The Judge’s List

37

The game began at nine, an awful hour to expect ten-year-old boys to be in uniform, properly stretched, warmed-up, and ready to play. The Royals took the field in the top of the first, and a handful of parents clapped politely from the bleachers. A few shouted words of encouragement that the players didn’t hear. The coaches clapped their hands and tried to create excitement.

Diana Zhang sat alone in a lawn chair on the first-base side, a quilt tucked over her legs, a tall coffee in hand. The morning air was crisp and surprisingly cool for late April in the Panhandle. Across the way, down the third-base line, her ex-husband leaned on the fence and watched their child jog out to center field. Their divorce was too recent for any effort at civility.

From behind her, a female voice said quietly, “Excuse me, Ms. Zhang.”

She glanced to her right and confronted an officious-looking badge in a black leather wallet. A woman held it and said, “Agent Agnes Neff, FBI. Got a minute for a quick word?”

Startled, like anyone would be, Diana said, “Well, I was planning to watch my son play.”

“So are we. Let’s just move down the fence line there and have a word. Won’t take ten minutes.”

Diana stood and looked at the bleachers to make sure no one was watching. She turned around and saw what could only be another agent. He led the way and they stopped near the foul pole.

Neff said, “This is Special Agent Drew Suarez.”

She shot him a look of irritation and he nodded in return.

Neff continued, “We’ll be brief. We’re looking for your boss and can’t find him. Any idea where Judge Bannick might be right now?”

“Well, uh, no. I assume he’s at home on a Saturday morning.”

“He’s not.”

“Well, then, I don’t know. What’s going on?”

“When did you last see him?”

“He stopped by the office Thursday morning, two days ago. Haven’t talked to him since.”

“We understand he’s undergoing treatment.”

“He is. Cancer. Is he in trouble or something?”

“No, not at all. We just have some routine questions regarding allegations from another investigation.”

That was vague enough to mean nothing, cop-speak at its best, but Diana decided this was no time to push. She nodded as if she understood completely. Neff said, “So, no idea where he might be?”

“I’m sure you’ve checked the courthouse. He has a key and comes and goes at all hours.”

“We’re watching it. He’s not there. He’s not at home. Any idea where else he might be?”

Diana watched the game for a few seconds, not sure how much to say. “He has a bungalow at Seaside, though he rarely goes there.”

“We’re watching it too. He’s not there.”

“Okay. You say he’s not in trouble, so why are you watching everywhere?”

“We need to talk to him.”

“Obviously.”

Suarez took a step closer, gave her a hard look, and said, “Ms. Zhang, you are talking to the FBI. May I remind you it’s against the law to be untruthful?”

“Are you calling me a liar?”

“No.”

Neff shook her head. No. She said, “It’s important that we find him as soon as possible.”

Diana glared at Suarez, then looked at Neff. “There’s a chance he went back to Santa Fe. He’s undergoing treatment there for colon cancer. Look, he’s very private and makes his own travel arrangements. He’s taken leave and he doesn’t discuss things with anyone.” She looked at Suarez and said plainly, “Honestly. I have no idea where he is.”

Neff said, “He’s booked no flights in the past forty-eight hours.”

“As I said, I don’t handle his travel.”

“Do you know the name of the treatment center in Santa Fe?”

“No.”

Neff and Suarez looked at each other and nodded as if they believed her. Neff said, “I’d like to keep this conversation between us, okay, off the record.”

Suarez chimed in with, “In other words, don’t mention it to the judge should you hear from him. Okay?”

“Sure.”

“If you tell him about us you might be held for aiding and abetting.”

“I thought you said he’s done nothing wrong.”

“Not yet. Just keep it quiet.”

“Got it.”

She knew only that Allie was somewhere in the Caribbean, watching, stalking, intercepting. He had let it slip that it was a joint effort with the DEA. Something big was happening, but then she’d heard that for almost three years now. All that mattered was his safety, but he had been gone for eight days with hardly a word. She was growing tired of his job, as was he, and she couldn’t imagine being married to a man who was constantly disappearing. Their summit was growing closer, weeks now instead of months. The big conversation in which nothing would be held back. Complicated, yet simple. Either we commit ourselves to each other and a different future, or we call it quits and stop wasting time.

She was in pain, stretching in some form of mixed yoga and physical therapy, a thirty-minute routine she was supposed to check off twice a day, when the phone rang at 10:04. Probably Jeri, looking for an update.

Instead, it was the not too pleasant voice of Clay Vidovich, her new pal from yesterday at the FBI meeting in Pensacola. Sorry to bother on a Saturday morning, he went on, but didn’t really seem concerned with the interruption.

“We can’t find this guy, Lacy,” he said. “You have any ideas?”

“Well, no, Mr. Vidovich—”

“It’s Clay, okay? I thought we dropped the formalities yesterday.”

“Right, Clay. I don’t know this guy, never met him, so I have no idea where he hangs out. Sorry.”

“Does he know you’re involved, that BJC is investigating?”

“We haven’t contacted him directly, we’re not required to until after our initial assessment, but he probably knows about us.”

“How would he?”

“Well, Betty Roe, our source, believes Bannick can see around corners and hears everything. So far, she’s been right most of the time. Anytime you investigate a judge, the gossip seems to leak out. People love to talk, especially lawyers and court clerks. So, yes, there’s a decent chance Bannick knows we’re investigating.”

“But he would not know that you’ve gone to the state police and the FBI.”

“Clay, I have no idea what Bannick knows.”

“Good point. Look, I’m not trying to ruin your Saturday morning or anything, but are you somewhere safe?”

Lacy looked around her condo. Looked at her dog. Looked at her front door, certain that it was locked. “Sure. I’m at home. Why?”

“Are you alone?”

“Now you’re prying.”

“Okay, I’m prying. But I’d be remiss if I didn’t say that we’d feel better if you were not alone, at least until we find him.”

“You’re serious?”

“Dead serious, Lacy. This guy, a sitting judge, has simply vanished in the past thirty-six hours. He could be anywhere, and he could be dangerous. We’ll find him, but until then I think you should take precautions.”

“I’ll be okay.”

“Sure you will. Please call if you hear anything.”

“Will do.”

She stared at her phone as she walked to the door and checked the lock. It was a gorgeous spring morning, cool with no clouds, and she had planned to shop at her favorite nursery and plant some azaleas in her flower beds. She scolded herself for being frightened on such a perfect day.

Allie was off playing cop. Darren had taken a new girlfriend to the beach for a getaway. She walked around the condo, checking doors and windows, still scolding. To relax, she lowered herself to her yoga mat and folded into a child’s pose. After two deep breaths, her phone buzzed again, startling her. Why was she so jumpy?

It was the third man in her life, and she was not unhappy to hear Gunther’s voice. He apologized for missing her weekly call the previous Tuesday; of course it was all because of a critical development meeting with his new team of architects.

She stretched out on the sofa and they chatted for a long time. Both admitted to being bored. Gunther’s current girl, if indeed he had a serious one, was away too. Once he realized that Lacy had nothing planned for the afternoon, he was even more animated and finally mentioned lunch.

It had been only two weeks since their last one, and the fact that he was so eager to fly down again this soon was disheartening. More than likely, he was one step away from the bankers and they were closing in fast.

He said, “I’m an hour from the airport and the flight takes about eighty minutes. Wanna say two p.m.?”

“Sure.”

As troublesome as he was, it would be comforting to have him around, at least for the next twenty-four hours. She would convince him to stay for dinner, then sleep over, and at some point they would have no choice but to talk about her lawsuit.

It might be a relief to get that conversation out of the way.