Cruel Justice

71

BEN WAS STARTLED TO see Mike barreling down the center of the courtroom. He burst through the crowd congregating around the defendant’s table and fought his way upstream through the reporters and spectators.

“Is it over?” Mike shouted.

“Yeah. We got the charges dism—”

“I found the apartment.”

Ben instantly knew what he was talking about. “That’s great. Have you told Chief Blackwell?”

“No. I came to see you first.”

“Me? Why me?”

“Because I found this.” Mike dangled the Utica Greens key chain in Ben’s face. “I found a lot of other crap, too. Really sickening stuff. There’s no question about it now. The chickenhawk is not dead. He’s alive and well and he’s planning to kill Abie.” Mike shoved the key chain back into a paper evidence bag. “One of these keys is labeled C-D-Y-S-K. Didn’t you tell me the country-club board members were the only ones who had keys to the caddyshack?”

“No,” Ben said. “I told you that’s how it was ten years ago. After the murder, they restricted access. Now the only one who has a key is”—a sudden pallor washed across his face—“the grounds manager.”

“Who?”

“Mitch. Mitch Dryer.”

Mike grabbed Ben’s shoulders. “Then he’s our man. Do you know where he is?”

Ben tried to answer, but found that his voice had left him.

“Did you hear what I asked? This is important!” Ben finally managed to choke out the words. “I just gave him my address. So he could drop by my apartment.”

“Where Abie is?”

“Where Abie is,” Ben echoed. “And Christina. And Joey.”

Wonderful. As if she didn’t have enough to do. Christina wedged the bottle under her chin and gripped the baby tightly. Abie was in the next room working a puzzle; he would surely be all right for a few more minutes. She pushed off the sofa and opened the door. “Yes?”

“You don’t know me,” the nice-looking young man on the other side of the door said, “but your friend Ben Kincaid does. My name is Mitch Dryer. And I have something for you. For all of you.”