Overkill, page 19
She rolled onto her side, reached for her phone on the nightstand, and squinted in order to read the text. “It’s the boss.” Then she made an inarticulate but mournful sound. “He’s seen us on TV.”
“Dammit! What’s he say?”
She lowered the phone and turned her head to look at him. “For me to call him without delay.”
Their gazes held for a moment before she scooted off the bed. “Excuse me.” She went into the bathroom and closed the door.
Zach got up and retied the drawstring. He went over to the sliding glass door that accessed a shallow terrace. The temperature was in the forties, but he stepped out barefoot and shirtless and breathed deeply to cool down his enraged cock—if that were possible—and clear his head.
He was out there for five minutes before he heard Kate coming out of the bathroom. He went back inside and slid the door closed. He only had to look at her to know that the conversation with the attorney general hadn’t gone well. “How angry was he?” he asked.
“Angry.”
“Like pissed, really pissed, or ranting and raving mental?”
She swallowed hard. “He was actually very controlled. He didn’t raise his voice once, not even when he told me that I would no longer be working on the Eban Clarke case. Indeed, there no longer is an Eban Clarke case.”
Chapter 27
It was Theo’s front door, but Eban answered the knock on it and greeted Cal with a grin of phony bonhomie. “Hey! I was beginning to think you’d be a no-show.”
Saying nothing in response, Cal looked past Eban at Theo, who was standing in the center of his living room, secreting distress from every pore. His smile was tentative. “Hi, Cal. You’re just in time for a beer.” He went around the eating bar into his kitchen and opened the refrigerator.
Cal stepped past Eban and went inside. “Thanks, but no beer for me. I won’t be staying long enough to drink it.”
Eban shut the front door. “This from the guy who used to chug one in thirty seconds. Back when he was unmarried and fun.”
He plopped down into an easy chair. “But just because Cal is a killjoy doesn’t mean we have to be, huh, Theo? Thanks,” he said as he took a cold longneck from him. “Sit, you two.”
Theo motioned for Cal to take the second easy chair, which left him with a straight-back. Cal felt for Theo, who was clearly out of his depth. More than likely, he hadn’t entertained a guest since the last time Cal himself had been here, which had been a week before his wedding.
Theo had hosted the quasi–bachelor party for just the two of them. He had served spaghetti and meatballs. They’d split a bottle of cheap champagne, and Theo had joshed with him about the entrapments of matrimony. They’d pretended to be sharing a good time between good buddies.
But after spending that awkward few hours together, Cal realized that they’d been going through the motions, each for the other’s benefit. He’d predicted that their visits and phone calls to each other would become more infrequent, and they had.
The Rebecca Pratt incident loomed large, an invisible but impenetrable obstacle that prevented them from reestablishing the friendship they’d had prior to it. Its impact on them had been equally profound.
It had made Theo even more timid and insecure than he’d been before being taken under Eban’s wing and subjected to his corrosive tutelage. While functioning in Eban’s autocratic shadow, Theo had developed a tentative self-confidence. But it had been dashed by the tragedy of Rebecca Pratt.
Following it and its punitive aftermath, Cal had become so steeped in guilt that if not for Melinda’s acceptance and love, he would have drowned in it.
Eban, however, seemed only to have been emboldened by the calamity. Having slithered through it with little more than a slap on the hand, he now behaved as though he were untouchable, immune to penalty. Sprawled in the chair, head tipped back to guzzle his beer, one would think he didn’t have a care in the world.
The troubling truth was, he didn’t. He. Didn’t. Care. And his utter indifference to decency made him not only despicable, but dangerous.
Melinda had met him only briefly, but long enough for her to be repulsed by his arrogance. She also had sensed his boundless capacity for treachery, and it had frightened her.
Tonight, she’d prepared a special dinner and had planned to follow it with an evening of cuddly celebration over the baby. So after their meal when Cal had announced that he was meeting with Eban and Theo, she’d been struck dumb.
Her silence didn’t last long, however. For the next hour, she’d argued, then pleaded with him not to go. She’d calmed down only when he’d held her tightly. “I love you. I love our baby. I love my life now. Which is why I must go, Melinda. If I don’t, Eban will keep coming here to pester us, or worse. I’ve got to sever all ties with him once and for all.”
Now, addressing his nemesis, Cal said, “You got me here, Eban, what do you want?”
Eban drained his beer, then looked around for a place to set the empty bottle and settled on the floor beside his chair. He clasped his hands and held them beneath his chin, smiling beatifically. “What do I want? Your loyalty, of course. You know, blood oath. All for one, one for all. Band of brothers.”
He smiled at them in turn. When neither responded, he said, “Okay, I can see you’re not sold on the idea. Soooo,” he said, “I suppose now would be an ideal time to remind you that the tie that binds us is the night our boisterous three-on-one left that whore without a brainwave.”
Cal clenched his teeth as well as his fists.
Theo blurted, “She tried to say the safe word, Eban!”
“Did she?” Eban scratched his cheek as though searching his memory. “That’s not what you testified to on the witness stand, Theo.” He sucked in a sharp breath and looked aghast. “Don’t tell me you lied under oath. To the jury, the judge, your own attorney?”
“Our attorney never asked us if we were lying or not.”
Eban laughed loudly. “He didn’t want to know, you dimwit! He’d negotiated a plea bargain that got you probation if, at my trial, you swore on the Bible that Rebecca didn’t utter a peep, or make a motion, or signal in any way, shape, or form of communication that she was running out of air. Am I right?”
Theo looked over at Cal, who said, “Theo and I perjured ourselves, yes.”
Eban winked. “I’ll bet not solely out of the goodness of your heart or affection for me. Be honest now.”
“That lackey of your dad’s showed up at my house,” Cal said. “He had a handful of canceled IOUs that he’d paid off for my old man.”
Eban grinned. “Nobody greases the skids more efficiently than sweet, corrupt Uncle Up.”
“He paid off my sister’s student loan,” Theo mumbled.
“To the tune of eighty grand or thereabouts,” Eban said. “See how well that all worked out? Well, except for the fact that I spent over two years in an orange jumpsuit. Let’s not forget that.” Then he waved his hands in front of his face. “No, let’s do. Let’s forget about the past and focus on the present.”
He got up and began pacing as he stroked his chin, much like a calculus professor trying to decide how best to explain a maximum value to a classroom of numbskulls.
“For instance,” he said, “if—and it’s a big if—Zach Bridger pulls the plug and sends Rebecca to the great beyond, and if—an even bigger one—this Lennon chick constructs a case for murder that actually goes to trial, you two couldn’t recant your previous testimonies without admitting to perjury.”
He stopped pacing and faced them, arms spread from his sides, palms up. “Unless I’m missing something?” He waited; neither Cal nor Theo spoke.
“No? Good. We agree on that point of law.”
He left them with that thought as he went into the kitchen and helped himself to another beer. After uncapping it and taking a long swig, he belched. Laughing, he said, “Mine still aren’t as loud or fragrant as yours, Cal.”
Cal didn’t react.
“But we’re getting ahead of ourselves,” Eban said, “because it would be damn near impossible for Kathryn Lennon to build a case without eyewitnesses, i.e., you two. Her only legal maneuver would be to try to strike some kind of deal with you.
“For instance, she might approach you with an offer of clemency, to which you’ll say, ‘No fucking way, bitch,’ or something as emphatic. ‘We wouldn’t throw our blood brother Eban to the sharks. No, ma’am. Not us.’
“See? All this unpleasantness can be avoided if you simply stick to your original story. You remember the one. The one about the hot piece of ass who had a lively spirit of adventure. If ever asked, you give your account of what happened in that bedroom from beginning to end exactly as you did before, and all this will—” He fluttered his fingers up into the air. “Go away.”
Campaign speech completed, he returned to his chair and sat.
Theo cleared his throat. “I think you might be underestimating Kathryn Lennon. The research I did for you? Everything I read made her sound like a go-getter. I don’t think she’ll back down.”
“Excellent point, Theo. Flip on the TV, please.”
Theo darted a confused look toward Cal before going back to Eban. “What for?”
“Because I asked you so nicely.” He batted his eyelashes.
Cal wondered if he should simply get up and walk out now. Why give Eban another single moment of his time? But he stayed because he didn’t trust Eban’s complacency. If he was doing the Devil’s work, Cal was better off knowing so he would be prepared for its sting, which one could count on being vicious and painful.
While Theo fumbled with the TV remote, Eban checked his wristwatch. “Eleven o’clock. Perfect timing. Tune in to one of those sports networks. They’ll be doing a recap of the day’s events for your viewing pleasure.”
In silence, they watched the news about a basketball player’s drug issues, then, when up popped a video of Zach Bridger in close company with a hip-looking, attractive young woman, Cal knew this was what Eban had wanted them to see.
Cal didn’t remark on any of the images, but Theo leaned toward him and, speaking in a low voice, confirmed what he’d already surmised. “That’s Kathryn Lennon.”
“No need to whisper,” Eban said. “In fact, you can mute it. I think you get the gist.”
Theo did as told and killed the sound.
Eban linked his hands and turned them inside out as he raised his arms high above his head and stretched. When he relaxed again, he said, “I hope you enjoyed the feature. I gave it a working title. Phase One of the Dismantling of the Homicide Case against Eban Clarke. What do you think?”
“How did you manage it?” Cal asked.
“To get the pictures of them?” He winked. “A little birdie told me that the two of them were in New Orleans this morning. They went to the special care facility, saw Rebecca and the administrator, then capped off their excursion with a visit to Mr. Pratt, her daddy. This raised my eyebrows. Also my hackles.
“I placed anonymous calls to a few media outlets beginning with our hometown’s CNN, and in no time at all, newsrooms across the nation started humming. Getting a spy on their return flight was a challenge, but money talks, let me tell ya.”
Cal scoffed and gestured toward the television. “What have you got, Eban? They were walking through the airport.”
“True. They weren’t caught in flagrante delicto. But you can’t deny the goo-goo eyes. You’d expect it from him. When he was playing football, he exploited his super-stud status. Or maybe he was trying to earn it. Who cares? Doesn’t matter,” he said.
“But for someone in Kate Lennon’s position, representing jurisprudence and all, anything less than a nun’s scruples makes for a situation that’s… hmm… sticky.” He grinned. “It hints that something unethical is afoot. It leads one to suspect that when they’re not simply walking through the airport they’re being naughty-naughty-naughty.
“What I anticipate?” he continued. “By dawn tomorrow, she’s going to be busy explaining those moonstruck gazes, defending herself against allegations of professional misconduct, stamping out this flare-up of salacious conjecture before it becomes a wildfire.
“At the very least, her integrity has been brought into question, and that’s all it takes, really. Once doubt is cast, we three know how quick Joe Public is to cry foul. The attorney general is up for reelection. Last thing he’ll want is a scandal. Bye-bye, Kathryn. Don’t let the door hit you in the ass on your way out.”
He happily slapped the tops of his thighs. “It’s almost too rich. Their churning hormones made my job of discrediting her easy. We’ve dodged a bullet, boys. For the time being.”
During the silence that ensued, Cal watched Eban closely, then softly asked, “What’s phase two?”
Eban played dumb. “Hmm?”
“You said that was phase one. What’s phase two?”
Eban chuckled and fired a fake pistol at him. “I never could pull anything over on you. Actually phase two is where you and Theo come into play.”
“Us?” Theo squeaked.
At the same time, Cal said, “Like hell.”
Eban said, “Hey, y’all, I can’t be the only one working on this. Think of what’s at stake for you two. If my prediction is wrong, and Lennon still has a job tomorrow, odds are good she’ll come gunning for you. At the risk of repeating myself, you can’t change your story without admitting to perjury.
“In which case, you’re both fucked. Probation will end. Off to jail you’ll be marched.” Looking at Theo, he said, “No more library full of books, no more of this swell little made-over abode you have here all to yourself, just the way you like it. See, Theo, in the Big House, you take a shit, somebody’s watching. They really go after scared little rabbits like you.
“And you,” he said, turning to Cal. “You’ll have to leave your cozy cottage and your pretty wife, who may decide you don’t deserve redemption after all and move on to the next sinner who needs the saving grace found between her legs.” He barked a laugh. “Your Melinda has got a great thing going. She’s got you believing that she fucks you because she wants to save your soul.”
Cal lunged from his chair toward Eban, but Eban was ready for him. He kicked Cal hard in the stomach. Cal fell back, landing on his butt. He was so furious, he didn’t even feel the pain. Through gritted teeth, he said, “If you come near me or my family again, I will kill you.”
Eban said, “Cross my heart and hope to die I won’t, after you implement phase two.”
“Which is what?” Theo asked in a thready voice.
“Well, Theo, the three of us need to put our heads together and figure something out. I’m relying on your egghead noggin to devise a fail-safe plan.”
“For Ms. Lennon?”
Eban’s joviality vanished. His saccharine mien turned malicious. “For Bridger. He’s the one who has the authority to pull the plug. Without him, nothing happens. Therefore, phase two is to knock the former quarterback out of his jockstrap.”
Chapter 28
You know how it’s always been between your ex and me. The man and I never could have a conversation without crossing swords. Yesterday was no different.”
Doug Pratt gently pulled the brush through Rebecca’s hair. Ever since she was old enough to be aware of her beauty, her dark hair had been one of her vanities. She’d always worn it long, never allowing anyone to trim off more than an inch at a time.
Now Rebecca’s hair was kept closely cropped, but Doug still brushed it every day. It had broken Mary’s heart the first time nursing staff had sheared it. She’d salvaged the long locks, placed them in a shoe box, and tied a ribbon around it. That shoe box with its treasure inside remained on the shelf in the top of Mary’s closet.
“Even before I met him, I didn’t like Zach Bridger,” he said. “I made no secret of it. He led you astray. Him and his flashy, celebrity lifestyle was too much temptation for you to resist.
“Oh, you took to it, all right. Can’t argue that. But if it hadn’t been for him appealing to your wild streak and introducing you to all that immorality, you wouldn’t have met a deviant like Eban Clarke. You wouldn’t have been at that orgy, and your life wouldn’t have come to this. See? It all goes back to Bridger luring you into his freewheeling way of life.”
He gently turned her head to give him access to the other side. “Your mother thought it was unfair of me to blame him.”
Mary had said that by the time Zach Bridger had entered Rebecca’s life, she had already veered far off the path of the righteous. Until the day she died, Mary had refuted his condemnation of their ex-son-in-law.
What he hadn’t confessed to Mary, or acknowledged to himself, was that his anger toward Bridger had long been surpassed by fear of him. He woke up every morning afraid that it would be the day when Bridger said enough.
He placed the hairbrush in the nightstand drawer. “I’ll water your ivy in a minute.” He sat down in the chair beside the bed, slumping, reluctant to broach this subject with her.
“Bridger came to the house yesterday with that Ms. Lennon I told you about. She’s pleasant. Polite. Soft-spoken. Not abrasive like you’d think she might be.”
He stared at the speckled vinyl flooring between his well-worn trainers. “At Eban Clarke’s release hearing, this prison psychologist testified for our side.” In layman’s language, he explained the thrashing Dr. Hawkins had taken from Clarke’s defense attorney.
“Anyhow, what I’m getting to, Ms. Lennon left me with that psychologist’s final analysis of Clarke. I read it last night.” He raised his head and looked into his daughter’s sleeping face. “It’s like he doesn’t give a damn about what he did to you, Rebecca. Not a speck of repentance. Ms. Lennon says he’ll escape the punishment he deserves unless we…”
He cleared his throat as he stood. He went over to the sink, filled a glass of water, drank part of it, then emptied the remainder of it into the flowerpot on the windowsill where the young ivy he’d brought her last week was struggling.
