The Target

32

RAMSEY NEARLY TRIPPED, he swung around so quickly. A boy was trying to wrestle Molly's purse out of her hands. He ran full tilt toward the tussle, yelling, "Let her go, you little punk!"

Emma.

Ramsey jerked back around to see Emma standing there, her hand close to that sea lion, not realizing what had happened. There were people all around her. She was all right. Then, just at the instant when he would have turned back to Molly, Ramsey saw him slithering through a knot of kids and parents near the sea lions. He would recognize the man anywhere, both in his nightmares and in real life. Just a few more feet and he'd be close enough to grab her. He was nearly on her, not more than three feet away, moving quickly now since he knew the distraction he'd set into motion couldn't last much longer. He had his hand out when Ramsey grabbed him by his collar, jerked him around, and sent his fist into his jaw.

"Hey, buddy! Why'd you hit that guy? He wasn't doing nothing!"

"Yeah, you can't go around hitting people. What is it with you?"

There were half a dozen people swarming close now, pressing in toward him, but no one had grabbed him yet. He yelled, "Emma! Get over to your mother!"

Dickerson was stumbling to his feet, rubbing his jaw, spitting blood, yelling, "Why'd you hit me? I'm a priest! Why'd you hit a holy man?"

"Hey, buddy, you shouldn't oughta done that!"

Ramsey was shoved back. Another man punched him in the shoulder.

"No, stop! He's my papa and he was saving me!"

But they didn't hear the little girl. Just kept telling him what a bum he was.

Ramsey was desperate. He didn't want to, but he saw Dickerson going for Emma again. "Leave her alone!" he yelled, but Dickerson ignored him, so intent on Emma that Ramsey wondered if he'd even heard him.

"Sorry about this." Ramsey levered himself up and kicked one man high on the thigh, sent his fist into another man's shoulder, and one final kick into a man's belly. He was free. Dickerson was close to Emma again. This time Ramsey didn't yell. He wanted to get his bare hands on Dickerson and beat the living shit out of him. He felt rage pour through him, violent, pure vengeance. Dickerson was two feet away from her. The look on his face was calm, even serene, as if he were looking at a beautiful scene, and perhaps he was, somewhere in his demented brain. A man turned sharply and bumped into Ramsey. Ramsey couldn't stop himself, he shoved the guy hard out of the way. Then Dickerson looked up. Ramsey heard him curse, saw him weighing his chances of getting caught. He must have seen the death in Ramsey's eyes. He stumbled away down the wharf, weaving in and out of people. Ramsey yelled after him to stop.

He stumbled faster, then straightened when the wharf was clear, and began running, Ramsey behind him, Emma running behind them both. People cleared from their path. Dickerson looked back, saw that Ramsey was closing, then turned sharply and jumped into the water. Ramsey grabbed up Emma, turned to a large woman who was surrounded by little kids and looked tough as nails, and said, "He's a child molester. He was after my daughter. Please hold her and keep her safe." He nearly threw Emma into the woman's arms. He jumped into the icy water of Monterey Bay after Sonny Dickerson.

He thought his flesh would freeze off his body. He felt as if his lungs had seized up. He got to the surface, looking for Dickerson. He couldn't see him. He couldn't be far. He felt as though he'd jumped right on top of him.

He heard Molly yell, "He's heading for the pilings, Ramsey. Hurry! Be careful! Damn you, be careful!"

He was a strong swimmer, but the surge was vicious, yanking one way, then the other. There were rocks around them, sharp and dangerous. The water was so cold his chest was tight and his arms and legs felt rubbery. Then, finally, he saw Dickerson, slipping in between the slimy pilings.

This time he wasn't about to let that monster escape him. Not again. He believed in the laws and in the courts, to his very fiber he believed in the order of law, but he knew that no lawyer was ever going to get the chance to represent this man, not if he could help it. He surged through the wildly slapping waves, nearly on him, when Dickerson, his hair plastered to his skull, suddenly waved a gun.

"Stay away from me!" he yelled, then got a mouthful of water. He choked and spat it out. "I mean it, Hunt. I'll shoot you if I have to."

Ramsey treaded water, yelling back, his voice strong and calm, even persuasive in his rage, "Listen to me, Dickerson, you'll never get Emma. All the cops have your photo and so does the FBI. Given what you've done, all of them want to shoot you down like the pathetic bastard you are. You're not going to get Emma or any other little kid ever again. It's all over for you. Give it up." Ramsey grabbed one of the pilings, his palm slipping because it was so slimy. "Come on, Dickerson, don't be stupid. It's over."

"That's a lie. No one knows who I am. I'm an expert at makeup and disguises. All she saw was Clinton.

It was good!"

"Not on the beach you didn't wear any makeup. Emma described you very well. It's not as if you'd just emerged newly hatched from under a rock. You have a record, fingerprints, photos, the whole shooting match. It's over. You're never going to get near her again. Did Rule Shaker know you were a child molester when he hired you to kidnap Emma?"

"I never met him, it was one of his men who hired me. He told me over and over that I wasn't to hurt the little girl, that she had to go back to her mother after her father cooperated with Shaker. Sure I agreed. I needed the money. But when I saw Emma, I knew that she'd been sent to me.

"I knew she belonged to me. A week was only a beginning for us. But then she fooled me and ran away.

It's just a matter of time and she'll be mine again."

Ramsey nearly lost it, but he wasn't stupid.

"You called up after she was gone and got those men up there to kill me, right?"

"Yes. I had to have her back, but you managed to escape."

"Yeah, and I got you too, didn't I?"

Dickerson yelled at that. He pushed forward, away from Ramsey, then veered toward a wobbly wooden ladder that looked as if it should have crumbled into the water years ago. He got himself halfway up before Ramsey was beneath him, grabbing his foot.

"Let me go! She's mine, do you hear me? I have to have her, she's all I've got. I can't survive without her.

What I am is far more important than what she could ever be. I need her!"

Ramsey yanked as hard as he could on Dickerson's foot as Dickerson fired. Ramsey felt the heat of the bullet as it whizzed past his left ear.

An instant later there was another shot. It felt like a heavy blow striking his shoulder. He lurched backward, nearly losing his hold on Dickerson's foot. He didn't feel any pain, just more numbing cold.

This numbness was different, colder than the water. It froze through his chest and down his arm, making it useless. He couldn't move his damned arm. He heard Molly's voice, Emma's voice. He heard someone scream out, "He's bleeding! That man's been shot."

Dickerson got his foot free. He kicked Ramsey hard in his wounded shoulder. Pain ripped through him and he fell back into the water.

He saw, as if from a great distance, Molly's white face, saw her raise her sneakered foot, saw her smash her sneakered foot into Dickerson's face just when he reached the top of the ladder. The force of her kick knocked Dickerson back. He scrambled wildly, trying to keep hold of the ladder, but the ancient rotting wood collapsed, each step crumbling when his weight hit it. Dickerson went flailing into the water, crashing beside him, struggling frantically, choking up water, trying to find the ladder whose rungs now hung down drunkenly. This time Ramsey had him around the neck and he never intended to let go.

Dickerson was waving the gun around, yelling, water filling his mouth, still yelling, only it was gurgling now, and Ramsey felt him weakening. It was just a matter of which of them lasted longer now.

Ramsey felt the god-awful pain in his shoulder, the uselessness of his arm. He shuddered with the force of it, felt the pain pulling at him, felt light-headed and dizzy. But he didn't let Dickerson go. He only squeezed harder. Dicker-son was twisting wildly, trying to turn the gun toward him. He tried to bring up his useless arm, but it just hung at his side, blood streaking down it, plastering his shirt to his flesh, hurting so badly his teeth were clenched. He was squeezing now as hard as he could. Why didn't Dickerson go down? Of course it was the force of the waves that prevented it. He couldn't get enough leverage. The gun waved in the air around them.

It didn't seem at all strange to him when he saw Molly scoot off the edge of the wharf to land in the water next to him. A moment later he thought he'd die of fear. He saw her grab Dickerson's arm, grab his wrist, and pull with all her might.

Dickerson screamed and yelled, but it didn't matter. Molly had the gun now. He saw her face was white, deadening fury in her eyes, saw her raise the gun to Dickerson's face, not a foot away from him. She was going to kill him. He realized in that moment that the last thing he ever wanted in his life was to have Molly kill another human being.

He said, "Don't shoot him, Molly, you might hit me. I've got him around the neck. See? I've got him. He's not going anywhere. It's all over for him. Please don't shoot."

She blinked, the blank rage receding. Dickerson heaved, shoving his elbow into Ramsey's stomach. The vicious surging water suddenly backlashed, shoving against them, giving Dickerson more power rather than slowing the force of his arm. Ramsey's hold loosened and Dickerson jerked free. He grabbed for the gun in Molly's hand.

There was a shot, wild, nearly straight up. Molly was heaving and struggling, but he was still on her.

Ramsey kicked forward with his remaining strength to help her. God, he'd been a bloody fool to save the man's life. He was a fool and he was also losing. He heard Emma screaming his name.

Then there were two men in the water, and all of them were grabbing for that gun. When the gun went off another time, no one knew who had it, who had fired it.

All any of them knew was that there was an unconscious man on his face in the water, red streaked water flowing from beneath his body.

Ramsey said to the two men, "It's about time you two showed up. I'd just about given up on you."

LIEUTENANT McPherson, of the MPD, a man whose face had come into focus just a couple of minutes before, said quietly, "Don't worry about anything, Judge Hunt. You're in Monterey. You're in a hospital room. The doctor and nurse just left before you woke up. You're going to make it, no problem.

The only reason I'm here right now is I thought you'd want to know about Dickerson. He's still in surgery.

The docs don't know if he'll make it. The bullet got him right in the chest. It's just too soon to know."

"I just wish they'd let the bastard die," Ramsey said. He couldn't move his right shoulder or his right arm.

He looked down at a white sling. He remembered now how they'd wheeled him up to the operating room, side by side with Dickerson, Molly and Emma beside him, both of them white-faced and silent. He remembered Emma's small fingers lightly stroking his forearm. As for Molly, she'd held on to his hand for dear life. He vaguely remembered waking up in the recovery room. They'd just wheeled him into a private room, and he was alone with the lieutenant.

"Yes," Lieutenant McPherson was saying, "I hope he expires. It'd sure save the taxpayers a lot of money.

Well, at least you're going to be all right, Judge Hunt."

"Do you know what they did to me?"

'The surgeon spoke to you in the recovery room. You don't remember?"

"No, just this voice that wouldn't shut up. Do you know anything?"

"Yes. They worked on you for a good two hours. When the surgeon came out, he said you were lucky.

The bullet went through your pec, and all you've got there is skin, muscle, and fat. He said you'd hurt like hell because the bullet also broke your collarbone and grazed a rib, but there wasn't any bad damage, it would just take a while to heal. You should be ready to take out more crooks in your courtroom in three or four months. Oh yeah, the doc also said he was real pleased that the bullet hadn't hit anything important, said he didn't want any complications with a big-time federal judge. He gave a big belly laugh then."

Ramsey couldn't think of anything to say. His brain seemed to be going in and out on him. At least he felt blessedly numb, all of him. He just wished Dickerson was dead. Surely it wasn't asking too much after what the bastard had done. If he lived, if they brought him up on kidnapping and attempted murder, he could still get out. Emma still wouldn't be safe.

He was losing it. Yes, she would be safe. By the time Dickerson ever got out of prison, Emma would be an adult. She'd be safe from predators like Dickerson just because she'd keep accumulating birthdays.

"Judge Hunt? Can you hear me? Do you want me to get a doctor for you?"

Ramsey hadn't realized that his head had fallen back against the very comfortable pillows. He opened his eyes to see Lieutenant McPherson looking very worried. He knew he'd been speaking, he'd felt the cadence of his voice, the underlying kindness, the concern, but he hadn't understood most of what he'd said. Ramsey managed to say, "I'm okay. I didn't think hospitals had comfortable pillows."

"These aren't the hospital's pillows," McPherson said. "These are from Mrs. Hunt, who's right now changing clothes along with your daughter. Actually they're from Mrs. Rallis, who went out and bought you pillows and your wife and daughter new clothes. She didn't like seeing them in hospital scrubs.

Evidently she saw the whole thing on the wharf. She's a big name here in Monterey. If she says that you should have soft pillows, no one's going to argue with her."

Ramsey wanted to ask about Molly and Emma, find out if they were okay, but somehow, he just couldn't get the words out. It was a weird feeling, this knowing words, feeling what those words meant to him, yet being unable to get them out of his mouth. He felt the man lightly pat his arm. "The doc gave you a shot of something really strong. He said you didn't seem like the sort to kick back and relax, so he said he'd lay you out, it would be the best thing. Did you hear me tell you about your daughter and Mrs. Hunt? They should be here soon. The last I heard, Mrs. Rallis insisted that your wife and Emma have coffee and hot chocolate. I tried to stop the doc from giving you that shot, but I couldn't. Can you talk, Judge Hunt?"

"No. I'm laid out," Ramsey said, but McPherson never said anything more, so he guessed he'd spoken to him only in his mind.

HE smiled at Molly and Emma coming into his hospital room. Emma was wearing a new outfit he'd never seen on her before. As for Molly, she looked like a fashion plate in a pale yellow silky-looking pants outfit and high-heeled shoes, of all things, on her feet. Her beautiful hair was combed back, fastened with a fat gold clip at her neck. They both looked incredible to him, just incredible. He wanted to shout to them that this time they'd won. He wanted to yell at Molly for jumping in the water like that. He also wanted to thank her for saving his bacon. He wanted to tell them that he loved them more than he'd loved any two people in his entire life. But his mouth wouldn't say anything. He wondered again where the words were that would say what he wanted to say.

He heard McPherson say, "No, he's all right, ma'am, I promise. He's been in and out. The doc wants him to rest and so he's resting. You and Emma sure look like a million dollars. How do you feel, Mrs. Hunt?

Would you like to give me a statement now?"

Then he heard Virginia Trolley's voice, telling McPherson to leave Molly alone, that she'd speak to him once she was convinced that Ramsey would be all right. Boy, she'd gotten down here fast. He knew she'd take care of everything. He also knew she'd take a strip off her two cops who were supposedly protecting them. He thought he remembered one of the young cops telling him that he'd had to take a leak and that's why they'd just been a couple of min-utes late helping him. What about his partner?

Ramsey had wanted to ask, but hadn't been able to.

He smiled now vaguely at Emma, who'd slipped away from her mama to come to him. "I'm okay, Em," he thought he said, but her face didn't change expression. He felt her soft mouth on his cheek. He heard her whisper against his ear, "We got him, Ramsey. Mrs. Rallis promised me he wasn't going to escape from her hospital." He wanted to laugh, but he didn't. He just slid away. The last thing he felt was the touch of Emma's fingers on the back of his left hand.

"HE'S going to live," Molly said. "They spent hours on him in the operating room, and now he's going to live."

Virginia Trolley said from his other side, with a deep sigh, "They knew who and what he was. I wish they'd just let him go. Now we'll have to try him, there'll be more garbage for you guys to go through."

"It's all right, Virginia," Ramsey said, his voice deep and gravelly this morning. He wanted a cup of coffee badly, but they wouldn't give it to him. The nurse had said he'd puke up his toenails if he drank coffee now. He wanted desperately to prove her either right or wrong. "Where's Emma?"

"I'm right here, Ramsey. Mama wanted me to pay attention to something else, but I told her I know what's going on. Does your shoulder hurt?"

"Nan, I'm a big guy, just like I told you. This isn't any-thing. I seem to be getting better at having my body parts shot all the time."

"I was afraid he would kill you, Ramsey," Emma said. "The water was all red. I would have gotten to you to help you, but that big lady wouldn't let go of me."

The thought of Emma jumping into the water like her mother had, maybe landing on Dickerson's head, nearly made his heart stop. He said, however, "Your mom saved my hide for you. Thanks. Now, Virginia, what's going to happen to Dickerson?"

"Your friend Dillon Savich is on his way out here. The kidnapping is federal so it's the FBI's call. He wants to speak to Dickerson himself. Also a profiler is coming. You know they're always interviewing sickos like Dickerson. He should be a gold mine of information for them. Are you up to giving the local boys a statement?"

He spoke to Lieutenant McPherson and his captain, Daniel Mapes. It took quite a while. He was white around the gills when Captain Mapes said, "That's enough, Judge Hunt. If we have more questions, we'll see you tomorrow."

"I didn't think they were ever going to leave," Molly said, coming to the bed. "You don't look so hot."

"I want a cup of coffee."

"I know. Here you are." It was a miracle. He avidly watched her pull the lid off a Styrofoam cup. He took three long drinks, then promptly wanted to die. It was close, but he wasn't about to let himself throw up. The nausea subsided, finally. Then he panicked. "Where's Emma?"

"She's all right. She's with Virginia, telling her exactly what happened. From a child's perspective, it should be very interesting. Now, you're to rest for a while longer. It sounds stupid to tell you how lucky you were when you're lying flat on your back feeling awful, but you are. You'll mend. The surgeon said you'd be ready to take me dancing by tomorrow night. Well, maybe Wednesday night."

Molly smiled at him, closed the door, and climbed up with him on the narrow hospital bed. She kissed his ear, his nose, his mouth. "You taste like hospital," she said, nuzzling his neck. "But since I'm dressed in silk, maybe it's that opposites-attract thing." She gave a deep sigh. "I wish we could play doctor."

"Molly, please don't make me hard. I can't begin to imagine what Nurse Hayman would do if she walked in and saw me pointing to the ceiling."

"She adores you. She'd probably pull me off you and take my place."

"Okay, enough of this newlywed stuff," said a man from the doorway.

"Not nearly as bad as Nurse Hayman," Molly said, and scooted off the bed.

It was Dillon Savich, grinning from ear to ear. Behind him was another man who looked as if he'd never smiled in his life. He looked like a medieval monk, all stiff and long and narrow, with a thin rim of gray hair circling his head.

"Hi, Ramsey, glad you're well enough to kiss Molly. Guys, this is Thomas Galviani, otherwise known as Tommy the Eye, a gentleman whose specialty is child molesters. He's one of the world's leading experts."

The man didn't change expression, just calmly nodded and shook Ramsey's hand. He said, "Savich thinks I'm too serious, but I'm not. I'm glad to meet you, Judge Hunt. I read about what a hell of a good job you did on those drug dealers in your courtroom. Everyone in the Bureau is still talking about it. I'm more than glad that this time our perp was caught before he killed. Congratulations on bringing him down."

"Thank you, Mr. Galviani."

"Tommy the Eye," he said without skipping a beat, his expression all bland, and Savich laughed.

"Where's Sherlock?"

Savich said to Molly, "She's in the women's room, cursing me. I said the P word to a doctor who was worried because she looked a bit on the pale side. I told him it had been a long trip and she was tired because she was pregnant. That was all it took."

"I hope," Tommy the Eye said, "that Sherlock doesn't shoot you before she stops having morning sickness."

They were still grinning when Sherlock came into die room. She walked up to her husband and punched him in the arm. Then she greeted Molly and Ramsey, all smiles.

She said, "I stopped by the ICU. Dickerson is still out of it. They'll let us know if and when he wakes up."

"I would like to speak to him," said Tommy the Eye. "I've read everything we've got, all the reports from his first trial, the transcripts of what he said when and to whom. He was a preferential child molester, that is to say, he's a pedophile who sexually molests children. The preferential abuses up to as many as a thousand children in his life, not like a situational molester, who may just abuse a dozen or so children.

This guy is a classic, with one exception. He brutalized Emma as well as sexually abused her. We call that a sadistic molester. Add to that the fact that with Emma he became obsessional. You don't see this all that often in child molesters, but it does happen. One particular child, the pedophile must have that child, no other. He lost all sense of survival. Most molesters would have just shrugged and moved on to another child, but Dickerson didn't. He just couldn't stop.

"He's not a stupid man, but he had to have known on some level that this obsession he had with Emma would bring him down. But he just couldn't help himself, couldn't stop himself, couldn't leave and forget her. I understand he's also excellent at disguise and makeup."

"That's what he told me when we were in the water," Ramsey said. "That's one of the reasons Rule Shaker's men hired him. Since Emma was going to be returned when Louey came around, the kidnapper couldn't be recognized, thus the disguise."

Tommy the Eye just shook his head. "He must have thought he'd died and gone to heaven when he got the job."

Ramsey said, "How does all this get confused with his religious needs? He told Emma that he needed her, actually needed her."

"I would really like to talk to him about that. He seems like a boiling cauldron with all sorts of things tossed in indiscriminately, from beliefs of how Emma would save him to hurting her so that she would be taking his punishments for him. I can't wait to dig into his brain. But we're mostly just thankful that he's out of commission now."

Molly said, "If and when you reach any understanding about him, Tommy, please tell us."

"I will, Mrs. Hunt."

He was rubbing his palms together.