Chapter 32 #4
I had once represented a man accused of attempting to kidnap her.
I’d gotten him off, even though I’d realized at the end of the trial that this man was guilty.
The jury acquitted him, and the first thing he did was go after Hanna again.
I stopped him before he killed her, found her bound and badly wounded in his house.
Before the cops showed up, I had broken my hands on the guy’s skull, but it didn’t stop me from beating on him, driving my busted hands and elbows into his ruined face until I almost passed out.
He survived, and my legal career very nearly didn’t.
Harry had saved me. At that time of my life, I didn’t want saving.
I’d let that young woman down. I hadn’t listened to my instincts, but more importantly I hadn’t listened to someone who really was a victim.
And they had been hurt, badly, because of me.
I carry a lot of scars. Bullet and knife wounds mostly.
None have cut so deep as finding Hanna Tublowski in that house, knowing I had helped that monster to escape the justice he deserved.
I’d called the cops and paramedics as soon as I’d found her, and this time he couldn’t escape the law.
He went to prison for a long time. He’s still there, and he still has to eat all his meals through a straw. But that is no comfort to me.
The bag I’d left Hanna all those years ago had three quarters of a million dollars inside: money I’d swindled from the Russian mob. I wasn’t seeking forgiveness. There was none. I wanted her to have something to use to build a new life.
From time to time, I checked in on her, here, at her new apartment.
I sat in this noodle shop across the street, ate hot ramen and kept an eye on her.
She had gone to college, and now had a good job in an architectural design firm.
I remember, a couple of years ago, smiling when I first saw that rubber plant in her window.
Now, she had a partner.
Together, they stopped at the side of the curb and checked the traffic, then crossed the street, right in front of the noodle shop. I lowered my head, stared at my broth. When I looked up again, they were walking past the window. Hanna was laughing.
I never approached her. Never spoke to her.
I just needed to know she was doing okay, that I hadn’t completely ruined her life.
And to remind myself that I had made a mistake.
And that I would never make that mistake again.
I would only take cases where I believed my client was innocent, and I would fight for them with everything I had.
No matter what. No matter how dangerous it was for me, personally.
That’s why I no longer had a wife, or a daughter in my life.
I was still paying my debt to the young woman who had almost died because of me.
That was a debt I would take to my grave.
I pushed the bowl away, finished my soda.
I was making the same kind of mistake with Vanessa. I thought of the scars on her arms from old burns. The violence I witnessed toward her, from Patrick. It didn’t matter that Vanessa had lied to me. I had to trust my gut. My instinct. I had ignored it before, and that had almost killed Hanna.
I wouldn’t ignore it again.
I had to trust my heart.
Pulling out my cell phone, I dialed Bloch’s number.
‘Our number one priority is to prove the Jane Doe in Winchester is Teresa Chase. I have no idea how we do it, but there’s got to be a way.
That’s Vanessa’s only shot. And watch out for Dekker.
He’s the connection between Julian, Patrick and the murders.
They know you two spoke to Winchester. They know I’m coming after Patrick.
They’re going to make a move and we need to be ready. ’
‘Lake should stay with you and Harry,’ she said.
‘I need both of you on this investigation.’
‘Who is going to watch your back? The Vanderpools already sent a hit team to kill Winchester and this thing is only escalating. You might be next.’
‘Harry’s got his old service weapon for protection.’
‘And what have you got for protection?’ asked Bloch.
‘All I need is an envelope, a box of donuts, a remote mic, a phone and a cigarette lighter.’
She said nothing for a moment, no doubt wondering what the hell I planned to do with this disparate collection of items.
‘Never underestimate the power of self-preservation,’ I said. ‘I think you and Lake should take another look at Molly’s apartment. That scene doesn’t make any goddamn sense. It’s been bothering you. I can sense it.’
‘It’s not just that it’s clean,’ said Bloch. ‘It’s been sanitized. And yet they supposedly left behind a jewelry box with both the victim’s and Vanessa’s blood on it?’
‘That’s part of our defense, but we need more,’ I said. ‘How well can you clean up a murder scene without leaving something behind?’
‘We could go back, but we would need more time,’ said Bloch.
‘I’ll get a court order if I have to. Just be ready. Bring your forensics guy, Raymond.’
‘What are we going to find that we didn’t already see?’ asked Bloch.
‘The picture, the water lilies print. You said it was out of place. Start there.’
‘It’s just a picture that doesn’t match the rest of the décor. So what if it has been cleaned?’
‘It bothers you.’
‘Yeah, it does.’
‘Then go find out why.’