The Watchman (8 page)

An urge to chew my nails overwhelmed me as I waited to see what the tape might reveal. Would I have to explain a sudden transporter room appearance and wait for the white jackets to show up? Jake had said the recording posed no problem, but I wasn't convinced.

The set buzzed, flickered, displayed thirty seconds of London's living room, and then a very fuzzy shot of me on the plasma screen. The time and date reflected in the right-hand corner.

I exhaled a shaky breath. It could have been much worse.

Maddox looked at Judge Burns and then me. “As you can see, Your Honor, the video irrefutably places Mr. Adams inside Judge London's home on that date.”

Maddox turned to the clerk and pointed at the TV. “You can turn that off.” Maddox sat down behind the prosecution table.

The judge turned to Jake. “You ready to present your client's version of these events, Counselor?”

The clerk reached over to shut off the TV.

Jake raised his hand. “No. Leave it on.”

He addressed the judge. “We move the charges be dismissed, Your Honor, due to lack of evidence. My client categorically denies these allegations, beginning with the security breach itself.” Jake passed the judge and Maddox a sheet of paper. “This is a written statement from Arrow Incorporated, the security firm that covers Judge London's household and others in that area. In the past month there have been twelve unexplained false alarms in the Crown Heights community.”

Judge Burns directed his question to Maddox. “Is this true?”

Maddox flushed. “I'll have to take Mr. Stein's word, Your Honor. We had no reason to question the validity of the alarm system since we had a picture of Mr. Adams inside the residence.”

Jake continued. “Now as to the surveillance data, you will note, Your Honor, that everything in the room is crystal clear, the painting, the sofa, the Christmas tree, the fireplace––”

Judge Burns raised his hand. “We get your point, Mr. Stein. Get on with it.”

“––except the one of Mr. Adams. You will notice that it is hazy compared to the rest of the film. Even more importantly, there are two cameras in that room, each of which takes random shots every fifteen seconds. Yet...the recording has only one shot of Mr. Adams, and it's on the TV screen. Why didn't the cameras get at least one image of my client entering the room? With two units, snapshots were taken less than every fifteen seconds.”

The judge lifted an eyebrow. “Can you explain that, Mr. Maddox?”

Maddox shrugged. “Perhaps he was moving very fast.”

Jake snorted. “Superman doesn't move that fast.”

Jake had stuck in the knife; now he twisted the blade. “How my client's picture got inside Judge London's home, I can't say. The only reasonable explanation would appear to be that the CD has been tampered with.”

Maddox sputtered to his feet. “We checked that. The recording was clean.”

Jake passed another document to Judge Burns and Maddox. “According to the police report, my client's fingerprints were nowhere on the premises, and in the picture on the TV screen my client isn't wearing gloves. Your Honor, nothing was missing, and there were no signs of forced entry. In other words, Mr. Adams would have to have been invisible and floated through brick walls, leaving behind one picture of himself for posterity.”

Seized with a sudden urge to laugh, I popped a cough drop in my mouth. Jake thought he was being funny, but I almost choked.

Judge Burns frowned. “We can do without the sarcasm, Counselor.” He turned to Maddox. “Do you have an explanation for these anomalies?”

Maddox's confident expression slipped from his face. He blushed like a teenager on his first date and shook his head.

Jake turned his gaze to Maddox. “Again, Your Honor, I respectfully request that all charges against my client be dismissed.”

The judge's eyes narrowed, and he shot a hot glare at Maddox. Burns lived up to his reputation for having little patience for frivolous cases that wasted his or the city's time. “I have no alternative but to agree with Mr. Stein,” Judge Burns said. “Do you wish to withdraw the charges, Mr. Maddox?”

Maddox stood, adjusted his suit jacket and expelled a heavy sigh. “Yes, Your Honor. The D.A.'s office withdraws all charges against Mr. Adams.”

Judge Burns turned to me. “Mr. Adams, you're free to go.”

Maddox snatched up his paperwork, stuffed the sheets into his briefcase, marched down the aisle, and out the door.

Harry London had slipped in during the proceeding and sat alone in the back row. He glowered at me and then rose and followed Maddox into the corridor.

I waited for Jake to gather his briefcase, and we left the courtroom together. In the hallway outside, I slapped my hand against Jake's in a high-five salute. “You are the man.”

He grinned. “And don't you forget it.”

My relationship with Jake is more like father/son than attorney/client. He has no children, and I lost my father at a young age. Jake feels it's his duty to keep me out of trouble. I wasn't surprised when he placed a hand on my arm and lowered his voice. “One thing before you go, Adams. I don't ever want to know how you pulled off that little shenanigan with the cameras.”

After leaving Jake, I made a pit stop at the restroom. I stepped into the hallway and headed down the corridor to the elevators. Waiting for the next car was a red-faced Harry London, waving his arms and shouting at Walker Maddox. I backed out of sight, scanned the perimeter, went into furtive mode, and joined the group unobserved.

“That was the poorest performance I've ever watched.” Harry's lips curled downward. “A first-year law student could have handled it better.”

“I told you going in the evidence was too flimsy to get an indictment. Judge Burns looked ready to reprimand me
.
My office wouldn't have pursued this if you hadn't insisted. I'm not a miracle worker, Harry.”

London worked himself into a towering rage, his face red, breathing hard. “I know how your boss feels about me. You didn't even try in there. You let the man who's holding my family captive get away.”

“Harry, I did the best I could with the evidence I had, whether you choose to accept that fact or not.” Maddox turned and stalked toward the stairwell.

On the drive home, a wreck on the interstate delayed my arrival. Traffic jams in Hebron are rare, and motorists never know how to react. They left their cars and made a social event of the delay. I wasn't in the mood to mingle, so I waited in my car and hid behind the steam on the windows. After a while, the traffic moved, and I pulled onto my street.

In a hurry to remove the suit, I rushed inside and pulled on sweat pants and a sweater, ready to work off the tension. A brisk circuit at the gym would take the stiffness out of my tense muscles.

Retrieving my car keys, I started out the door when the phone rang.

I debated whether or not to answer but then gave in to curiosity. I snatched the phone off the base.

A silky voice sounded in my ear. “Noah, it's McKenna.”

She didn't have to tell me. Her voice was a melody that still played in my memory.

 

 

 

 

6

 

Hebron, Wyoming

I hadn't spoken to McKenna Thornton in more than two years. “Yes, I recognized your voice. It's been a long time. How are you?” That sounded lame even to my own ears.

“We need to talk. Meet me at the old place in twenty minutes.” Guess she was too busy for small talk. She meant the park at the lagoon in the center of Hebron. Guaranteed, there would be no one else there this time of year.

Despite efforts to push it away, the old pain rushed back into my soul like a runaway train.

Four years ago, right after opening Adams Investigations, the district attorney's office hired me to do some investigative work. I arrived at their office early one morning to hand in my final report on a contractor doing business with the city. While I waited for someone to acknowledge my presence, a voice behind me called, “Noah, Noah Adams.”

I turned to see McKenna Thornton walking toward me. Her cloud of dark hair stirred with the draft her athletic form created as she crossed the room. The sight made my mouth go dry just as it had in college.

Her luminous gray eyes glowed with pleasure. “Can you hang around until lunch? I'd love to visit with you. We can dis all our old college chums.”

“Sure,” I said with all the composure I usually had in her presence. “What are you―”

“Doing here?” She ran her arm through mine. “I'm the new star in the D.A.'s starting lineup.” She laughed. “Of course there are only three of us. This is my second week.”

Lunch turned into dinner, which turned into a daily habit. The summer passed, and the infatuation deepened. After four months, we shifted into another phase. We talked of marriage and a future together. Her intelligence, kindness, and ever-present sense of humor made me overlook the minor flaws of ambition and pride. The relationship progressed without a blip until the Saturday night she invited me to meet her parents.

Wearing a fresh haircut and a new dark suit bought for the occasion, I picked up McKenna at her apartment. On the way to her parents, she chatted about a new libel case the D.A. handed her. Her touch clued me into the importance of this introduction. Meeting her parents was a significant step for her.

Until the moment we drove though the gate, I hadn't realized McKenna's father was
the
Robert Thornton, mayor of our fair city, and the name on the bottom of my list as a future father-in-law. His identity never came up, and McKenna's touch only revealed her love for him. She probably assumed I knew.

Only a guardian angel with a sense of humor would have placed me in that scenario––in love with a woman whose father belonged to the local wing of the mafia.

Mind in turmoil, I drove slowly up the drive toward the mayor's home. Sitting at the end of the winding road stood a three-story mansion paid for with mob blood money.

McKenna also failed to mention this wasn't just a meet-the-family gathering. A full-blown social event was in progress.

Not bothering to ring the bell, McKenna stepped ahead of me and opened the door. She led me through a wide vestibule and down steps into the great room.

“McKenna, Noah, over here.” Robert Thornton waved us toward a group near the entrance. He hurried forward, one arm outstretched. Thornton wore an expensive Italian suit, a two hundred dollar tie, and a Florida tan. According to the
Hebron Herald
, he'd just returned from a National Association of Mayors convention in Miami. He pumped my hand and then took my elbow. “I want you to meet some of our guests.”

It saddened me that his handshake didn't show a reformed man―quite the contrary. If anything, the corruption ran deeper than at our first meeting two years before.

Thornton maneuvered us around the room like a couple of champion show dogs on parade, placing emphasis on my police and war medals. By the end of the evening, a number of guests promised to send their investigative work my way.

Their offers had one big drawback.

Most of the guys in the room were tight with the mob.

At the party's end, McKenna's mother grabbed a magnum of champagne and motioned us to follow her into the library.

Angie Thornton looked young enough to be McKenna's sister until I gazed into her eyes. They were brittle, cold, and tired. She wore good taste like a beauty queen's banner, as one would expect of the mayor's wife accustomed to a life of privilege.

Angie closed the door and pulled me into a faux hug. At our contact, flashes of a disillusioned life slammed into my psyche, revealing two fatal flaws―arrogance and alcoholism.

I didn't stand a chance with this woman.

She crossed to the bar and took three crystal flutes from the shelf, filled them with champagne, gave one to McKenna, then offered one to me. I declined. With a shrug, she took a long drink and released a breath of satisfaction.

She sat on the arm of a sofa across from us. “Tell me about your family, Noah. Do they live here?”

I took a deep breath. She was checking my pedigree. “I don't have any living relatives. Both of my parents died when I was young, and my grandmother passed away a few years ago.”

Angie's hand trembled as she took another long sip of the sparkling liquid. She emptied the flute and leaned against the sofa's back.

“Have you and McKenna known each other for a long time?”

I gazed over at McKenna. Her mother must have already asked her these questions. McKenna gave me a quick glance and shrugged.

“Uh, yes, ma'am. We met at university in a study group. We crammed for exams and helped each other with individual weaknesses.”

“I'm aware of what a study group does.”

There didn't seem to be an answer to that, so I kept quiet.

“Are you clever, Noah?”

“In what respect?”

Angie waved an impatient hand. “In business, of course. I know about your police accommodations and war medals, but that doesn't necessarily mean you're intelligent.” She was doing an excellent job of putting me in my place.

I answered truthfully. “No more, no less than most people, I should think.”

“How disappointing. I've always wanted the best for McKenna.”

“As do I, ma'am.”

“Mother...”McKenna jumped in.

“Wasn't your family involved in a domestic tragedy some years back? I vaguely remember reading something about it in the newspaper.” Angie's last question was a doozy.

My jaw clenched. She hadn't read it. She had me investigated.

“I guess you could say that.” I didn't intend to satisfy her morbid curiosity.

“Your mother and brother were killed, is that right?”

McKenna gasped and jumped to her feet. “Mother, how could...?”