Deadly Sins (5 page)

“GPS on his car, maybe.” Now Shepherd was scribbling something on his pad. “But the location info still wouldn’t give the shooter time to set up beforehand.”

“It suggests to me that he’d been followed awhile beforehand. His movements studied.” Jaid gained the men’s attention with her words. “No one can set a shoot up like that on the spur of the moment, even if he had GPS info. But if Reinbeck had been stalked for a period of time, his actions recorded, the shooter might have narrowed the possible kill sites. Prepared for any one of them.”

There was an odd glint in Adam’s eye that might have been approval. There had been a time, long gone now, when the sight of it would have thrilled her. Their relationship had been that of teacher and student before it had moved into something much more intimate. Much more devastating.

The door opened then, and another woman entered. Her light brown bob was just beginning to show signs of gray, and she had at least two decades on Krista Temple. Everything about her screamed discreet, from her low-heeled shoes to the beige suit she wore with matching sensible bag. Jaid didn’t need to glimpse her tear-ravaged face to guess that this was Mara Sorenson.

She sat without speaking for a moment. The ticking of the antique mantel clock filled the silence. “You’re Adam Raiker,” she said finally, her voice holding the faintest quaver. “Byron spoke of you. He was beside himself recently when you were shot. And again several years ago when you . . .” Her hand fluttered to her neck, which was minus jewelry. And minus a scar like the one that bisected Adam’s.

“He was a good friend.” Adam’s ruined voice was as gentle as he could make it. And the two exchanged a look of shared pain. “He thought highly of you, too.”

Mara ducked her head, and her throat worked visibly. “I was with him for fifteen years.” Her voice was choked. “He was a wonderful man. Intelligent. Passionate about the things he believed in. And absolutely devoted to his family.”

“You’ve met them?” Jaid inquired. The clerks spoke of the justice being private about his personal life. But a fifteen-year relationship would surely mean greater openness.

Sorenson nodded. “Several times over the years. Usually when they’d come to the offices. Here or before, when he was on the federal circuit.”

“Would he have mentioned it to you if he’d been receiving threats? If something was bothering him?”

“He would have told the marshals, certainly. Byron and Mary Jo were careful about security. Not hypervigilant by any means. They wanted their boys’ lives to be as normal as possible. But they were cautious. If there had been a threat, the USMS would have been informed.”

“And he would have confided this to you, as well?”

The woman tilted her head, as if considering her question. And it occurred to Jaid that Sorenson was careful in her own right. “I’m almost certain that he would,” she said finally. Her hazel eyes filled with tears again, which she blinked away. “Byron was protective of those he cared about, and given our long work relationship, that included me. He insisted on walking me to my car if we worked late. That sort of thing. If he had reason to believe someone was going to target him . . .” Her voice broke. It took a moment for her to steady it. “He would definitely worry about anyone else who could be in danger from their association with him. His family would be his first concern. And then anyone else who came in contact with him on a daily basis. He hasn’t received a credible threat in years, as far as I know. The last one was nearly a decade ago, when he was still on the circuit bench. He arranged for security for me and his paralegals at that time, until the man responsible was apprehended.”

“Who was the last one out of the office last night?” Adam asked.

“We left together.” Sorenson’s hands, clasped on the table, clenched more tightly. “As I said, he didn’t like me walking to my car in the dark, even though the lot is fairly well lit. I think he worked later than he meant to.” A smile trembled at the corner of her mouth. “He was prone to do that, especially when writing an opinion. I’d already sent the clerks home, per his request, but I rarely left before he did. He was in a hurry and I left more hastily than I would have liked, because he said he was going to be late. He and Mary Jo had an engagement of some sort, I think.”

“Did he mention stopping to buy her flowers?”

She shook her head, fumbled in her purse, and withdrew a tissue. The tears were streaming again, and her efforts at stemming the tide was a losing battle. “No, although that would be like him. Mary Jo loves flowers, and Byron . . .” Her voice was muffled as she mopped at her face. “Well, he was a considerate man.”

Further probing elicited little additional information. Sorenson didn’t know where the justice bought roses for his wife, although she recalled it was somewhere on his way home. Several minutes later when she headed for the door, Jaid mulled over the words she’d spoken earlier. That Reinbeck had been a considerate man.

And this time that trait had gotten him killed.

Jaid exited from the government-issued SUV and rounded it, waiting for Shepherd to raise the back hatch so they could retrieve their weapons. It was past eight P.M., which meant she’d left home that morning fifteen hours earlier. Had eaten once in the intervening time. But as the two men joined her, she looked at her fellow agent. “I’ll make the report tonight, if you want. We can take turns.”

Shepherd looked surprised, then relieved. “Sounds good. You’ve got the password?”

She nodded. Hedgelin would stay abreast of the various branches of the investigation through one communal online system. Each team would detail the day’s activities, and intelligence analysts would compile them all into one organized cyber file for the assistant director. Although she wasn’t looking forward to hours of work ahead, she could only imagine how much time it took Hedgelin to read through all of them. It was, she decided, as she leaned in to reclaim her weapon from the safe Shepherd unlocked, all a matter of perspective.

“Thanks for taking care of that.” When they’d all moved away from the SUV, Shepherd activated the button to close the hatch. “My turn tomorrow night. Adam, unless we let you know otherwise, we’ll meet back here tomorrow at eight.”

He merely nodded at each of them in turn and headed toward his vehicle. Jaid hesitated, watching him, the assistant director’s order from this morning ringing in her head. She was tempted to let him go without further conversation. It was highly likely he was heading home, just as she was.

“Been a long day.” Shepherd was already heading toward the driver’s door. “See you tomorrow.”

The other man didn’t seem overly concerned about Hedgelin’s private instructions to them. Mentally shrugging, she headed toward her car. She wouldn’t be, either.

She caught up with Adam halfway across the lot. The evening air held a definite bite, making her grateful for the wool jacket she wore. The breeze that had kicked up was ruffling his hair, but the man looked otherwise impervious to the cold. Seeing his gaze slide her way, she gestured toward her agency-issued dark-colored Impala. “What are you driving these days?”

He used the tip of his cane to point toward the black BMW sedan parked a few yards away from her car. One side of her mouth kicked up. Another thing that hadn’t changed, apparently. He’d always favored speed, class, and reliability over flash.

“Where’s the GTO?”

“In storage.” Thoughts of her lovingly restored ’65 muscle car brought a tinge of nostalgia. “I didn’t get as much time to drive it as I would have liked last summer.” And she always had it tucked safely away for the winter before Halloween rolled around.

One corner of his mouth rose. “You were making the same complaint nine years ago.”

“It’s still true.” Because she very much didn’t want the conversation to veer into the personal, she shoved her hands in her coat pockets, searched for another topic. “So. The interviews didn’t reveal much today.”

“Necessary legwork.” His cane made a slight rhythmic sound as they moved across the asphalt. “We learned Reinbeck’s clerks admired him, his admin was devoted. There was something there with Dempsey. He and Byron might have had some differences recently.”

She sent him a sharp glance. The parking garage that housed their cars was well lit but nearly deserted. “Where’d you get that?”

He lifted a shoulder negligibly. “There was a slight edge of resentment to his tone when he talked about last night. Despite the fact that he espoused a similar sentiment about staying late, he lacked the sincerity of the others. It’s probably nothing. Maybe it was as simple as Byron having chosen one of the other clerk’s research to reference in his opinion.”

Jaid hadn’t noted anything untoward in Lawrence Dempsey’s interview. If anything, she’d been struck by how close-knit the four clerks seemed to be. And—to a lesser extent—the clerks for all the justices. It had been clear that Krista Temple’s words were accurate. The group worked and socialized together, brought closer by proximity and a common purpose. But she knew Raiker well enough not to dismiss any impressions he had of the individuals. The man was as uncanny as a human lie detector.

“The one thing that occurred to me was that if any one of them knew something, it was likely all of them did.” Having reached his vehicle, they stopped, turned to face each other. “I’m guessing gossip—at least as far as it concerned the justices and the court—traveled fast among the group.”

“Since none of them told us anything of consequence, that doesn’t bode well for this line of investigation,” Adam said dryly. He reached for his door handle.

“Maybe something brilliant will occur to one of us tonight. Are you heading home?”

It was, Jaid thought, just as nerve-wracking as she recalled to be pinned by that shrewd, blue, assessing gaze. He had always seen too much. Far more than she’d wanted to show. But she was different now. They both were.

“Why?”

She shrugged. “Just wondered if you had any other ideas to follow up on.” It took effort to meet his gaze. To not quail beneath the small knowing smile he gave her.

“Hedgelin told you to stick close to me?”

Her distaste for the truth in the words wouldn’t be allowed to show. “It’s early.” Her stomach churned at the need for disassembling. “If you’re still working, I can, too.”

Unlocking the car door with his key fob, he opened it and got in. “I guess you’ll have to tag along and see.”

Experience had her hurrying to her vehicle. It didn’t escape her notice that he hadn’t answered one way or another. That he hadn’t mentioned a destination. And she didn’t need the sound of his engine starting to realize he wouldn’t wait for her.

“I didn’t realize they still heard confession at this time of night.” Jaid stared at the darkened church she’d parked in front of and wondered what Adam was up to.

“I’m afraid my tutelage never got that far.” He wasn’t headed toward the church itself, she realized belatedly as she fell into step beside him, but toward the attached structure adjacent to it.

“Perhaps that’s just as well,” she said blandly. “Even the Lord can be shocked.”

“You give me too much credit.” Humor sounded in his voice as they made their way up the two steps to a door. Leaning forward, he rang the doorbell. “There’s been precious little worth confessing on my part in the last few months.”

She supposed not since he’d spent a couple of them in and out of hospitals, first clinging to life, then recovering from a couple grueling surgeries. Ignoring the clutch in her heart at the memory, she forced herself to say lightly, “Is there a statute of limitations when it comes to the confessional? Because I’m sure your past is rife with unrepented material.”

Any rejoinder he would have made to that was lost when the door was pulled open. A figure clad in black stepped out. “Adam.”

Jaid watched bemusedly as the white-collared man encased Adam in a bear hug. “Good to see you up and around.”

“You just saw me last week.” Despite his calm reminder, Adam thumped the man’s back companionably.

“And you haven’t been maimed or shot in the duration.” The priest cast his eyes heavenward. “Proof that God is good.”

“There are some who would reach a different conclusion.” Adam stepped aside to indicate Jaid. “Special Agent Jaid Marlowe, Monsignor Jerry Benton. Jerry’s an old friend.”

That last was unnecessary. Even in the dim glow from the security light on the concrete steps, the affection the two men had for each other was clear.

“Come on in.” The priest pulled open the door. “It was nice enough earlier today, but the wind’s come up.”

They followed him inside a vestibule, one wall adorned with an ornately engraved crucifix. Impressions were fleeting as he led them down a dimly lit hallway. The shadowy figures topping tables and stands were, she figured, statues of various saints. She wouldn’t hazard a guess at their identities. She knew very little of Catholicism. Would never admit out loud that what she recalled of the deadly sins came from the plot of a movie she’d seen years ago.