Supreme Justice

Chapter Forty-six

Dana could not believe that Monte Pike was the chief criminal deputy in the district attorney’s office of a major metropolitan city. He looked more like a junior-high student than a law-school graduate; none of his clothes matched, and his hair was going in all sorts of directions, like the panicky participants in the running of the bulls. If Pike told her that he was blind and had dressed without help, Dana would have accepted the explanation. Dana also knew that the way Pike looked was deceiving. Mary Garrett had told her about the attorney’s Harvard degree and his reputation as a brilliant, fair, but hard-nosed adversary.

“Thanks for seeing me, Mr. Pike.”

“Hey, it’s not often I get to meet a celebrity. Nice work on Farrington. It takes guts to go up against the president.”

“I didn’t have much choice.”

“Still, most people would have crawled in a hole and shoveled dirt over themselves in your situation. So, what can I do for you?”

“As I told your secretary, I do some reporting for Exposed now, and the Woodruff case is my current assignment.”

Pike smiled. “I’m not surprised. It’s got conspiracies and CIA assassins, not to mention Mexican drug lords and ghost ships. And, like your paper’s other favorite subjects-the Abominable Snowman, ETs, and the Loch Ness monster-Woodruff’s defense is a complete work of fiction.”

“You’re saying that the China Sea, those five dead men, and the hashish never existed?”

Pike laughed. “The ship and the dead men are probably real. As to the hashish…” Pike shrugged. “We’ll never know for sure. No, it’s the defense that’s a work of fiction. Sarah Woodruff shot John Finley to death and dumped him in the park. Ninjas and Mexican hit men had nothing to do with it. That’s all part of Mary Garrett’s cleverly constructed smoke screen.”

“You sound like you’re pretty sure of yourself.”

“And you’re probably thinking that I’m one of these cocksure prosecutors who decides who the bad guy is, then picks and chooses the evidence, discarding anything that doesn’t fit his theory, but I’m not. Mary and I had this talk the first time she told me what Oswald had seen. I took a tough stand with her, but I double-checked every bit of evidence in the case as soon as she left my office.

“I take my position very seriously. I never, ever want to convict an innocent person. I just don’t think that Sarah Woodruff fits into that category. And if you want to know why, read my closing statement at her trial. I never try to win by being the more theatrical attorney. I teach, Miss Cutler. My trials are seminars about a particular incident, in which I explain to the jury why they can convict with a clear conscience. Believe me, if you uncover evidence that changes my mind about Woodruff’s guilt, I’ll be in the judge’s chambers that day asking for a stay of execution.”

Dana had seen many people make self-serving statements, but she could see that Pike was sincere.

“I did read your closing argument. In fact, I read the transcript of Miss Woodruff’s trial before I flew here. But I came to a different conclusion about the evidence you excluded. I think the jury was the proper body to decide its relevance. This whole business with the China Sea smells like a rogue operation, and people who conduct that kind of business would not hesitate to kill John Finley if they thought he was a threat.”

“I guess we have to agree to disagree. Besides, I didn’t invoke the state-secrets privilege, even if I agreed with its use. The feds did that.”

Dana saw she wasn’t going to get any more out of Pike, so she changed the subject.

“I understand that Max Dietz, the prosecutor who brought Miss Woodruff to trial the first time, has vanished.”

Pike stopped smiling. “He has.”

“Is there any new information about what happened to him?”

“His car was recovered from the airport, but it didn’t yield any clues that told us what happened to him. Some people think he hopped a plane for parts unknown because he was depressed, but I don’t buy that. None of his bank accounts were touched, and there’s been no action on his credit cards, so what is he living on?”

“What about the quarter of a million dollars Finley was supposed to have had?”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that rumor. The problem is that no one has ever seen that money. I doubt that it ever existed. And if it did exist, the kidnappers or the people who rescued Finley have it, not Max Dietz.”

“Where was Dietz last seen?

“In his office. He asked his secretary for a handful of subpoenas. She brought them to him. A little later, he left. His secretary said that he seemed excited.”

“Do you know why he wanted the subpoenas?”

“No.”

“Were there any clues to Dietz’s disappearance in his house or office?”

“None we figured out.”

“What happened to his belongings?”

“They’re stored in a warehouse where we keep evidence in open cases.”

“Any chance I could see them?”

“Why, do you think they have anything to do with Woodruff?”

“I’m just curious.”

“You know he was off the case by then.”

“That’s what I understood.”

“So it’s not likely his disappearance has anything to do with your story.”

“I guess not.” Dana stood up. “Thanks for seeing me.”

“My pleasure. And I wasn’t kidding. If you come up with anything that clears Woodruff, let me know. Sending someone to death row is an awesome responsibility. I’d have a hard time living with myself if I were responsible for an innocent person’s execution.”

As soon as Dana walked out of the Multnomah County Courthouse, she checked the to-do list she’d written on the back page of her notebook. She had talked to everyone she wanted to question, and only one task remained.

Dana was scheduled to take a red-eye out of Portland International, but she had several hours before she had to be at the airport. Dana packed and checked out. Then she talked to the concierge. He told her that it would take forty-five minutes to drive to Shelby. She set her GPS for the address of the warehouse and headed out Highway 30 toward Astoria. The highway ran along the Columbia River and gave Dana a continuous view of the green and tan bluffs of Washington State on the far bank.

During the drive, Dana reviewed everything she’d learned during her stay in Oregon. By the time she pulled into the warehouse parking lot, she had concluded that the only new information she’d picked up concerned Max Dietz’s disappearance and the deaths of Jerry Swanson and Tom Oswald. The disappearance and the deaths were suspicious, but no facts connected them to the China Sea. More important, nothing she’d learned showed a connection between Justice Price and the China Sea.

The sun was starting to set, and Dana shivered when she got out of her car. No ship was moored at the pier, but Dana walked to the water’s edge anyway and tried to imagine what the scene was like on the night of the murders.

The discomfort caused by the wind made Dana cut short her reverie, and she walked back toward the warehouse. It looked deserted, but she circled it anyway. On the side opposite the spot where she had parked her car, she found a door with a heavy padlock.

Dana decided that there was nothing more she could accomplish, so she headed back to her car. As she turned the corner, she discovered a black SUV parked sideways in the lot and a large man leaning against her rental. After her escape from the basement where she’d been held captive, Dana never went anywhere without a weapon. The Beretta that nestled in a holster in the small of her back brought her great comfort. She slipped it out before stopping far enough from the man so she could shoot him if he became a threat.

“It gets cold out here,” the man said. Dana thought she heard a trace of a Scandinavian accent.

“Why are you leaning on my car?” she asked.

The man smiled. “I heard you were tough.”

“Look, jerkoff, I don’t have time for your routine. You may think you’re cool, but I just find you annoying. If you know anything about me, you know that I have no problem killing if I feel threatened. So tell me what this is all about, or fuck off.”

The man straightened up. All traces of amusement disappeared from his features, and his stare was as cold and cruel as Dana’s.

“Tell Patrick Gorman that there is no story here.”

Dana didn’t respond.

“Your boyfriend, Jake Teeny, is in Sierra Leone. That’s a dangerous place.”

Dana cocked the gun. “Watch your mouth.”

“That was simply an observation. And here’s another one. It would be difficult for Exposed to print a story about the China Sea if its building was vaporized.”

“Who are you?”

The man smiled. Then he turned without answering Dana’s question and got into the SUV. Dana let him. As soon as he was out of sight, she leaned against her car. The mention of Jake Teeny had shaken her. Dana had lost all fear of death while she was a captive. That had enabled her to do anything, regardless of the risk. Falling in love had changed her. She still had no fear where her personal safety was concerned, but the idea that Jake might be hurt because of something she did filled her with dread and made her vulnerable, something she hated.

Dana started the car and drove onto the highway. It was ironic. The man had threatened her so she would kill the story about the China Sea, but his threats had made her realize that someone still thought that the incident could turn into a very big story. The question Dana had to answer was how much she was willing to risk to uncover it.

“Pat, it’s Dana.”

“Where are you?” Gorman asked.

“I’m on my way to the airport in Portland to catch my flight back to D.C.”

“Do you by any chance have the scoop of the century packed in with your sexy lingerie?” the editor asked.

“I’m not carrying either of those items, you pervert.”

“Do you have anything for me?”

“What I’m working on is too big to discuss without proof, and I wasn’t able to get any hard evidence.”

“We don’ need no steenking evidence to print our stories,” Gorman said in an atrocious Mexican accent.

Dana laughed.

“If you don’t have a story for me, why are you calling?”

“You’ve got contacts with deep knowledge about the intelligence community, right?”

“Why do you ask?” Gorman said with all traces of humor gone.

“I was threatened by someone while I was conducting my investigation, and I want to know how seriously I should take the threat.”

“What’s the intelligence agency?”

“I’m guessing CIA, but it may be Homeland Security.”

“Let me make a call. I’ll get back to you.”

“Thanks, Pat. If this wasn’t important, I wouldn’t ask.”

“I know, Dana. That’s the reason I’m willing to burn a favor for you.”