Alone (Detective D.D. Warren, #1)(106)

Bobby smiled. He pulled his hand away from her, clasping his fingers on his lap. He looked at Nathan, running and laughing with the other kids, and then he said the only thing left to be said: “Got a call from Detective Warren the other day.”

Beside him, Catherine immediately stilled.

“She's been working the connection between Judge Gagnon and Colleen Robinson—looking for phone records, financial transactions, anything to tie the two together. The judge was a smart man. D.D. can find records of cash withdrawals but no indication of where the money went. And when it comes to phone records, D.D. can't find evidence of a single call. Not from the judge.

“But she found two calls from you.”

Bobby turned and looked at Catherine. In her cool gaze, he saw a wariness that told him more than any words.

“Turns out, Colleen Robinson had a bad time of it in prison. Getting out, she joined a female support group for post-traumatic stress syndrome. You might know the group, Catherine. According to the counselor, you attended some of the meetings.”

“I tried out group therapy once,” Catherine said levelly. “But that was ages ago. Before I met Jimmy. Surely you don't expect me to remember one woman from so many years ago.”

“Maybe you didn't. But maybe she remembered you.” Bobby shook his head, bouncing his fingertips off one another. “I've been turning over the pieces in my mind all week. On the one hand, I don't think you had the connections to get Umbrio out of prison. But once you knew he was out, that the judge had pulled those strings . . . Did Colleen give you a call? Is that how it worked? Maybe she wanted some sort of payoff, or maybe she was just trying to be helpful, give you a warning. Of course, a warning wouldn't help you, would it? Umbrio was legally paroled. And the police were too busy suspecting you of murder to be interested in offering you protection. No, you were all alone, backed into a corner. Is that when the idea came to you, Catherine? That you could use the judge's own weapon against him?”

“Richard Umbrio murdered my father,” Catherine said steadily. “How dare you suggest I had anything to do with him. For heaven's sake, he killed Tony and Prudence. What incentive did I have to engineer such a thing?”

“You didn't, not for Tony and Prudence. I suspect Judge Gagnon was the one who paid Umbrio for those targets. But Rick Copley, on the other hand . . . the ADA was going after you, Catherine. If he had his way, you would've lost Nathan.”

Catherine thinned her lips mutinously. She said nothing.

“And then there's the judge himself,” Bobby continued quietly. “A man so cautious, so clever, he left behind no phone or financial records that tie him to Colleen or Umbrio. And yet Umbrio headed straight for him. How did he know to go after Judge Gagnon, Catherine? Who gave him the judge's name?”

“You would have to ask Umbrio.”

“I can't, Catherine. You killed him.”

She didn't say anything more. Because she had no defense, or because she didn't think he'd believe her if she did? He doubted he would ever know the answer to that. When it came to Catherine, he doubted he would ever know the answer to a lot of things.

“Dr. Lane told me something early on,” he murmured. “She said that, for a woman like you, when it came down to protecting your world, there wasn't any line you wouldn't cross. It's true, isn't it, Catherine? To protect yourself against Judge Gagnon, you were willing to deal with the likes of Umbrio. Through Colleen Robinson, you paid money to the devil himself.”

He paused a heartbeat. “Rick Copley,” he said quietly, “was a very fine man. So, I think, was your father.”

Catherine didn't speak, but he thought he saw tears in her eyes.

“I hope,” she said after a moment, “that someday, when you have your own child, you will never know what it's like to fear for his life.”

“You had other people to help you, Catherine. I helped you.”

She finally looked at him. “But I didn't know that in the beginning, did I?”

She rose off the bench, still regal, still ungodly beautiful, and even knowing what he knew, he found himself holding his breath.

“D.D.'s a good detective,” he said softly.

“My son is safe. For that, no price is too high.”

“You really believe that, don't you?”

She smiled crookedly. “Bobby, it's the only thing that keeps me sane at night. I'll miss you in Arizona.”

“Goodbye, Catherine.”

Catherine retrieved her son. Bobby sat on the bench, snowflakes falling on his face, and watched them walk away.

After another moment, D.D. emerged from the white van parked down the street. She sat down heavily on the bench beside him.

“Told you you wouldn't get anything,” Bobby commented.

She shrugged. “It was worth a try.”

He reached inside his jacket, and went to work on the wires.

“You think she's honestly moving to Arizona?” D.D. asked. Then she added, “I can always extradite her when the time comes.”

“Sure.”

“I'm going to get her, Bobby.”

“It hardly matters.”

D.D. scowled. “What do you mean by that?”

“All she'll ever need is one man appointed to the jury, then Catherine will never spend so much as a day behind bars.” Bobby rose off the bench. “Face it, they don't make 'em like her anymore.”