Fatal Judgment (4 page)

“My father died too young too,” he offered. “Sixty-one. He got up one morning five years ago, put on his uniform, and keeled over from a stroke on his way to work. I’ll never forget the shock of that phone call.” His own voice hoarsened, and he cleared his throat.

“What sort of uniform?”

“Police. He never wanted to be more than a street cop. But he made a difference. People on his beat knew if they had a problem, Joe Taylor would see that justice was served. Everyone loved and respected him. I never met a man with more strength of conviction and integrity.”

Liz’s expression softened. “I have a feeling our dads might have been cut from the same cloth.”

“Could be.” Jake tipped his head back and drained his soda can. He had no idea how the conversation had edged into such personal territory. While he wasn’t averse to sharing information about his upbringing and his family with friends, Liz didn’t fall into that camp. Not even close.

But he had to admit she was easy to talk to. Must be her legal training. Putting people at ease on the stand and encouraging them to talk by asking the right questions would be a critical skill for an attorney. One it was clear she’d mastered.

Jake was saved from having to find a way to shift the conversation back to more neutral territory by a soft knock on the door.

Spence stuck his head inside. “Dr. Lawrence is here.”

As Jake’s gaze met the other marshal’s, some sixth sense told him what was coming. He rose, circled the bed, and stationed himself beside Liz as Spence pushed the door all the way open.

The doctor, still attired in surgical scrubs, entered.

At the man’s grim demeanor, Liz drew a sharp breath and her posture went taut as a bowstring. When her fingers clenched, crushing the empty plastic cup in her hand, Jake bent down to take it from her.

The surgeon snagged a chair, placed it at the foot of the bed across from Liz, and sat. Exhaustion had deepened the smudges under his eyes since his visit to the ER, and the lines etched on his brow were mute testimony to sustained, intense concentration.

“There’s no easy way to say this, Judge Michaels.” His tone was gentle and filled with quiet sympathy. “We did everything we could. But the bleeding and swelling were so severe that your sister’s brain stem, which controls the body’s most critical functions, stopped operating. We’ve done an EEG, and there’s no electrical activity. In light of our earlier conversation about organ donation, we’re keeping her on a ventilator and moving her to the ICU. But brain death has occurred. I’m very, very sorry we couldn’t save her.”

As the doctor gave Liz the bad news, Jake watched her knuckles whiten on the arms of the chair. Tracked the shudder that rippled through her. Heard the catch in her breathing.

But when she spoke, she once again sounded steadier than he’d expected.

“I know you did your best, Doctor. And I thank you for that. May I . . .” Her voice caught, and she tried again. “I’d like to see her.”

“Of course. Just give us a few minutes. One of the ICU nurses will come and get you.” He looked up at Jake. “Because of the nature of her injury, we’ll need some direction from the coroner before we can proceed with organ retrieval.”

“I’ll get things in motion.”

The doctor nodded, then leaned toward Liz and took her hand, cocooning it between his. “I wish we could have repaired the damage to your sister and given her many more years, Judge Michaels. But some things can’t be remedied, even with modern medicine. If it’s any consolation, the quality of her life, had she lived, would have been severely compromised. The damage to her brain was extensive.”

“Thank you for sharing that. It does help.”

With one more squeeze of her hand, the doctor stood and spoke to Jake. “When you have some information, just let the ICU know.”

“I’ll do that.”

In the quiet that descended after the doctor exited, Jake tried to think of some words of comfort. But if they existed, he couldn’t come up with them. So he resorted to the standard, trite expression of sympathy. “I’m sorry, Liz.”

“Thank you.” She blinked and swiped the backs of her hands across her eyes. “I knew all along there wasn’t much chance she’d survive. But I . . . I guess I kept hoping for a miracle.”

“Can I get you anything?”

“No. Thanks. I’d just like to sit for a few minutes.”

“Okay. I’ll be in the hall.”

With one last glance at her, he exited the room, let the door click shut behind him, and joined his colleague.

“I take it the news was bad?” Spence handed him a cup of black coffee.

“Yeah.” Jake took a long swallow of the lukewarm brew and kneaded the back of his neck. “Her sister didn’t make it.”

“How’s the judge holding up?”

“She’s still on her feet. But my guess is she’s close to folding.”

“It’s been a rough night.”

“Yeah.”

“While you were talking to the doctor, I checked in with Matt. He’s lined up a condo for her until we sort this thing out. Two of our guys have already done a sweep and are waiting there.”

“Good. We should be ready to leave shortly. She wants to stop by the ICU, so we’ll do that on the way out. Also, her sister left a directive to donate her organs. Can you find out what the coroner needs?”

“No problem. I’ll arrange for some transport for us too.”

“We need to swing by her house on our way to the condo. The police want her to see if anything is missing.”

“I’ll get a couple of our guys over there.”

As the nurse who’d briefed them earlier appeared from around a corner at the far end of the hall, Jake drained his cup. “They must be ready for the judge.”

Handing the cup back to Spence, Jake reentered the room. Liz was sitting where he’d left her.

“Susan Grady is headed our way. Do you need a few more minutes before going to the ICU?”

“No.”

Standing, she walked around the bed with the exaggerated care of a drunk and picked up her purse. Her slow, precise movements confirmed his assessment of her condition.

She was about to fold.

As she stopped beside him, waiting for him to cue their departure, Jake gave in to his earlier impulse.

“Hang on one sec.”

He ducked into the bathroom, dampened a washcloth, reentered the room, and positioned himself in front of her.

She inspected the cloth. Gave him a puzzled frown. “What’s that for?”

“Milk mustache.”

The furrows in her brow eased. “I never did learn to drink milk properly.”

“Easy to fix.” He dabbed at her upper lip, trying to ignore those gold-flecked green eyes that harbored so much pain.

“At least you didn’t spit on your handkerchief.”

“What?” He stopped dabbing, taken aback.

“That’s what my mom always did when I had a milk mustache. I hated it.” She tried for a smile. Didn’t come close to pulling it off.

Admiring her spunk, Jake wiped away the last of the crusty white residue. “I can understand that. Although spit was probably very effective.”

“But disgusting.”

Flashing her a quick smile, he tossed the washcloth onto the adjustable table beside the remnants of his breakfast and took her arm. “I agree. Let’s head out.”

The walk to the ICU was short. Once they arrived, Spence took up a position by the door. Jake released Liz’s arm, intending to wait outside with his colleague. The nurse pushed through the door and held it open.

Liz didn’t budge.

Susan Grady transferred her attention from Liz to Jake and arched an eyebrow.

“Liz.” He touched her shoulder. “Would you rather not go in? You don’t have to.”

“Yes, I do. I have to s-say good-bye.” Her voice was determined, but he saw the panic in her eyes. “Would you mind c-coming in with me?”

He shot a quick glance at Spence. “You okay with that?”

“Yeah. I’ve got it covered.”

Taking Liz’s arm again, he stepped with her into the ICU.

And into a sea of memories that blindsided him.

It had been a different city, a different hospital, a different set of circumstances . . . but the muted sounds, the equipment, the smell—they took him back four years. To the night he’d lost Jen.

All at once, he was sorry he’d eaten breakfast.

When his step faltered, Liz looked up at him. “Jake?”

He gritted his teeth. Sucked in a deep breath. “Give me a sec.”

Understanding—followed by remorse—flashed through her eyes. “I’m sorry. You probably have your own bad hospital memories. I should have realized that. Look, I’m okay. Just wait for me outside. I c-can do this by myself.”

The stutter belied her reassurance.

Still, for an instant, Jake was tempted to take her up on her offer. To flee this place that awakened the memories of pain and loss slumbering deep in his heart.

But the truth was, those memories would have been worse if he’d had to face his trauma alone. He’d made it through those dark hours because Cole and Alison had shown up and stuck by him 24/7. That’s what siblings did. That’s what family was for. But Liz had no one. And no matter his personal feelings toward her, he couldn’t let her do this hard thing alone.

Firming his grip on her arm, he urged her forward. “I’m fine.”

To his surprise, she held back and searched his face. “Are you sure?”

She was giving him one more chance to change his mind. Putting her own needs secondary to his. Willing to spare him at her own expense—despite her clear recognition of his antipathy toward her.

That was another disconnect with the image he’d drawn of her from his conversations with Doug.

And another reason not to let her down.

“I’m sure.”

She drew a shaky breath. “Thank you.”

Susan had stopped up ahead by a curtained cubicle, and she gestured toward it when they joined her. “Feel free to stay as long as you like.”

As she moved away, Jake kept a firm grip on Liz’s arm. “Ready?”

She straightened her shoulders. Lifted her chin. Nodded.

Leaning forward, he took hold of the drape. And as he prepared to pull it aside, he dug deep for a silent prayer to the God he’d neglected of late, asking him to give Liz the courage and strength she would need to get through the next few minutes—and the days and months to come.

______

Liz thought she’d mentally prepared herself to see Stephanie.

She was wrong.

As her sister came into view, her slender form outlined beneath the white sheet, she faltered. Without Jake’s steadying grip on her arm, without the bolstering effect of his solid physical presence and aura of strength, she had a feeling she’d have crumpled into a heap on the floor.

For close to a minute, she remained at the foot of the bed, willing the shakiness in her legs to stabilize as she watched the steady rise and fall of Stephanie’s chest. And reminded herself that the oxygen flowing through her sister’s lungs was being provided by a ventilator. That despite the lifelike movement, Stephanie was gone, leaving only a physical shell behind.

And so was the niece or nephew she’d never know.

She closed her eyes, the double loss and the sudden, empty feeling of utter aloneness twisting her stomach into a tight knot and choking off her breath.

God, please give me strength!

When she at last felt capable of moving forward, she eased free of Jake’s grip and walked toward the head of the bed. Tape covered much of Stephanie’s lower face, holding the endotracheal tube in place. A white dressing swathed her upper head. Very few of her sister’s features were exposed.

But the black eye Alan had inflicted stood out. Visible evidence of the attack that had convinced Stephanie to flee to the refuge of her sister’s home. To a place she’d mistakenly assumed would be a safe haven.

A bone-deep coldness settled over Liz, and she shivered.

Seconds later, a jacket infused with warmth was draped over her shoulders. Angling toward Jake, she noted the faint parallel creases etched between his eyebrows. Felt the concern—and compassion—radiating from the depths of his brown eyes. The latter warmed a place deep in her soul much as his jacket was chasing the chill from her skin.

“Thank you.”

He acknowledged her expression of gratitude with a nod.

Turning back to her sister, she reached for her hand. It was warm and supple, the fingers long and tapering and graceful. The hand of a ballet dancer. Stephanie had aspired to that career, once upon a time. Until Liz had discouraged her, urging her to choose a more practical profession instead. And so her sister had, earning a business degree that had led her to an executive assistant position. Which had, in turn, led her to Alan.

So much bad advice.

So many mistakes.

Liz’s throat tightened, and she stifled a sob. Fought for control.

Holding on to her emotions by the flimsiest thread, she leaned down and pressed a kiss to her sister’s forehead.

“Good-bye, Steph.” The whispered endearment was more breath than sound. “I’m sorry for all the ways I failed you. I hope you’re happy now. And at peace. And I hope you finally get your chance to dance. Always remember how much I love you.”

A tear slipped past her lashes, leaving a dark splotch on the pristine sheet. Another followed.

Straightening up, Liz groped inside her purse for a tissue. Swiped at her eyes. Tried to stem the flood of tears.

Failed.

She felt Jake move beside her.

Was it time to go? Already?

But much to her surprise, instead of urging her to leave, he laid a hand on her shoulder.

That silent gesture of support gave her more comfort than any words he could have said.

For an instant, she was tempted to lean back against his powerful chest, to let his solid strength support her physically as his touch had shored her up emotionally. But he was already doing far more than his job required. She didn’t want to overstep the bounds of professional propriety.

Taking her sister’s hand once more, she gave it a final squeeze, choked back a sob . . . and commended her to God.

As she turned away, she kept her watery eyes downcast and fiddled with her purse. “I’m ready to leave. But I’d like to stop by the chapel on our way out, if that’s possible.” Though she made a valiant attempt, she couldn’t stop the quiver that ran through her voice.

“I’ll see what we can arrange.”

Jake pulled the curtain aside and she started toward the exit. But three steps outside the cubicle, her vision blurred and she stumbled. He was beside her at once, his hand again firm on her arm through the thin leather of his jacket, supporting her, guiding her as they wove through the ICU.

Once they reached the door, he settled her against the wall beside it, signaling to his colleague on the other side of the glass entry. “Wait here while I talk to Spence about the chapel, okay?”

Not trusting her voice, she simply nodded.

He pushed through the door, and she watched as the two men conversed, aware that Jake was keeping tabs on her. They conferred with a passing aide, and then Jake rejoined her.

“We’ll leave by way of the chapel and check it out. If it’s not crowded, we can make this work. Let me introduce you to Spence, who will be part of your security detail.”

Jake ushered her through the door, and she found her hand engulfed in a strong grip. She liked Jake’s colleague at once. As tall and dark-haired as her husband’s best friend, he, too, projected a powerful presence. His eyes were sharp and incisive, and he radiated competence and integrity.

But Jake didn’t waste time on social niceties. Before she’d even finished shaking hands, he was propelling her down the hall. Spence fell into step on her other side.

Fortunately, the chapel was empty when they arrived. After escorting her to a pew near the rear, the two men retreated to the back.

Grateful to have a few quiet minutes alone with God before she was plunged back into the craziness that had become her life, Liz closed her eyes, bowed her head, and resolved to make the most of them.

Because she didn’t know when she might have this luxury again. And she needed every bit of comfort, fortitude, and strength the Almighty was willing to impart during this brief moment of spiritual communion.

“What’s the exit plan?” Standing half in and half out of the chapel, the door propped open with his shoulder, Jake kept one eye on Liz and the other on the hall as he directed the soft question to Spence.

“The Suburban’s waiting near a service entrance on the lower level. Dan and Larry are inside. You might have met them on your orientation tour.”

“Yeah.” As he recalled, Dan O’Leary had the ruddy complexion stereotypical of his Irish heritage, reinforced by strong auburn tints in his brown hair. Larry Olsen, lean and a little gangly, had reminded him of a cowboy in an old western.

“They’re good men. Very experienced. Dan’s checking out the most expeditious route from the chapel to the service entrance as we speak. Once we’re in the Suburban, they’ll drop us off at our cars. When we leave, I’ll lead, they’ll follow, you’ll take up the rear.”

“That works. We’ll swing by the judge’s house first, then head to the condo. Where is it?”

“A high-rise downtown. Not far from the courthouse. We’ve used units there before. There’s good security already in place, but it’s being beefed up on the judge’s unit as we speak, including a camera in the exterior hall. We’ll also link into the feed from the security cameras at the entrances to the building. Matt got an adjacent unit for us. The command post is being set up there.”

“Sounds like everything is under control.”

“On our end, anyway.” Spence glanced toward Liz. “I’m not so sure about the judge.”

Jake took in Liz’s bowed head, the slump of her shoulders. “Not surprising, in light of everything that’s happened. But she’s a strong woman.”

“Good thing.” Spence cocked his head. “You two have a history?”

“She’s the widow of my best friend. I’ve only met her twice, though.” He pulled his BlackBerry off his belt. “My brother’s the lead detective on this case. Hang tight in here while I alert him we’re about to leave for the house.”

Stepping into the hall, Jake let the chapel door close behind him and stood in front of it as he speed-dialed Cole.

His brother answered on the second ring.

“I’ve been wondering when I’d hear from you. A couple of your guys showed up at the scene, so I assume you’re going to be there soon.”

“We got delayed. The judge’s sister didn’t make it.”

Cole muttered a word that wasn’t pretty. “We’re gonna nail this guy.”

“Any sign of him yet?”

“No. But it’s only a matter of time. What’s your ETA?”

“Half an hour, max. Liz is in the chapel now, and we’re out of here as soon as she’s ready to leave.”

“Okay. I’ll meet you at the house. The technicians are just wrapping up inside.”

As the line went dead, Spence cracked the door. “I think she’s about done here.”

Jake looked past him. Liz was settling her purse on her shoulder. “You want to call Dan and see if he’s finished mapping our route to the service entrance?”

“Yeah.”

He slipped past Spence and reentered the chapel as the other man took his place in the hall.

Liz rose, exited the pew, and walked toward him. Though a profound sadness still echoed in her eyes, they seemed more serene. And she’d regained some of the composure he recalled from their previous encounters.

He hoped it lasted once she left this quiet, peaceful place.

“Thank you for giving me this time. It helped a lot.”

“We try to accommodate requests from our charges whenever we can. Are you ready to leave?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Here’s the plan. We’ll be exiting through a service entrance on the lower level, into a Suburban. Besides being safer, that will allow us to avoid any media people who might be lurking around. We want to do this fast. No stopping.”

“All right.”

“When we leave here, we’ll swing by your house. The police need you to check for missing items. We can’t rule out robbery yet. While we’re there, you can also pack some things to take to the condo.”

Her face went blank. “What condo?”

“Sorry. I guess we haven’t gone over that.” What was normal protocol for him would be new for her. She’d only been on the federal bench for four months. “In a situation like this, with so many unknowns, it’s standard procedure to move a federal judge to a place we can more easily secure.”

She took a deep breath. “Right. I knew that. I just never thought it would apply to me. But it’s better than staying at the house after . . .” She swallowed. “I understand the need to check out the robbery angle, but I don’t have to go in the family room, do I?”

“Is there anything in there worth stealing?”

“No. Besides, most of my stuff is still in boxes. I’m just renting the house while I look for one to buy, so I haven’t bothered to unpack.”

“Then you can avoid that room.” If Cole didn’t agree with that decision, tough.

“How long will I be in the condo?”

“Until it’s safe for you to leave.” He knew she wanted a more definitive answer, but that was the best he could offer.

The door opened, and Spence stuck his head inside. “Any time you’re ready.”

Jake took Liz’s arm. “Now is good. Let’s move.”

Guiding her out, he set a brisk pace as they traversed a maze of corridors and took a service elevator to the lower level. As it descended, Spence tapped in Dan’s number and alerted him they were moments away.

The transfer to the Suburban was smooth and swift. Spence stepped outside the door. The vehicle pulled close to the exit, and he opened the back door. Jake hustled Liz into the car, sliding in next to her. Spence circled the vehicle and took a seat beside her on the other side. He was still closing his door as the vehicle pulled away from the curb.

“Wow. That looked choreographed.” Liz’s hand tightened on her purse strap, the thread of strain back in her voice.

“We’ve all been through these kinds of drills a few times. Buckle up.” Jake tapped her seat belt. “Liz, meet Dan O’Leary behind the wheel, and Larry Olsen. Guys, this is Judge Elizabeth Michaels.”

As Dan lifted his hand in greeting, Liz dredged up the ghost of a smile for Larry. “Marshal Olsen and I met during one of my first cases here. How’s your wife doing?”