20th Victim (Women's Murder Club #20) - James Patterson Page 0,45
me this. If Dave killed his father, why would he have you looking into it? If he did it, you’d have to turn him in.”
Joe thought about it for a long minute. Then said, “How about guilt? If he killed Ray, he could have so much guilt we can’t even imagine it. He might want to be sure he’s covered his tracks by involving me. Or he might have an unconscious motivation.”
“Meaning?”
“Dave might want to get caught.”
CHAPTER 58
JOE FELL ASLEEP fast and slept silently and still, his mind and body resting after a long run of worry and wakefulness.
I couldn’t sleep for thinking about Joe’s theory, that Dave had killed his father out of resentment and then felt so much regret, shame, and guilt that he wanted to be punished.
Eventually, I slept—a light, dream-tossed state in which I envisioned shooters lining up shots at moving targets. I saw Paul and Ramona in their office, making morning small talk. And then the sound of broken glass, Paul sprawling across his desk, blood sheeting over the edge, soaking into the carpet. Ramona standing, another shot. My eyes opened and I pictured the cabochon ruby pendant on a gold chain hanging an inch above the bullet hole through her chest.
I must have fallen back asleep, because when my eyes opened again, I was thinking about Claire. Had she been drugged into a dreamless sleep? Was she in pain, staring at the ceiling, thinking about her precious young daughter? Had her doctor given her good news or bad? I needed to know.
It wasn’t yet six when I slipped out of bed without waking my husband. I padded softly into the main room and then peeked in on our sleeping, curly-haired cowgirl. I watched her for a little while, wondering what kind of woman she would grow up to be.
Martha mouthed my hand. I assured her that I was on it, and quickly dressed in jeans and sweatshirt to take my good dog for a walk. I remembered something told to me by a stranger on a train. She was holding her baby, and she jerked on her dog’s leash to pull it under the seat.
She saw me looking at her, I guess with judgment in my eyes. She said, “Before you have a baby, your dog is your baby. When you have a baby, your dog is a dog.”
I stooped down to look Martha in the eyes.
“You know I still love you, don’t you?”
She wagged her tail, whined, and licked my face. I leashed my old friend, and we rode the elevator to street level.
It was still early morning. Other people walked their dogs, crossing the nearly empty street against the light. Martha wanted to play, but I gave her the next-best thing, a sprint to the corner of Lake and Eleventh and back.
All night my mind had flopped like a beached tuna. Claire. Dave Channing. Dead bodies in cold boxes awaiting burial and justice. My job.
We took the elevator up, and once inside our home, Martha cocked her head and whined, Feed me.
In the kitchen I filled a bowl for my fluffy old girl, brewed my morning joe, and flicked on the small under-cabinet TV to keep me company. The first morning show was in full swing when a bright-red breaking-news banner streaked across the screen.
What now? What the hell is it now?
CHAPTER 59
EARLY THAT MORNING Cindy was in her office, checking the East Coast news feeds, when her cell phone rang.
It was Serena Jackson, an old friend. They’d gone to Michigan together, and Serena had recently moved from Chicago to San Francisco for a high-profile job with KRON4.
“Cin, I’ve just heard that one of the snipers has issued a memo to the press,” she said. “Check your mail.”
With Serena on hold, Cindy scanned her mailbox and opened an email headed For Immediate Release.
Every word contained in its four paragraphs was a stunner.
She read it out loud to Serena, who said, “Get ready to break news, girlfriend. I’m in a satellite van less than ten minutes from the Chronicle’s front door.”
Cindy said, “I’ll call you right back.”
She read the email again.
It shook her as much on the second read and appeared to be every bit a blockbuster—raw, bloody, and ready to be splashed across TV screens everywhere. If it had been widely disseminated, the clock was ticking and the deadline was now.
She printed out the email and phoned Tyler to bring him into the loop, but at 7 a.m. her call went to