Tears instantly formed in her eyes. One moment they
weren't there, the next they were heavily pushing against her
eyelids. She aimed a shaking index finger at his chest.
"Don't, Reede. I didn't know that--"
"That when you backed Joe Wallace into a corner he'd
blow his brains out. Well, that's what happened, baby.
They're dripping over the edge of his desk."
"Shut up."
' 'We found clumps of hair and tissue on the opposite wall."
She covered her mouth, swallowing a scream behind her
hands. Turning her back on him, she shuddered uncontrollably.
When he touched her, she flinched, but his hands were
firm on her shoulders as he turned her around and pulled her
against his chest.
"Hush now, it's done." His chest expanded against her
cheek as he drew in a deep breath. "Forget it."
She shoved herself away. "Forget it? A man is dead. It's
my fault."
"Did you pull the trigger?"
"No."
"Then, it's not your fault."
There was a knock at the door. "Who is it?" Reede asked
crossly. When the deputy identified himself, Reede told him
to come in. He signaled Alex into a chair while the deputy
rolled a sheet of paper into the typewriter. She looked at
Reede in bewilderment.
"We have to take your statement," he said.
"Now?"
"Best to get it over with. Ready?" he asked the deputy
and got a nod. "Okay, Alex, what happened?"
She dabbed her face with a tissue before she began. As
briefly as possible, she told what had transpired in the judge's
chambers, being careful not to mention any names or issues
that had been discussed.
"I left his office and got as far as the elevator." She stared
down at the soggy Kleenex that she'd been mutilating between
her hands. "Then, I heard the shot."
"You ran back in?"
"Yes. He was slumped over. His head was lying on his
desk. I saw blood and . . . and knew what he'd done."
"Did you see the pistol?" She shook her head. Reede said
to the deputy, "Make a note that she answered no and that
she couldn't have seen it because it had fallen from the victim's
right hand to the floor. That's all for now." The deputy
discreetly withdrew. Reede waited several moments. His foot
swung to and fro from the corner of the desk where he was
seated. "What did you and the judge talk about?"
"Celina's murder. I accused him of tampering with evidence
and accepting a bribe."
"Serious allegations. How did he respond?"
"He admitted it."
He took something out of his shirt pocket and tossed it
onto his desk. The sterling-silver scalpel landed with a dull,
metallic sound. It had oxidized, but was otherwise clean.
Alex recoiled from the sight of it.' 'Where'd you get that?''
"From the judge's left hand."
They exchanged a long stare. Finally, Reede said, "It was
his instrument of self-abuse, kept in his desk drawer, a constant
reminder that he was corruptible. Knowing how proud
he was of his years on the bench, it's no wonder he cashed
in. He'd rather blow off the side of his head than watch his
career be ruined."
"Is that all you can say?"
"What do you expect me to say?"
"I expect you to ask me who bribed him? With what?
Why?" Her tearful eyes dried instantly. "You already know,
don't you?"
He eased himself off the desk and stood up. "I wasn't
born yesterday, Alex."
"So, you know that Angus got Judge Wallace to lock
Gooney Bud away, presumably as Celina's murderer, in exchange
for Junior marrying Stacey."
"Where does that leave you?" Planting his hands on his
hips, he loomed above her. "It's speculation. You can't prove
it. Neither of them would have been stupid enough to record
a conversation to that effect, if one did take place. Nobody
wrote anything down. There's enough reasonable doubt there
for downtown Dallas to fit into. A man's dead, his reputation
as a fine judge has been shot to hell, and you've still got
nothing to base a murder rap on."
He tapped his chest, his fingertips making angry stabs at
his shirt. "I had to drive to the judge's house and notify
Stacey that her old man had emptied his head onto his desk
because of your loosely based charges that would probably
have been no-billed by the grand jury."
He stopped and regained control of his temper. "Before I
get really pissed off at you, I suggest we get out of here and
go someplace where it's safe."
"Safe? For whom?"
"For you, dammit. Haven't the repercussions of this sunk
in yet? Pat Chastain's near cardiac arrest. Greg Harper has
already called three times today, wanting to know if you could
possibly have had anything to do with this prominent and
respected judge's suicide. Stacey is incoherent with grief, but
in her lucid moments, she's cursing you to perdition.
"We've got Plummet and his army of crazies out there on
the courthouse steps, carrying pickets that say this is just the
beginning of the end. All this chaos is because of you and
your half-baked murder case, Counselor."
Alex felt as though her chest was going to cave in, but she
fought back. "Was I supposed to let Wallace go free just
because he was a really nice guy?"
"There are more subtle ways to handle delicate situations
like that, Alex."
"But, no one handled it at all!" she cried. "Is that your
philosophy of the law, Sheriff Lambert? Some rules don't
apply to some people? When a friend of yours crosses over,
do you conveniently look the other way? Apparently so. Case
in point--Nora Gail Burton and her whorehouse. Does that
same exclusion from justice apply to you, as well?"
He didn't answer. Instead, he went to the door and opened
it, saying curtly, "Let's go."
She stepped into the hallway with him; he steered her
toward the rear elevator. "Pat loaned me his wife's car,"
she told him. "It's parked out front."
"I know. There's a swarm of reporters camped right beside
it, all of them eager to know the gory details of the judge's
suicide. I'm sneaking you out the back door."
They left the building unseen. It was completely dark outside,
and Alex wondered what time it was.
They were halfway between the building and the parking
lot when a form disengaged itself from the shadows and
blocked their path.
"Stacey." Reede exclaimed softly. Subconsciously, his
hand closed around the butt of his pistol, although he didn't
remove it from the holster.
"I thought I'd catch you trying to hide."
Stacey's eyes were fixed on Alex. The hatred in them made
Alex want to cower against Reede for protection, but she
maintained her proud stance. "Before you say anything, Stacey,
I want you to know that I'm terribly sorry about your
father."
"Are you?"
"Very sorry."
Stacey shivered, whether with cold or revulsion, Alex
couldn't tell. "You came here to ruin him. Instead of being
sorry, you should feel very proud of yourself."
"I had nothing to do with your father's past mistakes."
"You're the reason for the whole mess! Why couldn't you
just leave him alone?" Stacey cried, her voice cracking.
"What happened twenty-five years ago wasn't important to
anybody but you. He was old. He planned to retire in a few
months anyway. What harm was he doing you?"
Alex remembered the judge's last words to her. Stacey
hadn't known about the shady deal he had struck on her
behalf. Alex could spare her that pain, at least until she'd
had time to absorb the shock of her father's death. "I can't
discuss the case with you. I'm sorry."
' 'Case? Case? This was never about a case. This was about
your trashy mother, who used and manipulated people--
men--until someone got tired of it and killed her." Her eyes
narrowed threateningly and she took a malevolent step closer.
"You're just like her, stirring up trouble, a user of people
and a whore!"
She launched herself at Alex, but Reede stepped between
them, catching Stacey against his chest and holding her there
until her rage was spent and she was clinging to him weakly,
sobbing.
He stroked her back and murmured words of comfort.
Behind her back, he passed Alex the keys to his Blazer. She
took them and let herself in, locking the door behind her.
Watching through the windshield, she saw him lead Stacey
around the corner of the building and out of sight. Several
minutes later, he came jogging back. She unlocked the door
for him and he climbed in.
"Will she be all right?" Alex asked.
"Yeah. I turned her over to some friends. They'll see that
she gets home. Someone will stay with her tonight." His lips
narrowed into a bitter line. "Of course, the man she wants
isn't there for her."
"Her father?"
He shook his head. "Junior."
Because it was all so pitifully sad, Alex began to cry again.
Forty-two
She didn't raise her head until the Blazer jounced over a
chuckhole. She tried to get her bearings by looking through
the windshield, but it was a dark night, and the road had no
markings. "Where are we going?"
"My place." No sooner had he said it than his headlights
picked up the house.
"Why?"
He cut the truck's engine. "Because I'm afraid to let you
out of my sight. People turn up dead or wounded when I
do."
He left her sitting in the truck while he went to unlock the
front door. She thought about driving off, but he'd taken the
keys. In some ways, Alex was relieved she'd been robbed
of taking the initiative. She wanted to defy him, but didn't
have the physical or mental energy. Tiredly, she pushed open
the Blazer's door and got out.
The house looked different at night. Like a woman's face,
it fared better under soft lighting that helped camouflage its
flaws. Reede had gone in ahead of her and turned on a lamp.
He was crouched in front of the fireplace, putting a long
match to the kindling beneath the stacked logs.
When the dry wood started crackling, he stood up and
asked her, "Are you hungry?"
"Hungry?'' She repeated the word like someone unfamiliar
with the language.
"When did you eat last? Lunch?"
"Junior brought a hamburger to my room last night."
He made a grumpy, grunting sound and headed for the
kitchen.' 'I don't promise anything as fancy as a hamburger.''
Thanks to Lupe's niece, the pantry had been recently
stocked with more than peanut butter and crackers. After
taking a quick inventory, he recited their choices. "Canned
soup, canned spaghetti, frozen tamales, bacon and eggs."
"Bacon and eggs."
They worked in companionable silence. Reede did most
of the actual cooking. He had little regard for tidiness and
none for culinary finesse. Alex enjoyed watching him. When
he slid a plate in front of her and dropped into the chair across
the small table, she smiled at him pensively. He noticed her
expression and did a double take as he lifted the first forkful
to his mouth.