“You wanted it to look like Jones had just enough life in him to start the fire before he died.”

“That was the basic plan. We were all panicking, yelling at each other, cussing, trying to sort it out. As I said, freaking out. Jay, of course, kept the coolest head. He said we’d tell everybody that we’d noticed his head wounds but thought they were superficial. That it wasn’t until later, after we were pressuring him with questions, that he started acting weird and we realized he was out of his head.

“The rest of us agreed it sounded like a plan. Jay said to light the stuff in the trash can, so it would look like Jones had gone crazy. I set fire to some paper. We left the room, thinking the fire would soon burn itself out. A minute maybe. We counted on the smoke alarm going off, then rushing in and pretending to be shocked to find Jones dead. But the fire…” He dropped his chin on his chest, mumbling, “You know the rest.”

Raley could barely contain himself. The camcorder had just recorded George’s confession, although George seemed unaware of it, or indifferent to it. Keeping his voice low, Raley asked, “Why did you keep the lighter?”

The man shook his large head mournfully. “Like when priests flog themselves? The lighter is like a whip. I take it out every now and then to remind myself of what I did.”

He was quiet for a moment, and Raley counted the seconds. How long before the police would arrive? Britt would have told Candy about the night at Jay’s house, the attempt on her life, the man this morning who obviously had shot Fordyce after they fled.

Fordyce.

Something niggled Raley’s brain, but he didn’t have time to address it before George continued.

“We were trying to act normal, waiting for the smoke alarm. But all of a sudden the fucking wall of that room was on fire, burning from the inside out. Then we really panicked. We didn’t bother with Jones. We knew he was already dead. We started trying to get all the other people into the stairwell and out of the building. In all the confusion, with the smoke, nobody could see anything. No one could locate the keys to the holding cell.” His chin began to tremble, and a sob shook his large body. “I can still hear those men trapped in the cell screaming.”

He wiped his nose again. “It came as a shock to us that we were made out heroes,” he said with a laugh that was negated by the tears rolling down his face. “We thought that, as soon as the fire was out, we’d be arrested. So you can imagine how we felt when…Well, you know how it was. That photo,” he said, looking at the picture on the wall.

“We told ourselves there must be a reason for it turning out the way it had. A higher purpose, Jay called it. Some such bullshit,” he said scornfully. “Anyhow, we made a pact. No one would have to know. No one could tell. Ever.

“We thought we’d be okay. We thought we’d get away with it. Brunner seemed satisfied with our explanation about Jones.” He sighed and looked across at Raley. “But you were stubborn as hell and too fucking good. Jay tried stalling you, but on the issue of Cleveland Jones, you just wouldn’t give up and let it go. You had us scared shitless.”

Slowly Raley nodded. “So you devised a way to discredit me.”

Britt wanted to know what the latest news from Columbia was, but the judge insisted on hearing what she had to say first.

So for the past ten minutes, Candy Mellors had listened as Britt gave her a rushed, almost breathless account of the last few days, beginning with her meeting with Jay and ending with her and Raley fleeing the attorney general’s house. Knowing the constraints on the judge’s time today, she had economized on words, divulging as many details as she could as concisely as possible.

She finished by saying, “Raley and I got the hell out of there.”

Candy sat back and took a deep breath, as though she’d been the one doing all the talking. “Sweet Jesus. I understand now why you’d be hesitant to surrender to the police.”

Britt nodded.

“Where is Raley?”

“He hopes to bluff George McGowan into thinking that Fordyce ratted him out. He took the camcorder, thinking he may get McGowan on tape admitting his role in all this, and incriminating Fordyce at the same time.”

“Any such recording wouldn’t be admissible in court.”

“I realize that, and so does Raley. But having it is better than not.”

“You have the tape of your interview with Fordyce?”

Britt pulled the small cartridge from the pocket of her jeans and handed it over. “Fordyce doesn’t actually own up to his participation. But if Raley can get George McGowan’s admission, then the AG’s role will be exposed, and we’ll have him on video lying about it, which would at least strengthen any prosecutor’s case against him.”

“It’s a high body count,” the judge said, shaking her head. “I’m dumbfounded by the extent of their perfidy.”

“Even more astonishing is that they’ve got away with it for these five years.”

“The man who responded to Cobb Fordyce’s summons this morning, the fake security guard, you’re certain he was in Jay’s town house that night?”

“Positive. My memory came back the instant Fordyce opened his front door and I saw him there on the threshold. Some of my recollections are still hazy. Segments of time are missing, but I remember him with perfect clarity because he laughed while his partner was molesting me.”

“Molesting you? You didn’t mention that before.”

“It’s not easy to talk about.” Speaking woman to woman, Britt described the experience.

The judge frowned with distaste. “That must have been awful for you. You’re certain that if you saw this man again you could identify him?”

“Without question.”

“Would he look anything like that?”

Britt, puzzled by the question that was seemingly nonsensical, turned her head, following the direction of the judge’s nod.

He had entered the room unheard and was standing with his back to the closed door, leering at her, just as he had when he violated her.

“Britt,” the judge said, “I believe you’re intimately acquainted with Mr. Smith.”

CHAPTER 29

GEORGE SEEMED TO HAVE LAPSED INTO A STUPOR. WITHOUT his noticing, Raley set the camcorder on the edge of the desk, left it recording, and gave George a verbal nudge. “You had to stop my investigation, so you set me up with Suzi Monroe.”

George took a heavy breath and released it slowly. “Jay’s idea. Two birds with one stone, stop you from finding out what we did to Cleveland Jones, and give ol’ Jay a free shot at your fiancée.” He winked a bloodshot eye. “His plan worked, too, didn’t it? That was our Jay. Everything always went his way.”

Raley recalled the morning he’d awakened to find the girl dead beside him, how Jay had been calmly drinking coffee and reading the Sunday newspaper. Remarkable, that he could be that blasé after having sacrificed a young woman’s life.

“Did Jay kill her?”

“She killed herself.”

“He just supplied the dope.”

“Pat and me, actually.” George’s reply was matter-of-fact. “Jay was to get the girl, we were to get the coke. That was our deal. Jay wooed her into slipping you the Mickey. Told her it would make you last all night, and it damn near did. Finally you passed out. Then we gave her the coke. Urged on by Jay, she…” He sobbed again. It took a moment for him to collect himself enough to go on.

“Next morning she was dead, and it worked out just like Jay had promised us it would. Your life went from sugar to shit. We were off the hook.” George had begun to slur his words, but he was fully aware of what he was saying. He focused his bleary eyes on Raley. “How long before you figured it out?”

“A while. At first I denied it was possible. I didn’t want to believe my best friend could do that to me. Not then, not now.”