Cate tried to focus on the proceeding but couldn’t. She would rule later in a written opinion; she wouldn’t rule from the bench, though she would have preferred it that way, and so would counsel. She’d always liked the quick answer when she was in practice. Gill finally concluded his argument, then defense counsel rose, took the lectern, and made an endless counterargument, but by then, Cate was dying to get off the bench. She couldn’t shake Russo’s gaze and felt it like a weight. Did he blame her for what Marz did? Could he blame her more than she blamed herself? As soon as the rebuttal was finished, Cate banged the gavel, ended the session, and practically fled the courtroom.
Russo was still sitting there when she left.
Keep a look out, tonight. A dark blue Subaru.
Cate shuddered, driving away from the courthouse. It was almost dark, and she’d ended the workday early, having fussed all afternoon with the same opinion, unable to clear her head enough to write. She hadn’t heard a word from Russo. He made no attempt to call chambers or contact her. She’d called Nesbitt and left a message for him at the Homicide desk, but he hadn’t called back yet. In truth, she didn’t know what she’d have said to him. Russo hadn’t done anything wrong and he wasn’t the threat to her. Marz was.
Do you have a gun?
Marz really could be out there. She couldn’t be in denial. She’d been fairly safe in her office, walled behind locks and federal marshals, but now she was on her own. She glanced in her rearview mirror at the car behind her, but it was too dark to tell its make. Its headlights were too high to be a Subaru. It must be an SUV.
She eyed the cars around her as she traveled down Race Street. Plumes of exhaust curled from the car bumpers, chalky in the bitter-cold night. She didn’t see a Subaru, but she wouldn’t have been able to tell one from a Toyota or Honda. She felt tense the whole time and took a quick right when the light changed, heading east to vary her driving routine, just in case. She drove all the way to her street with an eye in the rearview, and after she saw no Subaru on her street, wasted no time barreling into her garage, closing the door behind her, and hustling into the house, checking all the locks.
It wasn’t five minutes later that her doorbell rang.
CHAPTER 12
Cate hurried to the window and pushed the curtain aside an inch. She couldn’t see who was at the door. Maybe they’d go away.
Ding dong!
She went for her purse, dug out her cell phone, and flipped it open, her finger on the emergency button. She went to the door and pressed an eye to the peephole.
Russo. Cate froze. She didn’t know what to do. What did he want? Why was he here? Had he seen her come in? Was he watching her house, too? On the other hand, what was she afraid of? He was a detective, and she’d liked him when he testified.
Ding dong! She couldn’t ignore him, could she? She hated feeling so afraid, for no reason. She was working herself up for nothing. She finally pressed the intercom to speak. “Yes?”
“Judge Fante, it’s Detective Russo. I’d like to speak with you for a few minutes, if you don’t mind. I tried to see you after court, but your secretary said you’d left early. It’s important.”
“Hold on,” Cate said, relaxing. She was being paranoid. She flipped the phone closed, set it on the entrance table, and opened the front door. “Come in, Detective.”
“Thanks.” Russo entered the entrance hall, and Cate closed the door behind him. He took up most of the small room, taller in his brown leather coat than he’d looked on the witness stand. His eyes were dark, and his largish nose red from the cold, though his hair remained in glossy place, as if he had just combed it. He said, “Sorry to bother you at home.”
“Would you like a drink? A Coke or something?”
“No, thanks. I won’t stay long.”
“Come on in.” Cate walked ahead and gestured him into the living room, taking a quick look around to see if it was in order, a homeowner’s impulse. She straightened two magazines on the glass coffee table and sat down on the soft tan couch. “Please, take a chair.”
“Thanks.” Russo eased heavily into the side chair, looking around. “This is a lovely house. How long have you lived here?”
“About six years.”
“Nice.” Russo looked around again, and in the light from the Waterford lamp on the end table, Cate could see the pain in his eyes.
“I saw you in the courtroom today. Why were you there?”
“I just wanted to go back, I guess, like it was a crime scene. I’m still trying to figure this whole thing out. Simone, dead. Rich, a fugitive.” Russo’s voice softened with naked emotion. “I can’t believe he would do that. I can’t believe it all came to this.”
“I know exactly what you mean.” Cate paused. “Let me say something that might not be standard procedure.”
“Go right ahead.” Russo chuckled, his heavy shoulders shifting once in the jacket. “My coming here sure isn’t procedure.”
“I’m very sorry about the way the case came out. I ruled the way I had to, not the way I wanted to. That’s probably all I should say on the subject. It’s not more than I said in open court.”
“I understand.” Russo’s full lips went tight. “I guess it’s just hard to swallow.”
“I know.” Cate felt sad for him. Detective Russo had had a dream, too. He would have been an equal partner with Marz, and unlike Marz, he wasn’t a young man any longer.
“Sometimes, what gets to me is, you can never get over. You know what I mean? No matter how hard you try, and how much you work, and even how good you are, you can never get over. We played by the rules and we played with honor, and in the end, we didn’t win. That’s the worst to me. When you work that hard, and you still don’t win.” Russo fell silent, seeming to examine his hands on his lap.
“I know it must be hard,” Cate said, when the silence became almost uncomfortable.
“It’s like, when I was a uniform, a beat cop, I’d risk my ass to collar some knucklehead, some lowlife. Then, a judge would come along and let him off, on a technicality.” Russo looked down. “That’s what this is like. Like they got off on a technicality.”
Cate shifted uncomfortably. “I feel for you, and for Rich Marz. I hope he turns himself in soon. Have you spoken with him?”
Russo looked up, shaking his head. “Not since yesterday.”
“I know they have him on videotape, but it’s so hard to believe he did it.”
“I don’t know what I believe, Judge.” Russo kept shaking his head, his cheeks slack. “I can’t figure this out. It stinks to high heaven. I don’t know who the hell’s on that tape.”
“You don’t think it’s him?” Cate asked, mystified.
“You tell me.” Russo got up abruptly and crossed to the entertainment center. “This your VCR?”
“Yes. Why?”
Russo withdrew a black cartridge from his jacket pocket and slid it into the VCR. “I want to know what you think of this, Your Honor. I value your opinion.”
“You have the tape?” Cate’s mouth dropped open. “How did you get that?”
“I’m a detective, remember?” Russo turned on the TV and pressed the button for the video. “Hey, I got the same TV.”
“But I thought this was Nesbitt’s case, and the other detective’s.” Cate got up slowly, regretting she had let him in. “I don’t want to see that tape. I don’t think I should. It’s not right. It could compromise the evidence or—”
“No, it won’t.”
“Detective, I don’t want to see it.”
“Come on, tell me what you think. I can’t gure this out, and you’re so much smarter than me. Sorry. Than I.”
“But a man was killed.” Cate recoiled, as the tape started, grainy and fuzzy. “I don’t want to see that. Please don’t turn it on.”
“Look, Judge.” Russo pointed at the image on the screen, which wasn’t Marz and Simone at all. It was pornography. Amateurish. Grainy. A muscled man lay on top of a woman, making l
ove to her on a bed. The man’s buttocks flexed as he thrusted, and the woman’s legs were wrapped around his waist, her breasts heaving. The audio was fuzzy, but for moaning.
“What are you doing?” Cate said, appalled. “Are you sick?”
“This man has a criminal record, Your Honor. Ag assault, extortion, attempted rape. He’s a thug, a knucklehead.”
“Stop it!” Disgusted, Cate rushed to the VCR, then froze. On the screen, the man turned to the camera and winked. He had dark hair and dark eyes. It was the man from last night, at the pink motel. The dead man. Jim Partridge. Elvis.
Russo started laughing as Cate pounded the POWER button. The TV screen went black.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing!” Cate demanded, horrified.
“You might answer that same question, Your Honor. See, yesterday, after you took my future away, I had to go back to work. I was on duty last night. I caught this case. Some poor slob fell offa balcony. They’re not sure if it’s a homicide. So I go check it out.”
Oh my God.
“I found the videocamera in the closet, next to the bed, but I guess you knew that. The motel owner was in business with your young boyfriend, making amateur videos, but I guess you knew that, too. They sold quite a few. Is that your gig? Did you take a cut, Your Honor?” Russo grew angry, and Cate backed away toward the front door.
“Get out of my house!”
“You gonna tell me you didn’t know about that, Judge? That you’re not in on it? What, do you take a piece?” Russo sneered. “Oh, I wish you could see your face right now! Maybe you didn’t know. Is that it? Why’d you throw all that money at him? Was he blackmailing you? What’d he have on you? Did he have a tape on you, already?”
“Get out!” Cate shouted, opening the front door and grabbing her cell phone from the table. “Get out or I’ll call the cops.”
“You saw what—correction, who—Mr. Partridge did the night before last, and you know what he did last night. You’re next on the tape, but you don’t get laid like the other girls. Why not, Your Honor?” Russo headed for the door, grinning. “I’ll go, I don’t want you callin’ the po-lice. But answer me this, what’s a federal judge like you doing in a place like that? What? Paying off a thug, for what? You tell me. You, so high and mighty, who sits in judgment of me and my friend!”
“Get out or I’ll scream!” Cate yelled, and Russo burst into laughter, his dark eyes flashing with a reckless glint she hadn’t seen before, or in court.
“Admit it was you. It was you on that porn tape.” Russo leaned over and drilled a finger between her breasts, and Cate smacked his hand away.
“Don’t you dare!”
“Admit it. It’s you. You’re a crook.”
“GET OUT!” Cate shoved him out the door, and Russo let himself be pushed, but stopped on the threshold, so close she could feel his spit on her face.
“I know what a phony you are. What a hypocrite you are. I’m gonna find out what he had on you, Your Honor. And what you had to do with his accident!”
Cate slammed the door, swallowing her scream. Then she closed all the curtains in her living room and rushed back to the TV.
She had to see that tape.
CHAPTER 13
Cate pressed the ON button on the remote, her fingers trembling, and the TV came back on. The naked couple were having sex, and she fast-forwarded through it with disgust, then slowed to a stop. They were still having sex, so she sped it up again, then stopped. The date on the bottom of the screen had changed to yesterday’s date. She sank into one of the chairs to watch and pressed PLAY.
The TV screen showed a man whose face was too close to be in focus, but he didn’t look like Partridge. He appeared to be fiddling with the louvered slats on a door, permitting the camera lens to peek out.
There had been a closet next to the bed.
Then he passed in front of the lens, a short shadow, and the scene showed an empty bed. Cate pressed REWIND and watched again, confirming what she had seen. The man must have come in to turn on the camera. Maybe while she’d been waiting in her car, the motel owner had run upstairs. No. Partridge had called him from his car, alerting him that he was coming ahead, with a girl.
Ugh.
Cate returned to the TV screen. The slats from the louvers on the top and bottom made a black border, giving the impression of peeking through a keyhole, spying on an empty bed. She didn’t even want to think about how many women had been on tape without knowing. She could have been one. As Gina would have said, serves you right.
Cate checked the bottom of the screen. The time read 10:05, in white numbers. She thought a minute. That would be about when she and Partridge got to the room.
Against the door.
Cate remembered her own words, sickened now by them. He had wanted to have sex on the bed, and now she knew why. In the end he’d given up on the bed and acceded to her request; he wanted the play more than the tape. Or maybe he figured he’d get her there, sooner or later. Next she heard voices on the tape, indistinct but sounding like a man and a woman. Cate played it back with the volume higher, to try to make out the words, but she couldn’t.
On TV, the scene showed the empty bed, with talking in the background interspersed with silences. She figured they were kissing at the door in the hallway, out of the shot. Then she heard the word wait distinctly. She rewound to make sure. “Wait!” Cate heard herself say it, unclear, but she knew it was her. She must have been struggling with the Tiffany bracelet, trying to get it off at this point.
Then she heard her voice louder, but she couldn’t understand what she’d been saying. It must have been when he’d been walking her backwards toward the bed. He’d wanted to get her in camera range, but she’d been fussing with the bracelet. Then Partridge walked backwards into the TV picture, his back to the camera, and fell onto the bed, throwing up his arms. The view was upside down, with the top of Partridge’s head to the camera and his legs stretched out on the bed, hanging over it at the knee.
Cate rewound to watch it again and hear what he’d said. He was laughing, and she caught “Damn” and then “Hurry!” Suddenly he sat bolt upright, and Cate knew he must have been listening to her say she wasn’t staying.
She watched herself walk into the frame—almost. She recognized her legs and the black Blahniks she’d worn yesterday, and the edge of her trench coat showed. In the next second she stepped closer, and the following frames showed her upper body in her raincoat, a flash of white silk blouse, and then her chin. But no more of her face.
Cate held her breath, then exhaled in relief. She had stopped there in the motel room, just out of camera range. She hadn’t walked far enough into the room to get her whole face. Thank God! Still her gut tensed, watching. She knew what would happen next. On the TV screen, Partridge was still sitting up with his back to the camera, and Cate could see her hand offer him a wad of bills, which he slapped aside, sending the cash flying. Next came words, indistinct until he shouted, “You can’t pay me!”
Cate played it again, and it came through almost understandably. Had he said that? She couldn’t remember.
On the TV, Partridge leapt off the bed and ran out of frame. He was coming after her. He’d shoved her against the door now. She tried not to think about his rough hand or the raw terror she felt. Then the screen went still, and there was a shot of the empty bed again, the bedcovers wrinkled slightly.
Cate watched the bottom of the screen. 10:13, 10:14, 10:15. Partridge would have been outside on the balcony now.
Cate edged forward in the seat. She didn’t know when he’d fallen. The tape could tell her something about his death. She watched, engrossed, the empty bed, and then Partridge came back into the room, staggering slightly. He stopped, faced the camera, then gave it the finger and burst into laughter. Then he fell face forward on the bed.
10:42, 10:43, 10:44.
Partridge didn’t move and he appeared to have fallen asleep. She kept watching, then the tape went blac
k. She got up, went to the VCR, and slid out the tape. It was at its end. So either the section that Russo had given her was over or the camera had run out of tape. Maxell, a two-hour tape. They must have used it, filming the different girls, saving on tape by turning the camera on and off after each girl. She could verify by watching the porn, but she wasn’t up to that.
Cate looked up at the screen, gray with static snow. At some point, Partridge must have gotten up, groggy and drunk, gone outside in the rain and fallen off the balcony. She sank onto the padded arm of the chair. Partridge: a jerk, a pig. What had Russo said: Ag assault, extortion, attempted rape. It was still sad. He was dead.
Cate set the tape on the edge of the entertainment center, wondering how she had gotten herself into such a mess, then knowing exactly how she had gotten herself into this mess. Her sex life on tape, and now a detective believed she was a crooked judge.
She got up and went to the phone.
CHAPTER 14
Cate reached Gina after Warren had gone to bed. She told the story, start to finish, going back from morning until night. Afterwards there was complete silence on the end of the line. “Geen?”
“I’m here, trying to figure out when your life got so exciting. Sex videotapes? What is this world coming to?”
“No good.”
Gina sighed. “But you know what I don’t get? How did Russo know it was you on the tape?”
“It is me.”
“You said you couldn’t see your whole face, just the lower half. How does he know for sure that it’s you?”
“He does. He sounded like he did.”
“How was the audio? Could you tell it was your voice?”
“No, not really.” Cate thought about it. She’d been too panicked to analyze it before. “What if he remembered my outfit from court that day, or my shoes?”