She was best friends with the director of the Rose City Women’s Shelter, Esther Reynolds, and had actually testified at her trial for killing her husband.
Carole had been involved with the married defense attorney Stuart Wolfe. As in lovers.
Nina had said plaintively: “He didn’t admit to it, but by the still-got-the-hots-for-her look in his eyes, he might as well have.”
Ray wrinkled his nose, feeling like a jealous boyfriend. Or even an indignant husband. Why hadn’t she been up front about her past—especially regarding Stuart Wolfe?
This thought alone consumed Ray. When were they together? For how long? Was Carole still seeing Wolfe or wishing she could?
Even worse was the prospect that Carole might really be the Vigilante Batterer Killer. Meaning he could have fallen in love with his worst nightmare from a professional point of view. Hell, it wasn’t exactly something he could stomach from the personal side of things either.
It made Ray wonder if he really knew this woman he’d let into his life. What other secrets was she harboring?
Did he truly want to know?
Not necessarily, but I need to know.
Ray glared at Nina, resentful she had investigated Carole—his Carole—behind his back.
“Why the hell didn’t you come to me with this from the start?” he demanded, though he knew what she would throw back at him.
Nina squirmed in the chair across his desk, but kept her gaze fixed on Ray’s face. “Why the hell do you think?” she snorted. “To you the judge seemed to walk on water. Maybe I would’ve felt the same way, had I let my personal feelings get in the way of my professional judgment, as you obviously did.”
Ray bit into his lip. “Maybe you don’t know me as well as you seem to think you do, Parker,” he hissed, feeling like he was about to explode inside. “Or maybe you don’t really know her—”
“Will you wake up and smell the roses, Barkley!” Nina nearly levitated out of the chair. “I’m trying to save your ass here. Mine, too. This isn’t about your sex life. Or senior detective status with the superior attitude. It’s about solving a case and saving lives. This was a judgment call, okay. I went with my instincts and common sense that told me Judge Cranston was the one person who seemed to tie all the disjointed pieces together. If that’s wounded your male ego or taken a bite out of your romantic adventure, I’m sorry!”
Ray took a long breath, steadying himself in the process. Deep down he knew she had done the right thing. Just as he would have had the situation been reversed.
That still didn’t convince him Carole was their killer. Not the woman he believed her to be. The one who had reached a part of him few others had.
But, he conceded, the circumstantial evidence was hard to ignore in the face of the facts they did have.
His feelings for Carole would have to be put on hold until he saw where this went. He hoped it wasn’t all the way to hell and back.
“You did good, Parker,” he told his partner in a sobering voice. “Even if you didn’t trust me enough to let me know what you were up to.” He sighed. “Why don’t we follow up on this information and go from there?”
Nina nodded thoughtfully, resisting any notion of rubbing salt into his obviously deep wounds. “All right. Deal.”
* * *
They rode in awkward silence as Ray pondered what he knew about Carole and what he didn’t. She had tried to tell him something, but he wouldn’t let her. Maybe it was it about her parents...her father killing her mother and how it had affected her.
She could have wanted to tell him about her past relationship with Stuart Wolfe...and where they stood today.
Or had Carole actually wanted to confess to being an avenging angel for battered women? A serial killer living on the edge of sanity?
He wondered if any of what they had was real. Or had Carole just been using him as a means to stay one step ahead of the investigation?
The questions seemed to outnumber the answers about ten to one. Ray wasn’t sure he was up to having the pieces of the puzzle filled in where it concerned Carole the judge, lady, and lover. But he also knew he couldn’t run away from them any more than he could the woman herself.
They had secured a warrant to search Stuart Wolfe’s vehicle, in case he decided not to cooperate after all. Another warrant would be easier to get for other property searches if this yielded anything significant.
It was three-thirty that afternoon when the detectives arrived at Stuart’s office. Police technicians had followed them, prepared to go over the car with a fine-toothed comb. If there was anything inside or outside to tie the vehicle to any of the murders, they would find it.
Stuart was more than cooperative, walking them to the garage where the car was parked.
“This whole thing is crazy,” he protested mildly. “You can’t find something that isn’t there.”
“Let’s hope not, Wolfe,” Ray said menacingly. “For your sake—”
But it wasn’t his sake that Ray was really worried about. It was Carole’s. If she could be tied to the car in any way, she would be in big trouble.
The techs got to work right away while Ray and Nina observed closely, alongside a stoic Stuart.
He gave Ray a hard look. “Carole really likes you, man. I hope to hell you don’t end up stabbing her in the back for something she couldn’t—and wouldn’t—have done!”
“Give it a rest, Wolfe,” Nina tried to interject her two cents. “Playing the guilt trip won’t work—not this time.”
But Ray had to speak for himself. He fronted Stuart man to man. “You seem to know a lot about her.”
“Yeah, so what’s your point?” Stuart said smugly.
Ray’s nostrils flared. “My point is that if there’s any back stabbing here it will come from you—if it’s discovered that you were withholding information in a criminal investigation.”
Ray seriously wondered if he could have betrayed Carole had Nina not stepped up to the plate, forcing him to do so as well. It was something he didn’t want to think about at the moment, much less the future implications for him and Carole.
Stuart’s brows touched. “And just what type of damned information do you think I’d be foolish enough to withhold?”
Ray glared at him. “For starters, knowledge that your car was being used in the commission of one or more murders.”
“That’s ludicrous!” Sputum flew from Stuart’s mouth. “This whole thing is a sham. We both know it—”
Before Ray could respond, one of the technicians said: “I think we may have found something...”
Cliff Featherstone was a thirty-two-year-old Native American, and eight-year veteran of the force. He climbed out of the car, plastic gloves molded to his hands, his tall, angular body righting itself. His long, black ponytail contrasted his beige complexion. He held up what appeared to be a bracelet.
“Found this wedged inside the front seat,” he said, looking from Nina to Ray. “Appears to have blood on it—”
“Looks like a woman’s bracelet,” said Nina. “Hmm...cultured pearls. Expensive stuff.” She looked at Stuart suspiciously. “Does your wife own a pearl bracelet, Mr. Wolfe?”
Without prelude, he answered convincingly: “No, she doesn’t. Vivian hardly ever wears jewelry. Certainly not something so ostentatious, even if we can afford it.”
“Maybe you bought it for someone other than your wife?” Nina questioned. “Someone who likes to wear expensive bracelets—”
Stuart shook his head vigorously in denial. “I have no idea where that came from. I’ve never seen it before in my life.”
Ray studied the stunning bracelet as Featherstone held it up to his eyes. It was rose overtone with a heart toggle. He had seen it before.
Or at least something like it.
Ray suddenly felt his stomach churn as if he were about to throw up. Carole had worn such a cultured pearl necklace and earrings the night she came to his houseboat. He had found them captivating. He r
ecalled her saying they were family heirlooms.
Did they include a cultured pearl bracelet? Had Carole worn it the night Blake Wallace was killed and somehow lost it in the shuffle?
Nina had observed his reaction. “What’s the matter, Ray? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost?”
Ray wished to hell he had. He might have been able to deal with the supernatural or some other mystical phenomenon.
Instead, he knew he could be looking at the one piece of evidence that could nail Carole as a murderess. Especially if the blood on the bracelet proved to be a DNA match for Blake Wallace’s blood or any of the other dead batterers.
Ray didn’t even want to think about the possibilities. Yet he had little choice, for there they were staring him squarely in the face.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Ray and Nina rode up the elevator in silence, as if neither wanted to be the first to speak. For Ray’s part, there was nothing left to say that hadn’t already been said. The blood on the cultured pearl bracelet would have to be tested to make sure it was human. It would take additional DNA tests to link it to any of the victims of the so-called Vigilante Batterer Killer; and consequently to get a judge to sign a search warrant against a fellow judge. If it was proven to be necessary.
Ray had chosen to bypass the search warrant for now, believing that if it was in fact Carole’s bracelet, there might be a rational explanation for why it was in Stuart Wolfe’s car. This, in spite of the man actually insisting that Carole had never been in his BMW.
Ray had been forced to take that with a grain of salt, all things considered. At this point, he wanted to keep it as informal as possible with Carole, hoping they could still somehow salvage whatever relationship they had left.
Or would be left after today.
Nina looked at him skeptically. “Are you sure you’re okay about this, Ray?”
He rubbed his head. Hell no, I’m not okay about it. But what other choice did he have? He couldn’t sit on what might be crucial evidence in a murder spree that had taken five lives. Not even when his personal life could blow up in his face like dynamite.
Nina, who had managed to possibly connect Carole to the serial killer case, had insisted she be present for questioning, on or off the record. And Ray couldn’t blame her. Or object. This was her case as much as it was his.
And Ray conceded that she was far more objective at this stage than he was.
He looked at her and kept his voice level. “Yeah. I’m fine.”
“Good,” she said concisely. “You know we have to talk to her and see what she says?”
“I know.”
“If push comes to shove, we can probably get a warrant by tonight.”
Ray winced. “Why don’t we just wait and see what happens?”
“It’s your call,” Nina said respectfully. “For now—”
The elevator doors opened and they got off, walking down the long hallway till they came to Carole’s door. It opened as if on cue, and Carole stood there as if she was part of a welcoming committee. Ray could see that she now viewed him with caution and apprehension rather than as a friend and lover.
“May we come in?” he asked politely, noting she was dressed in a stylish silver skirt suit and gray pumps, as though on her way out.
She acquiesced without a word, stepping aside.
The three stood in a triangle in the living room. Planting her eyes directly upon Ray, Carole asked in a controlled voice: “So what’s this all about, Detective Barkley?”
He swallowed the lump in his throat. Pulling out a plastic bag from his pocket containing the bracelet, he held it before her. “Do you recognize this?”
Carole needed only a moment to study the bracelet. She looked at him as if she knew instantly where he had first seen cultured pearl jewelry.
“Yes,” she responded with resignation. “It looks like the matching bracelet to a necklace and earrings I own.”
Ray glanced uneasily at Nina. Looking back at Carole, he said: “We found it in Stuart Wolfe’s car.”
Carole lifted a thin brow. Ray wasn’t sure if it was in surprise that she had been associated with the attorney or that the bracelet had been in his car.
“I’m not sure what to say,” she uttered, flushed. “Yes, Stuart and I are friends, but I haven’t been in his car in recent memory, if ever.” She paused. “Certainly not wearing that bracelet—”
Nina stepped forward. “But you don’t deny it’s your pearl bracelet?” she asked pointblank.
Carole peered at her, then Ray, asking him innocently: “Maybe you could tell me what’s going on here? Am I being accused of something? If so, I’d sure like to know what it is.”
Ray averted her eyes and back again, sighing. “We have reason to believe Stuart Wolfe’s BMW may have been driven by the person who killed Blake Wallace.” It pained him to have to draw her into this cloud of suspicion, but there was no other way at this point. “All leads, no matter how remote, have to be checked out. I’m sure you understand—”
Carole batted her lashes at him indignantly. “Yes, I think I’m beginning to...”
“Look, if you’d rather have your attorney present—” Nina said patronizingly.
Carole shot her a scathing look. “I’m a criminal court judge, Detective Parker! I think I understand the law and my rights.” To Ray she stated frostily: “This whole mix up could have been straightened out with a simple phone call.”
She abruptly marched towards her bedroom. Both detectives watched, then followed, Ray leading the way, as if his duty. He saw her bed upon entering the room and remembered how soft it felt. And how Carole had felt even softer. He wondered if he would ever get to make love to her again. It irked him that their relationship now hung in the balance, surrounded by the specter of murder.
Carole went to a jewelry box atop a dark oak dresser, yanking open a drawer. She dug around in it haphazardly, but came up empty. Her eyes popped wide at Ray as she stammered: “I can’t seem to find it. The bracelet was in here, along with the necklace and earrings. I’m sure of it.” She lifted the cultured pearl earrings and necklace to show them, as if for effect. “I know I put the bracelet back the last time I wore it—”
“And when was that?” Nina asked bluntly.
Carole looked up thoughtfully. “I really can’t remember for sure.” Her voice faltered.
Nina narrowed her eyes. “Maybe I can refresh your memory, Judge. Maybe you wore the bracelet when you beat Blake Wallace to death with a bat,” she pressed accusingly. “Or Eddie Jackson.”
“That’s enough, Parker!” Ray blared at her. But the damage had already been done. He could see it in Carole’s face, etched with fury. At him.
“How dare you!” Carole retorted bitingly, glaring at Ray, before settling in on Nina. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about!”
“We do know your father beat your mother to death.” Nina’s voice was caustic, unapologetic. “And that you witnessed it—”
Carole locked eyes with Ray. Once again he found himself unable to meet her eyes head on, hating that they both were put in such an unenviable position. Instead, he focused on the expensive jewelry box with the even pricier missing cultured pearl bracelet that may have been in his pocket.
“We also know you testified on behalf of Esther Reynolds at her trial for killing her abusive husband fifteen years ago,” Nina continued.
“So what?” Carole snapped, tossing her hands up in the air. “My family skeletons and friendships hardly make me a murder suspect, much less, a cold-blooded killer!”
“I think they do,” Nina responded bravely. “Especially if the blood on the pearl bracelet found in Stuart Wolfe’s car that we both know is yours, which you seem to have conveniently misplaced, matches that of one of the victims of the vigilante serial killer—”
Carole shook her head in disbelief. “This whole thing is totally absurd.”
Ray made himself face her. “Are you and Stuart Wolfe lovers?” he
asked in a throaty voice, the implications having dual meanings.
Carole studied the question. “No, we are not!” Her voice seemed to echo throughout the room. “I already told you, we’re just friends!”
So are we, technically speaking. And lovers. At least till now. Would they be either when this was all over?
“Friendly enough that Wolfe would allow you to use his car while he was lecturing?” Nina asked. “To commit murder?”
“I won’t even bother to dignify that with an answer,” Carole snorted derisively.
“Mind if we look around a bit?” Nina peeked at Ray then gave Carole her full attention. “Just routine, you know. We can get a warrant—”
“Go right ahead!” Carole practically did a three hundred and sixty degree turn of her slender body in disgust. “I’m not sure what you expect to find, but I have nothing to hide.”
When Nina left the room Ray approached Carole, not sure what to say. Or how to say it without sounding like an asshole who’d just stabbed his girlfriend in the back...and twisted the knife a bit for good measure.
“Look, baby,” he managed, placing a hand on her shoulder, “you have to believe I never wanted to—”
She whirled away from him as though he was her worst enemy. “Don’t!” Her voice filled with indignation. “This is not the time and certainly no longer the place to hear your sorry assed lies.”
“Carole—” Ray said regretfully. “This has nothing to do with us...” The words even sounded hollow to him.
“Like hell it doesn’t,” she lashed out. “It has everything to do with us. Do you really think I’m such a big fool that I can’t see through you? It’s obvious that whatever we had was nothing more than a sham. You used me, just like other bastards, and now you’re trying to bury me for something I had nothing to do with.”
She had it all wrong, Ray thought miserably. But how the hell could he get through to her while remembering he was a cop with a job to do—no matter who got hurt in the process, including him.
Nina got their attention. She came in, a gloved hand holding a wooden bat. “Look what I found—”
Justice Served: A Barkley and Parker Thriller Page 18
