Ray gazed at the bat, then Carole.
“Where did you get that?” Carole asked, sounding just as shocked.
“Found it in the spare bedroom closet,” Nina said. “Is it yours?”
“I’ve never seen it before,” she said wide-eyed.
Nina fluttered her lashes skeptically. “Oh, really?” She held it up towards the light. “Looks like there might be dried blood on the bat. It also looks just like the bats the killer left behind after battering her victims to death—right down to the same manufacturer. Now you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you, Your Honor?”
Carole was speechless and starting to look to Ray like a guilty person whose life was beginning to unravel before his very eyes.
And he, too, was shocked into an uncomfortable and fearful silence.
First the pearl bracelet.
Now a bat.
What the hell next?
A body stuffed in the basement?
Studying this disturbing chain of coincidences and possibly damning evidence, Ray knew it didn’t look good for Carole.
But did that make her a calculating, cold-hearted serial killer?
He stared uneasily at the question.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
The bat was immediately confiscated as possible evidence. It was also confirmed to be the same make and size of the other bats used by the Vigilante Killer.
Two days later, preliminary DNA tests showed a match between blood on the bat’s handle and Roberto Martinez’s blood. Other tests conducted on the cultured pearl bracelet linked blood found on it to blood taken from Blake Wallace. This constituted more than enough hard evidence to issue a warrant for Judge Carole Cranston’s arrest.
Nina made the arrest, along with a couple of uniformed officers. A shell-shocked Carole, accompanied by her attorney, Stuart Wolfe, went without incident. She was booked and fingerprinted at the Portland City Jail and separated from the other inmates in a holding cell.
Carole sat in a near trance on a cot that had the stench of stale urine. She had never known such humiliation till now. The press had a field day in labeling her The Honorable Judge Vigilante Batterer Killer. She had been branded a serial killer, avenging her mother’s death at the hands of her abusive father. After years of committing herself to justice, there seemed to be precious little left for her. She had already been tried, convicted, and sentenced by many.
Carole wondered if her judge and jury included Ray Barkley. Just like nearly all the men in her life, he had betrayed her. He had hurt her so much and the wounds ran so deep that she could not imagine the pain ever subsiding.
They had been lovers and Carole had thought she loved him. Even marriage and children seemed distinct possibilities. I was prepared to give my all to that man and share my life with him.
Now there was no future to look forward to. No plans to make for a lasting, loving relationship. Her fate had been sealed, partly because of being so trusting and naïve. And partly because of the ghosts of the past that had come back to haunt her just as she had instinctively known they would someday.
No matter what, Carole truly believed her life would never be the same again.
* * *
Ray sat across from Carole not as an investigator, per se, but as a man who still cared deeply for her. She was stone faced, sullen, tightlipped, and likely scared as hell. Who wouldn’t be in her position?
But she was still beautiful and desirable, even under the worst of circumstances. Ray had given her a part of himself he thought was too far buried to ever rise to the surface again. He had found someone to believe in again. To make him feel like a real man. To want to treat and cherish like a real lady.
Now she was the primary suspect in the vigilante killings. And Ray couldn’t be sure if he was looking at the woman he might have fallen in love with or a brutal killer.
A search warrant had allowed them to enter Carole’s condo and search for any other possible evidence that could link her to the murders. They had come up blank. No other bats hidden in the closet. No clothes hidden with victims’ bloodstains. No bodies hidden in the attic. No visible indication that they were dealing with a madwoman, much less one of the worst serial killers the city of Portland had ever known.
Yet the evidence they had was indisputable and injurious, if not just a little too convenient, as far as he was concerned. The bat was conspicuously in the closet, as if waiting to be found. And the bracelet was stuffed inside the front seat of Stuart Wolfe’s BMW like it was put there rather than left accidentally.
It sure smelled like a damned setup to Ray. Either that or the woman before him was not half as bright as he believed her to be.
Especially if she really was a killer.
It left more than a little suspicion in his mind.
“I suppose you’re here to gloat?” Carole hissed. She wore standard bright orange jail garb, as if to wipe away any hint of her judgeship in the face of her possible savage crimes. “Take the gullible judge to bed while screwing her left and right behind her back—figuratively speaking.”
“Stop it, dammit,” Ray said, peering at her sorrowfully. “I never meant for any of this to happen.”
“Didn’t you?” she scoffed. “You’ve been after me from the very beginning. And I don’t mean to get in my pants, though probably that too. Now you’ve got me. So why don’t you just leave me the hell alone?”
“Because I want to believe you’re innocent.”
Carole gritted her teeth. “Is that why you never bothered to get in on the big arrest, Ray?” she asked. “The big, bad, bald police detective suddenly turned gutless when it came to showing up to see his girlfriend handcuffed, humiliated, and taken into police custody like a common criminal? You shouldn’t have missed it...complete with a media entourage fit for a queen. So now you come here as the good guy, hoping I’ll say I’m as guilty as sin and make some elaborate confession with a motive dating back to my childhood? Well you know what, Ray? I’m not going to do that. I may be a little screwed up—even a lot—but I am not a killer! Whether you choose to believe it is your own damned problem!”
“Any idea how that bat wound up in your closet?” Ray dribbled his fingers on the metal table separating them, resisting any desire to turn his back on her—on them. No matter how much she tried, he would not allow her to push him away.
She looked him in the eye while responding levelly: “None whatsoever. I don’t play baseball or softball and have never purchased a bat in my life. Not even to use as a weapon—” Her words drifted off, as if into a deep fog.
“So you’re saying it was planted there?”
Carole mused. “It’s the only possible explanation,” she said definitively. “How else would it have gotten there?”
Ray asked himself the same thing. Especially with the blood of Roberto Martinez smeared on it. He didn’t have an alternate answer, aside from the real possibility that it had been an inside job. Meaning someone who knew Carole like a book, had access to her place, and had set her up.
His muscles tensed. “Let’s talk about the bracelet,” he said. “Any thoughts on how it could have ended up inside the front seat of Wolfe’s car?”
Carole squirmed in her chair. “No,” she admitted, perplexed. “Like I told you, I can’t even remember if I’ve ever been in Stuart’s car. If I had, it would have been from the courthouse to a nearby restaurant or coffee shop. And I certainly would not have worn a bracelet that I saved for special occasions.”
“You’re sure about that?” Ray asked, locking eyes with her.
“Positive,” Carole asserted. “Besides, I know I saw the bracelet in my jewelry box the last time I wore the necklace and earrings.”
“And when was that?” he asked thoughtfully.
Carole wet her mouth and said in a conspiratorial undertone: “When I came to your houseboat. Or have you forgotten so quickly?”
Ray felt the lump in his throat and all the wonderful memories come flooding back, as if
only this very day.
“I haven’t forgotten, baby.”
“Well neither have I, Detective,” she said coarsely. “I can’t explain how the bracelet ended up in his car, other than someone obviously put it there. But I also know that bracelets don’t just simply fall off, even in a scuffle, and end up in strange and unlikely places.”
Ray chewed on his lower lip contemplatively. “Have you had a break-in recently?” he inquired, trying like hell to find a loophole. Anything that could point the finger elsewhere. Anywhere.
“No,” Carole uttered without thought. “Not that I’m aware of. The building has an excellent security system...so does my condo—”
“Does that include people you know?”
She narrowed her eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He sighed. “Stuart Wolfe,” he said tentatively.
“What about him?”
Ray grew uncomfortable, but went with it. “The pearl bracelet was found in the man’s car, Carole! If you weren’t in it, that means someone else had to put the damned thing there. Someone in a position to take it from your jewelry box without being suspected of doing so. He seems the logical candidate at this point, unless you tell me differently. And if Wolfe did do it, then he sure as hell wouldn’t have had much problem making sure that bat could be easily found at your place by anyone who was looking for it.”
“This doesn’t make any sense,” Carole protested defiantly. “Stuart wouldn’t have tried to frame me. For what possible reason?”
Ray leaned forward, lips pursed. “I was hoping you could tell me—”
She regarded him unevenly. “There’s nothing to tell.” She paused for a long moment. “Or is this your way of asking me if we were ever lovers?”
Carole hung on that note and Ray realized it was something that surprisingly bothered him. He had never been the jealous type. Had that changed when Carole entered his life? Did the notion that she had been with other men make him a little crazy?
Carole seemed to read his thoughts as she said candidly: “The answer is yes, we were intimately involved once. It ended a long time ago, but we’ve remained friends ever since. Nothing more than that. I’m even friends with his wife, if it makes you feel better. Stuart would never do anything to intentionally try to hurt me.”
“What about the wife?”
Carole’s nostrils expanded. “She just had a miscarriage, for heaven’s sake. Vivian Wolfe is not my enemy and not serial killer material either.” She sighed. “I can’t imagine her and Stuart somehow conspiring to make me out to be this so-called vigilante killer.”
Ray met her eyes. “Well someone sure as hell wanted to make it seem like you were this killing bitch.” He knew in so saying he was more or less excluding her from guilt. But he was strictly in the minority at this stage. Proving Carole’s innocence would not be as easy.
“But who?” she asked. “I don’t have any enemies that I know of.”
“You’re a judge, Carole,” he said firmly. “That gives you enemies on the inside who get out. And enemies on the outside who may blame you for not putting all batterers away.”
“That could make it almost anyone,” Carole said bleakly.
“More like someone,” Ray said pensively.
She furrowed her brow suspiciously. “I’m not sure I can trust you, Ray—not anymore...”
He took a breath and said tensely: “You don’t have much choice. Right now, I may be the only one you can trust in this whole damned city.”
Ray only hoped he could trust his instincts that told him Carole Cranston did not belong in jail. And she didn’t deserve to be branded as a serial killer.
Not if the woman he’d grown to really care for was truly innocent, as he believed.
* * *
Carole met with Stuart in an interview room. She had not hesitated to ask him to represent her when it became apparent that she was in big trouble. Aside from being a friend, he was a fine defense attorney who had won a number of high profile cases aside from Esther’s. Carole feared she just might need all his skills and expertise to get out of this one.
“How are you holding up?” Stuart asked with concern while sitting at the table.
Carole, already seated, sneered. “How do you think? Not very well at all! I’m a damned judge, not a murderer. I don’t belong in here, Stuart—with people I put away! When can you get me out?” There was desperation and hope in her voice.
Stuart’s tired eyes betrayed his stress. “I’m doing everything I can to make it happen as soon as possible, Carole. We have a bail hearing this afternoon. With any luck, you could be out shortly thereafter.”
“Could they deny bail?” Carole asked.
As a judge she knew that in most instances involving violent crimes, bail was difficult to say the least. Where it concerned multiple murders, bail was all but impossible. Which made her cringe. The thought of spending even one night there unnerved her, much less weeks, months, or even possibly the rest of her life.
“They could,” Stuart read her thoughts. “But given that you are a sitting judge with no previous criminal history, and the evidence against you is highly circumstantial at best, I doubt that will be the case. A tainted bat that appears out of nowhere, thanks to your cooperation with the authorities? A bracelet smeared with blood from a victim which just happens to be found in my damned car, for crying out loud? Your history that someone is trying to use against you, not to mention your current profession. I mean, c’mon, who’s kidding who here? Anyone in their right mind can see that this is obviously a frame up.”
Carole wondered if anyone could really see this, aside from him and her. The police apparently did not, including perhaps Ray. And certainly not his partner, Nina Parker. Carole wondered if she would have seen it herself so clearly had it been someone else in her shoes?
She fixed her eyes at Stuart considerately. “What’s your theory on how the bracelet got into your car?”
Stuart sat erect in a brown suit, meeting her gaze. He took a deep breath. “I’ve been giving that some thought. All I can think of is that either you dropped the bracelet somewhere and someone picked it up, or it was stolen from your place. This person obviously then put the bracelet where he or she fully intended for it to be found—in my car. Probably while I was at the university. I have a bad habit of leaving my doors unlocked and windows down, especially when it’s as hot as it’s been lately. Guess that will have to change...”
“But whoever did this would have to have known about us,” Carole surmised. “Otherwise, why plant evidence in your car of all places? It’s hardly the first place the police would have thought to look.”
She thought about Ray’s suspicions regarding Stuart and even Vivian. Was there any merit to them?
“It is when they were apparently looking for a black BMW,” said Stuart, “which I just happen to own. Think about it.”
Carole did and only found herself more mystified and unsure. I can’t allow myself to believe you were somehow behind this, but I can’t dismiss the notion outright either. I’d be a fool to as long as I’m in here for something I didn’t do.
Stuart reached out to her, their hands touching. “Listen to me, Carole, if this lunatic killer wanted to know all there was to know about you—or me, for that matter—it wouldn’t be very difficult to make the connection between us. A little bit of research on the Internet would give them a running start. They could probably figure out the rest with half a brain.” He paused. “My guess is it’s someone who’s been at your trials dealing with these batterers and figured that sooner or later the police would tie us together. The killer made sure they wouldn’t come up empty handed with the well placed bat and bracelet—likely as a means to get some of the heat off herself.”
This made sense to Carole. Except for those who believed she had somehow engineered her setup to make it appear she was being framed while really being this woman from hell who killed men, almost for sport.
Who would do
such a thing to her? Where did she possibly start in narrowing down the list? And how could she do anything as long as she was behind bars?
“This whole thing is really starting to freak me out, Stuart,” she said suddenly, feeling the heat as if already being burned at the stake.
“I know,” he muttered sympathetically. “Which is probably what the killer wants. What better way to gain some vicarious, sick thrill than to know that the judge herself who’s letting these creeps go free is getting a dose of what she should be giving them?”
“Well I’m getting the message loud and clear!” Carole said. “I’ll be damned if I’m going to be a target for some crazy woman who’s out to destroy me and my reputation for what she falsely believes is my inability to put the assholes away who beat up women—”
Stuart drew his brows together. “Whatever you’re thinking, Carole, forget it! This bitch is not a person to play around with. She’s dangerous, deadly, and definitely unstable. Leave the detective work to people like your boyfriend—or should I say former boyfriend...?”
Carole blinked involuntarily. She was not sure what to think where it concerned Ray. Was he her Benedict Arnold? Or her sexy savior?
Her lover? Or loser?
The jury was still out on whether or not Ray was the person she hoped he’d be or one he could never be.
Was he a man she could trust with her life?
“I haven’t decided yet exactly where we stand,” Carole told Stuart as much as herself. Something told her that she should keep an open mind and not give up on Ray Barkley just yet.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
“It’s the least I can do,” offered Vivian, behind the wheel of her Lexus. “You’ve certainly been around when I needed someone.”
Carole sat beside her. Forcing a smile, she said: “I think I’m only just beginning to realize who my friends truly are.”
Vivian had been waiting when Carole stepped outside the Criminal Court Plaza after posting bail. Stuart had guided her through a throng of reporters to the car before dashing back to the building to be with another client.
Justice Served: A Barkley and Parker Thriller Page 19
