that you and Carolyn would survive? If he was planning to pin this elaborate conspiracy on you, how could he know you’d get away?”
Jake watched her for a few seconds, waiting for her to see it for herself. “The name Tony Bernard mean anything to you?” he asked.
It took her a moment to place him. “Yes. He’s one of the people killed that day. Back at the motel room.”
“And why was he back at the motel? Do you remember?” If this was going to work, she had to put some pieces together for herself.
Irene closed her eyes. She’d just reread the file that morning, but it felt like years ago. “He was sick, wasn’t he? Some stomach thing.”
Jake waited, but she still didn’t get it. “Awfully odd, don’t you think? Young man like that suddenly too sick to work, and then these murderous barbarians go all the way back to the motel just to pop him-and to leave a note?”
Irene’s eyes grew intense enough to spark a fire as the pieces fell into place. “You think that Tony Bernard was the original patsy?”
Jake smiled. “In fact, I know he was,” he lied.
“But what about his illness? There were witnesses-”
“And how tough is it to give somebody a bellyache? I saw him that morning, too. He was heaving his guts out. He thought it was something he ate. I bought it at the time, just like everybody else did. But hell, we all ate the same stuff at the same place. Why was he the only one to get sick?” He let the words settle for a few seconds. “When Carolyn and I survived, Frankel had to shift gears a little, but he stayed with essentially the same plan. I figure that Tony was killed as an insurance policy. No telling what he might have known.”
She considered it all for a moment longer. “And if you and your wife had gotten arrested, it wouldn’t have mattered a bit, would it?” she thought aloud.
“Not with the case that Frankel put together,” Jake agreed. “And the further false evidence I’m sure he would’ve found if he was pushed to the wall. Plus, when emotions run as high as they did after Newark, the standards for evidence decrease. Why scour the bushes when the answer is delivered to your door? People want a quick conviction in these things. In the end, nothing we said could have gotten us off.”
Her head spun with new possibilities. It had never occurred to her to believe Carolyn’s story. Was it possible the Donovans were telling the truth?
“So how’s Carolyn?” Jake asked, another radical change of subject. Irene looked at him, confused. “I trust you’ve spoken with her?”
Irene nodded. “She’s fine. Frightened, angry, and sad, but otherwise fine.”
He smiled. “Good. Next time you see her, will you tell her I love her? And that I’m doing my best to fix everything?”
She saw a chance. “Why don’t you tell her, Jake? Let me take you in, and we’ll get this all straightened out. I promise you, I’ll pursue every lead you give me.”
That one made him laugh. “You’re kidding, right?” She wasn’t, and he knew it. “Well, I appreciate the offer, but forgive me if I decline. I’m not entirely convinced that trusting you this much hasn’t been a huge mistake. Somehow my faith in the criminal justice system just isn’t as strong as it used to be.” As he spoke, he dropped the clip out of Irene’s weapon and started thumbing the bullets into the toilet. He saw her look of disgust and smiled. “I know, it’s kind of gross, but I can’t very well leave you with a loaded gun, can I? I don’t think either of us wants the hassle of a shoot-out at two-thirty in the morning.”
“So what’s next?” she asked cautiously.
He shrugged. “I guess that’s up to you. You need to decide if your job is about justice or simply about following orders.” With the bullets removed, he dropped the clip into the bowl, then drew his own weapon before snapping the last of Irene’s bullets out of the chamber and closing the toilet lid. “I do have one last thing for you to think about, though.”
“I’m all ears.”
“I know you’ve been wondering why we came back here today, and I’ve done my best to explain that. We came for that dog skeleton, and it was a horrible miscalculation. Stupid reason, isn’t it? Made no sense. So how come you were expecting us?”
Without waiting for an answer, he slid down off the vanity and turned the doorknob to let himself out. “By the way,” he said with a grin. “I was hiding in the closet when you came in, and I have to agree. You’re not bad at all for forty-two.”
Sleep now was out of the question. Irene considered trying, anyway, if only in deference to the time of night, but even as her body screamed for a place to lie down, her mind spun like a top.
Donovan’s visit had left her stunned. All day long, she’d tried to think of a sound, logical reason for the couple to return to Arkansas. Cliches notwithstanding, smart criminals never returned to the scene of the crime. And after fourteen years on the Ten Most Wanted list, the Donovans had proved themselves to be very smart indeed.
After fishing the ammunition out of the toilet bowl-thankfully, she’d flushed after using it last-she’d strolled back into the bedroom, where she found her weapon in the middle of the king-size bed. She didn’t bother calling to alert anyone about Jake. He’d be long gone as it was, and the last thing she needed was another documented getaway.
Pulling on the lightweight flannel nightgown she always kept stuffed in her garment bag, she sat heavily in the hardback desk chair in front of the faux-wood desk. The Donovan file lay in her briefcase, just out of reach, but she didn’t want it right now. She wanted to reconstruct the case against them from memory.
What did the Bureau have, really? The note. Sixteen dead bodies. The fact of their survival and escape. What else?
Nothing. The thought made her gasp. What had seemed so ironclad-so obvious-only an hour ago now seemed pitifully superficial. Fragile almost. There was enough there, she supposed, to win a conviction in the hands of a skillful prosecutor; but suddenly, there seemed to be huge holes in the case. Holes big enough for a skilled defense attorney to drive a Mercedes through.
Maybe that’s what this was all about, she mused, resurrecting her natural cynicism. Maybe their return and the attendant shenanigans were merely stunts, designed to build a case for reasonable doubt in the minds of a future jury. Lord knew that the standard for acquittal was getting lower these days. Maybe this was just a high- stakes roll of the dice. They’d made their stand, and if they won, they’d be able to reenter society as full-fledged citizens. Was such a plan truly out of the question for people as intelligent as the Donovans? Especially if they had Harry Sinclair’s money behind them?
Certainly, it wasn’t as absurd as Jake’s assertion that Peter Frankel was involved in arms trafficking and murder.
So why did the Donovans return? Why didn’t they just disappear one more time? They’d made it, for heaven’s sake; they’d dropped completely off the radar screen after they snagged their kid from the school. Certainly, Sinclair would have helped them one more time. Why risk so much just for a jury stunt?
And why the hell would they just give up like that, after all this time on the run?
But they didn’t give up, did they? Their kid got hurt, and they sought medical attention. If that hadn’t happened, would they have disappeared, anyway? Dammit, why weren’t these questions in her head when Jake was in her bathroom?
Maybe hurting the kid was part of the plan. Certainly, that would garner more sympathy from the jury. Wouldn’t it be harder to send grieving parents up the river than it would a pair of hardened killers?
Perhaps. But she’d seen the pain on Carolyn’s face. And on Jake’s. As a sometimes-negligent parent herself, Irene easily recognized parental guilt in others, and the emotions she saw in the Donovans today were as genuine as any she’d ever seen. There was no faking that kind of pain.
What was Jake’s challenge to her? Is your job about justice or merely about following orders? She wondered bitterly if salvaging a career might be a noble third option.
So if the day finally came to testify against the Donovans in open court, could she sell a jury on the idea that all of this conspiracy crap was merely an absurd stunt to deflect attention away from their heinous crimes? Absolutely. And in so doing, did she believe in her heart of hearts that justice would be served? The answer to that one scared her.
