Deadly Deals

by Fern Michaels

  "I never heard her say any such thing. I can't let it go. She's with me every minute of every day. There's nothing to live for. The bastard who killed my daughter robbed my life as well. He's out there somewhere living a good life. If I could just get my hands on him for five minutes, I would..."

  "Myra, he's back in his own country. Shhh, listen. That man," Nikki said, pointing to the screen, "was set free today because of a technicality. He killed a young girl and he's walking away a free man. Jack prosecuted the case and lost."

  "He must not be a very good district attorney if he lost the case," Myra snapped. Nikki's eyebrows shot upward. Was that a spark of interest? Childishly, she crossed her fingers.

  "He's an excellent district attorney, Myra, but the law is the law. The judge let things go because they weren't legal. Oh, look, there's the mother of the girl. God, I feel so sorry for her. She was in court every single day. The papers said she never took her eyes off the accused, not even for a minute. The reporters marveled at the woman's steadfast intensity. Every day they did an article about her. Jack said she fainted when the verdict came in."

  "I know just how she feels," Myra said, leaning forward to see the screen better. "What's she doing, Nikki? Look, there's Jack! He's very photogenic."

  Nikki watched as the scene played out in front of her. She saw Jack's lips move, knew he was saying something but she couldn't hear over the voices of the excited news reporters. She saw his arm reach out but he was too late. Marie Lewellen fired the gun in her hand point-blank at the man who killed her daughter.

  The television screen turned black and then came to life again.

  Barnes looked directly into the camera, his eyes wide with shocked disbelief. Blood bubbled from his mouth. "I...should have...killed...you, too...you bitch!"

  "You killed my little girl. You don't deserve to live. I'm glad I killed you. Glad!" Marie Lewellen screamed.

  Barnes fell face forward onto the concrete steps of the courthouse.

  Chaos erupted but the camera stayed positioned, capturing the ensuing panic.

  "Oh, my God!" was all Nikki could say.

  Myra reared back against the cushions. "Did you see that! That's what I should have done! I hope she killed the son of a bitch! Is he moving? I can't see. Is he dead, Nikki? Charles, come see this. Why didn't I have the guts to do what that woman just did?" Myra shouted, her skinny arms flailing up and down. "If she killed him, I want you to defend her, Nikki. I'll pay for everything. Use your whole firm. Every expert, every specialist in the world. She killed him. She got in his face and killed him. Tell me he's dead. I want to know if he's dead!"

  Nikki looked at Charles, who was busy staring at the ceiling. "He's dead, Myra."

  "Look, look! They're handcuffing her. They're going to take her to jail. I want you to leave right now. Post her bail, do something. Don't let them keep her in jail. Say you'll take her home with you. Tell them she won't be a menace to society. Charles, get my checkbook."

  "Myra, for God's sake, simmer down. It's not that easy."

  "The hell it isn't. She was crazed. Temporary insanity. Are you going to do it or not, Nikki?"

  "Yes, but..."

  "Don't give me buts. You're still sitting here. I never asked you to do a thing for me, Nikki. Never once. I'm asking you now."

  "I didn't say I wouldn't do it, Myra. I need to think. I need to talk to Jack. I can have my paralegal go down to the station. Tomorrow morning will be time enough. There is no way in hell she's getting out of jail tonight. She has to be arraigned. Can you wait for morning, Myra?"

  "Yes, I can wait for morning." Myra swung around. "Charles, did you see what that woman just did? I would cheerfully rot in prison if I had the guts to do that. First thing in the morning, Nikki. I want you to call me with a full report."

  "You don't answer the phone, Myra," Nikki said sourly.

  "I'll answer it tomorrow. Isn't it time for dinner? Let's eat off trays this evening. I want to see what happens to that poor woman. They'll be reporting on this for hours. Does she have other children? A husband? Isn't anyone going to answer me?"

  Nikki's jaw dropped. Charles spun around on his heel, a smirk on his face.

  "I can tell you what Jack told me. She has two other children, and yes, she has a husband. She's a homemaker. She works at a Hallmark shop on weekends for extra money that goes for all the little extras young kids need. Her husband is a lineman for AT&T. Her two boys are nine and eleven. Jenny, the daughter that was killed, worked after school till closing at the same Hallmark shop. She had a flat tire the night she was killed. She was fixing it herself when that creep offered to help and then he snatched her and dumped her body out near Manassas. Jack said they're a very nice family. Marie went to PTA meetings and they went to church as a family on Sunday."

  "They'll need someone to take care of the boys, to cook and do all the things a mother does in case they don't let her out right away. Charles, find someone for the family. Use that employment agency we use when we do our spring cleaning. I hope they give her a medal. Someone should."

  "Myra, for God's sake, she killed a man in cold blood. She took the law into her own hands. Civilized people don't do things like that. That's why we have laws."

  "Where was the law when that bastard killed my daughter? Did Barbara get justice? No, she did not! My daughter is dead and no one paid for that crime. My unborn grandchild is dead and no one paid for that crime either. I'll go to my grave never having seen my grandchild. Don't talk to me about justice. Don't talk to me about the law because I don't want to hear it. Those laws, the justice that freed that man...suck."

  Nikki looked up to see Charles standing in the doorway. She watched as both his clenched fists shot upward. In spite of herself, she grinned. Myra was alive and belching fire. All she had to do was get her to calm down and maybe, just maybe, she would return to the land of the living.

  It was midnight when Jack Emery finally returned Nikki's call. She crawled into bed, her head buzzing with the evening's events.

  "Did you see it, Nikki?"

  "Of course I saw it. Myra and Charles saw it, too. I'll say one thing, it snapped Myra out of her fugue. At least for now. She wants me to defend Marie Lewellen. I said I would."

  "You can't defend her. It's open and shut. Insanity isn't going to hold up. She admitted to buying the gun at lunchtime from some punk on the street. That goes to premeditation. They've charged her with first degree murder. I'll be prosecuting, Nikki."

  "Pass on it, Jack. You did enough to that woman."

  "What the hell is that supposed to mean, Nikki?"

  "It means that asshole got off. That's exactly what it means, Jack. Myra was right when she said it sucked. You didn't fight hard enough. He was guilty as sin and you damn well know it."

  "The judge threw out...why am I defending myself? I did the best job I could under the circumstances. I tried to stop her at the courthouse. I was seconds too late. Don't go sour on me now. Turn it over to someone else in your firm, Nikki."

  "I can't do that, Jack. I promised Myra. She's never, ever, asked anything of me. I have to do what she wants. I'm going to give you the fight of your life, too."

  "If you take this case on that means we aren't going to be able to see one another until it's over, at which point we'll probably hate each other's guts. Is that what you want?"

  Nikki's mind raced. No, it wasn't what she wanted but she knew where her loyalties lay. She loved Jack Emery. "Beg off, Jack. Let some other A.D.A. take the case."

  "I guess I'll see you in court, Counselor," Jack said coldly.

  It was his tone, not his words, that sparked her reply. "You bet your sweet ass you'll see me in court." Nikki snapped her cell phone shut and threw it across the room.

  Nikki punched at the thick downy pillows. She knew she wasn't going to be able to sleep now. She felt like crying. A second later she bounded out of the twin bed and ripped down the covers from the bed that once belonged to Barbara. If she wanted to, she
could stick her hand under the pillow and pull out Barb's old beat-up teddy bear and hug it to her chest the way Barb had done every night she slept in the bed. It almost seemed sacrilegious to touch it. Instead she picked up the pillow and looked down at the tattered bear named Willie. She almost stuck her finger in the hole under Willie's chin but changed her mind. She lowered the pillow and went back to her own bed. Tears rolled down her cheeks. "God, I miss you, Barb. I think about you every day. I just had a fight with Jack. At least I think it was a fight. I wish you were here so I could call you up and tell you all about it." She punched at the down pillows again. Maybe she needed to read herself to sleep. Her gaze traveled to the built-in bookshelves across the room. The three top shelves were hers because she was taller than Barbara. The three bottom shelves belonged to Barbara and were loaded with everything but books. No, she was too wired-up to read.

  The first month she'd come here to live, Myra had knocked out two walls and turned this room into a two-girl bedroom. They'd spent so many hours in here, huddled in their beds, giggling, telling secrets, talking about boys and sharing all their hopes and dreams. Even the bathroom had twin vanities and twin showers. Myra didn't stint and she didn't favor one over the other. She simply had enough love for both of them. She looked now at the twin desks, the colorful swivel chairs, the bright red rocking chairs. It seemed so long ago, almost like a lifetime. She stared at the colorful rockers and at the cushions they'd made at camp one year. Barbara's was perfect, her stitches small and neat. Her own was sloppy, the seams loose. But it wasn't the cushions that held her gaze. The chair was rocking, moving slowly back and forth. She looked up to see if the fan was on. A chill washed down her spine. She shuddered as she reached for her robe. Maybe Charles had left some coffee in the pot. If not, she could make some more.

  Nikki walked down the long hallway to the back staircase that led to the kitchen. She blinked when she saw Myra and Charles sitting at the table, highball glasses in their hands. She blinked again. "I couldn't sleep," she mumbled.

  "We couldn't either," Myra said.

  "After what we saw on television this evening, I can understand why. I'm going to make some coffee."

  "Nikki, Charles and I want to talk to you about something."

  Nikki reached for the coffee canister. There was an edge to Myra's voice. A combative edge. Something she'd never heard before. "About what, Myra? I said I would take Marie Lewellen's case."

  "I know. That's just a small part of it. Do you remember a while back when you told Charles and myself about two young women who came to see you? Kathryn Lucas and Alexis Thorne, only that wasn't Alexis Thorne's real name at the time?"

  "I remember," Nikki said, measuring coffee into the stainless steel basket.

  "You helped Alexis by going outside the law. You couldn't help Kathryn because the statute of limitations had run out but if there was a way to help her, would you do it?"

  Nikki felt herself freeze. "Are you talking about inside the law or outside the law, Myra?"

  "Don't answer my question with a question. Would you help her?"

  "I can't, Myra. There's nothing I can do for her. I looked at everything. Time ran out. Yes, I feel sorry for her. I understand how it all went down. She waited too long, that's the bottom line."

  "You looked the other way for Alexis. You knew someone who was on the other side of the law and you got her a new identity, you helped her start a small home business as a personal shopper and you made it happen for her. You believed in her when she told you her story. She was a victim, she didn't deserve to go to prison for a whole year. She can never get that year of her life back. The men and women who turned her into a scapegoat walked free and are living the good life and her life is ruined. Kathryn is a victim and no one is helping her. Marie Lewellen could spend the rest of her life in jail unless you can get her off. Legally."

  Nikki sat down across from Myra and Charles. "I think this would be a real good time for you to tell me exactly what you two are talking about."

  "The system you work under doesn't always work," Charles said.

  "Sometimes that's true," Nikki said carefully. "For the most part, it works."

  Myra looked at Nikki over the rim of her glass. "What if we take the part that doesn't work and make it work? What if I told you I was willing to use my entire fortune, and you know, Nikki, that it is sizable, and use it to...make that system work. For us. For all the Maries, the Kathryns, and the Alexis Thornes who got lost in the system."

  "Are you talking about going outside the law to...to...avenge these women? Are you talking about taking the law into your own hands and...and..."

  Myra's head bobbed up and down. "Charles can help. He dealt with criminals and terrorists during his stint at MI 6. You're an attorney, a law professor. With your brains, Charles's expertise, and my money, we could right quite a few wrongs. It would have to be secret, of course."

  "And you just now came up with all this?" Nikki said in awe. "No!"

  "Yes," Myra and Charles said in unison.

  Nikki looked at her watch. "Just eight hours ago, give or take a few minutes, you were practically comatose, Myra. You didn't want to live. You were so deep in your misery and your depression I wanted to cry for you. Now you're all set to take on the judicial system and dispense your own brand of justice. You'll get caught, Myra. You're too old to go to jail. They aren't kind to old people in jail. NO!"

  Myra took a long pull from the highball glass. "If I can't satisfy my own vengeance, maybe I can do something for others where the system failed." She spoke in a low, even monotone. "Kathryn Lucas, age thirty-eight. Married to Alan Lucas, the love of her life. Alan had multiple sclerosis as well as Parkinson's disease and lived in a wheelchair. They owned an eighteen-wheeler, Alan's dream. In order to keep his dream alive for him, Kathryn drove the rig and Alan rode alongside her. One night when they stopped for food and gas, Kathryn was raped at a truck stop by three bikers. Alan was forced to watch and could not help his wife. Rather than report the rape and destroy what was left of her husband's manhood, she remained silent. She did nothing. She carried it with her day and night for the next seven years until Alan died. Needless to say, whatever was left of the marriage after the rape, died right then and there. The day after she buried her husband she went to you, gave you all the information she had on the case and you turned her away because the stupid statute of limitations had run out. You told me she had a partial license plate, her husband took pictures, and she said one of the bikers was riding an old Indian motorcycle. You said she told you they belonged to the Weekend Warriors club, probably white-collar professionals out for a fling. Charles said there aren't many Indians in existence and they're on every biker's wish list. It shouldn't be hard to track it down. You just sit there, Nikki, and think about three men raping you while Jack is forced to watch. You think about that."

  "Myra, I don't have to think about it. I feel terrible for Kathryn Lucas. Yes, she deserves to have something done but she waited too long. The law is the law. I'm a goddamn lawyer. I can't break the law I swore to uphold."

  "The circumstances have to be brought into consideration. I need you to help us, Nikki."

  "What is it you want me to do?"

  "We could form this little club. You certainly know plenty of women who have slipped through the cracks. Like Alexis, Kathryn, and many others. We'll invite them to join and then we'll do whatever has to be done."

  Nikki stood up and threw her hands in the air. "You want us to be vigilantes!"

  "Yes, dear. Thank you. I couldn't think of the right word. Don't you remember those movies with Charles Bronson?"

  "He got caught, Myra."

  "But they let him go in the end."

  "It was a damn movie, Myra. Make-believe. You want us to do the same thing for real. Just out of curiosity, supposing we were able to find the men that raped Kathryn Lucas, what would we do to them?"

  Myra smiled. "That would be up to Kathryn now, wouldn't it?"


  "I don't believe I'm sitting here listening to you two hatch this...this...what the hell is it, Myra?"

  "A secret society of women who do what has to be done to make things right," Myra said solemnly.

  "It could work, Nikki, as long as we hold to the secrecy part," Charles said quietly. "There is that room in the tunnels where you and Barbara used to play. You could hold your meetings there. No one would ever know. I know exactly how to set it all up."

  Nikki struggled for a comeback that would make sense. In the end, she said, "Jack Emery will be prosecuting Marie Lewellen. We'll be adversaries."

  "I see," Myra said. She slapped her palms on the old, scarred tabletop. "Then you have to get her out on bail and we'll find a way to whisk her and her family away to safety. I have the money to do that. It will be like the Witness Protection Program. Charles can handle all that."

  Nikki sat down with a thump. "If I don't agree to...go along with this, what will you do?"

  Myra borrowed a line from her favorite comedian. "Then we'll have to kill you," she said cheerfully. "So, are you in?"

  "God help me, I'm in."

  If you love the Sisterhood series, but are wanting a non-Sisterhood "fix" from Fern Michaels, you are in luck!

  Her next stand-alone novel will be coming from Kensington in May 2010.

  Turn the page for a special preview of

  RETURN TO SENDER,

  the wonderful new bestseller by Fern Michaels.

  Prologue

  January 13, 1989

  Dalton, Georgia

  Rosalind Townsend, whom everyone called Lin, held her newborn son tightly in her arms as the orderly wheeled her to the hospital's administration office. A nurse tried to take him from her so she could tend to the business of her release, but she refused to give him up.