“You’re right.” Michael pulled the phone back. “It is too risky. I’ll have to think of something else.”
“So I can go home now?” The kid started to push up out of the chair.
“I didn’t say that. We’re going to be constant companions a little longer.”
Anthony sank back down in the chair, muttering under his breath.
“My couch isn’t that bad.” Michael started to set the phone back beside Betty Jean’s computer.
Anthony leaned forward in the chair and grabbed it away from Michael. “Oh, what the heck. Maybe I’ll make that call after all. Looks like I won’t ever get away from you any other way.”
He punched in the number from memory.
27
It wasn’t a good plan. Actually Michael couldn’t call it a plan at all. It was just happening. Had been just happening ever since the gun in the evidence room made the impossible seem possible. Of course he could have still controlled what happened then. It wasn’t until he put the phone in front of Anthony and challenged him to make the call that he lost control.
That was where he made his first mistake. At least his first mistake today. Heaven knew, he’d made plenty of other mistakes on this investigation before that. A soft drink can dug a hole in Michael’s leg as he crouched out of sight in the back floorboard of Anthony’s beat-up old Chevy.
First they should have talked about where to set up the meeting, but Anthony played his own game on the phone and ignored Michael’s hastily penciled directions.
The stupid kid had pushed Michael’s paper away and said, “At the lake. You know the spot. Where you last saw my mother.”
Not exactly the ideal place to confront a desperate man. A man who would kill, had already killed more than once, to keep his secrets.
Now with the driver’s side door swinging open, Michael peeked through the space between the seat and the door and caught a glimpse of Anthony on the rock ledge jutting out over the lake. Way too close to the edge. He was peering down at the water, thinking thoughts no doubt as murderous as the man he’d dared to meet him there.
That was another flaw with the plan. The boy. The major flaw. Michael had no idea what Anthony might do. He never should have put him out there as bait. He should have locked him up in the jail and come out here by himself to see what happened.
He knew proper police procedure, and here he was acting like some kind of crazy television detective scrunched in the back of an old car with a spotty radio signal and no cell reception out here, maybe no backup coming. No help. Nothing. Worst of all, he had no idea what the murderer might do. What if he just drove up and started shooting? Or he might try to run down the kid and, in the process, bang this old clunker with Michael inside it into the lake. Could be, he wouldn’t come at all.
That was Michael’s first hopeful thought since he deserted his patrol car and climbed into the backseat of Anthony’s car. Maybe nobody would show up. Maybe he and Anthony were wrong. He hoped he was wrong. He had never wanted to be wrong so much in his life.
He felt as though he were sneaking up on the blackness to pluck out another lost memory, and this time when he looked at it, his life here in Hidden Springs was going to be shot to smithereens. What was it he had told Anthony? That it was better to know the truth. An easier thing to say when it was somebody else’s truth.
Michael checked his watch. Ten thirty on the dot. The time the kid had thrown out on the phone. “See anything?” Michael whispered.
“No.” Anthony’s voice showed the first sign of uncertainty. “What time is it?”
“10:31.” Michael peered at his watch again. “We’ve been here almost ten minutes.”
“Ten minutes? Feels more like an hour.” Anthony came over to lean against the car. “I guess we have to give him time, huh?”
“You know what you’re going to do if or when he gets here?”
“Yeah, you told me a hundred times on the way out here.”
Michael bit back the urge to go over it again with him anyway. Michael hadn’t totally deserted his good sense. He had coached the boy on what to do if the trap worked. He had put out a call for Buck. Buck might be a Lone Ranger, but he had a knack for showing up when something was going down. He might already be out there on the main road watching for their suspect.
Michael shifted his body to keep his legs from cramping up. The seconds leaked by and dragged the minutes along behind them. He hated waiting like this. The slower the minutes ticked by, the more he doubted the wisdom of letting Anthony stay out in the open. The kid was altogether too exposed, too close to the edge in more ways than one.
His bad feeling about the whole thing grew worse when he checked his watch and saw it was 10:39, nine minutes past the appointed meeting time.
He thought briefly of Alex’s muffins and felt closer to a smile than he thought possible. He might never know now whether she could really cook or not.
10:41. Michael scooted up where he could see out the window. Time to call a halt to this nonsense. The murderer wasn’t going to show.
“Get down. You’re going to blow it,” Anthony hissed without looking around at him. “Somebody’s coming.”
Against his better judgment, Michael slid back down in the seat as he pulled his gun out of his holster. This was insane. He must have taken leave of his senses. Still it was happening now, and it was up to him to see that nobody else died.
Tires crunched on the gravel as the car slowly came toward them.
“It’s him,” Anthony said when the car broke into the clearing. “Dear old Dad.”
It was all Michael could do not to sit up and look. Even though he had decided there could be no other answer, he still had a hard time believing it. He needed to see it with his own eyes, but he stayed down and whispered, “Don’t do anything stupid, Anthony.”
“Like what? Stand out here and make a target?”
“Just do what we said,” Michael said.
“Yeah, okay. Sucker him into admitting he knocked off Rayburn and good barber Joe, and then you’ll burst out of the car like Superman and arrest him.”
“Something like that.” Michael gripped the gun harder.
“How about Mama? You want me to get him to admit that too?”
“Just stick to the plan and don’t get shot.”
The car slowed to a stop not far from them. The muscles in Michael’s chest tightened and his hand holding the gun leaked sweat. He wondered how fast he could really burst out of the car. The whole thing was ridiculous. He wasn’t even playing a competent crazy television detective. Not only that, he had the weirdest feeling he’d somehow been here before. As if he were replaying a scene he’d already done once.
A car door opened and then slammed shut. Maybe he didn’t even need a verbal confession. Just showing up was admission of guilt enough.
“Hey, Pops.” Anthony sounded unconcerned. “You bring the money?”
“I’ve got it.” The man’s voice was low, not the judge’s normal booming tone at all.
Inside the car, Michael’s every sense was heightened. He could not only hear but almost feel the judge stepping closer. Keep him back, kid, he shouted in his mind.
“Good,” Anthony said. “Just put it on the ground and don’t come any closer.”
“All right,” the judge said. There was a moment of complete, deep, and terrible silence. “Now what, son? Do you just take the money and disappear, never to bother me again?”
“Don’t call me son,” Anthony shouted, his control shattering like glass.
“Take it easy, boy. Fact is, we can agree on that. I never was that sure you were mine anyway. Could be your mama just settled on me because I had the deepest pockets and more reason to want to keep things hushed up than some of the others. Or who knows? She might have been holding several men around town up for a few dollars.” The judge laughed a little. “That would have been a real joke on us all. Something Roxanne would have liked.”
“You were the
only one.”
“How do you know?”
“Rayburn told me.”
The judge laughed again, and inside the car, Michael tensed, ready to spring out of the car.
“Rayburn never told you anything. Rayburn didn’t know anything to tell you.”
“Then why did you kill him? Why did you kill my mother?”
The judge didn’t answer him. Instead he said, “This all your idea, boy? How’d you get away from Michael?”
“The sheriff called and told him to let me go.”
“Is that right?” the judge said. “And I didn’t think Al was paying any attention when I told him it might cause trouble to keep holding you without any kind of charges.”
“Keep your hands where I can see them.” Anthony’s voice went up a little.
“Or what? I don’t see much way you’re going to stop me doing whatever I want. It wasn’t too smart of you to come down here all alone without a gun or anything.”
“How do you know I don’t have a gun?”
“How do you know I don’t?” The judge’s voice sounded definitely closer.
“What’d you do? Steal another one from the sheriff’s office?”
“The sheriff’s office?” The judge sounded suddenly wary. “What made you say that?”
Confession or no, Michael couldn’t wait any longer. He pushed open the door and pointed his gun straight at the judge’s chest. “Hold it right there, Judge.” He managed to keep the gun level as he climbed out of the car.
The judge swore and shook his head. “Aww, Michael. I was afraid you were in there.”
Michael stared at the judge while inside his head something clicked. The blackness parted, and he went back in time. He smelled the gas, the burnt rubber, the blood. He remembered the awful silence after the horrendous crash and how somehow the silence seemed the loudest. A face peered through the window at him. The face in front of him now.
“You killed them.” Michael’s words sounded flat to his ears.
The judge knew who he meant. His face changed, became almost sad. “Eva wouldn’t give it up, but it was an accident. All an accident.”
“Like my mother’s car going in the lake was an accident?” Anthony spoke up.
“That’s right. That was an accident too. I was going to give her the money she wanted, but she knew better than to expect she wouldn’t have to earn it. Your mama, she could be a handful when she took a mind, so we were tussling a little there in her front seat. Nothing to worry about, but then she must have knocked against the gearshift. Silly woman left the motor running. I don’t know what happened then. Maybe she hit the gas instead of the brakes. I barely got out before it went over.” The judge looked over at the cliff. “We should have put some kind of guardrail down here years ago.”
Anthony stared at the judge. “Why didn’t you help her?” His voice was barely above a whisper.
“I wanted to, son. Really I did. That was one of the hardest things I ever did. Watching that car settle into the lake, but sometimes you have to think of what’s best for the most people. Besides, there was no way I could get to her. No way to help. Even if she did survive the crash off the cliff, by the time I got back with help she’d have drowned for sure. I never was much of a swimmer.”
The judge shook his head almost as if the thought still made him sad. He looked at Anthony and went on. “I thought a lot of your mama, and I watched the lake a good long time after the car sank, hoping she’d come to the top.”
“But she didn’t.” Anthony’s face twisted in pain as his voice grew louder. “You just left her in the lake and went home like nothing was wrong.”
“I did what had to be done. It wasn’t as if I could change anything. It had already happened.”
“All these years you’ve lived a lie.” Michael spoke up.
“Now, tell me, Mike. What good would it have done to tell anybody? I had plans for Hidden Springs. I couldn’t let something like Roxanne stand in the way. It was unfortunate, but she was dead. There wasn’t any reason for me to sacrifice my political career just so she could get buried in the ground instead of the lake. Dead’s dead.”
“And my parents?” Michael asked.
“I did hate that.” The judge looked grieved. “The way things worked out and all. But Roxanne must have told your mother that I was the boy’s daddy. Eva was a good woman, but she just didn’t understand. She always thought things should be simple.”
“And they weren’t.” An image of his mother smiling and straightening his collar popped into Michael’s mind.
“They never are,” the judge said. “They never are.”
“So you left me for dead too.”
“I thought you were already dead. Your eyes were open, fixed, and I couldn’t see your chest moving. You looked like you’d gone on. I had to believe it was for the best.”
“For the best,” Michael echoed. He felt dizzy, the way he used to years ago after the wreck and something he saw or heard would make too many memories surface at once. At times then, he had wanted to walk back into the blackness and rest awhile. That was the way he felt now.
The judge kept talking. “It wasn’t as if I aimed for any of it to happen. Instead, it was almost like somebody was taking care of things for me. First Roxanne. Then your folks. Don’t you see? It all happened the way it had to.”
Michael stared at the man in front of him. This couldn’t be the man he’d lived next door to most of his life. The man who’d paid him to rake his leaves. Whose wife gave him cookies. The man who stepped in as a father figure after his own father had died. The man who caused his father to die.
“The way it had to.” Anthony screamed out the words and dived toward the judge, swinging both fists.
“No, Anthony,” Michael yelled, but it was too late. Quicker than Michael thought possible, the judge had a hammerlock on Anthony with a gun pointed at his temple.
Across the few feet between them, Michael’s and the judge’s eyes met. Michael still had his gun pointed at the judge, but now the boy was in between.
“Put the gun down, Michael,” the judge said. “Slowly.”
“Don’t do it, Deputy. He’s going to kill us both anyway,” Anthony said.
Michael kept the gun pointed toward the judge. “No, he won’t. He wouldn’t kill his own son.”
“I told you I never thought he was mine. Never.” The judge’s voice was steady and cold. “So put down your gun before I shoot him.” His finger tightened on the trigger.
“Easy, Judge.” Michael slowly lowered the gun and put it on the ground while he frantically tried to come up with a plan of action. He couldn’t charge at him. Anthony would be dead before he got halfway there. “You can’t get away with this.” Michael looked out toward where the gravel road came into the clearing. “I’ve got backup coming.”
The judge laughed a little as he pushed Anthony closer to Michael and the car. “I’ve been looking around corners more years than you can remember, son, and I can count on one hand with fingers left over the times I’ve let somebody surprise me. Fact is, I called Sally Jo and told her you didn’t need backup after all. That you’d decided to take the day off to take Alex to Eagleton. That’s why she didn’t raise you on the radio.”
“Why would she believe you?”
“I’m the judge. I run the county. Why wouldn’t she believe me?”
“I had already called Buck. He’ll be here.”
“You do need to practice your lying, Michael. That’s always been a failing you had. Too truthful. Too sincere. Too dedicated.”
“Before today, I would have used those same words to describe you, Judge.” Michael searched for the right thing to say or, failing the right words, at least some way to save the kid. He couldn’t let the judge kill Anthony.
“I’m sure you would have, along with most of Hidden Springs. But lying so folks will believe your every word is a talent like anything else. One it appears I’m gifted with.”
“You
won’t be able to lie your way out of this.” Michael’s hand itched to grab his gun off the ground.
“Not with you, but unfortunately, you won’t be around to hear the lies.” Judge Campbell let out a sorrowful breath.
“What lies are you going to tell?” Michael needed to keep him talking.
“What difference does it make, Deputy? He’s going to kill us.” Anthony’s voice was high and shrill. “Just shut up and let him get on with it.”
The judge shoved the end of the gun barrel harder against Anthony’s head. “Young people. No patience. Always in such a hurry.”
“Let the kid go, Judge. Give him the money and let him disappear.”
“And have to pay him over and over the way I had to Rayburn?” The judge’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t think so. Better to just wipe the slate clean. Besides, I can’t let him go. He’s the murderer, didn’t you know?”
Anthony’s eyes were wide and showing a lot of white. Michael tried not to show the same fear, to act as though they were discussing some minor happening in town. Not life and death. His death. Every minute he kept the judge talking was a little more chance for somebody to show up. Maybe not Buck, but somebody. He kept his voice casual. “I don’t see how you can make people believe that. He’s just a kid.”
“But a kid who’s always in trouble. Doing things he shouldn’t. It will all make perfect sense. The boy knocks off Rayburn because he finds out he killed his mother.”
“What about Joe?”
The judge sighed a little. “Joe was hard.”
“He saw you kill Rayburn?”
“I don’t think he saw me, but he did see me coming in too early that morning. I don’t know how Joe knew the things he did, but he recognized Rayburn as somebody he’d seen with me. Who knows when. But Joe never forgot anything that he ever saw happen in Hidden Springs, and then he was always putting two and two together and getting five.”
“But this time he got the right answer.” Michael eased a little closer to the judge and Anthony.
“Not right for him.”
“I wouldn’t ever kill anybody with scissors.” Anthony spoke up.
Murder at the Courthouse Page 23
