Killer Ambition

Epilogue

The next morning, I got word that Jack Averly had finally turned up. He’d made his way to a quiet seaside resort in Puerto Vallarta, no doubt traveling on a share of the ransom money. (We’d figured Ian must have picked it up while Averly flew to New York.) Averly probably could’ve hidden there forever if he’d had half a brain. But he got drunk at a campfire party on the beach and mouthed off about his days as a PA/drug dealer at RussPow Studios. An alert guest, who just happened to be a producer for CNN, called the Los Angeles bureau. He’d be back in pocket soon, facing flight and accessory charges that would keep him locked up for at least a couple of years.

And I soon learned that Declan was right: Hollywood had its own unique but very effective way of dealing with its own.

The Daily Inquisitor led the charge at first: “Wife Leaves Superstar Director-‘I Can’t Take His Life of Lies!’” According to the story, Dani had left Russell and “confidential sources” claimed it was because of what she’d learned during the trial. “Dani said she was sure Russell had been in on the rape setup that led to Tommy’s suicide.” Dani was never quoted anywhere, but the fact of her separation and impending divorce turned out to be true. It was all downhill from there.

Some of the actors who’d carried the signs in front of the courthouse claiming Ian had been framed now admitted that they believed he was guilty and were “glad justice had been done.”

But the hardest blow was delivered by Brittany herself, in an exclusive interview with the Inquisitor that I might-or might not-have helped make happen. A front-page cover showing a tearful Brittany carried the headline “They Ruined My Life! Russell Deserves to Be Sitting Next to Ian in That Jail Cell!” She told the whole story, no holds barred. And now, without the constraints of a courtroom, she could say, “Russell was in on all of it: the lie about Tommy raping me, the deal to give me work for life-he was on board because he stole that screenplay and he’d lose his deal if the studio found out. He and Ian made my life a living hell! I’ll never work for Russell again and I don’t care if that means I’ll never work for the rest of my life.”

Of course, we soon learned that it meant just the opposite. I heard from Andrew Chatham that a hot young director who’d been through rehab himself had offered Brittany a supporting role in his next film.

“Mark my words, Ms. Knight,” Andrew said. “Russell Antonovich is through in this town. In the coming months, you’ll see that one deal after another will fall apart. Russell’s studio will close down by the end of the year.”

It wasn’t prison in the traditional sense. But it was hell on earth for Russell Antonovich. I’d have to make my peace with that.

Declan and I got the official summons to see Vanderputz for congratulations two days after the verdict-once he finished taking bows on every channel but Animal Planet. Eric came with us, and I was glad he was there to witness it. Our fearless leader managed to make it sound like we’d won a third-grade attendance award. “That was very nice work,” he’d said. “Of course, the evidence was overwhelming…” Translation: even my pet shih tzu could’ve won it.

“He never fails to disappoint,” I said to Eric on our way back to my office.

“Like I said, consistency is his strong suit.” Eric smiled. “But he did let your felonious expert slide.”

There was that. Not one word was said about my having hired Parkova without prior approval.

When Declan and I were safely behind the closed door in my office, we exchanged views.

“What an asshat,” Declan said.

“A real chowderhead,” I added. “But I’ve been meaning to ask you what you made of that book.”

“The fairy tales?” he said. I nodded. “Did you read the notes in the margins?”

I had. “I’ve got my theory,” I said. “But I want to hear yours.”

“That was Tommy’s inspiration for Wonderland Warriors,” Declan said. “Nothing specific, but I saw the movie. Did you?”

“No. But I heard it was part fairy tale.”

“It was. And his notes had some of the ideas that wound up in the movie.”

“But it wouldn’t have been enough to prove he wrote the screenplay,” I said.

“No. But it is for me. I’m glad I got to see it.”

What you know and what you can prove. They can be very different things. “Me too.”

“Well, I’ve got a stack of case files screaming my name,” Declan said. He stood to go, but paused at the door. “I…just want to thank you for writing that note to my folks.”

I’d written to tell them what a talented lawyer Declan was and that his star was going to rise quickly in the office. “I just told ’em the truth.”

Declan gave me a long look that acknowledged another truth: I’d also done it to give his father a wake-up slap. “Thank you, Rachel.”

After Declan left, I thought about all the fathers in this case.

Nietzsche said, “When one has not had a good father, one must create one.” This case proved it in ways even Nietzsche might not have predicted. Brian wanted not only to vindicate his father, but also in some measure to justify his father’s suicide, by proving he’d written the screenplay that launched Russell’s empire. Hayley wanted to create an honorable father by forcing him to admit his misdeed and give the credit where it was due. And Declan, whether he was aware of it or not, had taken a civil service job that was all heart and small pay, in part to force his father to accept him on his own terms-in essence, to create the loving father he needed.

And as for me, what was a prosecutor if not someone who stood up and fought back against the predators of the world? Only now, during this case, had I fully understood how the lessons I’d thought of as games were actually my father’s way of teaching me how to fight back-both physically and emotionally. “Never hesitate, Rachel. Always shoot to kill,” he’d said. I now saw that in becoming a prosecutor, I’d put his lessons, his final gift to me, to good use. And so I had found the good father I thought had abandoned me.

With the trial over, my fatigue hit me like a brick wall. I needed some serious R and R. I’d racked up an impressive amount of comp time and I intended to use it. Bailey said she planned to do the same. Graden had offered to kick off our vacation with a dinner for everyone-including Declan and his plus one-at his place.

“Declan, you’ve never had better cooking,” I said. “You’ve got to-”

“I’m in, you don’t have to sell me. It sounds perfect. And besides, a good meal will be a refreshing change. My cooking skills end with Top Ramen.”

Toni’s trial wrapped up just in time-with a conviction of course-and she and J.D. were picking up Bailey and Drew.

I got there early, intending to help-or at least put out the hors d’oeuvres. But Graden was all set. He asked what I was drinking.

“What are you having?” It looked good. Cool and refreshing. At six o’clock it was still fairly warm outside.

“Ketel One and soda with a lime.”

“I’ll have the same.”

We took our drinks out to the patio and shared a lounge chair. The ocean air was fresh but still warm, and the fading sunlight bounced a golden light off the water of the infinity pool. It was heavenly. We sat in silence for a while and enjoyed the view of the ocean.

“I did thank you for Parkova, didn’t I?” I asked.

“Repeatedly.” Graden chuckled.

“She was a great witness.” I told him how she’d handled Terry’s question about her fabricating the original ransom note.

Graden laughed as he shook his head. “Only Parkova.”

Then I remembered what I’d been meaning to ask. “What does the ‘M’ stand for?”

“You promise never to tell? She’ll definitely hunt me down and kill me.” I promised. “Miriam.”

This was the big state secret? “She can change it legally if she’s that twizzled about it.”

“Legal isn’t really her thing, but I’ll let her know.” Graden paused. “I had an idea I wanted to run by you.”

I waited.

“I thought it might help if we let Parkova track those reports Lilah sent you-”

My nemesis, who’d almost gotten Bailey and me killed. And who’d sent me previously undiscovered reports on my sister, Romy.

“But I thought you already checked them out and they were legit?”

“They are. I’m not talking about that part. I’m talking about having Parkova see if she can track down Lilah by seeing how those reports were accessed.”

The sheer poetic justice of having the genius hacker go after the brilliant sociopath brought a smile to my face.

“It’s brilliant. I love it.”

The doorbell rang and we went to answer it. Declan was there with a tall, sandy-haired surfer-looking type whom I knew very well.

“Kevin Jerreau!” I said. “I haven’t seen you in…a year?”

Kevin and I had been baby DAs together, and friends ever since. He’d helped me on a case a couple of years ago involving the murder of my dear friend and fellow prosecutor Jake Pahlmeyer.

We hugged. “Your fault, not mine,” Kevin said.

I looked from Kevin to Declan. “I didn’t know you two knew each other.”

“He taught my evidence class in law school,” Declan said.

Kevin smiled. “Actually, I’m the one who suggested Declan try clerking at the DA’s office.”

“Then I have you to thank yet again,” I said.

Graden took the drink orders, and as he went to prepare them, J.D.’s car rolled up and the four of them-J.D., Toni, Bailey, and Drew-descended on us.

It was a magical night, with laughs, great stories, and the best steaks I’d ever had. Declan and Kevin were the first to leave.

I looked at them knowingly. “You’ve got another party to get to.”

“No,” Declan said.

“Yes,” Kevin said.

But Toni, J.D., Drew, and Bailey weren’t far behind them. As I walked them out to the car, I hugged Bailey and Toni and told them we had to make plans. “You’re taking some time off, aren’t you?” I asked Toni.

“Oh, yeah.” She leaned in and whispered, “Listen, if you dare go home tonight, I will personally make your shrink appointment.”

I grinned. “No appointments necessary.”

As I waved good-bye, Bailey and Drew gave me a smile.

Then Graden put his arm around me and we walked back inside. And closed the door.