WMC - First to Die

by James Patterson

  THE WHOLE TRUTH

  Chapter 96

  THE NIGHT FOLLOWING JENKS'S ARRAIGNMENT,

  Chief Mercer had gotten the skybox at PacBell from one of his wealthy buddies. He invited several of us, including me, Raleigh, and Cheery, to a Giants game. It was a warm summer evening. They were playing the Cards. My father would have loved it. I didn't really want to go, didn't want to feel on display as the cop who'd caught Jenks, but Mercer pressed. And it was Mark McG wire and all, so I put on a wind breaker and went along for the ride. All evening long, Chris and I kept sneaking looks at each other. There was a special energy in the box, a glowing ring around just him and me. The game was background noise. In the third, Mighty Mac hit one off Ortiz that went out of sight and almost landed in the bay. The stadium cheered wildly, even for a Card. In the fourth, Barry Bonds tied it with a shot of his own. Chris and I couldn't stop watching each other. We had our legs up on the same chair, like schoolkids, and every once in a while our calves brushed together. Jesus, this was better than the ball game. Finally, he winked at me. "Want something to drink?" he said. He went over to the bowl of drinks, which was elevated from the seats, and I followed. The others didn't look back. As soon as we were out of sight, he placed his hands on my thighs and kissed me. I felt on fire. "You want to hang around?" "Still beer left," I joked. His hand brushed against the side of my breast, and I felt a tremor. Soft hands. My breath quickened. A flicker of sweat broke through on my neck. Chris kissed me again. He drew me in close, and I felt the cadence of a heart pounding between us. I didn't know if it was his or mine. "Can't wait," he said. "Okay, let's get out of here." "No." He shook his head. "I meant I can't wait." "Oh, Jesus." I sighed. I couldn't hold back. My whole body was heating up to the boiling point. I glanced down at Cheery and Mercer and the two Mill Valley types. This is crazy, Lindsay. But everything lately was crazy, everything speeding out of control. It seemed as if every natural force in the universe was driving Chris and me to find a secluded spot. There was a bathroom in the skybox, barely large enough to put on makeup in. We didn't care. Chris led me into the bathroom while the baseball crowd roared at something. We could barely squeeze in. Jesus, I could not believe I was doing this here. He unbuttoned my blouse, I unfastened his belt. Our thighs were pressed tightly together. Gently, Chris lifted me onto him. I felt as if a shooting star had exploded in my veins. Chris was up against the counter; I was in the palms of his hands; we were squeezed into this tiny space, but we were in a perfect rhythm. A crowd roar echoed in from outside: Maybe McG wire had hit another, maybe Bonds had robbed him- who cared. We kept rocking, Chris and I. I couldn't breathe. My body was slick with sweat. I couldn't stop. Chris kept it going, I gripped on tight, and in a moment we both gasped. Two hero cops, I thought. It was the best, the freest, the most excited I had ever felt. Chris rested his forehead on my shoulder. I kissed his cheek, his neck. Then the strangest thought took hold of me. I began to laugh, a mixture of laughter and exhausted sighs. We were pinned there, spent, a few feet from my boss. I was giggling like a damn fool. I was going to get us caught! "What's so funny?" Chris whispered. I was thinking of Claire and Cindy. And what we had just done. "I think I just made the list," I said.

  Chapter 97

  THE NEXT DAY, Jenks asked to meet again. Jill and I went to see him on the tenth floor. We wondered what was up. This time, there was no cat and mouse, no bullshit at all. Leff was there, but he rose, humbly, as soon as we came in. Jenks looked far less threatening in his gray prison garb. The worried look on his face was a clear message. "My client wants to make a statement," Leff announced as soon as we sat down. I was thinking, This is it. He wants to make a deal. He's seen how ridiculous it is to play this game. But he came out with something unexpected. "I'm being framed!" Jenks announced angrily. It took about a half second for Jill's glance to bump into mine. "I have to hear this again," she said. "What's going on?" She looked at Jenks, then at Leff. "We've got your client tied to all three crime scenes; we've got him in Cleveland at the time of the last murder; we've got him lying about a prior relationship with Kathy Kogut, one of the last victims; we've got his book detailing an astonishingly similar criminal pattern; we've got his facial hairs matched to one found in another victim's vagina. And you're claiming he's being framed?" "What I'm claiming," Jenks said, ashen faced, "is that I'm being set up." "Listen, Mr. Jenks," Jill said, still looking at Leff, "I've been doing this eight years. I've built cases on hundreds of criminals, put over fifty murderers behind bars myself. I've never seen such a preponderance of evidence implicating a suspect. Our case is so airtight it can't breathe." "I realize that." Jenks sighed. "And that I've given you every reason to find my plea implausible. I've lied about being in Cleveland, my relationship with Kathy. On the others, I can't even account for my whereabouts. But I also know setups. I've mapped out more of them than anybody. I'm a master at this. And I assure you, someone is setting me up." I shook my head with disbelief. "Who, Mr. Jenks?" Jenks sucked in a long breath. He actually looked scared. "I don't know." "Someone hates you enough to set all this up?" Jill couldn't hold back a snicker. "The little I know of you, I might buy that." She turned to Leff. "You looking forward to presenting this case?" "Just hear him out, Ms. Bernhardt," the lawyer pleaded. "Look," Jenks said, "I know what you think of me. I'm guilty of many things. Selfishness, cruelty, adultery. I have a temper; sometimes I can't hold it in. And with women… you can probably line up a dozen of them who would help put me away for these murders. But clear as that is, I did not kill these people. Any of them. Someone is trying to set me up. That's the truth. Someone has done a brilliant job."

  Chapter 98

  "YOU BUY ANY OF THAT SHIT?" Jill smirked at me as we waited for the elevator outside Jenks's holding cell. "I might buy that he somehow believes it," I told her. "Give me a break. He'd be better off going for insanity. If Nicholas Jenks wants to narrow down a list of people who might want to set him up, he might as well start with anyone he ever fucked." I laughed, agreeing that the list would be long. Then the elevator door opened and, to my surprise, out walked Chessy Jenks. She was dressed in a long, taupe summer dress. I immediately noticed how pretty she was. Our eyes met in an awkward, silent moment. I had just arrested her husband. My crime-scene team had ripped apart her house. She would have every reason to look at me with complete disdain- but she didn't. "I'm here to see my husband," she said in a shaky voice. I stiffly introduced her to Jill, then I pointed her to the visiting area. At that moment, she seemed about as alone and confused as anyone I had ever seen. "Sherman tells me there's a lot of evidence," she said. I nodded politely. I don't know why I felt something for her, other than she seemed a young, vulnerable woman whose fate had been to fall in love with a monster. "Nick didn't do this, Inspector," Chessy Jenks said. Her outburst surprised me. "It's only natural for a wife to want to defend her husband," I acknowledged. "If you have some concrete alibi…" She shook her head. "No alibi. Only that I know my husband." The elevator door had closed, and Jill and I stood there waiting again. As in hospitals, it would take minutes for it to go down and come back up. Chessy Jenks didn't make a move to walk away. "My husband's not a simple man. He can be very tough. I know he's made enemies. I know how he came at you. From the outside, it must be very hard to believe this, but there are times when he's also capable of tenderness, incredible generosity, and love." "I don't mean to sound unsympathetic, Ms. Jenks," Jill stepped in, "but under the circumstances you really shouldn't be talking with us." "I have nothing to hide," she came back. Then she looked downcast. "I already know what you know." I was dumbfounded. I already know what you know? "I spoke with Joanna," Chessy Jenks continued. "She told me you'd been by. I know what she told you about him. She's bitter. She's got every right to be. But she doesn't know Nick like I do." "You should review the evidence, Ms. Jenks," I told her. She shook her head. "Guns… maybe, Inspector. If that's all there was. But a knife. That first murder. Slicing that poor couple to bits. Nick can't even fillet a fish." My first thou
ght was that she was young and deluded. How had Jenks described it? Impressionable… but something struck me as curious. "You said that you and Joanna talk?" "We have. A lot more in the past year. I've even had her over. When Nick was away, of course. I know she was bitter after the divorce. I know he hurt her. But it's sort of our own support group." "Your husband knew about this?" I asked. She forced a smile. "He didn't even mind. He still likes Joanna. And, Inspector, she's still in love with him." The elevator returned and we said good-bye. As the door closed, I looked at Jill. Her eyes were wide and her tongue was puffing out her cheek. "Whole fucking family gives me the creeps," she said with a shudder.

  Chapter 99

  I KNEW IT the minute Medved walked in the office. I saw it in his face. He didn't have to say a word "I'm afraid I can't be very positive, Lindsay," he said, meeting my eyes. "Your red count continues to decline. The dizzy spells, the fatigue, blood in your chest. The disease is progressing." "Progressing?" Medved nodded soberly. "Stage three." The words thundered in my head, bringing with them the fear of the increased treatments I dreaded. "What's the next step?" I asked weakly. "We can give it one more month," Medved said. "Your count's twenty-four hundred. If it continues to decline, your strength will start to go. You'll have to be hospitalized." I could hardly comprehend what he was saying; it was all crashing in my brain so fast. A month. That's too close. Too fast. Things were just starting to work out now that Jenks had been arrested. Everything else, everything I wanted to hold on to, was resolving, too. A month-four lousy weeks. When I got back to the office, a few of the guys were standing around grinning at me. There was a beautiful bouquet of flowers on my desk. Wildflowers. I smelled them, taking in the sweet, natural scent. I read the card. There's a hill of these where I have a cabin up at Heavenly. Tomorrow's Friday. Take the day off. Let's go there. It was signed Chris. It sounded like what I needed. The mountains. Chris. I would have to tell him, now that the truth would come clear soon. My phone rang. It was Chris. "So?" No doubt someone in the office, playing cupid, had alerted him that I was back. "Haven't opened your card yet." I bit my lip. "Too many others to sort through." I heard a disappointed sigh, let it linger just a moment. "But on the chance you were asking me away, the answer is, I'd love to. It sounds great. Let's be on the road by eight." "Late riser," he said. "I was hoping we'd beat the morning rush." "I was talking tonight." I had a month. I was thinking, Mountain air, running streams, and wildflowers is a good way to begin.

  Chapter 100

  WE SPENT THE NEXT TWO DAYS as if we were in a beautiful dream. Chris's cabin was funky and charming, a redwood A frame ski chalet on Mason Ridge overlooking Heavenly. We hiked in the woods with Sweet Martha, took the tram to the top of the mountain, and walked all the way down. We grilled swordfish on the deck. In between, we made love in the comfort of his large four poster bed, on the sheepskin rug in front of the wood burning stove, in the chilly thrill of the outdoor shower. We laughed and played and touched each other like teenagers, discovering love again. But I was no starry-eyed adolescent. I knew exactly what was taking place. I felt the steady, undeniable current rising inside me like a river spilling over its banks. I felt helpless. Saturday, Chris promised me a day I would never forget. We drove down to Lake Tahoe, to a quaint marina on the California side. He had rented a platform boat, an old puttering wooden barge. We bought sandwiches and a bottle of chardonnay, and went out to the middle of the lake. The water calm and turquoise, the sky cloudless and bright. All around, the rocky tips of snow-capped mountains ringed the lake like a crown. We moored, and for a while it was our own private world. Chris and I stripped down to our suits. I figured we'd kick back, enjoy the wine in the sun, look at the view, but Chris had sort of an expectant, dare-you look in his eye. He ran his hands through the frigid water. "No way," I said, shaking my head. "It's got to be fifty degrees." "Yeah, but it's a dry cold," he teased. "Right," I chortled. "You go, then. Catch me a coho if you see one swim by." He came toward me with playful menace in his eyes. "You can catch one yourself." "Not a chance." I shook my head in defiance. But I was laughing, too. As he stepped forward, I backed to the rear of the craft until I ran out of room. He put his arms around me. I felt the tingle of his skin on mine. "It's sort of an initiation," he said. "An initiation for what?" "Exclusive club. Anyone who wants to be in it has to jump in." "Then leave me out." I laughed, squirming in his strong arms. With only weak resistance, he yanked me up on the cushion seat in the stern of the boat. "Shit, Chris," I cried as he took hold of my hand. "Geronimo works better," he said, pulling at me. I screamed, "You bastard!" and we toppled in. The water was freezing, a total, invigorating rush. We hit the surface together, and I screamed in his face, "Goddamn you!" Then he kissed me in the water and all at once I felt no chill. I held on to him, at first for warmth, but also because I never wanted to let him go. I felt a trust for him that was so complete it was almost scary. Fifty degrees, but I was burning up. "Check this out," I dared him, kicking free of his grasp. There was an orange boat marker bobbing fifty yards away. "Race you to that buoy." Then I cut out, surprising him with my speed. Chris tried to keep up with steady, muscular strokes, but I blew him away. Near the buoy I slowed, waited for him to catch up. Chris looked totally confounded. "Where'd you learn to swim?" "South San Francisco YMCA; fourteen-, fifteen-, sixteen year-old division champ." I laughed. "No one could keep up. Looks like I still have it." Moments later, we had guided the boat to a private, shady cove near the shore. Chris cut the engine and put up a canvas shade around the cabin that was supposed to protect us from the sun. With hated breath, we crept inside, blocked off from anyone's view. I let him slowly unfasten my bathing suit, and he licked beads of water off my arms and breasts. Then I kneeled down and unbuttoned his shorts. We didn't have to speak. Our bodies were saying everything. I lay back, pulling Chris onto me. I had never felt so connected to another person, or to a place. I arched against him silently, the lake lapping gently at our sides. I thought, If I speak, it will change everything. Afterward I just lay there, tremors of warmth radiating through my body. I never wanted this to end, but I knew that it had to end. Reality always gets in the way, doesn't it?

  Chapter 101

  SOMETIME THAT EVENING, I found myself starting to cry. I had made spaghetti carbonara, and we ate in the moonlight on the deck with a bottle of pi not noir. Chris put a cello concerto by Dvorak on the stereo, but eventually we switched to the Dixie Chicks. As we ate, Chris asked about where and how I had grown up. I told him about my mom, and how my dad had left when I was just a kid; how she had worked as a bookkeeper at the Emporium for twenty years. How I had practically raised my sister. "Mom died of breast cancer when she was only fifty." The irony of this certainly wasn't lost on me. "What about your father? I want to know everything about you." I took a sip of wine, then told him how I'd only seen him twice since I was thirteen. At my mother's funeral. And the day I became a cop. "He sat in the back, apart from everybody else." Suddenly, my blood became hot with long-buried feelings. "What was he doing there?" I looked up, my eyes moist. "Why did he spoil it?" "You ever want to see him?" I didn't answer. Something was starting to take shape in my head. My mind drifted, struck by the fact that here I was, maybe the happiest I had been, but it was all built on a lie. I was blinking back the impact of what was going through my mind. Not doing real well. Chris reached over and grasped my hand. "I'm sorry, Lindsay. I had no right to…" "That's not it," I whispered, and squeezed his hand. I knew it was time to really trust him, time to finally give myself over to Chris. But I was scared, my cheeks trembling, my eyes holding back tears. "I have something to tell you," I said. "This is a little heavy, Chris." I looked at him with all the earnestness and trust my worried eyes could manage. "Remember when I almost fainted in the room with Jenks?" Chris nodded. Now he looked a little worried. His forehead was furrowed with deep lines. "Everyone thought I was just freaked out, but it wasn't that. I'm sick, Chris. I may have to go into the hospital soon." I saw the light in his eyes suddenly
dim. He started to speak, but I put my finger to his lips. "Just listen to me for a minute. Okay?" "Okay. I'm sorry." I poured out everything about Negli's. I was not responding to treatments. Hope was fading. What Medved had warned only days before. I was in stage three, serious. A bone marrow transplant might be next. I didn't cry. I told him straight out, like a cop. I wanted to give him hope, to show him I was fighting, to show him I was the strong person I thought he loved. When I was done, I clasped his hands and took a monumental breath. "The truth is, I could die soon, Chris." Our hands were tightly entwined. Our eyes locked. We couldn't have been more in touch. Then he placed his hand gently on my cheek and rubbed it. He didn't say a word, just took me and held me in the power and softness of his hands and drew me to him. And that's what made me cry. He was a good person. I might lose him. And I cried for all the things we might never do. I cried and cried, and with each sob he pressed me harder. He kept whispering, "It's all right, Lindsay. It's all right. Ills all right." "I should've told you," I said. "I understand why you didn't. How long have you known?" I told him. "Since the day we met. I feel so ashamed." "Don't be ashamed," he said. "How could you know you could trust me?" "I trusted you pretty quickly. I didn't trust myself," "Well, now you do," Chris whispered.