Justice Served: A Barkley and Parker Thriller Read online

  Esther downed the rest of her drink like it was water. As far as she was concerned, her life had already been ruined years ago when she did the only thing she could to get away from a monster. And she had paid dearly for it. She would have to spend the rest of her life wondering if there might have been a better way. Wondering if she could have seen the signs from the very beginning that set her up for a violent relationship. Wondering if she truly deserved to live after taking another’s life, no matter how despicable.

  All that was left for her was to help other women who had experienced the same horrible treatment she had at the hands of a man.

  That meant she could not turn her back on her sisters. Not even one who seemed hell bent on ridding the streets of as many women abusers as the courts saw fit to return to those they had battered, beaten, and broken in spirit, soul, and body.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Carole went on her early morning run, taking the time to enjoy the fresh air and spectacular, though distant, views of the Cascades. She thought about her dinner date tonight with Ray Barkley. Indeed, she had done little but think about it since their lunch yesterday. Why had she agreed to go to his house, for heaven’s sake? He was a guy she was attracted to, yes, but she hardly knew him.

  What Carole did know of Ray concerned her somewhat. He was investigating crimes that seemed to lead right to her, at least in theory. She wondered if she was still the apparent target of his investigation or had she sufficiently quelled such suspicions?

  That aside, she found the detective very manly and appealing. And extremely sexy.

  Though Carole hadn’t figured she would ever get involved with a cop, there was no denying Ray’s chiseled arresting features and firm body worked for her. Even his personality was very intriguing.

  Was there more?

  What did he see in her? She knew he saw something that struck his fancy. She had known that from day one.

  It would have been easy to suggest it was merely her good looks that captivated Ray, which Carole saw no reason to deny. After all, if she had a quarter for every man who came on to her, she would probably be halfway towards fulfilling that dream of living in retirement in the Bahamas or Jamaica.

  No, she sensed his interest in her went beyond the superficial, per se, to something deeper, of greater appreciation and perception.

  The entire notion of this meeting of the minds, and perhaps bodies, excited Carole more than she cared to admit. But she knew she still had to tread water carefully with Ray Barkley. Otherwise she just might find herself knee deep in something she couldn’t get out of.

  When Carole returned to her condo, she was surprised to find Vivian Wolfe waiting by the entrance. Vivian smiled nervously.

  “Vivian—!” Carole did not hide her surprise. “What are you doing here?”

  Vivian ran her tongue across lips that were covered with a bright red lipstick. “I was just in the area doing some shopping,” she explained. “And thought I would drop by and say hello. Stuart told me where you lived. He didn’t think you’d mind my coming over. I know I should have called first, since you’re probably all worn out from running—”

  Was it that obvious? Carole tried to catch her breath. What else had Stuart told Vivian about her? More importantly, why?

  “No, it’s fine,” she told Vivian, even if Carole would have preferred to take a long shower and a nap. And be alone.

  She unlocked the door and the two of them went inside.

  “Make yourself at home,” Carole told her guest, but didn’t mean it too literally. “I’m just going to go and freshen up.”

  Ten minutes later Carole returned to the living room, wearing jeans and a green knit tank top, along with summer clogs. She had applied a hint of makeup, though her naturally radiant tone made such unnecessary for the most part. She saw that Vivian was admiring one of her ivy plants that hung from the ceiling in a wicker basket. Vivian was wearing white pants and a yellow short-sleeved shirt. Carole didn’t see any sign of a baby bump yet.

  Just how far along was she? Carole had actually heard about some women being as far as seven or eight months along and the pregnancy virtually undetectable to the naked eye.

  “Nice,” cooed Vivian. “You obviously have a green thumb.”

  Carole nodded. “Thanks. I do love my plants.”

  “I’d give anything to have some lush plants like these,” Vivian said. “Only I doubt I’d have the patience to properly care for them like I should.”

  Carole smiled modestly. “Well, they can be a handful at times,” she admitted. “At the same time, they give back far more than they take from you.”

  “Right now I just have some silk plants.” Vivian touched the ivy plant. “Maybe I’ll give one of these a try and see how it goes.”

  “Would you like something to drink?” offered Carole. “Coffee, tea, juice, Pepsi—”

  “Pepsi.”

  “Pepsi it is.”

  Carole filled two glasses with ice and one of them with fruit juice. They sat on the sofa. She felt somewhat awkward becoming friends, if you could call it that, with Stuart’s wife. Yet somehow she felt drawn to her like a younger sister and it was obvious Vivian liked her as well.

  “So what did you buy?” Carole asked, trying to strike up a conversation.

  “Buy?” Vivian seemed at a loss for a moment and then broke into a bright smile. “Oh, some toys for the baby. I wanted to buy some clothes, too, but since we don’t know yet if it will be a boy or a girl—”

  “I’m glad the family therapist was able to help you,” Carole told her thoughtfully.

  “Oh she didn’t,” said Vivian over the rim of her glass. “We never went to see her.”

  “No...?” Carole arched a brow.

  “Actually, after my talk with you, Stuart and I had a long talk. And...well...the more I thought about it, the more I felt that maybe this was a good time to start a family after all.”

  Carole was amazed that she had changed her mind so quickly. Had it actually come on the strength of her words of wisdom alone? Or had Stuart managed to impose his will and wishes on his wife and, as a result, their unborn child?

  “Well,” said Carole, “I hope everything works out fine.”

  Vivian crossed her fingers. “So far, so good. My doctor says I shouldn’t have any problems that she can see.”

  For an instant Carole tried to imagine herself with child. She knew that at thirty-five her biological clock still had some charge to it for a few years. Her mental disposition was not nearly as flexible. Had her past pretty much doomed her future insofar as having a family? Or even a loving spouse?

  Maybe there’s still hope for me.

  “Are you from Oregon, Vivian?” Carole asked. She realized she hardly knew anything about this woman who seemed to have just dropped in her lap while Vivian may have known too much about her for comfort.

  “No, California,” she answered. “Grew up near Sacramento.”

  “How long have you lived in Portland?” Carole assumed Stuart had met his bride in the Rose City.

  “Two years. My job relocated here. I was a legal secretary before I hooked up with Stuart.” Vivian seemed to reflect on the notion. “Of course, after we got married he insisted that I not work. I kind of miss the job, but not that much. It wasn’t exactly as challenging as say being a judge—”

  Carole felt she almost detected sarcasm in her tone, then realized it was merely her overactive imagination. She had earned her way to the bench through hard work and couldn’t conceive giving it up—at least not to be a stay at home wife to an attorney or any other man.

  “You must come across some interesting people in your job,” Vivian broke into her thoughts.

  Carole nodded. “Some,” she said. “And some not so interesting ones.”

  “What about those men who were found beaten to death recently?” Vivian inquired casually. “Were any of them interesting?”

  Carole looked at her in shock. “Excuse me?”


  Vivian twisted her lips awkwardly. “Stuart told me all those men killed by the person the newspapers are calling the Vigilante Batterer Killer were actually on trial in your courtroom and released, just before they were wasted.”

  Her pulse racing, Carole felt her palms grow sweaty. She was none too pleased that Stuart had taken it upon himself to discuss these murders in relation to her courtroom with his wife, as though there was a clear connection. What was the point? Had he put Vivian up to this little visit to rattle her or otherwise imply guilt, if only by association?

  Seeming to detect her uneasiness, Vivian said: “Did I say something wrong? Oh, I’m sorry, Carole. I didn’t mean to upset you. I was just curious about them, that’s all. I mean, since it seems to be the talk of the town these days.”

  “It’s all right,” Carole said, in what sounded almost like an apology. I blame your husband for this. “It’s just—” she checked herself, not wishing to open a can of worms better left sealed. Favoring Vivian she took a steadying breath. “I’m afraid none of the men were very interesting. They were all being tried for woman abuse of some type. Each got off for different reasons.”

  Vivian cringed. “Does it scare you the thought that a killer is out there murdering these men you set free?”

  Carole sighed. “I didn’t set them free, per se,” she pointed out. “It’s the way the system works, Vivian. People are released if their case runs afoul due to technicalities or plea bargains. Not to mention jury verdicts of acquittal. Many times the judge acts merely as little more than a referee.”

  Carole wondered why she felt the need to go into detail with Vivian on this, who had brought it up in her face. Did she really owe anyone an explanation of why defendants—some of whom had not been proven to be guilty of committing a crime—avoided doing jail time? Least of all, her ex-lover’s inquisitive, pregnant wife?

  It amazed her that the public often believed a judge was all-powerful as if a god, rather than a human being who could only operate within the confines of the law. At least from the bench.

  Getting back to the gist of the question, Carole responded appropriately: “I think it scares everybody that such a thing is happening. How could it not?”

  “It sure as hell gives me the chills,” uttered Vivian, wringing her hands. “Especially if what they’re saying is true—”

  “What are they saying?” Carole widened her eyes.

  “You know...that it’s a black woman beating those men to death with a bat.” Vivian shook her head. “I just can’t see it. We can take a lot, but dishing it out like that—”

  “Don’t believe everything you hear or read,” Carole warned. “Until they capture the person, it could be anyone of any race or ethnicity—even a male.”

  Vivian sipped her Pepsi. “Actually, I always thought it was only men who committed these types of crimes.”

  “It usually is,” Carole made clear.

  “But this is different...”

  “Maybe,” she allowed unsteadily.

  “Not that I can really blame abused women for fighting back,” Vivian remarked. “Only I personally wouldn’t want to carry it quite that far!”

  The two women shared an uneasy moment of silence.

  Carole sighed softly. “I agree,” she said levelly. “There are other ways to deal with batterers that won’t eventually come back to haunt the person or other women driven to kill their abusers.”

  Vivian chuckled. “Yeah, like castrate them and leave the scumbags for the wolves to finish off?”

  “Not exactly what I had in mind,” Carole said with a nervous laugh. “But that certainly doesn’t sound like a bad idea, if all else fails.”

  Both chuckled again.

  “Well, I guess I’d better be going.” Vivian finished off her drink and stood. “Here I was only dropping by to say hello, and I end up talking your ear off. Sorry about that.”

  “Don’t be,” insisted Carole politely. “I’m glad you came.” Was she? Or had the visit only served to make her even more unsure about where she was and where she was headed?

  Carole rose, taking a breath.

  Vivian spoke tentatively. “So, you think it would be all right if we got together again sometime, maybe for lunch?”

  Carole pasted a placating smile on her lips. “Yes, that would be nice.” But not before I have a good talk with your husband.

  “Or Stuart and I can have you over for dinner—maybe next week. I know he’d love that!”

  Would he now? Carole was not sure she liked the sound of that. In her limited experience, old and current lovers being in the same room with the object of that intimacy did not work very well. She was in no hurry to test the theory any time soon.

  Besides, she was starting to have some doubts about Stuart’s trustworthiness. Though she had agreed to remain friends with him, Carole wondered if he had abused the privilege.

  Just how much had he confided in Vivian about her past?

  Do I really want to know?

  Looking at Vivian, Carole responded elusively: “I’m usually pretty busy much of the time, with court work and all. So we’d better just leave that one up in the air for now.” Maybe forever.

  Vivian smiled artificially. “Of course. I understand. Consider it an open invitation—”

  Carole showed her out the door, waved goodbye, and was left to contemplate her life and the strange twists and turns it had taken. Would the future prove to be more promising?

  Or was she doomed to be forever haunted by past demons and present uncertainties?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  The sixty-foot houseboat was docked on the Columbia River with a magnificent view of the Cascade Mountains. Ray had lived there for the last eight years, which was precisely how long he’d been divorced. His ex had taken the house they’d lived in and most everything else she could get her hands on. It suited him fine, as they were memories he’d just as soon forget.

  In the kitchen, Ray stood on vinyl flooring as he checked the steak and rice pilaf, before tossing a salad. It had been a long time since he’d cooked for anyone and it both excited and scared him. I have to do this right. He wanted to make a good impression on Carole Cranston. Or at least show her a side of him that wasn’t on duty.

  Could they actually get something going? I can see myself with a classy lady like Carole. Then the doubts came. Was he too old and his goods too damaged to be thinking about starting up with someone else? He had seen more than his share of failures when it came to romance—including a short-lived relationship with Nina that he was still trying to get completely out of his system.

  Maybe Carole Cranston was just the person to make him forget about every one before her.

  Ray thought about Carole. What was her story in the romance department? He sensed she too had run into some obstacles along the way to happiness and fulfillment. Was she looking to get past that and try again? Or had he totally misread her?

  When the doorbell rang, Ray felt a thump in his chest that seemed to reverberate throughout his body. It was the kind of first date nervousness thing he had last felt when he took a girl to the senior prom.

  Only in this case, he wasn’t in high school.

  And now he was dealing with a woman. One who was out of this world.

  Ray dashed into the master bedroom and slipped on a brown sport coat over a paprika shirt and black trousers with tan shoes. He had freshly shaved his head for the occasion, wanting to look his best for Carole, and sprayed on some cologne.

  Ray went up three steps to the upper deck door. Before he opened it, he could see Carole through the corner glass window. She had a bottle of wine in her hand and a look of thoughtfulness on her face.

  “Hi,” he said, awed by the terrific sight of her.

  “Hi.” She showed him teeth that were as white as the snow dusting the top of Mount Hood.

  “Come on in.” He stepped to the side as she entered, following her down the stairs. “Hope you had no trouble finding the place?” />
  “None whatsoever,” claimed Carole. “Your directions were right on the money.”

  In the cabin living area, Ray regarded the lady judge, whose sweet redolence reached his nostrils. She wore a figure flattering floral sundress and low-heeled slingbacks. Her brownish individual pixies rested on her tawny shoulders. He also noted the rose overtone cultured pearl necklace and matching earrings.

  “The necklace and earrings are beautiful,” Ray felt moved to say. Especially on you.

  “Thanks.” Carole touched the necklace, ruminating. “They belonged to my mother,” she said. “And before that, my grandmother.”

  He smiled crookedly. “Good taste definitely runs in the family.”

  Carole reacted, blushing. She handed him the wine. “I hope you like Pinot Noir. A friend of mine in Grants Pass has a winery. I can always count on her for a free bottle or two.”

  “Sounds great,” Ray told her, impressed. He hardly considered himself a connoisseur of fine wines. In fact, he was more up to speed with malt liquor and cheap wine. It was definitely time to move up in class. Starting with the company he kept.

  Carole removed a folder from her bag. “Here’s that list of names I promised you.” She handed it to him. “Most are career government employees who, as far as I know, have never been in any trouble. I also included the names of several reporters who revolve in and out of my courtroom, covering trials for local media.”

  “Thanks for going through the trouble,” Ray said guiltily, almost wishing he hadn’t insisted on what in all likelihood would turn up nothing relevant to the investigation.

  “It was no trouble,” she said sincerely. “I’m only sorry I didn’t get the information to you sooner.”

  Ray sat the folder on a table near the door, not wanting to even think about it for the rest of the evening. Not when there were more important things on his mind. Like the super fine lady before him.