Beside him, Gwyn tensed, but Thorne wasn’t going to embarrass her by calling attention to it and fixed his gaze on the bulletin board with its photos and string, making himself focus on the case.
‘If Judge Segal knew about the boy, I suppose it’s possible that he set his wife up to be killed. He’d be too smart to kill her himself. Unless it was a crime of passion, of course, which this wasn’t. It was too planned. If the judge was involved, he somehow connects to Tavilla because Tavilla somehow got his hands on Patricia and that damn key ring. If the judge isn’t involved, we still need to know how Tavilla got to Patricia.’ He stared at the photo of Patricia, feeling a pained sympathy for the assaults she’d endured, both in her youth and prior to her death. ‘Can we get access to her cell phone records?’
JD looked uncomfortable. ‘Both Hyatt and Joseph have them. What would you be hoping to find?’
‘How she was lured out on Saturday night,’ Thorne said. ‘Was she called to meet someone, like I was? Or did someone slip something in her drink at a bar she went to voluntarily? I want to know how she was abducted.’
‘I’ll see if I can find out,’ JD promised. ‘Joseph has let a few things “slip” in front of me, like the details from Hinman’s house today. He’s trying to help us as much as he can.’
‘Which we appreciate,’ Clay said. ‘But we can’t ignore a possible connection to the judge, if for no other reason than that Patricia was afraid of what would happen if he found out. We need to know more about Segal and any possible connection he has to Tavilla. Paige, would Grayson be willing to do some digging for us? Perhaps see if there are any rumors about him?’
Paige’s husband, Grayson Smith, was the senior assistant state’s attorney, one of the highest positions in the prosecutor’s office. He and Joseph’s wife Daphne, also a prosecutor, had recused themselves, unwilling to jeopardize any case law enforcement was able to build by interfering with the investigation, but Grayson could still be a valuable resource.
‘I’ll ask him,’ Paige promised. ‘He has told me a few things, like that Segal’s post is an appointed one, so he doesn’t have to worry about pleasing an electorate. That can make him more vulnerable to rumor, though. He also said that Segal had a solid record against crime in the past, but that he’s made some odd rulings recently. I was planning to dig into that first thing in the morning.’
Because it was getting late, Thorne realized. ‘I’m sorry. I’ve kept you all up way past your bedtimes. We should wrap this up.’
Clay’s expression became one of rueful amusement. ‘The perfect segue if I ever heard one, because now it’s my turn. Thorne, we made up signs for you for this part. Everybody?’ Everyone in the room except Gwyn and Thorne reached for a piece of poster board they’d stored at their sides. Even Lucy and Jamie held them. ‘Turn ’em,’ Clay instructed.
All of them read IT’S NOT YOUR FAULT, THORNE! in various colors, scripts and fonts, and all were decorated with glitter and stars. At the bottom of Lucy’s sign, Thorne could see a small signature. Cordelia Maynard. Stevie’s ten-year-old daughter.
He had to swallow the sudden lump in his throat. ‘Glitter? Wow, you guys went all out.’
‘It kept Cordelia busy for hours,’ Clay said dryly. ‘I’m not ashamed to say that I’ll use glitter to my own advantage if necessary. So this is the deal, Thorne, and if you even look like you’re thinking that it’s your fault, we have other props.’
‘Water guns,’ Paige said with such unabashed delight that Thorne laughed.
Clay smiled at him. ‘So the consequences will be severe, just a heads-up.’ He rolled his shoulders, as if preparing for a fight. ‘Okay. We are postponing both the christening and the barbecue afterward, but have spread the word that the service is still on and that only friends and family will be attending.’
Thorne’s mouth fell open. No. No way. ‘But—’ he started, only to see half a dozen glitter-covered signs being waved at him. He looked at Gwyn helplessly. She looked back, her eyes bright with unshed tears, clearly appreciating this expression of support.
‘We’re sending moms and kids to Chicago,’ Clay went on. ‘My friends are there and they’ll take care of Stevie, Lucy, Paige and all our babies. Julie and Cordelia are also going, so we will only have adults in the house, and only adults who can handle a firearm.’
Thorne looked up at Lucy in shock. ‘You knew about this?’
She nodded, her eyes soft. ‘Yep.’
He checked with JD to find him nodding as well. ‘The signs were my idea,’ JD said with complete seriousness.
‘The water pistols were mine,’ Paige added smugly.
Thorne shook his head, unable to hold back his smile. ‘Of course they were.’
‘Wait,’ Gwyn said, her mouth bent in a sudden frown. ‘You’re sending a bunch of new mothers and babies to Chicago alone?’
Paige looked offended. ‘Bite your tongue, girl. We’re not just a bunch of “new mothers”. We are super-moms. Stevie and I can take care of ourselves. And Lucy can . . . well, she can hit any bad guys with her violin.’
Lucy feigned a shudder at the notion. ‘Bite your tongue, girl,’ she said, then smiled at Gwyn. ‘Don’t worry, Grandma. We’ll be fine.’
‘And anyway, we’re not going alone,’ Paige added. ‘Grayson’s going with us. He’s been chomping at the bit because he hasn’t been able to do anything else to help. He’s being watched like a hawk,’ she said apologetically. ‘Damn judicial politics.’
He’d done a lot to help, though, Thorne thought. The prosecutor had fully supported Paige’s involvement, even if it caused him political hardship later.
‘Plus, Taylor and Ford are going with them,’ Frederick said. ‘And Clay’s friend Ethan. It’s all arranged. We’ll go on with the appearance of a small event attended by family and friends, and we’ll make sure we’re a target that Cesar Tavilla cannot resist.’ He narrowed his eyes. ‘All of your people in one place. All armed and ready for the motherfucker.’
Thorne opened his mouth, then closed it, because he was truly overwhelmed. These people had disrupted their lives. Risked their lives. For me.
Lucy chuckled. ‘We have achieved the impossible. Thorne is speechless.’
Gwyn gripped his collar and gently pulled him down to kiss his cheek. ‘Say thank you, Thorne.’
Thorne shuddered out a breath. ‘Thank you,’ he whispered.
‘That’s all?’ Paige asked, pushing her lip out in a pout. ‘I was hoping you’d fight us.’
Alec nudged her with his foot. ‘You just want to use the water guns.’
‘Damn straight,’ she grumbled, making Thorne laugh again.
‘Thank you,’ he repeated, his voice finally steady. ‘Really. Thank you.’
Twenty
Annapolis, Maryland,
Tuesday 14 June, 11.00 P.M.
He lifted his gaze from his computer lazily, or at least it would appear so to his guest. He’d intentionally made the judge wait, stewing the arrogant man in his own juices.
‘Can I help you, Judge Segal?’ he inquired politely.
The judge took an angry step forward, but was halted by Patton’s grip on his arm. He attempted to shake Patton off. The two were well matched in terms of size and muscle, but Patton was twenty years younger and armed.
The judge was not armed. Patton had searched him thoroughly.
‘You may let him go,’ he told Patton.
The judge adjusted his suit coat with the air of a man who’d been wronged. ‘Who the fuck do you think you are?’ he hissed.
He folded his hands atop his desk. ‘Cesar Tavilla. President and CEO of Los Señores de la Tierra.’
Segal shook his head, like that didn’t matter. But it would matter. By the time this was done, it would matter a great deal.
By the time this is done, I will own the man.
Sega
l leaned across his desk to loom over him. ‘You killed my wife.’
He blinked up at Segal. ‘I did, yes.’ He gave his wrist a shake and the blade he’d hidden in his sleeve came sliding into his hand. With a flick of his thumb, he opened the switchblade and jabbed it within a centimeter of the jackass’s snarling face. ‘With this very knife. Are we done now?’
Segal paled and took a step back, hands fisted at his sides.
He had to admit to reluctant admiration. He’d expected the judge to go running. The man was not a coward.
‘That was not our agreement,’ Segal gritted out.
Conscious that Patton had crept close enough to rip Segal away if necessary, he regarded the judge soberly. ‘You would have had me murder a young man instead? The best friend of your son? A young man whose only crime was to believe your wife when she promised him a fairy-tale ending?’
Segal’s jaw clenched. ‘That was our agreement.’
‘No, that was your agreement. Our agreement was that if you provided me with information with which I could discredit Thomas Thorne, then I’d refrain from reporting your judicial indiscretions to the bar.’
‘But you were never supposed to kill my wife!’
He lifted his brows. ‘You want me to believe you loved her? Truly?’
Segal swallowed hard. ‘She was drinking herself to death. She didn’t need your help.’
For a split second, he had some sympathy for the man’s loss. Then he remembered with whom he was speaking. ‘So you would have been fine with your wife killing herself and possibly someone else’s loved one when she drove drunk?’
The judge looked away, swallowing again. ‘No.’
‘Because you weren’t going to be able to hide her DUIs forever, Judge Segal.’
‘I know that.’ Segal’s gaze returned, his eyes blazing. ‘But you didn’t have to rape her too,’ he whispered hoarsely. ‘She didn’t deserve that.’
His mouth fell open. ‘What are you suggesting?’
Segal’s mouth twisted. ‘I’m not “suggesting” anything. I’m telling you what was on the autopsy report. She was sexually assaulted. And I know it wasn’t by the kid, because I know where he was all evening. He was waiting for her in the fucking park, which was where you were supposed to collect him.’
He sat back in his chair, horrified by Segal’s accusation. Horrified by what – according to the ME – had happened. ‘You think I did that?’
‘Who else could have done it?’ Segal pointed to the knife he still held. ‘You carved her up just like . . .’ He cut himself off, looking away again.
‘Like what, Judge Segal?’ he asked quietly. ‘Like her brother was carved up by his killer?’
Segal jerked a nod. ‘She didn’t deserve that.’
‘Probably not. But she was unconscious at the time. She didn’t suffer. Unlike her brother.’
‘I don’t care!’ Segal cried, his eyes filling with what appeared to be honest tears. ‘She was a horrible wife. She was a horrible mother. But she did not deserve to be raped. Again. And she did not deserve to die that way. I had to tell my son what had happened to his mother, because I knew the media wouldn’t keep quiet. I had to tell my son that his mother was raped.’
A glance from the corner of his eye showed Patton to be as confused by the news of the sexual assault as he was. ‘Must have been Harrelson and Schwab,’ he said quietly. ‘They brought her to me already drugged up.’
He sighed. ‘I’m sorry, Judge Segal. This was not done on my command. If it helps, the men who abducted your wife are dead.’
Segal closed his eyes, sending the tears streaking down his face. ‘Of course it doesn’t help. Patricia’s still dead. My son is still grieving.’
He tilted his head, considering. He’d been following Segal’s career for years. The man was canny, never doing anything without a damn good reason. ‘Your wife has been dead since late on Saturday. It is now Wednesday. Why did you wait more than three full days to confront me?’
‘Because I’ve been busy,’ Segal snapped. ‘My son has been a wreck. I’ve had to reschedule my court calendar and arrange a funeral, on top of dodging cops and reporters.’ His throat worked as he swallowed yet again. ‘It was the autopsy report. I was furious that you’d killed her, but when I was told that she’d been raped too, I just . . . I had to do something.’
‘This time, you mean?’
‘Yes,’ he hissed. ‘This time. But just like before, there isn’t anything I can do.’
‘I understand that helpless feeling,’ he said coldly. ‘I felt it when my wife died after my son was incarcerated. And when my son was murdered in prison.’
Segal shook his head. ‘That was not my fault.’
‘That is still debatable, sir.’ He steepled his fingers, considering what he’d do with the man. Segal had contacted him through Margo, and Patton had blindfolded him when he’d brought him here. That Patton had done so without his approval was a separate topic, and his assistant would be dealt with severely. ‘I could kill you right now, you know,’ he said to the judge.
‘I know.’ Segal lifted his chin and met his gaze squarely. ‘But I wasn’t completely stupid. I left a document in my safe deposit box, detailing what I’d done and the deal I’d made with you. And that I planned to see you tonight.’
Well, if he was bluffing, he was good at it. And there was really no reason to believe he wasn’t telling the truth. The man had very little to lose at this point.
If I kill him, I risk being linked to Patricia’s murder. Of course, Thorne already suspected as much, but the man had no evidence. There was no tangible connection. The police hadn’t even sniffed his way. And he would know. He had resources in BPD, at all levels of the organization.
If I kill him, I lose a valuable resource on the bench. And those were alliances that took much longer to build.
If I let him live, he is a loose thread. Unless he is discredited for something entirely different before he can begin pointing fingers. Which I can do. Easily.
Decision made. ‘You came to avenge your wife’s honor,’ he said finally. ‘I can respect that. I won’t kill you.’
Segal’s laugh was darkly sardonic. ‘Thank you ever so much.’
He bit back the temptation to bury his blade in the man’s throat and kept his expression coolly neutral. ‘You’re welcome. Now, if you ever try to contact me again, by any means, you will regret it.’
Segal’s nod was disrespectful. ‘Same song, second verse. You kill me, I release my documents. It’s called leverage.’
He smiled, the chilling smile that usually made men quake in fear. He was happy to see Segal was not immune. ‘You still have someone to lose, Mr Segal.’
Segal paled. ‘No. You wouldn’t dare.’
‘Dare? That is the wrong word to use.’
‘My son is not part of this.’
‘Everything that is dear to you is part of this. You upped the stakes. You can’t whine when the house wins. Because the house always wins. If you ever contact me again, or if I hear the slightest whisper of my name in connection to yours, the boy dies. But first I will tell him exactly who he is. Are we quite clear?’
Segal ground his molars. ‘Crystal.’
‘Good.’ He gestured to Patton. ‘Please see that Judge Segal is returned to his vehicle, and make sure he goes directly home. It’s late and the streets are dangerous. I’d hate for something to happen to him.’
Patton looked stunned, like he’d expected to be told to kill him. ‘Yes, sir.’
‘And then come back here.’
Patton swallowed. ‘Of course.’
He watched Patton blindfold Segal and lead him away, none too gently, then picked up the phone and dialed Margo.
‘It’s late,’ she said sharply. ‘Benny is asleep.’
‘I apologize,’ he said stiff
ly. And he was sorry. In his anger, he’d forgotten about his grandson. ‘But this is urgent. Segal has papers in his safe deposit box implicating me. I’d like you to get them.’
‘That’s not so simple, Papa,’ she said doubtfully.
‘But it is crucial that you do it. Use whatever resources I have at my disposal.’
‘I will try.’
He drew a breath, irritated. He’d been too lax with her. She took advantage of her relationship to his son. And to me. Her obedience was not situational. He inserted cold iron into his reply. ‘You will succeed.’
A beat of hesitation. ‘Yes, sir.’
That was better. ‘Thank you.’
Baltimore, Maryland,
Wednesday 15 June, 12.15 A.M.
They’d finally left Clay’s very crowded house, and Gwyn was grateful for the quiet of her condo. She loved all of their friends, but she’d felt ready to bolt from the moment Lucy had basically outed her as a victim of sexual assault in front of them.
No. Not a victim. At least that wasn’t all she was. A survivor. Who was finally living again. No way would she go back into the dark. It was too lonely there.
She removed the weapons she’d been wearing all day, placing the knives and one of the guns in her nightstand drawer before stepping around Tweety to lay the remaining gun on the nightstand on the other side of the bed for Thorne’s use.
‘Just in case,’ she murmured to the dog, talking to him as she did every night. Except this night wasn’t like any other, because this night she wasn’t alone.
Through every thought, every movement, she remained acutely conscious of the huge man watching her from the doorway. ‘I was lucky today,’ she said conversationally, because she really wanted to stutter and pull a blanket over her head. She knew what he wanted to know. She knew she’d have to tell him, sooner or later.