Page 97 of Fish in a Barrel
“I suspect Joeyisthe guy,” Ellery responded darkly.
“Also likely.” Brentwood nodded as they drew near the study, and he paused to let Ellery finish.
“Anyway, long story short, Joey’s sister now has a recently repaired brand-new CR-V, and Jackson now owns the ugliest minivan I’ve ever seen in my life. Our assistant swears it’s haunted.”
For a moment Ellery heard strangled breathing.
“Judge Brentwood, are you all right?” Oh Lord, please don’t let the man be having a heart attack. Of all things—now?
Brentwood held up a hand and took steady breaths. When he could speak, he said, “Oh, I must tell my wife that.” He sobered. “When she awakes. All of the tragedy surrounding us. I think we’ve both forgotten how to laugh.”
With that he went into the study a little straighter to sit by her side, and Ellery called Joey to him.
“Don’t leave them,” he said softly. “Jackson’s calling Rabbi Watson over right now since they don’t have a counselor of their own, and we’ll stay as long as we can before he arrives. If you can get the judge to call his daughter, you may want to do that too.”
Joey nodded and blew out a breath. “I knew Nate. Myron grew up in my neighborhood. They… the judge was my first big contract. This is all kinds of fucked-up, you know?”
Ellery grimaced. “I know.” He felt a sudden heartsickness, a weariness, for all the things that haunted these people. Brentwood had taken it all seriously—his home, his family, his job. He’d cared about people and had done his best in all the ways that should have counted. He wasn’t sure if anything would be left of Brentwood’s career after this, and he didn’t think the man cared right now. But he would. When everything had fallen out, he’d remember spending twenty years on the bench and hoping he was doing good in the world and having that destroyed by someone looking for a free pass. Brentwood would be treated much more harshly in the press—of that, Ellery was certain. Cartman would be forgiven; he’d spin it like he was trying to find a solution to the homeless problem, when the truth was he’d been trying to fix the way the homeless looked on his record.
None of it was fair, and when that was a child’s cry or an argument in a coffee shop, it meant one thing, but right here, when a good man was holding on to the people he loved for dear life, it was so much more painful, so much more dire, and Ellery could only hope he and Jackson hadn’t made it worse.
Into the Breach
RABBI WATSONwas—lucky them—less than ten minutes away, and Jackson spent that time on the phone.
“Adele?”
“Waiting on your call,” she said. “Cartman’s lawyer filed the paperwork, and he’s trying to get out of here. He thinks the police-protection thing is bullshit, and he’s probably filling out mine and Jimmy’s termination papers as we speak.”
“I don’t think he’s going to be employed that long,” Jackson told her grimly. “Put him on.”
“What?” She sounded genuinely shocked.
“I said put him on,” Jackson told her. “And start finding out where Goslar is right now. Is he on shift?”
She grunted. “They have roll call at eleven. A lot of cops do their PT the hour before they come in.”
“Find out where he’s at. We know who our sniper is, and we know he’s after Cartman, and if he can’t get to Cartman, he’ll take out Goslar next. He’s had three days to learn everybody’s habits, Adele, and he’s a Marine.”
She sucked in a breath. “Well, that’s higher than my paygrade. Got a name? Any pictures?”
“I do, but….” Jackson let out a curse. “I don’t want a big deal manhunt here. Do you understand? For one thing, if you send the entire police force against him and he’s got the high ground—”
“We’re going to end up with a lot of dead cops,” she said, sounding desperately unhappy.
“Yahtzee. And for another, he’s got one murder under his belt, but he’s not a serial killer. He’s not a sociopath. He’sheartbroken. Cartman, Boehner, and Goslar were blackmailing Brentwood about spreading his dead son’s drug habit all over the press. Our sniper was his boyfriend, and he thinks he’s protecting what’s left of his family. Do you understand?”
“Oh Lord,” she muttered. “Jackson….”
“I know I can’t save everyone!” He was shouting, and he pulled his voice back under his control. “I know that. But I can save the cops who would go after him blind. And maybe if I can save them, and if I can save the scumbags he wants to kill, I can save him.”
She let out a breath. “What’s your plan?”
“First I need to know where Goslar is,” he said. “Then we’ll see.”
“A sniper in the city—”
Jackson sucked in a breath. “Do you think I don’t know?” he asked, and his bones ached with memory. “I lost a year of my life, Adele. A year. I can’t go inside a hospital anymore. I just… ayear.I know what a sniper can do. I know the damage his bullet can do. And I know a sniper in a crowded area is like a stealth freight train with the dead man’s name on the bullet. But who’s going to negotiate with him? Your lieu, who’s stupid, corrupt, and green? Cartman, who’s the reason he snapped? Brentwood’s a mess, and his wife is suicidal. We’ve got an ambulance on the way to take her to the hospital because whether this ends well or not, the two of them are exhausted. If we go in quiet, maybe everybody doesn’t have to die.”
