He wanted to ambush George before he had time to call the police, or his lawyer, or to prepare answers for Raley’s accusations. Raley didn’t want to give him time to summon Les and Miranda for backup, either. He wanted him alone and defenseless.

But, first, he had to know where to find him.

He stopped at a service station and used a pay phone to call Conway Concrete and Construction. When the receptionist answered, Raley gave her a fictitious name and told her he wanted to speak to George McGowan about a potential project. He only wanted to verify that George was in the company office and intended to hang up once it was confirmed.

Instead, the receptionist informed him that Mr. McGowan was feeling under the weather and, after having put in only a brief appearance at the office, he had gone home and was expected to stay there for the remainder of the day.

Even better, Raley thought.

He thanked the receptionist and was about to hang up when she said in a near whisper, “Actually, I think he was upset over the news about Attorney General Fordyce.”

Raley’s hand was arrested in motion. Indeed, everything inside him went terribly and suddenly still with foreboding. “Attorney General Fordyce? What about him? What news?”

“Oh, you haven’t heard?” Now there was an underlying excitement in her voice, the inflection of someone titillated by tragic news. “It’s just awful. Cobb Fordyce was shot this morning in his home.”

Raley’s stomach dropped.

“His wife found him when she returned from an errand. She was hysterical, of course, but told the police that her husband had greeted the man and woman who shot him. They’d arrived unexpectedly, but he’d let them come inside. Mrs. Fordyce was wary, but he told her that everything was okay, for her to go ahead and drive their sons to baseball practice. She’ll never get over leaving him alone with them, you can be sure of that. And she’s almost positive that the woman was Britt Shelley. You know that reporter who’s been missing? Her.”

Raley squeezed his eyes shut and leaned heavily against the telephone. “You said he was shot. Is he dead?”

“They haven’t announced it officially, but he’s as good as. He was shot in the head, and his condition is critical.”

CHAPTER 28

RALEY HUNG UP ON THE TALKATIVE RECEPTIONIST.

With shaking hands, he fed coins into the slots and punched in another number. He looked over his shoulder, feeling like the phone booth was a shooting gallery and there was a bull’s-eye on his back.

“Hello?”

“It’s me.” He’d called Candy’s cell phone in order to circumvent her secretary, and he intentionally didn’t say his name.

“Jesus Christ,” she hissed. “What have you done?”

“Nothing.”

“I sent you to him. That implicates me.”

“Is he dead?”

“There hasn’t been an official announcement. It’s touch and go. Media are camped out at the hospital awaiting word.” Then, angrily, “That is, every reporter in the state except your new girlfriend. She was with you this morning, correct?”

“Yes, but-”

“Christ. First Jay, now-”

“She didn’t smother Jay. You know I didn’t shoot Fordyce in the head.”

“Then how is it that he has a bullet in his brain? Why did you go to his house in the first place? Why didn’t you keep the appointment I set up for you-which will mean my career and my ass if anyone finds out. Why a surprise visit to his house?”

“I wanted to catch him off guard.”

She groaned. “Not a good answer, you idiot. Until you get a defense attorney, I advise you not to say that to anyone else.”

“When we left him, Cobb Fordyce was alive and well. We thought he had double-crossed us.”

“Another motive for shooting him.”

“I didn’t shoot him!”

“The police have the weapon. A Taurus.357. Will your prints be on it? Will hers?”

Raley rubbed his forehead, muttering, “Fuck me.”

“In other words, yes.”

“He must have used my pistol.”

“He? Who?”

“She’ll tell you. She’s on her way to you.”

“To me? Wha-”

“Listen! Listen to me. She doesn’t even know about Fordyce unless she’s heard it on the radio since we separated. I was to call and tell you to meet her where she interviewed you a few months ago. Do you know where she’s talking about? She said you would.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“She’ll be at the door where you let her in before. She’s got a video.”

“Of what?”

“She’ll explain everything. Will you meet her?”

“Do you realize what you’re asking? I have people-”

“I know this is a bad time.”

“Bad? No, it’s the worst time. Today of all days. Inconvenience and bad timing aside, you’re asking me to break the law.”

“She’s coming to turn herself in.”

“Great. I’ll call the police, tell them-”

“No. No police.”

“If I don’t, it smacks of aiding and abetting, obstruction of justice, and-”

“I know all that, Candy. But you gotta do this, and you gotta do it this way.”

“Why?”

“To save our lives.” He let that settle, then said, “The man who killed Jay showed up at Fordyce’s house this morning. Britt recognized him instantly.” He was past worrying about using their names. “After we bolted, Fordyce was shot in the head. Now, do the math. We would have been killed, too, if we hadn’t managed to escape. But we did, we can identify him, and this guy ain’t gonna quit.”

Subdued a bit, she said, “Who is this man? Why’d he kill Jay and shoot Fordyce? Does he have a name?”

“Not that I know.”

“A description?”

“Britt will fill you in. Hopefully she won’t be apprehended before she can get to you.”

“She’ll be half a block away from the courthouse. It’s a circus down here. Reporters are camped out along Broad, waiting-”

“I know. She’s taking a huge risk to get that video to you. Which should give you some idea of how vital it is.”

“Why is it so important?”

“When you watch it, you’ll know.” A customer at one of the service station pumps was eyeing him. Probably he was just an average Joe whose Dodge Ram was running low on fuel, but Raley didn’t know what the fourth hit man looked like. Until he did, he would regard every stranger as a potential assassin. “I can’t talk any longer. I’ve got to move.”

“Wait! Where are you? Why aren’t you with Britt?”

If he told Candy that, he would be creating for her another impossible choice, because she would be duty-bound to dispatch police to the McGowans’ estate. Sidestepping her question, he said, “Britt’s on her way. For godsake, Candy, be there.” He hung up before she could say anything more.

A silver Navigator was parked in the circular drive in front of George McGowan’s mansion, indicating that he was at home, but Raley saw no one around. Several sleek horses grazed in a paddock about fifty yards from the house. Otherwise the place looked deserted.

Taking the camcorder with him, Raley alighted from the car and walked up to the front door. He didn’t ring the bell, didn’t knock, just turned the knob and, finding the door unlocked, walked in.

He closed the door soundlessly, then paused to listen. The house was as still and silent as a tomb.

He started down the central hallway, his footsteps muffled by a long, narrow Oriental carpet. He looked into the room on his left, a dining room. On his right was a formal living room with a marble fireplace and a crystal chandelier, both as tall as he was. Oil paintings in gilt frames. Heavy drapes made of shiny material. Collectibles. Rich people stuff.

Murder had been profitable for George McGowan.

Raley continued down the wide foyer on tiptoe, halting when he heard the clink of glass against glass coming from a room on his right, behind the staircase. He approached stealthily, hesitating when he reached the open doorway, then cautiously peering around the doorjamb.