Lethal Justice. Fern MichaelsЧитать онлайн книгу.
hug and kiss. Let me do that, Annie. I can’t deny that child anything. She said … she said when she was here with Nikki after graduation they found the tunnel in the catacombs that leads down to a cave and out to the sea. She said it was a perfect getaway. She said that, Annie. You know how the girls used to like to play in the tunnels at Pinewood and how I hung bells at the different entrances so they wouldn’t get lost. She said to ask Nikki about it. She said you knew about it, too. I’m not crazy, Annie. Oh, this is so wonderful. Do you realize what it means? It means no matter where I go, my daughter is with me. I truly, truly believe she watches over me.”
Annie held out her skinny arms to embrace her friend. They cried together for their losses.
It was Annie who broke the spell. “Okay, I’m all yours.”
Myra opened her own playbook to page one to make her first entry. “Well, hot damn!”
Annie started to laugh.
“Oh, Annie, how good it is to hear you laugh. When was the last time you laughed? Really laughed?” Annie just shook her head and kept on laughing.
Arms linked together, the women started back up the mountain.
“You’re sure, Annie?”
Annie’s head bobbed up and down. “Just tell me what to do. I’ll get you the keys to the house in Manassas.”
When they approached the converted monastery, Myra asked, “How big is this piece of property?”
Annie shrugged. “Big enough to have its own helicopter pad, an Olympic size pool, tennis courts, seven outbuildings and acres of lawn. Perhaps Charles will know. Is it important, Myra?”
“I think so. We’ll leave it up to Charles. We’ve done our part.”
Charles stood at the window looking at the two women. He smiled. His sigh was so loud, it startled him. He didn’t realize how tense he was until he watched the two women start to laugh about something.
His heartbeat returned to normal.
Charles joined the women on the terrace outside Annie’s television room. He eyed the smashed television but didn’t say a word. He knew what had happened: His lady love had expressed her displeasure with her friend.
“I was wondering, ladies, if you’d like me to prepare dinner?”
“Oh, Annie, take him up on it. Charles is a wonderful cook.”
“Something American, Charles,” Annie smiled. “Something from soup to nuts.”
Charles laughed. “I think I can whip something up for your American palate. Are we going to dress for dinner?”
“Do people still do that?” Annie asked curiously. “Let’s not.”
“You’re the hostess. I prefer casual myself. I’ll see you ladies later.”
Annie squeezed Myra’s arm. “You are so blessed.”
Myra turned to page two in her new playbook. “Damn straight.” Both women went off into peals of laughter.
On his way down the long hall to the kitchen, Charles smiled to himself. The situation was in good hands. And all he had to do was cook.
Chapter 5
Jack Emery walked out into the bright spring sunshine. He looked upward to see that most of the trees on the street were almost in full leaf. He could see a smattering of daffodils and pots of other early flowers on the different stoops. He loved spring. Nikki always filled the house with lilacs from the backyard when they bloomed because she knew they were his favorite flower. Nikki loved autumn. In the past, he’d always managed to find a bale of straw and a huge pumpkin to put on the stoop. They both loved winter because they liked to ski and snowboard. Summer in D.C. was something they tolerated but didn’t particularly like.
As he walked to his car Jack could feel his thoughts start to drift. Nikki had seemed tense when she left the house earlier to greet Myra and Charles on their return to Pinewood. When he’d asked where they had gone, Nikki had turned surly and asked him why he wanted to know. At the time he’d thought he was simply making conversation. Now, he really wanted to know where the couple had been. He’d bet his next paycheck their trip had something to do with the Sisterhood.
Jack unlocked his car and settled himself behind the wheel. Before he turned the key in the ignition, he finished the coffee in his travel mug. Nikki had smiled at him when she handed him the cup. He remembered how he’d returned her smile and then kissed her. Shit, he was acting like a sophomoric fool. Maybe that was because he was a sophomoric fool. He’d sold his soul, maybe not to the devil, but to a bunch of women, his fiancée included, who deliberately doled out vigilante justice. He just looked the other way and pretended it didn’t bother him. Hell, he even had a plaque on his side of the bathroom saying he was an honorary member of the Sisterhood.
As he cruised along, Jack asked himself the same question he asked himself every day. Did Nikki just tell him what she wanted him to know or did she tell him everything? Myra and Charles’s trip was the perfect example of everything. On the other hand, maybe it really was none of his business where the couple went. Being a district attorney made him suspicious of everything these days.
The ladies of Pinewood were gearing up to exact Alexis Thorne’s revenge. Nikki had told him that much. She just hadn’t shared the details with him. If he had asked pointed questions, she would have answered them. If he didn’t ask, she didn’t volunteer details. Don’t ask, don’t tell. It worked for them. The truth was, they both tried to protect each other.
Jack longed to scratch the itch between his shoulder blades, the itch that told him to stay alert and pay attention to details and what was going on around him. He parked his car, reached for his briefcase and headed toward his office building. He dreaded today. Not because he had to spend it in court but because he had to go to the retirement dinner for his boss, Seymour Ridley, who was stepping down to spend more time with his family. Only Jack and a few other close friends knew the truth; Ridley was going out of state for treatment for bladder cancer and didn’t want anyone to know. Jack couldn’t blame him a bit, knowing the way the District’s politics worked.
His new boss, Lionel Ambrose, was hated and feared by everyone in the office. In Jack’s opinion, he was a mean-eyed snake. He was also a publicity hound, numbering Ted Robinson and Ted’s boss among his best friends. Ambrose came from a long line of politicians. He had one goal in mind and that was to become Police Commissioner. “Not on my back, he isn’t,” Jack mumbled under his breath.
The itch between his shoulder blades made Jack wiggle his shoulders inside his jacket as he made his way to his office. He sincerely hoped that Ted wasn’t going to spill his guts to Ambrose. He didn’t worry about Maggie Spritzer because Maggie was a gossip reporter, and since the alliance she’d formed with Ted had disintegrated, the two reporters were at each other’s throats all the time. Ted was bitter. Maggie was pissed. Jack knew there was nothing worse than a pissed-off woman.
Jack threw his briefcase on the desk, hung up his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves. Court was dark today. That was good because he had paperwork coming out his ears. He dived into it, working steadily until he heard a ping announcing he had new email coming in. He leaned back, cupping his head in the palms of his hands as he read the short email from Maggie Spritzer.
Jack read it six times as he tried to figure out what it meant. Maggie wanted him to meet her at the Rusty Nail for lunch at 12:30, thirty minutes from now. And she was buying. That alone made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Should he meet her? He looked at the pile of paperwork on his desk. His plan had been to order in but it was such a nice day, one of those exceptional spring days that made everyone want to be outdoors. He argued with himself for a good five minutes before he typed “Okay,” signed his name, and pressed “send.”
Jack tidied up his desk, rolled down his sleeves, secured his tie and slipped into his jacket. He headed for the men’s room, washed his hands, combed his hair