned it over and over in his hand. He knew almost nothing about guns, not even how to check and see if it were loaded. He looked back in the drawer and saw a booklet under the gun—an instruction manual for a Glock 17 Gen4.

What the hell is he doing with a gun?
Win considered removing the bullets. He checked his watch. Dolan had been gone twenty-five minutes. He could be back in as little as fifteen more minutes, maybe even less. No time to search through the manual to try to figure out how. He searched through the remaining papers in that drawer, then placed the gun carefully back and closed the drawer. Briefly, he wondered if he should have taken the gun himself, or hidden it away where Dolan wouldn’t find it.
But why should I be concerned? There’s no corsage. Max is not a killer.

He turned to the closet in the room. Shelves had been built into it, and on each one were office supplies—printer paper, printer ink, envelopes, folders. Nothing unusual. Then he glanced at the floor and saw a small safe. He flopped down onto his knees and stared at it.
Of course, he would have a safe. A place to keep extra money, maybe some bonds, an expensive watch or two. No need to be suspicious.

He stared at the steel box, then looked at the tumblers. Four rows of numbers. Zero through thirty.
Should I?
He looked at his watch. Dolan had left thirty-five minutes earlier. He set the numbers at
1
,
1
,
2
, and
4
for November 24, Dolan’s birthday, then tugged on the handle. Nothing. Next, he tried Dolan’s sister’s birthday. Nothing. Win had known Max for so long that his family’s important dates had been stored away in his memory. He sat down on the floor and stared at the safe.
What numbers would be important to Max? What dates would he always remember?
And then it hit him. The date that Dolan had always joked he’d never forget.

It had been the June of their junior year at Vanguard Prep. They’d finished one week of exams and had one more week to go. Sick of studying and wanting to take advantage of the cloudless blue sky and unseasonably hot temperatures, Dolan had impulsively organized a Saturday beach party. Ordering up enough limousines to carry the group of twelve to Greenwich Point Park, they left school for the day, stopping along the way to pick up passes for the park. They tipped one driver a hundred-dollar bill to buy several coolers with ice and ten six-packs of beer. Once settled on the warm sand, Dolan immediately paired off with Libby Canton, the girl he’d been after all year. Later, Win noticed they’d disappeared, then forgot about them. At the agreed-upon time to leave, the two strolled back, arm in arm, both smiling.

Back at the dorm, Dolan bragged to Win that he’d finally “done it.” He’d lost his virginity to Libby when they’d found a secluded cove with no one around. “I’ll never forget today,” he’d confessed to his friend.

Could that be it? Win wondered. Could that date unlock the safe? What was the date? He was certain of June—the first two numbers would be
0
and 6. What else? It had been nine years ago. He pulled out his phone and Googled the calendar for June 2005, then looked at the third Saturday of the month. June 18. Quickly, he punched in
0618
, then heard the click of the lock opening. He pulled on the handle for the safe, and it opened. As he’d expected, inside was a rolled-up wad of cash and two gold Rolex watches. He reached in farther and felt a large envelope, then took it out. He pulled from it a 2007 appointment book. His heart sank. That was the year Carly was murdered. He flipped the page to December 15, the night of the dance, and there it was, staring him in the face. Bone-dry petals and a purple elastic band. The corsage Carly Sobol had worn on the night she died.