“That cocksucker,” Loraine whispered.

“The first thing we found was a small amount of speed under some undershirts in the dresser in Mr. Elcock’s bedroom. That was your stash, wasn’t it?” Sarah asked softly.

Loraine buried her face in her palms. “I never thought…”

“Is Tony your boyfriend, the guy who got you pregnant?”

Loraine nodded. “ Harvey is a sweetheart. Tony beat me up. He don’t want the kid, and he got mad when I wouldn’t get an abortion. I ran away, and Harvey ’s been letting me hide here. He even gave me his bedroom. I thought I was safe, but I got warned that Tony was on the way over, so I took off for my aunt. Only she wouldn’t have me. I was so upset I forgot my stash. Then when I remembered, I seen Tony drive up, so I split.”

“We found a lot more speed in another room.”

“ Harvey don’t do drugs. Tony must have set him up to get back at him for helping me.”

“You think Tony was the informant?”

“Oh, yeah, definitely. He’s real mean. I wouldn’t have had nothing to do with him, but he had the speed.”

“Will you tell this to the DA?”

Suddenly, Loraine looked very scared. “I don’t know. I got to think.”

“ Harvey could go to jail for a long time. The feds might even go after him.”

Loraine put her hand on her stomach. “I can’t have my kid born in prison.”

Sarah had been afraid Loraine wouldn’t talk to her if she gave her the Miranda warnings. Since Loraine hadn’t been Mirandized, her statements couldn’t be used.

“Maybe I can work a deal for you so you won’t be prosecuted if you help Mr. Elcock. Would you talk to the DA if I can do that?”

“I got to think.”

“OK. That’s fair.” Sarah paused. “Will Tony come looking for you? I can put you up someplace he won’t find you while we sort this out. This place probably isn’t safe.”

Sarah had paid out of her pocket for a week stay at a hotel with room service, over the river in Vancouver, Washington. When she’d visited the next day, Loraine had lawyered up, and her mouthpiece told Sarah that Loraine wouldn’t testify even with immunity because of what she knew the Marauders would do to her. An hour later, Sarah was sitting in Max Dietz’s office foolishly asking him to show compassion while he undressed her mentally and did God-knows-what to her in his fantasies.

The more Sarah thought about the Elcock case, the more convinced she became that Loraine’s boyfriend had set Harvey up, but Loraine had to talk if Sarah was going to have any chance of proving her theory. But her lawyer had made it clear that Loraine would not testify. Suddenly, Sarah grinned. There might be a way for Loraine to clear Harvey Elcock without testifying.

Two days later, Jack Stamm summoned Max Dietz to his office. Dietz had no idea why he was being asked into his boss’s inner sanctum, but he couldn’t think of anything he’d done wrong, so he assumed it was to receive praise for something he’d done right. That thought disappeared when he saw Sarah Woodruff sitting on a couch against the far wall.

Dietz forced a cheerful smile. “You wanted to see me?” he asked.

“Thanks for coming, Max. You know Officer Woodruff?”

“Oh, sure. We’ve had a couple of cases together. She’s an excellent investigator.”

“She speaks highly of you, too, and it’s her investigation in State v. Elcock I wanted to talk about. I spent an hour with a woman named Loraine Cargo this morning.”

Dietz forced himself to keep a placid smile on his face.

“From what I understand, part of your case against Elcock rests on the discovery of speed in his chest of drawers.”

“Yes, that’s part of it.”

“Miss Cargo says it’s hers, and she passed a polygraph on that.”

“We found a lot more speed, Jack. Elcock probably gave her the stuff in the drawer, so technically it would be hers, and she wouldn’t be lying.”

“She says she got the meth from her boyfriend, Tony Malone, who is a member of the Marauders motorcycle gang. We had Elcock’s house under surveillance. One of the detectives positively identified Malone as a biker who visited Elcock on the day of the search. Mr. Elcock has no criminal record, and he’s also passed a polygraph. I think we’ve made a mistake arresting him. An understandable mistake, but one we should correct as soon as possible, unless you have evidence that contradicts what Officer Woodruff has uncovered.”

Jack Stamm had given Loraine Cargo immunity and a guarantee that no one would learn about their meeting, her statements, or the polygraph. He’d also guaranteed in writing that she would never have to testify against any member of the Marauder motorcycle gang. Her statements had led to the dismissal of all charges against Harvey Elcock.

Sarah knew that Max Dietz bore grudges forever, but she wasn’t worried about him, and she’d left the courthouse with a smile on her face.

Chapter Twenty-three

A loud noise jerked Sarah Woodruff upright out of a deep sleep. When she was certain that someone was in her condo, she grabbed her Glock 9mm and slipped out of her bedroom. Something heavy crashed into a wall on the first floor with enough force to knock over the table in the entryway. A man cried out in pain. Sarah edged down the stairs, her gun leading the way. When she was halfway down, she saw a man in a peacoat and watch cap wrestling with a man in a black leather jacket.

Sarah yelled, “Freeze!” and extended her gun over the banister. The man in the watch cap turned his head.

“John?” Sarah said as she rushed down the rest of the stairs.

A gun butt smashed into the back of her skull. She dropped to her knees. A second blow landed and Sarah’s finger squeezed the trigger.

Sarah sat up slowly. Her head was aching and her vision was blurred. She touched the back of her head. Pain lanced through her skull and made her jerk her hand away. She squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened them, she saw that her fingers were covered with blood. She picked up her gun, gritted her teeth, and struggled to her feet. She was alone, and there was blood spatter on the wall. The entryway end table was on its side, and a newspaper, a magazine, a lamp, and some envelopes were strewn across the floor. The rug in the foyer was a small Persian, heavy with red tones, but a damp red liquid, tough to spot at first, had soaked in at several spots.

The pain grew dull enough for Sarah to think. She remembered John Finley fighting with a man in a black leather jacket. Then… she couldn’t remember what happened next, but there must have been someone else in the house, because the pain in the back of her head was proof that someone had hit her from behind. The intruders must have taken John.

Sarah staggered upstairs and into jeans, running shoes, a sweatshirt, and a jacket. It was October, and a cold front had swept in, bringing an arctic chill to Portland. Sarah grabbed her car keys and rushed downstairs as fast as her aching head would let her, pausing midway down so she could bend forward while a wave of nausea swept through. Then she straightened, sucked in a mouthful of frigid air, and made her way to her pickup truck.

What was John Finley doing in my house in the middle of the night? Sarah asked herself as she cruised the streets in her neighborhood looking for any trace of him or the men she assumed had taken him. What was he doing at my house at any time of day? After what had happened the last time they were together, Sarah had been certain she’d never see Finley again.

Last summer, Sarah had vacationed in Peru so she could climb Nevado Pisco, a nineteen-thousand-foot-high peak in the Andes. Two days after her ascent, she’d met Finley in a bar in Huaraz. He was handsome and smart, and they’d hit it off. Finley was a pilot, and they’d flown to an island resort in his rickety two-seater. For the rest of her vacation, Sarah and Finley scuba dived, sunbathed, dined in elegance, and fucked like rabbits. Then Sarah flew back to Portland.