Hennessey spoke slowly and distinctly, his hands formed in the shape of a pyramid on top of his desk. “A person cannot remain unbiased after being a victim of a crime such as rape. And standing by helplessly while a filthy criminal violated your child must have been unbearable. She was twelve at the time, if I remember correctly?”
Lily felt as if a bucket of scalding water had been thrown at her. She was feverish, and a shaky hollowness took hold in the pit of her stomach. Images from that night leaped into the present with the same dreadful horror. Unable to stop herself, she exploded, “What happened to my daughter and me has nothing to do with my ability to render impartial verdicts. And only a tasteless person would bring up a personal matter of this magnitude in what by necessity has to be a brief conversation.” She clamped her mouth closed, wishing she could snatch the words back out of the air. He would make her life even more miserable, particularly now that he’d confirmed her vulnerability.
Hennessey’s watery eyes flickered with self-satisfaction. “From your emotional outburst, my assumption appears to be accurate. Maybe those rumors that circulated a few years back about you killing the rapist were true.”
Lily forced her chin up as she tried to extract herself from the moment. She thought of Bryce, how much he loved her, and her daughter, Shana, who was doing so well at Stanford Law. Whatever had happened in the past was dead. No one could touch her. Unless Hennessey could prove she’d broken the law or violated the judicial rules of conduct, he could harass her but he couldn’t unseat her. After everything she had gone through in her life, she could handle harassment.
“Forgive me,” she said, deciding to kiss ass today and bust his balls whenever an opportunity presented itself. “What I said earlier was out of line. But just so you’ll know, Marco Curazon, the man who raped my daughter, started stalking her after he was paroled from prison. He killed my ex-husband, but his real intent was to rape my daughter again.” She stopped and sucked in a deep breath. “After her father was murdered, my daughter had a nervous breakdown and started saying things that didn’t make sense.” Giving him a disgusted look, she added, “Curazon is on death row, so there’s no way I could have killed him. I’m surprised a man in your position is so poorly informed.”
Forget ass-kissing, Lily decided. She didn’t have it in her. Hennessey fiddled with a letter opener on his desk. Telling a judge of his stature that he was poorly informed was tantamount to accusing him of incompetence. The room sparked with tension.
After several minutes had clicked off, the game of wills was over. “I’m on a tight schedule,” she said. “I’m sure you don’t want to keep a courtroom waiting and clog up the rest of my day.”
“Go,” Hennessey said, flicking his gnarled hand. “We’ll continue our conversation another time.”
Not if I can help it, Lily thought, closing the door and walking over to his dragon lady. “I think your boss needs you, Esther. He might be having another heart attack. I couldn’t make out what he was saying.”
“Dear God!” she said, tripping over the trash can as she rushed toward the judge’s chambers.
Lily scooped the stack of files out of Hennessey’s in basket, tucking them under her arm as she left. Esther would run to Hennessey in a panic when she discovered they were missing. The judge was more than likely waiting for the cases to arrive so he could begin processing them. She would drop them on one of the records clerks’ desks after the morning session. It was childish, but it made her feel better.
Lily had stopped living by the rules the night Marco Curazon had invaded her home. The most serious rules, not only of man but of God, she had already broken. All she wanted to do now was exist, perhaps do something meaningful. When she died, she knew exactly where she was going.
FOUR
MONDAY, NOVEMBER 27
VENTURA, CALIFORNIA
Lily collided with Judge Christopher Rendell a few doors down from Hennessey’s office, causing the files to spill out onto the gray carpet. By the time she bent down to retrieve them, they were in his hands. “How did you do that so fast?”
He smiled, handing the files back to her. “I used to be a great rebounder when I played basketball.”
Lily said, “Walk with me, Chris.” When she pushed an errant strand of hair off her forehead, she discovered it was wet. She hadn’t realized she was perspiring, even though she was certain Hennessey had. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”
“The devil has that kind of effect. You look fresh from an audience with our illustrious chief.”
Lily scowled. “Have you talked to him since he’s been back? He’s always been tough. Now he’s bordering on sadistic. Maybe he just has it in for me.”
“You’re not the first person I’ve heard that from, Lily. When a person looks death in the face and comes back mean, you have to wonder what’s living inside them.”
“Really?” she said, pondering his statement. “I think Hennessey was born mean. He probably chewed through his own umbilical cord.”
To qualify for a judgeship, a person had to be an attorney for ten years. Chris was the wunderkind of the judicial system, having been appointed to the bench at thirty-four. Now in his mid-forties, he’d graduated at the top of his class at Harvard Law at the age of nineteen. Why he chose to become a judge in Ventura was a mystery. The man was a certifiable genius, yet you would never know it by speaking to him. He had once told her a true intellect related to each person on their own level. Not only was he a perfect gentleman, he was a six-foot-five blond Adonis. Also a devout Mormon, he never discussed his personal life. A few individuals speculated that he might be gay, but no one dared to ask. Lily didn’t care. She always felt relaxed and positive when she was around him. Other people had experienced the same phenomenon. She was convinced a person could be ready to jump off the nearest bridge, spend time with Rendell, and walk away with a smile on his face.
Lily wondered how he managed to combine the fuzzy perimeters of religion with the certainty of science. In addition to his law degree, he held a degree in physics from Caltech. His plan was to spend five more years as a judge, then return to college and ultimately achieve his goal of becoming a scientist. How could any woman not desire a squeaky clean, handsome, brilliant man with a plan? If nothing else, simply to shake him up and see what happened. No one should be that perfect.
Although she hated to admit it, Lily possessed some of the same qualities as Vince Paciugo. She didn’t have any intentions on following through and having an affair like he did, but she liked to flirt now and then. It was one of her means of coping, getting her mind off things and reminding herself that she was still a woman. She gave him a coy smile. “I’m a little devilish myself on occasion.”
Rendell threw his head back and laughed. “I find that hard to believe, Lily. You’re a practicing Catholic, aren’t you?”
“A cradle Catholic. That means I had no choice. Being a Catholic is similar to being a Jew. If your parents are Jewish, then you live your life as a Jew. You might stop going to temple, but you’ll always be a Jew.” She curled a finger around her chin. “Do Mormons believe Jesus will come back one day and clean up this mess? Well, obviously you do, since Mormons are Christians. I guess what I was referring to is the rapture.”
“That’s a complicated question, Lily. Do you believe in the rapture?”
“I’m not sure,” Lily said, shrugging. “Some Catholics do, I assume, but the church doesn’t sanction it because they don’t believe it’s theologically sound. That is, except for the ‘one person taken and the other left behind’ passage.” She let forth a nervous chuckle. “I don’t know why that would matter, because Catholics don’t study the Bible that much.”
He looked concerned. “Is something wrong, Lily?”
She had been enjoying their conversation, talking about something she knew would maintain his attention. She should have known better than to bring up the subject of religion. When you did, people thought you were experiencing some kind of crisis. We
ll, she was, but like always, she was doing her best to deny it. “I guess I’m at that stage in life when a person starts rethinking things. Who knows, maybe it’s time I checked out another religion.”
He took her arm and pulled her aside, speaking to her in hushed tones. “If you and your husband want to come to my house for dinner one night, I’ll do my best to answer any questions you have about my church. Tell me what night would be good for you.”
God, Lily thought, he’s going to try to convert me. At least as a Catholic, she had confession and absolution. Who knows, she might not have to stay in hell for all eternity. After ten thousand years, perhaps she could wrangle her way into purgatory.
“I don’t usually do this,” he said anxiously, looking around to make certain no one was listening. “It’s just that you asked, and . . .”
Judge Rendell was naïve in some areas, a trait Lily found inherently charming. Women flirted with him all the time; beautiful young women that most men would jump through hoops of fire for. He never seemed to notice.
The only way out of this, Lily decided, was to blame it on her husband. Since he’d come home drunk two nights in a row this past weekend, he wasn’t in the best standing with her. “Thanks for the invitation, Chris. Unfortunately, Bryce is about as interested in religion as he is in a dead cat on the freeway. He’s a good man, so don’t take me wrong. What can I say? I married an atheist.” It wasn’t really bad being married to an atheist. Bryce believed you died and rotted, that there was no such thing as an afterlife. She wouldn’t mind believing that herself. Unfortunately, she knew her husband was wrong. She had visited hell, so she knew it existed.
Changing the subject, Rendell asked, “What’s happening with the Burkell case? I hear he’s back from Vacaville. Are they trying to establish an insanity defense?”
“Possibly.” Lily gazed into his clear blue eyes. Why were Mormons so good-looking and healthy? Interbreeding, she speculated. Either that or old-fashioned clean living. “Even stark-raving lunatics know the difference between right and wrong, Chris. If a person knows the difference between right and wrong, as you know, the law says he’s sane. Besides, Burkell was working up until a few hours before the crime. His public defender is Judith McBride. There’s no telling what she has up her sleeve.”
Although Judge Rendell was a prince of a guy, he wasn’t without ambition. The Burkell case didn’t carry the weight of the one she was hearing that afternoon. Instead of asking her about Elizabeth and Ronald Stucky, which could be a precedent-setting case, he’d brought up Burkell, thinking it might open up the door to Stucky. She glanced at her watch, relieved that she had fifteen minutes left before she had to be on the bench. She’d lied to Hennessey about having motions to review. She jumped on everything as soon as it hit her desk. What she couldn’t finish during the day, she took home with her. She was one of the few judges who actually ended up with time on her hands. There was a price to pay, though, for taking her work home. She suspected it might be the reason her husband had gone overboard on the drinking.
Esther darted into the corridor in the direction of the records division. Walking around Rendell so his body would block her, Lily wondered if Hennessey had figured out she’d taken the files. Only an imbecile would do something that stupid. By tomorrow her career might be over, and all because of a childish prank.
“Would you like to go in my chambers and talk, Lily? You seem anxious.”
She ignored his question. At the moment, she didn’t want to move. “Did you know the police found over a hundred pills in Burkell’s house and not one was prescribed for him? He had Vicodin, Percodan, and morphine.”
“This is the latest plague,” Judge Rendell said, becoming animated. “Remember how cocaine worked its way from the street to middle-class America? Well, prescription drug abuse is doing the same thing. I know of three teenagers who overdosed in the past month. The sheriff’s office can’t figure out who’s selling them the pills. Whoever it is, they aren’t standing around on street corners.”
“I know where some of it’s coming from.” Lily recalled the day she’d found a stash of tranquilizers in her daughter’s underwear drawer. Shana had claimed she’d bought them from a friend’s grandfather. The more common scenario would be that she’d stolen them, but her story had turned out to be true. “People with legitimate medical problems have become drug peddlers. And you know what’s ironic? The government is paying for it.”
“How’s that?”
“Medicare.”
“Are you saying senior citizens are selling their medications?”
“Yeah,” Lily answered. “Who can live on Social Security, especially in southern California? You need at least two hundred grand to buy a shack these days, and that’s in a bad neighborhood. And rents are outrageous.” She thought of her conversation with Anne that morning. The cost of living was high in California, but nowhere near as high as Manhattan.
“Sad,” he said, frowning. “I’d like to talk more, but I have to be on the bench in a few minutes.”
“Don’t we all,” Lily said, trailing along beside him until they reached the door to his chambers. She held on to the doorframe and leaned in. “Tell Jesus to hurry, will you? My patience is wearing thin.”
“I’ll make certain to do that.”
As she continued to the end of the corridor where her chambers were located, she wondered where Mormons stood on the death penalty. Chris was assigned to the municipal court where only misdemeanors were tried, so it wasn’t really an issue in his work. She made a mental note to ask him one day. Maybe she would even take him up on his dinner offer. Bryce would go if she insisted, although he’d probably be tanked by the time they arrived. It was funny how you never really knew a man until you married him. Her lovable, jolly husband was not only an atheist, he was on the fast track to becoming an alcoholic.
“Any phone calls?” Lily asked her assistant, Jeannie Milford, a petite young brunette who was training at night to be a court reporter.
“Judith McBride called and said she was running late.”
“As if I expected anything else.”
“And Judge Forrester,” she said, jumping to her feet as Lily began walking away, “you’ve got three more messages. Your husband called, as well as Martin Goodwin and James Kidwell. Should I remind you during the noon recess?”
“The attorneys can say whatever they have to say at the hearing this afternoon.” Some judges practically tried cases in their chambers, a habit Lily didn’t practice. They did it for fear they would make a mistake and their rulings would be overturned on appeal. She had reviewed cases for the appellate court for several years, so she knew what would fly and what wouldn’t.
She handed Jeannie the files she’d taken from Hennessey’s office, deciding she needed to return them posthaste. “These were delivered to me by mistake. They look like they were meant for Judge Hennessey. Take them to records and let them sort it out. Just don’t say anything about where you got them. Hennessey doesn’t like people to see things before he does.”
She entered her chambers and closed the door. Since she was the most recent appointment, she had the worst office. It was half the size of Hennessey’s. A janitor had told her it had once been a supply room. Before she was appointed, it was used by pro tems, private attorneys who served as a judge on a temporary basis. There was a weatherworn desk, room enough for two moderate-sized chairs, and a TV was mounted on the wall. She still hadn’t gotten around to unpacking her things, mainly because she had nowhere to put them. Alex had promised to give her Elaine’s chambers, but he’d been too busy to do anything. In addition, he probably gave consideration to the fact that Elaine’s husband might die and she’d want her job back. Right now Lily wouldn’t mind stepping down. When she’d taken the job, she was under the impression that Hennessey’s reign of terror was over. She looked around her and sighed. Being the new kid on the block was an exercise in humility.
Her black robe was on a hanger behind her
door. She caressed it with her fingers, then slipped it on and returned to her desk to wait until her clerk called to tell her they were ready. She felt like an actress waiting offstage for a director. Most of life was an illusion, she thought, and illusions were clever deceptions. She’d mastered the art of deception long ago, but she was in need of a better imagination.
FIVE
MONDAY, NOVEMBER 27
QUANTICO, VIRGINIA
The phone rang, and Special Agent Mary Stevens shot to attention. The person calling her was John Adams, her SAC, or special agent in charge. “Agent Stevens,” she said in her most professional voice.
“I’d like to see you in my office in thirty minutes.”
“Of course, sir,” Mary said, hoping he was ready to let her do more than open mail and sit in on meetings with the team. The Investigative Support Unit where she was assigned was housed in the basement of the FBI Academy in Quantico, Virginia. A former homicide detective, she had been recruited by the Bureau when she’d attended the National Academy program, a tough, twelve-week residential training course for upper-level law enforcement officers from around the world. After a year at the Bureau’s headquarters in Washington, she was hired by John Adams. Adams had been a close friend of her deceased father’s, and was chief of the elite profiling unit.
The Cheater Page 4
