Justice Served: A Barkley and Parker Thriller (25 page)

The bat was immediately confiscated as
possible evidence. It was also confirmed to be the same make and
size of the other bats used by the Vigilante Killer.

Two days later, preliminary DNA tests showed
a match between blood on the bat’s handle and Roberto Martinez’s
blood. Other tests conducted on the cultured pearl bracelet linked
blood found on it to blood taken from Blake Wallace. This
constituted more than enough hard evidence to issue a warrant for
Judge Carole Cranston’s arrest.

Nina made the arrest, along with a couple of
uniformed officers. A shell-shocked Carole, accompanied by her
attorney, Stuart Wolfe, went without incident. She was booked and
fingerprinted at the Portland City Jail and separated from the
other inmates in a holding cell.

Carole sat in a near trance on a cot that had
the stench of stale urine. She had never known such humiliation
till now. The press had a field day in labeling her The Honorable
Judge Vigilante Batterer Killer. She had been branded a serial
killer, avenging her mother’s death at the hands of her abusive
father. After years of committing herself to justice, there seemed
to be precious little left for her. She had already been tried,
convicted, and sentenced by many.

Carole wondered if her judge and jury
included Ray Barkley. Just like nearly all the men in her life, he
had betrayed her. He had hurt her so much and the wounds ran so
deep that she could not imagine the pain ever subsiding.

They had been lovers and Carole had thought
she loved him. Even marriage and children seemed distinct
possibilities.
I was prepared to give my all to that man and
share my life with him.

Now there was no future to look forward to.
No plans to make for a lasting, loving relationship. Her fate had
been sealed, partly because of being so trusting and naïve. And
partly because of the ghosts of the past that had come back to
haunt her just as she had instinctively known they would
someday.

No matter what, Carole truly believed her
life would never be the same again.

* * *

Ray sat across from Carole not as an
investigator, per se, but as a man who still cared deeply for her.
She was stone faced, sullen, tightlipped, and likely scared as
hell. Who wouldn’t be in her position?

But she was still beautiful and desirable,
even under the worst of circumstances. Ray had given her a part of
himself he thought was too far buried to ever rise to the surface
again. He had found someone to believe in again. To make him feel
like a real man. To want to treat and cherish like a real lady.

Now she was the primary suspect in the
vigilante killings. And Ray couldn’t be sure if he was looking at
the woman he might have fallen in love with or a brutal killer.

A search warrant had allowed them to enter
Carole’s condo and search for any other possible evidence that
could link her to the murders. They had come up blank. No other
bats hidden in the closet. No clothes hidden with victims’
bloodstains. No bodies hidden in the attic. No visible indication
that they were dealing with a madwoman, much less one of the worst
serial killers the city of Portland had ever known.

Yet the evidence they had was indisputable
and injurious, if not just a little too convenient, as far as he
was concerned. The bat was conspicuously in the closet, as if
waiting to be found. And the bracelet was stuffed inside the front
seat of Stuart Wolfe’s BMW like it was put there rather than left
accidentally.

It sure smelled like a damned setup to Ray.
Either that or the woman before him was not half as bright as he
believed her to be.

Especially if she really was a killer.

It left more than a little suspicion in his
mind.

“I suppose you’re here to gloat?” Carole
hissed. She wore standard bright orange jail garb, as if to wipe
away any hint of her judgeship in the face of her possible savage
crimes. “Take the gullible judge to bed while screwing her left and
right behind her back—figuratively speaking.”

“Stop it, dammit,” Ray said, peering at her
sorrowfully. “I never meant for any of this to happen.”

“Didn’t you?” she scoffed. “You’ve been after
me from the very beginning. And I don’t mean to get in my pants,
though probably that too. Now you’ve got me. So why don’t you just
leave me the hell alone?”

“Because I want to believe you’re
innocent.”

Carole gritted her teeth. “Is that why you
never bothered to get in on the big arrest, Ray?” she asked. “The
big, bad, bald police detective suddenly turned gutless when it
came to showing up to see his girlfriend handcuffed, humiliated,
and taken into police custody like a common criminal? You shouldn’t
have missed it...complete with a media entourage fit for a queen.
So now you come here as the good guy, hoping I’ll say I’m as guilty
as sin and make some elaborate confession with a motive dating back
to my childhood? Well you know what, Ray? I’m not going to do that.
I may be a little screwed up—even a lot—but I am
not
a
killer! Whether you choose to believe it is your own damned
problem!”

“Any idea how that bat wound up in your
closet?” Ray dribbled his fingers on the metal table separating
them, resisting any desire to turn his back on her—on them. No
matter how much she tried, he would not allow her to push him
away.

She looked him in the eye while responding
levelly: “None whatsoever. I don’t play baseball or softball and
have never purchased a bat in my life. Not even to use as a
weapon—” Her words drifted off, as if into a deep fog.

“So you’re saying it was planted there?”

Carole mused. “It’s the only possible
explanation,” she said definitively. “How else would it have gotten
there?”

Ray asked himself the same thing. Especially
with the blood of Roberto Martinez smeared on it. He didn’t have an
alternate answer, aside from the real possibility that it had been
an inside job. Meaning someone who knew Carole like a book, had
access to her place, and had set her up.

His muscles tensed. “Let’s talk about the
bracelet,” he said. “Any thoughts on how it could have ended up
inside the front seat of Wolfe’s car?”

Carole squirmed in her chair. “No,” she
admitted, perplexed. “Like I told you, I can’t even remember if
I’ve ever been in Stuart’s car. If I had, it would have been from
the courthouse to a nearby restaurant or coffee shop. And I
certainly would not have worn a bracelet that I saved for special
occasions.”

“You’re sure about that?” Ray asked, locking
eyes with her.

“Positive,” Carole asserted. “Besides, I know
I saw the bracelet in my jewelry box the last time I wore the
necklace and earrings.”

“And when was that?” he asked
thoughtfully.

Carole wet her mouth and said in a
conspiratorial undertone: “When I came to your houseboat. Or have
you forgotten so quickly?”

Ray felt the lump in his throat and all the
wonderful memories come flooding back, as if only this very
day.

“I haven’t forgotten, baby.”

“Well neither have I,
Detective
,” she
said coarsely. “I can’t explain how the bracelet ended up in his
car, other than someone obviously put it there. But I also know
that bracelets don’t just simply fall off, even in a scuffle, and
end up in strange and unlikely places.”

Ray chewed on his lower lip contemplatively.
“Have you had a break-in recently?” he inquired, trying like hell
to find a loophole. Anything that could point the finger elsewhere.
Anywhere.

“No,” Carole uttered without thought. “Not
that I’m aware of. The building has an excellent security
system...so does my condo—”

“Does that include people you know?”

She narrowed her eyes. “What’s that supposed
to mean?”

He sighed. “Stuart Wolfe,” he said
tentatively.

“What about him?”

Ray grew uncomfortable, but went with it.
“The pearl bracelet was found in the man’s car, Carole! If you
weren’t in it, that means someone else had to put the damned thing
there. Someone in a position to take it from your jewelry box
without being suspected of doing so. He seems the logical candidate
at this point, unless you tell me differently. And if Wolfe did do
it, then he sure as hell wouldn’t have had much problem making sure
that bat could be easily found at your place by anyone who was
looking for it.”

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Carole
protested defiantly. “Stuart wouldn’t have tried to frame me. For
what possible reason?”

Ray leaned forward, lips pursed. “I was
hoping you could tell me—”

She regarded him unevenly. “There’s nothing
to tell.” She paused for a long moment. “Or is this your way of
asking me if we were ever lovers?”

Carole hung on that note and Ray realized it
was something that surprisingly bothered him. He had never been the
jealous type. Had that changed when Carole entered his life? Did
the notion that she had been with other men make him a little
crazy?

Carole seemed to read his thoughts as she
said candidly: “The answer is yes, we were intimately involved
once. It ended a long time ago, but we’ve remained friends ever
since. Nothing more than that. I’m even friends with his wife, if
it makes you feel better. Stuart would never do anything to
intentionally try to hurt me.”

“What about the wife?”

Carole’s nostrils expanded. “She just had a
miscarriage, for heaven’s sake. Vivian Wolfe is not my enemy and
not serial killer material either.” She sighed. “I can’t imagine
her and Stuart somehow conspiring to make me out to be this
so-called vigilante killer.”

Ray met her eyes. “Well someone sure as hell
wanted to make it seem like you were this killing bitch.” He knew
in so saying he was more or less excluding her from guilt. But he
was strictly in the minority at this stage. Proving Carole’s
innocence would not be as easy.

“But who?” she asked. “I don’t have any
enemies that I know of.”

“You’re a judge, Carole,” he said firmly.
“That gives you enemies on the inside who get out. And enemies on
the outside who may blame you for not putting all batterers
away.”

“That could make it almost anyone,” Carole
said bleakly.

“More like
someone
,” Ray said
pensively.

She furrowed her brow suspiciously. “I’m not
sure I can trust you, Ray—not anymore...”

He took a breath and said tensely: “You don’t
have much choice. Right now, I may be the only one you can trust in
this whole damned city.”

Ray only hoped he could trust his instincts
that told him Carole Cranston did not belong in jail. And she
didn’t deserve to be branded as a serial killer.

Not if the woman he’d grown to really care
for was truly innocent, as he believed.

* * *

Carole met with Stuart in an interview room.
She had not hesitated to ask him to represent her when it became
apparent that she was in big trouble. Aside from being a friend, he
was a fine defense attorney who had won a number of high profile
cases aside from Esther’s. Carole feared she just might need all
his skills and expertise to get out of this one.

“How are you holding up?” Stuart asked with
concern while sitting at the table.

Carole, already seated, sneered. “How do you
think? Not very well at all! I’m a damned judge, not a murderer. I
don’t belong in here, Stuart—with people I put away! When can you
get me out?” There was desperation and hope in her voice.

Stuart’s tired eyes betrayed his stress. “I’m
doing everything I can to make it happen as soon as possible,
Carole. We have a bail hearing this afternoon. With any luck, you
could be out shortly thereafter.”

“Could they deny bail?” Carole asked.

As a judge she knew that in most instances
involving violent crimes, bail was difficult to say the least.
Where it concerned multiple murders, bail was all but impossible.
Which made her cringe. The thought of spending even one night there
unnerved her, much less weeks, months, or even possibly the rest of
her life.

“They could,” Stuart read her thoughts. “But
given that you are a sitting judge with no previous criminal
history, and the evidence against you is highly circumstantial at
best, I doubt that will be the case. A tainted bat that appears out
of nowhere, thanks to your cooperation with the authorities? A
bracelet smeared with blood from a victim which just happens to be
found in my damned car, for crying out loud? Your history that
someone is trying to use against you, not to mention your current
profession. I mean, c’mon, who’s kidding who here? Anyone in their
right mind can see that this is obviously a frame up.”

Carole wondered if anyone could really see
this, aside from him and her. The police apparently did not,
including perhaps Ray. And certainly not his partner, Nina Parker.
Carole wondered if she would have seen it herself so clearly had it
been someone else in her shoes?

She fixed her eyes at Stuart considerately.
“What’s your theory on how the bracelet got into your car?”

Stuart sat erect in a brown suit, meeting her
gaze. He took a deep breath. “I’ve been giving that some thought.
All I can think of is that either you dropped the bracelet
somewhere and someone picked it up, or it was stolen from your
place. This person obviously then put the bracelet where he or she
fully intended for it to be found—in my car. Probably while I was
at the university. I have a bad habit of leaving my doors unlocked
and windows down, especially when it’s as hot as it’s been lately.
Guess that will have to change...”

“But whoever did this would have to have
known about us,” Carole surmised. “Otherwise, why plant evidence in
your car of all places? It’s hardly the first place the police
would have thought to look.”

She thought about Ray’s suspicions regarding
Stuart and even Vivian. Was there any merit to them?