A Cold Day in Hell Read online

  David shrugged again, as if Uncle Frank was suggesting he take tennis lessons. “As long as I’m not behind bars.”

  Violanti shook his head. The disregard in David’s voice shocked him. He hoped that it was just a reaction to the stress of jail and the trial, but after his father’s death, David had changed. The kind and gentle little boy had been replaced with something else. Something more fierce. Somehow, in the back of his mind, Violanti had always known that David could be cold. Maybe dangerously so.

  “Don’t count your chickens, kid.” Violanti picked up his pen and started writing again. “This is going to be a very uphill battle.”

  75

  Joe Wheeler was behind Lauren’s house. He had parked his car a good four blocks from the main gate and jogged in through a cut he had found. He wore a drab gray running suit, with what looked like an MP3 player, but was, in fact, a police scanner. Joe weaved in and out of backyards and side lots until he hopped the fence, unnoticed, into Lauren Riley’s backyard.

  She had a rock garden installed by the far wall with flowering shrubs all around that provided just the right amount of cover. He knew she had a motion light on her back door, but he was prepared for that. Underneath his jogging suit was a pair of dark cargo pants and a black tee shirt. His Glock was holstered to his thigh. He withdrew a black air pistol from his waistband, double checked it to make sure it wasn’t his Glock, and then aimed it carefully at the ornate glass. He squeezed the trigger and there was just the tiniest tinkling sound of broken glass on the back steps.

  He had watched her come home, watched the lights flicker on in various rooms, and out again, all the while waiting patiently on her back patio next to a garden gnome. When her bedroom light finally went out, he waited another hour to be sure she was asleep before he made his move. He had been planning this for a long time, and now that the trial was in full swing, it was time to act.

  Golly, I was back going over my notes when it happened. Ask the guards; my car never came through that gate. He ran over the words again and again in his mind, rolling around to the final volley: You know what? Talk to my lawyer.

  He was counting on the fact that she lived alone and that the crime wouldn’t be discovered for at least a day. But maybe there would be no crime, if things went the way he hoped they would; maybe it would be a happy ending for all involved. All she really needed to see was that he was the one who would do anything for her. And once she got a taste of what she’d been missing all these years, she’d melt right back into his arms. He was stronger now and more practiced. He could give a woman what she needed. Hadn’t he proved it again and again? And those were professionals. He’d taught them some lessons and they still came back for more, because when it was good, it was good.

  And he was going to give it to Lauren good.

  He carefully stuffed the air pistol back into his waistband, didn’t want to be leaving that around. He looked behind him to make sure he hadn’t dropped anything, patting his pockets to make sure everything was in place. Turning back around, he was just about to reach inside his jogging pants for the Glock when he felt a ring of cold steel touch the side of his head.

  “Move. Please. So I can kill you.” Lauren stepped back so the muzzle was still aimed at his temple, but not flush against his skin.

  Smart move, he thought. Now I can’t take it away from you.

  “What are you doing here, Joe?”

  He didn’t say anything; he kept his hands up, waiting for his move. All she had to do was let her guard slip for one second …

  “You really should get a better deodorant; I could smell you through the kitchen window. You dirty, sweaty pig.”

  He said nothing.

  “Did you really think I didn’t know it was you sitting across the street from me all those nights?”

  From a distance, a police car’s siren sounded. It was getting closer. His eyes shifted toward the sound.

  “I already told them it was you in my backyard. I told them not to put it out over the air.”

  So now she’d done it. She’d gone ahead and told.

  “You have nothing to say to me? After all this effort?”

  He looked her square in the eye. “I was going to chop your fucking head off.”

  Lauren took another step back and almost stumbled, because there was no doubt, whatsoever, that he meant it.

  He was actually smiling about it.

  The police cars pulled up, car doors slammed.

  “You’re going to jail,” she whispered.

  “For what? Jogging and standing in your back yard?” he asked with mock innocence.

  “You just said you were going to kill me.”

  The cops came up the driveway and started yelling for her to drop her weapon.

  Now he grinned. “Prove it.”

  In the end, she pressed charges on him for trespassing in her yard, a mere violation, the same as a parking ticket. He told the cops he had done nothing more. “Listen,” he insisted as he sat on the hard, plastic back seat of the police cruiser, “I was just jogging around her neighborhood. I like to jog in this gated neighborhood because there’s almost no traffic and it has nice views of Delaware Park.”

  “Aren’t you a little far from home?” the young cop asked him, clipboard open, taking notes.

  “With the trial going on downtown, this was closer. I got a late start and I wanted to clear my head.”

  “How’d you end up in her yard?” the older, black female cop asked. She might be a problem, Joe thought, trying to angle himself for a better look at her.

  “I heard a noise and saw the light in the back yard go off so I went back there to investigate it. I found the pellet gun and I was waiting in the dark for whoever dropped it to come back.”

  “You always go jogging with your gun?” The younger cop was twisted around in the front seat, the plastic barrier between them dirty and scratched. Joe was sitting on the very edge of the seat, God only knew what bodily fluids were festering on the plastic.

  “I always carry my Glock on me, what cop doesn’t?”

  “I don’t,” the female cop said sharply. Officer Lewis, Joe remembered reading from her nametag when she put him in the car. He tried to catch her eye in the rearview mirror, give her a wink to melt the ice. It didn’t work.

  “Did you know this was Detective Riley’s house?”

  “Of course. That’s why I went back there. To make sure she was okay. I didn’t expect her to come out threatening me with a gun.”

  “I think I’d come out with a gun too, if I found a man all in black creeping around my backyard,” the woman cop pointed out.

  That’s because you’re an ancient old hag and what man would want to sneak a peek at you? Joe thought, but caught himself and smiled. “She’s just a little hysterical right now. We have that trial going on and it’s a lot of stress. That’s why I was so worried when the light went out. She’s working on the defense for that kid who murdered Katherine Vine.”

  “I know,” the old lady police officer with the big mouth informed him. “It’s just a hell of a coincidence you were here to save the day.”

  “We have a history, me and her, you know.” He gave a sly smile to the younger cop, a kind of wink, wink that men do in locker rooms. “And what the hell is that smell back here? It’s making my eyes water.”

  “Sorry about that,” the bitch in charge finally caught his eye in the rearview. “Our last prisoner pissed himself.”

  He didn’t even have to go to the stationhouse. He could tell by the look on Lauren’s face that she couldn’t believe they were buying his crap. Well, she’d have to believe it. He was issued a ticket and sent along his way to pay his thirty-dollar fine whenever he got around to it.

  Funny thing was, in his mind, he accomplished what he had set out to do. Now Lauren Riley knew he could have her anytime he wanted. The
events of the night had proven to him that she wasn’t worth it. She had her chance to put him out of her misery, but she didn’t pull that trigger. He couldn’t respect a woman who wanted him in her life so bad she was willing to risk hers.

  As he walked back to his car, tucking the ticket into his cargo pants, he thought about winning the trial. He smiled. Then her humiliation would be complete. All in all, it was a good night. He was ready to testify.

  76

  Lauren was still shaking with anger when she locked her door behind her. The cops wouldn’t lock him up, and if she had been in a clearer state of mind, she would have had them call Carl Church. She knew the lieutenant who responded to the call; he was a good guy, listening patiently while she ranted about what was going on. Then he reminded her that if Joe Wheeler got arrested, there might be a mistrial and did she really want that? He was right, of course, but it wasn’t fair. Joe could make up a fairy tale and walk away with what amounted to a parking ticket because he always knew when to play his cards. The next day she was going to have to watch him on the witness stand smugly give his testimony, like he didn’t have a care in the world. She’d report him to his boss, after the trial, but that seemed too little too late.

  When she finally settled into her bed, she was exhausted, mentally and physically. She tried to close her eyes, but she hadn’t been sleeping well to begin with. She had taken the whole week off from work for the trial, but there still weren’t enough hours in the day, especially now that she had a crazy ex-fiancé trying to chop her head off.

  But he hadn’t. She’d caught him in the act. She got the drop on him and could have taken him out. She was mad, but she wasn’t afraid, not anymore. She played the scene over and over in her mind, like a movie stuck in a loop. Staring up at the ceiling, she tried to plot out what she should do next. She could go right to the judge with her incident report. She could call his supervisor. She could file for a restraining order right away. But all that would change nothing right now. If he really wanted to get her, no piece of paper would stop him from trying. The next time he wouldn’t be so lucky. Next time, she wouldn’t wait for the cops.

  For the life of her, she could not remember the sweet guy who had picked her up for the police academy every morning, even though it was out of his way. She couldn’t picture him holding her hand when they graduated, but she knew he had. That guy had changed into someone else when they were dating, and he was all but unrecognizable now.

  When the trial was over, she was going to go to his supervisor, her supervisor, Carl Church, whoever would listen, and expose him for the thug he was. That was the thought that finally rocked her into an uneasy sleep that night.

  Lauren woke still filled with a dulled rage. She opened her eyes, knowing what the lieutenant had said the night before about the mistrial was right. Stalking a member the defense team seemed to be universally frowned upon, and it could be cause for a mistrial. She didn’t want to wait another six months and have to go through this all over again.

  As she slipped out of bed, she noticed her hand was shaking a little. She’d have to take something for that.

  She padded across the floor to the bathroom and popped open the cabinet. Her doctor had given her the happy pills two years ago for stress. She only took them when she was really anxious. This situation seemed like it qualified.

  Now I’ll have to watch him get on the stand like some superhero who saved the day by locking up David, she thought as she got undressed. But I know what he really is—a pathetic, brutal monster.

  She turned the water on as hot as she could stand it and let it run down over her, trying to wash the blind anger away. It helped; she felt herself start to relax. The tension in her muscles began to melt down the drain with the rage.

  After her shower, she walked back in her bedroom to get dressed. She slipped a dark coral blouse on to wear under one of her fitted jackets. She wanted to look sharp as a knife for court that morning.

  She may have been a weak person once, but that was done. She had proved that over and over again in her life. She raised two kids on her own, managed to pull through after two divorces, and survived her relationship with an abusive boyfriend. She had flourished at work, had good friends, her daughters were healthy and smart. She had truly succeeded in life. Grabbing her black pumps, she started down the stairs to get her cup of coffee.

  Except for Joe Wheeler. Well, she thought heading toward the door, travel mug in hand, I could have put a bullet in his head, but didn’t. That’s not weakness. That’s being stronger than him.

  77

  Joe looked professional—almost handsome, if he did say so himself—as he took the stand that next morning. He had waited patiently while the security guard testified about seeing David crossing the parking lot. Violanti got him to admit on cross that David wasn’t running or acting suspiciously, but just walking. Joe was convinced that Violanti had done no damage. Fishing, that was all, he was fishing for a defense. That’s what you did when you had nothing.

  Joe’s dark suit was perfectly pressed, worn with a tone-on-tone shirt and tie that brought out the flecks of gold in his eyes. He had gone to the most exclusive men’s store in the city and told them to give him their best suit, spare no expense. Prior to his adventure the night before, he had gone and gotten his hair cut. He even splurged and had gotten a manicure. He had to look good for the cameras.

  He crossed the gallery without so much as a glance toward Lauren, who today was sitting in the back row with her partner. Of course she would want to be as far away from him as possible. Walking toward the stand, he wondered if she was thinking about taking that trespass report to his boss after the trial ended. And that it wasn’t too late to report the assault in the parking lot.

  Joe found it laughable. As far as he was concerned, she might as well have been a potted plant. Let her sit there with her pretty boy partner. This was his moment. It was time to make his case. And when David Spencer was found guilty, his boss would give two shits about what his scorned ex-lover had to say about him.

  With the courtroom caught up in rapt attention, DA Carl Church went over Joe Wheeler’s investigation step by step, from the time he arrived at the scene to the moment he put handcuffs on David Spencer. A quick check of the computer showed Katherine Vine’s purchase, which led to the phone call to her cell, which led to David. At ten thirty on the morning in question, Joe Wheeler picked David Spencer up from home, where he was enjoying a nice bowl of cereal with his mom. Joe had explained to him there had been an incident at the toy store the night before. He asked if they could both come back to the station with him and they did. Joe even let his mother sit up front in the unmarked car. Joe had asked David’s mother to wait in the lobby, then laid it all out for him. David went over the story of her leaving her credit card in the store. He gave a blow-by-blow account of everything: the kinky sex, the biting and scratching. He admitted it freely. The only thing he wouldn’t sign off on was the strangulation. David said he never even touched the scarf, that she had pulled it out of her own hair.

  Joe testified that David seemed neither scared nor intimidated. Church made hay out of that as a sign of his guilt, that he was proud of what he did, but too cowardly to actually say it. Objections were thrown around. Church had Joe read David’s statement into evidence, which Joe did with dramatic flair. If he had written a screenplay, Joe couldn’t have set it any more perfectly. Especially since he was the hero of the story. Case cleared with arrest that same day. Perfect.

  Carl Church thanked Joe and told the judge, “No further questions for this witness.” He was practically beaming when Violanti stood up for the cross examination.

  Violanti approached Joe slowly. He took his time. The longer he holds back and draws this out, Joe thought, the more he thinks I’ll be off my game. He knew Lauren hadn’t told him about the events of the night before. Joe had counted on that. If Violanti had known, he would’ve moved for an
immediate mistrial and investigation. Lauren was still good at keeping her mouth shut. What good had calling the cops done for her anyway? Violanti’s pause was amusing to Joe. Adorable, even. It added to his enjoyment of the moment, prolonged his time in the spotlight.

  “Detective,” Violanti began, standing slightly off to the side so the jury could see Joe’s face, “you testified that you read my client his Miranda warnings, correct?”

  “I read them to him and he signed the Miranda waiver indicating he understood and waived those rights.”

  “You told him he could have a lawyer present during questioning, if he wanted one?”

  “I did.”

  “And he understood that?”

  “He indicated he did.”

  “He just graduated from high school. He works at a toy store. He lives with his mother. How sure are you he understood?”

  Church stood up and objected. “This was all covered in the suppression hearing on the statement, Your Honor.”

  “Agreed. Sustained. Move on, Mr.Violanti.”

  Violanti nodded and rephrased: “Even though he seemed to understand his rights, he didn’t want an attorney?”

  “He never asked for one.” There was a calculated smugness in his answer.

  “Did you know that I’m the defendant’s godfather?”

  Joe felt the color drain from his face. That smugness dissipated for a moment. That wasn’t a question he’d anticipated. “No. I did not.”

  “Don’t you agree, Detective, if my client thought he’d done something wrong, he would’ve called me right away?”

  “Objection!” Church jumped up. “Calls for speculation. How would the detective know what the defendant would or wouldn’t have done?”

  “Sustained.”

  Church sank back down, but on the edge of his seat, ready to bounce up again.