Fatal Judgment (21 page)

Spence angled sideways, and the clerk edged past, pushing his glasses up his nose as he gave the marshal’s Glock a nervous look.

“Sorry to bother you this late on Friday, Judge, but the lawyer for the defendant in that drug conspiracy case we discussed this morning showed up with his client and the prosecutor. He wants to offer a guilty plea. They’re in the courtroom.”

With a resigned nod, Liz rezipped her robe. “Okay. Sorry about that, guys.” Her apologetic glance encompassed both of the marshals. “I’m sure you have better ways to spend your Friday night.”

“No problem.” Jake motioned to Spence, and they accompanied her back to the courtroom.

Forty-five minutes later, Liz was once again in her chambers, unzipping her robe. “I think we should beat a hasty retreat before something else comes up.”

“I second that.” Spence moved to the door.

“Hot date?” Jake arched an eyebrow.

Spence grinned. “Yeah. Eat your heart out, buddy.”

“And I was going to invite you both to stay for cannoli.” Liz shot Spence a teasing look.

“Now that’s almost enough to make me change my plans. But”—he feigned a heavy sigh—“I can’t disappoint a lady. Jake, however, might be persuaded. I have a feeling he’s at loose ends.”

He was going to have to have a long talk with his impertinent colleague soon, Jake decided. Very soon.

“As a matter of fact, I promised my sister I’d take her new puppy to the kennel. She’s working late. And all of us are leaving early tomorrow for Chicago. It’s my mom’s seventieth birthday and we’re planning to surprise her.”

Besides, he didn’t need the temptation of a Friday night alone with Liz in her condo. Why subject his self-discipline to that kind of test?

“What a nice gesture.”

At Liz’s warm comment, he looked over at her. The tenderness of her smile jolted his libido, and it was a struggle to maintain a neutral tone.

“I think she’ll get a kick out of it. It’s been a lot of years since all three of her kids were there to celebrate her big day.” He shifted toward Spence. “You want to alert the motorcade guys?”

“Already done. They’re moving into position as we speak.”

“Okay. We’re out of here. Liz?” He gestured toward the door.

She slipped her coat off its hanger. “I think I’m going to need this. I hear the temperature has been dropping all day.”

“Let me help you with that.” Jake took the briefcase out of her hand and passed it over to Spence. As he held the coat for her, a faint, pleasing floral scent wafted his way. The one he’d come to associate with Liz.

He fought the temptation to lean close and inhale a lungful.

“Thanks, Jake.”

He released the coat. “My pleasure.”

“Are you sure I can’t convince you to stay long enough to sample some cannoli?”

She turned his way, and when she smiled up at him he had to remind himself to breathe. How she’d managed to get under his skin in such a short time was beyond his comprehension. But he couldn’t dispute the evidence. His heart was beating double time.

“Not tonight, Liz.” His voice rasped, and he cleared his throat. “But thanks for the invitation.”

“Okay. Your loss.”

She meant the cannoli. He knew that. But as far as he was concerned, missing an evening in her company was a far bigger loss.

The problem was, if he’d accepted her invitation he’d have been tempted to sample far more than the cannoli.

And given the roguish grin Spence directed to him over Liz’s head as they fell into step on either side of her, he suspected the other marshal had figured that out.

This was the weekend.

Martin wiped his palms down his slacks and picked up the snub-nose .38 revolver he kept in his dresser. He’d never had occasion to use it, but he’d always believed in being prepared. The world was getting more dangerous every day. A man couldn’t be too careful.

Or afraid to right wrongs.

As Jarrod always said, if peaceful means of redressing grievances failed, citizens had an absolute right to use force to remove an abusive government and rid the world of a rotting judicial system. Or maybe he’d read that in some of the literature he’d been collecting. In any case, the mandate was clear. And this weekend, he would—

“Marty?”

At the knock on his bedroom door, followed by Patricia’s annoyed call, he fumbled the gun. It fell onto the carpet at his feet, and he snatched it up. He’d been afraid the timing of her visit would make things difficult, and those fears had been realized. She asked too many questions and looked at him strangely every time he left the house.

He’d put his plan on hold if he could, but he wasn’t going to get a decent night’s sleep until it was done. Besides, for all he knew those marshals might move the judge to some new location and he’d have to start all over figuring out where she was. But the clincher was the weather. It was finally cooperating.

No, he wasn’t going to wait. This was his window.

“Marty?” She knocked again.

He shoved the gun under some T-shirts in his dresser and closed the drawer. After crossing the room, he twisted the knob on the door.

“I heard you the first time, Patricia.”

She planted her hands on her hips and gave him one of those narrow-eyed looks he remembered from his childhood. The kind she’d pinned him with when he was behaving in a way that didn’t meet with her approval.

“Are you going to spend the entire evening in your room?”

“No. I just had a few things to take care of.” Josie rubbed against his leg, and he stooped to pick her up, cradling her in his arms. As a companion, she was turning out to be far preferable to his sister. She made no demands and didn’t expect him to communicate.

“You didn’t even try the apple pie I made for dessert.”

“I was too full from your great meatloaf. But I’ll have some now.”

That seemed to appease her. Some of the tension left her face, and she motioned him to follow her back to the kitchen.

“The coffee’s still hot. Have a seat.” She gestured to the table.

He put Josie on the floor and took his place. After setting the plates of pie and two mugs on the table, she joined him.

“You know, Marty, I’ve been here five days and I’ve seen more of your neighbor Molly than I have of you. I had no idea you led such a busy life. With you being off work and all, I thought we’d have more time to spend together.”

He broke off a bite of pie with the edge of his fork. “You’ve been talking to Molly?”

“Yes.” Concern sharpened her features. “I told you all about it yesterday at dinner. How she came by Wednesday night and I went to the grocery store with her. And how she dropped by for a visit yesterday. Don’t you remember?”

He vaguely recalled her mentioning his neighbor. But he didn’t pay a whole lot of attention to Patricia’s rambling monologues. His mind was occupied with his plan for the judge. Still, he couldn’t risk having her think he was getting senile. After all, their father had died with early onset Alzheimer’s.

“Of course I remember. I’m just surprised you two hit it off. She’s only a kid. I wouldn’t think you’d have much in common.”

“She’s a very nice young woman. And she’s fascinated by my stories from Africa.”

Ah. A willing ear. That explained it. Martin took another bite of pie.

“Anyway, she took me out again with her today while you were . . . what was it you were doing again?”

He tried to remember the excuse he’d given her for his four-hour absence while he’d gone to buy the bales of straw and driven to the country to stash them. A visit to the outplacement firm. That was it.

“I was working on my resume and doing some practice job interviews at that place the company sent all the laid-off employees.”

“Oh yes. Now I remember.” She took a sip of coffee, still watching him. Like this was a test or something. “Anyway, with you so busy and all, I thought I might rent a car for the duration. That way, I can tool around and entertain myself while you’re gone.”

Perfect! He should have suggested that sooner. If she was occupied, she’d be less likely to pay as much attention to him.

“That’s a great idea. I’ll run you over to the car rental place tomorrow morning first thing. By the way, did I mention I was going deer hunting this weekend?”

She stared at him. “No.”

“Yeah. Joe Abernathy and I go every fall. He’s got a cabin upstate. We’re leaving Sunday morning and I’ll be back Tuesday evening.”

“I thought you gave up hunting years ago.”

He pressed the tines of his fork against the crumbs from his piecrust. “I did. Helen didn’t much care for it, and I stopped hunting after we got married. Now that she’s gone, I’ve picked it up again with Joe. His wife’s never had a problem with hunting.” The season didn’t start for two weeks, but he doubted Patricia knew that.

“I never did see the fascination in tracking down innocent animals for sport. And I don’t like guns.”

“Neither does the government.”

“What do you mean?” She gave him a puzzled look as she scooped up her last bite of pie.

Martin stifled a disgusted sigh. That was the problem with most Americans. The government was undermining their freedom right and left, and they didn’t even realize it.

“Do you know how hard it is to get a gun now?”

“I know there are regulations about it. To protect people.”

He snorted in disgust. “That’s a crock of . . .” He bit off the last word. Leaned forward. “Patricia, wake up. The government wants to destroy our Second Amendment rights. To disarm all Americans. Our liberty is in jeopardy from the very arms of government that are supposed to protect it, especially our courts and our judges.”

“Goodness, Marty.” Her eyes widened. “I haven’t seen you this riled up since your eminent domain fight. When did you start worrying about the government?”

Back off. Let it go.

As the warning sounded in his mind, he bit his tongue. Patricia wasn’t a recruit for Jarrod’s group. She didn’t even spend much time in the United States anymore. And he didn’t need to further arouse her suspicions by acting out of character.

“I’ve been reading a lot lately is all.” He adopted a nonchalant tone. “Seems like the country’s in a lot of trouble these days. I guess you’re a little out of touch over there in Africa.”

“I keep up with things. I haven’t read much about people being up in arms over gun control, though. Pardon the pun.”

“Depends on who you talk to, I guess. Do you want me to drive you to the rental place after breakfast tomorrow?”

“That would be fine.”

“Good pie, Patricia.” He pushed his plate aside. “Best I’ve had since Helen died.”

“I’m glad you liked it, Marty. I know apple was always your favorite. I remember once when you were about eight, Mom had a pie cooling on the counter and you ate off the entire crust.” She chuckled and shook her head. “Mom was fit to be tied.”

“That doesn’t ring any bells.”

“I guess not. That’s a long time ago, and you were little. Do you remember Mom at all?”

“Not anything specific. I have much clearer memories of Dad.”

Twin furrows appeared on Patricia’s brow. “I’m not sure that’s a good thing. He was always too stern and controlling. And he was awfully hard on you. I’ll always remember the time you won first place in that art fair and he wouldn’t let you go accept the prize because you didn’t get an A on your calculus exam.”

He remembered it too. It had been one of his bitterest disappointments. But he hadn’t thought about it in years. And he wasn’t going to start now.

“That’s ancient history, Patricia.”

“Maybe. But I was always sorry you gave up your drawing after he told you it wasn’t a manly pursuit. You had a lot of talent.”

He lifted one shoulder. “I guess he was being practical. Can’t make much of a living drawing pictures.”

“Some people do.”

“It’s a tough life, though. Things turned out okay. I liked my work.”

“You still miss it?”

“Yeah. It was a good job. I felt like I was doing something important, something that mattered.” A surge of anger welled up inside him. “Too bad the government didn’t.”