The Last Justice (10 page)

"Someone stabbed him," McKenna said, still gasping for air.

"Stabbed? Stabbed who? Jefferson, where are you? Are you okay?" Kate asked in rapid succession.

"I think he's dead ..."

"Slow down. Who's dead?"

"Griffin Nash. I don't know what's happening."

"Listen to me, Jefferson," Kate said sternly. "Where are you right now?"

"Chinatown."

"Okay. I want you to listen and do what I tell you. Can you do that?"

"Yes."

"I want you to get in a cab and go to one-two-two Thirtieth Street. Can you remember that? One-two-two Thirtieth, in Georgetown."

He didn't answer.

"Say the address, Jefferson."

"One-two-two Thirtieth, Georgetown."

"It's my brother's place. He's out of town until tomorrow.lhere's a key under the flowerpot near the door."

When he didn't respond right away, Kate repeated, "Did you hear me? The key is under the flowerpot. Think geraniums."

"Yes. Okay," McKenna said.

"Be careful."

Within minutes, he was in the backseat of a cab. Only now aware of the blood on his shirt, he buttoned his suit jacket and folded his arms against his chest. A familiar pain crept from the back of his neck to behind his left eye, and he began to perspire. He closed his eyes and took several slow deep breaths. In his years coping with migraines he had found only one thing that might stave off the impending agony: he needed to relax, to think pleasant thoughts, to go to another place.

"You okay?" the cabbie asked, darting nervous looks in the rearview mirror.

"Yes, I just have a headache. I'll be fine."

Another dagger struck quick behind his eye. He pulled out the little square tin where he kept his medication, and took two tablets. Taped on the inside of the tin's lid was a photo. He stared at it and tried to block out every other thought as Isabel smiled back at him. She was giving Colin his first bath.

He remembered taking the picture, and how Isabel, her hair disheveled and her eyes tired, laughed joyfully when Colin splashed her.

After Colin's death, of course, Isabel's smiles and laughs were few and brief. But she had coped with the loss far better than her husband. While Isabel made all the funeral arrangements and attended to grieving family and friends, McKenna was no more than a vacant spectator. Isabel volunteered at the hospital and brought meals to the families they had met in the children's ward. McKenna retreated to his office. Isabel sought grief counseling, never once missing a session, while McKenna sat alone in Colin's playroom in the dark. He was angry-angry at the insurance company for denying coverage for an experimental treatment. Angry at Isabel and everyone else who seemed to accept that nothing more could be done to save his little boy. And angry at God. Isabel had pleaded with him to open up, see a counselor-to try and remember the good times in Ohio. Recalling one of their last carefree nights before everything began to fall apart, McKenna sank low in the back of the cab and closed his eyes ...

-7he Fairest of7hem "'Isabel read aloud, giggling at the headline of a story from a legal gossip Web site that catered to federal law clerks.

"McKenna said, having already been teased mercilessly by the other judges in the Ohio federal courthouse.

Isabel read gleefully on. -Our nominations for the annual judicial hottie list are out. This year there are twenty-seven federal judges that are making their law clerks sweat-and not from researching case

McKenna tried to grab the printout from her, but she darted away into the kitchen, reading as she fled. "Ibis is my favorite part. `7he most recent addition to the list: Judge Jefferson McKenna from the Southern District of Ohio. A tall, dark dreamboat-Ohio never looked so good. But sorry, Buckeyes, this guy's headed to where he's been nominated for solicitor general. We can't wait to see him in the mandatory SG uniform, including the morning coat and those tight striped

Backtracking, he dashed around the refrigerator, caught Isabel, and wrestled her to the floor. Snatching theprintout from hergrasp and throwing it out of reach, he pinned her on the floor. She laughed andfake-struggled, and he kissed her. And they made love right there-a rare exercise of freedom with Colin fast asleep.,4 week later, Colin came down with what they thought was the flu. Leukemia. Life would never be the same.

McKenna paid the cabbie and walked up the uneven brick sidewalk to a faded yellow house with a motorcycle parked on a patch of long, uncut grass near the front door. The key was under the pot of dead geraniums, just as Kate had said it would be, and he went inside.

The house had few windows and fewer lights. The living room had a black leather recliner that faced a television connected to a video gaming system. By the television was a bookshelf, and on the top shelf sat three motorcycle helmets, all candy-apple red. A Gibson Les Paul guitar leaned in one of the corners next to a small vintage tube amp.

The pounding in his head continued, but the medicine was beginning to dull the edge. Focus, he told himself. He reached for his BlackBerry to call Kate. The e-mail and cell phone no longer worked. They had already cut him off from the network.

Finding a cable news channel on the television, he winced to see himself as the lead story. The station's Supreme Court correspondent was standing in front of the Justice Department building.

"I thought the assassination of the justices would be the most bizarre story I've ever covered about the high court, but this one may take the cake," the heavyset reporter said into the camera. "McKenna was generally well regarded as solicitor general-a surprise given that he was a virtual unknown when appointed by the president. As the Washington Post first reported on its Web site, his former law clerk apparently was the source for a story that was to break tomorrow, claiming that McKenna took a bribe when he was a federal judge in Ohio. That law clerk, who reportedly was seen with McKenna last night, turned up stabbed to death on a Manhattan street, and my sources say blood found in McKenna's hotel room connects him to the crime. And today we learn that Griffin Nash, the CEO of Nevel Industries and former White House chief of staff, was stabbed and killed on a downtown D.C. street just a short time ago. A man fitting McKenna's description was witnessed running from the scene. What's startling here is that Mr. Nash allegedly paid McKenna the bribe."

The screen switched to an anchorwoman sitting behind a desk. "Arthur, do we know of any connection with Black Wednesday and the assassination of the justices?"

"That's the real mystery here, Pamela. Nash's company, Nevel Industries, had a case pending at the court that was about to be argued that very day, just before the justices were massacred. My sources tell me that the Nevel matter is a case of interest being investigated by the Supreme Court Commission. How all this fits together is not yet known. We'll keep you posted as new developments emerge."

McKenna was startled at the sound of a key in the door. Kate came in, wearing jeans and a ball cap, with a duffel bag slung over her shoulder. She looked like a college kid.

"Jefferson," she said, hugging him and holding him for an extra second. The reporter was right-in a few short hours the situation had gone from unbelievable to flat-out bizarre.

Noticing the blood on his shirt, she said, "My God! Are you okay?"

"It's not my blood."

McKenna told her about the man in the camouflage jacket who stabbed Nash and screamed that McKenna had done it.

"Had you ever seen him before?"

"No, I don't think so."

She took his hands in hers. "I think we need to contact the authorities. We have friends on the commission, people who know you'd never be capable of hurting anyone. The truth will come out."

"You don't know that," he said. "Someone has gone to great lengths to make it look like I killed Parker Sinclair and Nash, and there's obviously a leak on the commission."

"If you run, you just look like you have something to hide."

"I'm not running. I'm not aware of any arrest warrant."

"Jefferson, you know-"

"I just need a little time to try and figure this out for myself." He placed his fingertips on his temples and massaged them in circular motions. He caught Kate's glimpse and subtle frown at his wedding ring.

"Who would have a reason to do this?" Kate asked.

"If I knew..."

"Who, Jefferson?" she said. "Is there something that happened with you and Nash? I won't be able to help unless I know everything."

"Tell me you're kidding. You believe what they're saying about the bribe?"

"Of course not. But I can't help unless you start thinking of what it could be-and you trust me." She pulled the Supreme Court Commission briefing book from the duffel bag and threw it on the table. "You need to go through this again, and think. Is there anything here that might explain why someone would do this to you?"

"You've read this," McKenna said as he picked up the book. "You know this is two hundred pages of nothing but dead-end leads and speculation."

"So you're giving up?" she challenged. Kate pointed to the briefing book. "Read this again. And again and again if you need to. And think." She shoved the duffel bag at him. "I'm supposed to meet with the FBI tonight. It won't surprise me if they've heard rumors about us, so it could be a long night."

McKenna opened the bag. There was a cell phone and what looked like about a thousand dollars in cash.

"My rainy day shoebox money," she said. Pointing to his bloodstained shirt, she added, "If I'd known, I would have brought some of the clothes you left at my place ... Never mind-my brother's about your size, so you can grab something from his closet."

McKenna pulled the cell phone from the duffel.

"I bought it from that street vendor in front of the office," Kate said. "I tried it out and it works."

"Thank you," McKenna said. "You didn't have to do this. You're taking a huge risk helping me."

"I know. So you need to promise me something, Jefferson."

He gazed into her eyes and nodded.

"Promise me that if you don't figure this out soon, you'll stop this nonsense and let me call our contacts on the commission."

"I promise," he said reluctantly.

"I'll hold you to that," Kate replied. "I should go now."

McKenna walked her to the door, where she turned and kissed him as if it would be their last. "Good-bye, Jefferson."

7:30p.m. Home ofJudge Petrov, Upper West Side, Manhattan

alm down, Liddy," Judge Petrov said into the phone. He fell back into his leather chair in the study of his spacious apartment and took a long sip of his glass of single malt Scotch.

His wife, Katherine, stood nearby shaking her head. Having spent the better part of an hour on the phone with Liddy Kincaid, she had pawned the increasingly unhinged woman off on her husband. As she had reminded Petrov repeatedly, Liddy was technically his friend, since the late chief justice was his mentor.

Originally, Katherine Petrov had humored the Kincaids because she thought it might help her husband's career. Also, Chief Justice Kincaid was from old money and the association had opened doors to a set that ordinarily would not have accepted Katherine, whose wealth was of more recent vintage-her first husband had been a successful investment banker until he died of a heart attack.

Petrov had learned about the wealthy widow from mutual friends. Knowing that his judicial salary would never afford him the power and lifestyle that real money brings, Petrov straightaway began orchestrating his courtship. From friends, acquaintances, and even Google, he learned everything he could about Katherine: where she ate lunch (every Tuesday at Elaine's), her hobbies (antiques and bad but expensive art), her favorite flower (big, garish lilies with shirtstaining pollen). And from there, a "chance" meeting, followed by a date. Katherine had been flattered by the attention of a man nearly twenty years her junior-Petrov could always be charming when he needed to be. Now, with the marriage a fait accompli, their relationship was one of convenience.

Katherine eyed her husband and seemed to revel in his obvious discomfort and the dreadful awkwardness of his efforts to console Liddy Kincaid. She waved sarcastically as she left the study.