is still out there pining for you.”
“Who told you that?”
“Jesus I’m a detective. True or not?”
“I don’t know.”
“Godammit, Kate, don’t play fucking games with me.
True or not?”
She angrily stabbed out her cigarette. “True! Satisfied?”
“Not yet, but I’m getting there. I’ve got a plan to flush him out, and
I’m looking for you to help me.”
“I don’t see that I’m in any position to help you.” Kate knew what was
coming next. She could see it in Frank’s eyes.
It took him ten minutes to lay out his plan. She refused three times. A
half hour later they were still sitting at the table.
Frank leaned back in his chair and then abruptly lurched forward. “Look,
Kate, if you don’t do it, then we don’t have a chance in hell of laying
our hands on him. If it’s like you say and we don’t have a case, he goes
free. But if he did do it, and we can prove it, then you’ve got to be
the last goddamned person in the world that should tell me he should get
away with it. Now, if you think I’m wrong about that, I’ll drive you
back to your place and forget I ever saw you, and your old man can go
right on stealing … and maybe killing.”
He stared directly at her.
Her mouth opened but no words came out. Her eyes drifted over his
shoulder where a misty image from the past beckoned to her, but then
suddenly faded away.
At almost thirty years of age Kate Whitney was far removed from the
toddler who giggled as her father twirled her through the air, or the
little girl who divulged important secrets to her father she would tell
no other. She was all grown up, a mature adult, out on her own for a
long time now. On top of that she was an officer of the court, a state
prosecutor sworn to uphold the law and the Constitution of the
Commonwealth of Virginia. It was her job to ensure that persons who
broke those laws were appropriately punished regardless of who they were
and regardless of to whom they were related.
And then another image invaded her mind. Her mother watching the door,
waiting for him to come home. Wondering if he were okay. Visiting him in
prison, making up lists of things to talk to him about, making Kate
dress up for those encounters, getting all excited as his release date
came closer. As if he were some goddamned hero out saving the world
instead of a thief. Jack’s words came back to her, biting hard. He had
called her entire life a lie. He expected her to have sympathy for a man
who had abandoned her. As if Luther Whitney had been wronged instead of
Kate. Well, Jack could go straight to hell. She thanked God she had
decided against marrying him. A man who could say those awful things to
her did not deserve her. But Luther Whitney deserved everything coming
to him. Maybe he hadn’t killed that woman. But maybe he had. It wasn’t
her job to make that decision. It was her job to make sure that decision
had an opportunity to be made by men and women in a jury box.
Her father belonged in prison anyway. At least there he could hurt no
one else. There he could ruin no more lives.
And it was with that last thought that she agreed to help deliver her
father into the hands of the police.
Frank felt a twinge of guilt as they got up to leave. He had not been
entirely truthful with Kate Whitney. In fact, he had downright lied to
her about the most critical piece of the case other than the
million-dollar question of where Luther Whitney happened to be. He
wasn’t pleased with himself right now. Law enforcement people had to
occasionally lie, just like everybody else. It didn’t make it any easier
to swallow, especially considering the recipient was someone the
detective had instantly respected and now heavily pitied.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
KATE HAD PLACED THE CALL THAT NIGHT; FRANK HAD wanted to waste no time.