The Final Judgment by Richard North Patterson Read Free Book Online Page B

begun throbbing. She rubbed her temples. “That’s a tough sell without some evidence. Brett took him there, to an isolated place, owned by our family. To them, it may mean premeditation—”
    “If Brett had not gone swimming, Caroline, she might be dead as well. She’s fortunate she startled him—”
    “Who, damn it?” Channing slowly shook his head. “I don’t know. Perhaps a vagrant, who picked up the dead boy’s wallet and dropped it at the sound of Brett. Perhaps, as she said, it was trouble over drugs.”
    “Does she know who his supplier is?”
    “Of course not.” This time it was Caroline who shook her head. “Professionals don’t kill over a few thousand dollars.” She paused a moment. “Tell me, is there any evidence that someone was there? Other than Brett’s word, that is.” He did not bridle, Caroline noticed; for the moment, he seemed to put anguish aside and accept that they were dealing with facts. “We don’t know yet. The crime scene search was done by Jackson’s people—the state troopers.”
    “Who found the body?”
    “The Resolve police. Two young patrolmen, checking the trails.”
    ”What do you know about that?”
    “Only what the local people told me. The two policemen happened on the body, promptly searched the immediate area. Finding nothing and no one, they called the EMTs and the state police, both of whom came to the scene. The EMTs pronounced Case dead, and the state police called Jackson at his home in Concord. After which he and the Major Crimes Unit got a warrant to search Brets property and person—with humiliating thoroughness—and then took her statement.” Caroline could see it all. “By which time,” she amended, “four or five amateurs had been stumbling all over the crime scene, leaving footprints, handling the body, and generally making a mess. Not to mention, quite possibly, blowing Brett’s Miranda warnings.”
    “True enough.” Folding his arms, Channing paused for emphasis. “But the state police are excellent, and so is Jackson Watts. Don’t assume that he’s still the boy you dated.” Another pause. “Or, for that matter, jilted.” Caroline did not rise to this. “How is Jackson these days?”
    “Smart and unassuming, which is part of his appeal. He’s chief of the attorney general’s homicide unit, and—prospectively—a judge of the Superior Court. Which, in other circumstances, would please me greatly, as he’s a very decent man.” His voice became sad, almost valedictory. “In fact, I wish he were already on the bench. As, I’m sure, does he.” He looked ashen, Caroline saw; his thin shoulders had slumped, and the passion had vanished. “Perhaps,” she ventured, “Jackson won’t handle the case.” Channing slowly shook his head. “He’s never owed me anything, Caroline. Except, perhaps, to remain the man I always knew that he’d become.” Caroline searched his tone for second meanings, a mute reproach. But all she heard was the throbbing in her temples. Almost gently, her father said, “You look tired, Caroline.”
    I didn’t sleep, she almost said. Instead she answered, “The flight, and then the drive, made for a long day. And it’s not over yet.” Channing caught the reference. “You’ll like her, Caroline.” His voice was still soft. “Even under these circumstances.” She rubbed her temples. “Tell me, what was he like—James Case?”
    “Very handsome.” He paused, then his tone hardened. “But he was one of the unstable ones, weak and selfish, with that narcissistic self-involvement women seem to find so attractive.” Caroline’s eyes narrowed. “How often did you meet him?”
    “For more than a moment? Twice, perhaps three times.” She looked at him askance. “And you perceived all that,” she said in a flat voice. “As well as how he affected Brett.” Channing seemed to blanch. “That’s kept you going, all these years, hasn’t it? And now it’s about to make you a judge.” Caroline felt her face freeze; something in her eyes made her father hold up one hand, for silence.