Doing It Right

by MaryJanice Davidson

  Tom Wechter was the youngest D.A. in the history of the tristate area. The state was proud of him, with good reason. He had an astonishing conviction rate and was boyishly handsome, with dark blond hair cropped short, an athletic frame, a firm handshake. Jared hated him on sight.

  He shook their hands. “Why don’t we go into my office and have a seat?”

  They wordlessly followed him in. He shut the door behind them and the sound reminded Jared of a closing casket.

  “Well,” Wechter said, sitting behind his desk. His suit jacket was hanging over the back of his desk chair; his sleeves were rolled up, exposing smooth forearms lightly sprinkled with blond hair. His tie was a nightmare—dark green with orange dots. Like a car accident, Jared had trouble looking away from it. “First things first. Dr. Dean, your name is not unknown to me. You made quite an impression on the desk sergeant—Officer Ristau.”

  “Ah, Officer Ristau,” he said fondly, ignoring Kara’s raised eyebrow.

  “And Ms. Jones, you’ve also got some fans in the police department. It was suggested to me by several detectives—many who had worked the Freibur case—that I cut you a deal, reduced sentencing in return for your testimony against Anthony Edis Carlotti.”

  “Edis?” Jared couldn’t help asking.

  Wechter never blinked. “Family name. However,” he continued, “we’ve had an undercover cop in Carlotti’s gang for some time. The officer in question—who had a hell of a headache last night, thanks to you, Ms. Jones—”

  Kara moved her foot on top of Jared’s and pressed, hard. Jared gritted his teeth and remained silent.

  “—has, in the past thirteen months, gathered so much evidence of murder, assault, prostitution, fraud, rape and blackmail—most of it on tape, no less—that Carlotti and his associates have been advised by counsel to plead man one—”

  “Manslaughter in the first degree,” Kara muttered to Jared.

  “Hey, I watch Law and Order.”

  “—and, it must be said,” Wechter-the-robot continued, “Carlotti practically ruptured something agreeing to a plea. So that takes care of him.”

  “So …” Jared hoped he hadn’t guessed incorrectly. “You don’t need Kara’s testimony?”

  “No. The better news, Dr. Dean, is because Carlotti has been jailed for reasons that have nothing to do with you, there’s no longer a hit on your life.”

  “Goody,” he said dryly. “But Kara is still screwed, right?”

  “That’s not a legal term I’m familiar with.”

  Jared stared. The guy was either the biggest stiff in the world, or just dim.

  “The Avenging Angel,” Wechter said after a short silence. “I’ve been looking for you for a long time. I’ve dreamed of getting you in this office.”

  “I know,” Kara said quietly. Her expression was serene, almost bored. Jared swelled with pride. Her life was shattering, imploding, but to look at Kara you might have thought she was waiting for a bus. Or thinking about stealing one. “I’ve been trying to keep out of your way.”

  “You’ve been at this for years, haven’t you? The vigilante stuff?”

  Kara opened her mouth, but Jared cut her off. “You don’t have to answer that, Kara.”

  “It’s a little late to play coy now, Dr. Dean. Haven’t you?” he asked Kara.

  “Yes.”

  “How long?”

  “How long have I been breaking the law, or how long have I been pulling jobs like the Freibur house?”

  “At least fifteen years, I’d say.”

  Kara nodded.

  “Well.”

  Another silence. Jared was ready to scream from the tension. Not that Wechter or Kara were exhibiting any. That was all right. He was sweating enough for all three of them.

  “Well,” Wechter said again. “I have a sister.”

  Kara made a polite noise. Jared considered putting his fist through a wall and bellowing something along the lines of, Can we just get on with it?

  “Yes,” Wechter continued. “She ran into some trouble a few years ago, when she was a freshman in college, when I was the assistant D.A. for this county. She believed a new gentleman friend when he said he was a nice guy, followed him out the back door of the restaurant, went for a walk with him in the park. Ran into three of his friends,” Wechter continued coolly, as if reading a weather report.

  “They were having a surprise party and she was the guest of honor.” He had started tapping his fingers on the desk, the only sign of stress Jared had been able to find in the man. Tap-tap. “So she fought and cried and screamed, and of course no one came to her aid. At first.”

  Tap-tap. “And about when the first one, the one who’d lured her to the park, was getting ready to take my sister’s virginity, someone kicked him in the side of the head hard enough to tumble him off my sister.”

  Tap-tap. “And when my sister sat up, she saw that not only was her would-be rapist badly hurt, unconscious, but all of his friends were, too. And the only person still standing was a blond girl about her age. Dressed in dark clothing.”

  Tap-tap. “So this woman—this girl, really—helps my sister to her feet, asks if she needs to go to the ER. My sister says no, thank you. The girl relieves all four men of their wallets. Hands my sister their drivers’ licenses. Presses something else into my sister’s hand, something cold and hard. The girl wishes my sister a pleasant evening and leaves.”

  Tap-tap. “And my sister gets all the way home before thinking to look at what’s in her hand. It’s an enormous diamond ring. Prominently listed, I noticed the next morning, on a police report and worth close to a million dollars. Not that the robbery victim was going to see it again, or any insurance money—he was busy explaining to the vice department why he had so many snuff films in his basement, not to mention the equipment for making same.”

  Tap-tap. “Isn’t that a nice story?”

  “I love happy endings,” Kara said obediently.

  Jared tried to speak, but his mouth was still hanging open. He was trying to process everything he had just heard—Kara had saved this man’s sister? That’s why the D.A. had been pursuing her for so long and so hard? But what did it all mean?

  “Luckily I am a man who reveres the honor of his profession above all else,” Wechter said with a completely straight face. “Even if the girl in the story had been you, Ms. Jones—and what are the chances?—your past deeds can have no bearing on my duty as an officer of the court.”

  “What?” Jared practically screamed.

  “Of course not,” Kara said, with a frown in Jared’s direction. “Please allow me to save you some trouble. I will plead guilty to whatever charges you wish to bring.”

  The D.A. sighed. “Unfortunately, from an administrative standpoint, it’s just not feasible.”

  Jared was having trouble keeping up. “What’s not feasible?”

  “Prosecution. I don’t think I can get a conviction.”

  “Damn right!”

  “Shut up, Jared. Mr. Wechter, I’ve—I’ll tell you everything you need to—”

  “Who will press charges? The pedophiles? The child pornography merchants? Every house you burgled, every con man you swindled, most of those people are still in prison. But just suppose, for the sake of argument, this office was able to bring charges against you, was able to convince a grand jury that you deserved to be held over for trial. I’m sure Dr. Dean could find someone to say you’re unfit for trial.”

  “Damn right!” Dean said again, louder. This was something he’d never thought of. But hell, his med school roommate was an up-and-coming guy at Bethesda Psych. And hasn’t one of his ex-girlfriends just been named chief resident at Beth Israel’s psychology department?

  “That’s … very generous,” Kara said after a long moment. “But I was arrested last night. My fingerprints were taken, I gave a statement and signed my name to it. It’s not that easy to disappear into the cracks.”

  “Certainly not in a bureaucracy,” Wechter said dry
ly. “Why, we’re able to keep track of every little thing around here. Also, your fingerprints didn’t take.”

  “What?” Jared and Kara said in puzzled unison.

  “Your fingerprints. We’re on a new system now, it’s all done by computer. You noticed you didn’t get any ink on your fingers? Well, in theory, the fingerprints go right to the computer. Except …” Wechter shrugged. “There was a glitch. We can’t find your file.”

  “And the police report?”

  “Regrettably, the detectives who took your statement can’t find it. They can’t even remember your name. Or what you look like. Isn’t that the oddest thing, Ms. Smith?”

  “Jones.”

  Wechter shrugged.

  Silence, while Kara and Jared digested this. Jared thought—it almost sounded like—it seemed as if the D.A. and detectives were using their influence to let Kara go. But that couldn’t be true—this wasn’t the movies. Bad things happened to good people. As a doctor, he saw it every day.

  “Mr. Wechter,” Kara said quietly, “I’m more grateful for these—”

  “Bureaucratic foul-ups.”

  “—than I can say. But it’s time for me to face the music, so to speak. I can’t keep running. Frankly, I’m glad to be done with it.”

  “Miss Doe, what purpose is served by putting you in prison?” Wechter asked, equally quietly. “And I might add, this is the only get-out-of-jail-free card you will ever get from this office. If in the future you’re caught stealing so much as a rice cake, I will prosecute. And,” he added with the first smile Jared had seen, “I’ll win.”

  “But …”

  “Kara,” Jared said, turning toward her, “you can’t throw yourself on the mercy of the court if the D.A. doesn’t have enough to prosecute you.” And clearly doesn’t want to prosecute you, he added silently. “Give it up.”

  “But …” She sounded dazed. She looked dazed. About as dazed as he felt, frankly.

  “Thanks for stopping by,” Wechter said briskly, picking up a pen and pulling a pile of papers toward him. The meeting was clearly over. “It was nice meeting you, Miss Smith.”

  Kara opened her mouth to correct him. Jared kicked her in the ankle, then grabbed her arm and hauled her up from her chair. “Nice meeting you, too, Mr. Wechter,” he said warmly. He could have kissed the man. On the mouth, even! “We’ll see ourselves out.”

  Engrossed in paperwork, Wechter only grunted. He looked up just once, when Jared was ushering Kara out. “Remember,” he said, completely deadpan, “crime doesn’t pay.”

  Chapter 16

  “I just can’t believe it,” Kara said for the fourth time. “I can’t believe he let me go. All those years … tracking me … and I was avoiding him … do you think he’s worked so hard, risen so fast, so he could be in a position to help me when the time came?”

  They were in the same small park where Kara had polished off Carlotti’s goons a few days earlier. It was a seedy, disgusting little place, but it was “their” place, so he didn’t mind as much as he should have.

  He considered her remark. “I hadn’t thought about it like that. It’s something to consider, huh? It would explain a lot. I mean, the guy’s a legend. He never loses a case. He’s the most popular D.A. the state’s ever known.”

  “And the handsomest,” Kara added demurely.

  Jared scowled. “Forget it. You belong to me, sunshine. All he can do is keep you out of jail. I can keep you healthy.”

  He felt her small hand curl into his, felt her squeeze. “Of course I belong to you. But now what? I spend the last day psyching myself up to lose everything. Now …”

  “Now you’re going to have the life you deserved. Don’t you get it? You can do anything you want. No more running. No more being afraid. It’s almost like you’ve been reborn.”

  “What in the world am I going to do for a living? I never went to college … I don’t have any societally correct skills. Not that the cops could catch me if I did decide to keep hacking,” she added thoughtfully, ignoring Jared’s scowl, “but it’d be pretty rotten to reward Wechter’s show of good faith by keeping up my old habits.”

  “Damn straight. Besides, you’ll be too busy making a life with me to worry about cracking safes,” Jared declared, tightening his grip on her hand. “I want you to marry me.”

  “Oh, yes,” she said casually, “of course we’ll get married. As soon as possible, I think.”

  She giggled at the look on his face. “Christ, that was easy! I figured I’d have to spend the rest of the year talking you into it. Maybe shoot you up with Demerol and haul you before the judge myself.”

  “Noooo …” She paused, then slowly continued. “I finally figured it out the night before. And again this morning. You thought—we thought—I’d go to jail for years and years. But you stuck by me anyway. You were sure you were going to lose me. But you didn’t leave. You … you don’t leave when things get hard. You risked yourself—needlessly, but it’s the thought that counts—for me. You endangered yourself because you didn’t want me to get hurt.”

  “What you’re saying,” he cut in eagerly, “is in the face of all that, it was pretty goddamned stupid of you to be afraid of making a life with me, right?”

  “I hadn’t thought of it in quite those terms,” she said dryly, “but essentially, yes.”

  He grabbed her and hugged her fiercely. Her breath exploded against his ear and she wriggled ineffectively. “Please, Jared, I can’t breathe,” she protested, but she was laughing. “Besides, before you get all excited, I have a request.”

  “No, you can’t knock over Tiffany on our honeymoon.”

  “Ha ha. I need to use Mr. Wechter one more time—I hope he’ll cooperate. Do you think he’ll figure I only had one chip with him and I already cashed it in?”

  “Kara, sweetie, I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. What do you want with Wechter?”

  “You’ll be approved, no problem, but me … I want to join the foster parenting program. From the parenting side, I mean,” she added darkly. “I’ll give my word about no more hacking, but nobody said I couldn’t teach wards of the state how to protect themselves. Nobody said I couldn’t teach them that there are houses where nothing bad happens when the shades are drawn.”

  He smiled sadly. Someday he’d have to ask her about her entire childhood, beginning to end. He hoped he could hear the entire story without crying—or putting his fist through a wall. “I’m sure Wechter would help you get approved,” he said gently.

  “You won’t mind? The kids will come and go, you know. And they’ll be … damaged. Some of them. They probably won’t like us much.”

  “Me, probably not. You …” He rested a finger on the tip of her nose. “What’s not to like?”

  Epilogue

  Kara sat down at the kitchen table somewhat heavily. At seven months pregnant, getting around was definitely trickier than usual. She’d never been so heavy in her life. So clumsy in her life! It was a good thing she’d given up hacking, because she probably couldn’t fit through the front door of a lot of her old targets by now. Slow as she now was, she’d probably trip the alarm a dozen times before so much as touching the front door.

  She poured Gary more cereal, knowing he was still hungry and knowing he wouldn’t ask for seconds.

  It was amazing, she thought, that the great Avenging Angel, scourge of city scum, the feared burglar who could crack any lock and bypass any security system, didn’t know her own ovulatory cycle. In the warehouse closet, on Jared’s—their—living room floor, and in their bed the night before she’d gone to see Thomas Wechter, it had indeed been her time to get pregnant. Two months later, Jared had laughed like a loon when she’d told him, then kissed her on the mouth and immediately taken her to bed. Afterward, he’d charged to Babies “R” Us like a man possessed.

  She grinned, remembering, and Gary looked up at her questioningly. “I was thinking about something happy,” she explained. “Something about Jared.�
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  Gary nodded and kept eating. He had no comment to add and Kara didn’t expect one. Gary was small for his age and his medical records were a nightmare of too many burns and broken bones. He didn’t talk much and tensed whenever Jared—or any adult male—entered the room. Kara knew what that meant and ground her teeth in silent rage for what the child had been through.

  Jared knew what it meant, too, and did his best not to startle the boy. Since the man tended to bound through their home like a kangaroo on uppers, that wasn’t always successful. But in the three weeks Gary had stayed with them, the child seemed to gradually relax, even around her husband.

  The boy had stopped eating, she noticed, and was watching her silently. She poured herself another glass of milk and mopped the last of her egg yolk from her plate with a piece of toast. No wonder I’m so fat I can hardly see my feet, she thought with an inward chuckle. “Gary? Did you want to ask me something?”

  He nodded. “I was wondering … how long … will I stay here?”

  “Well.” She considered the answer carefully. “Your stepfather will go to jail. And your mom has to follow some rules to get you back.”

  “Like stop drinking?”

  “Like that and some other stuff. But the thing is, she really, really wants you back. She misses you a lot. She didn’t know her husband was doing bad things to you.”

  “I didn’t tell her,” Gary whispered.

  Kara nodded. “But the way the judge looks at it is, she should have figured it out, you know? That’s why you have to stay somewhere else for a while. She’s trying awfully hard, Gary, only it’ll take time. The judge has to be sure, absolutely sure that you won’t be hurt in her house anymore. And it’ll take a while for her to follow all the rules so you can live with her again. I would guess you’ll be with Jared and me for at least six months.” She paused. “Is that okay?”

  Gary nodded.

  “Because if you would rather stay somewhere else, that’s totally okay, and Jared and I won’t be mad, I promise. You don’t even have to say it to me, you could tell your caseworker—”