Beyond Justice (30 page)

Eventually, the anxiety ebbed.  I took a deep breath and set my eyes on the pay phone.  Now, more than ever, I needed to speak with Rachel, let her know about what had happened.  With most of the inmates still at breakfast, the line was short.

The morning sun blared down from a blue and cloudless sky.  The back of my neck and arms felt like baked pork rinds.  A Mexican guy chattered incessantly on the phone, holding up the line.  If there had been a couple of Riechers or Blacks behind him, he wouldn't have been taking his time like this.

Finally, the line began to move.  The next calls were quick.  In about five minutes, there was only one person in front of me.  He slammed the receiver down when he got an answering machine.

I had Rachel's cell phone number memorized and anticipated a great report from her.  I could just about hear the buoyancy in her voice telling me of Aaron's amazing recovery.  But just as I lifted the handset, someone grasped my wrist, forcing me to drop it.

Bishop glared at me, his grip unrelenting.  My arm was about to snap like a twig.

Chapter Fifty-Four

Having spent the entire night at the computer forensics lab with Judy Prine, the lead cybercrime investigator, Anita saw no point in trying to sleep.  Might as well put her shocking discovery to use.  The implications for Sam Hudson's innocence didn't matter as much as the fact that she, herself had been violated.  
How could I have been so stupid?

"You sure about this?" Judy asked.  "More than seventy screen names with some variation on Fox,
Huli
and DrHu, have crossed your ISP alone."

Anita stared down into an empty mug on the table top on which she perched.  Five cups and eight trips to the ladies room in the past four hours, and they hadn't made any progress.  "What about Hudson's ISP or Walker's?"

Judy pecked at the keyboard, clicked her mouse and shook her head.  "Hudson used Road Runner, Walker used Comcast."

"So you can't compare them to my ISP?"

"Cox Cable turned over their records quicker than the others, but I think I can run some comparative scans.  It'll just take some time."

"How long?"

She glanced up at the wall clock and clicked the mouse a few more times.  "A couple of hours, unless I find a match early on."

"Okay, do what you can."  Anita felt the effect of all the coffee heading south again and went the ladies room.  A couple of minutes later, she returned to the lab to find Judy typing away at a breakneck speed.

"Judy, did you—?"

She held a finger up.  One final bang on the enter key and Judy said, "Yes!"

"What?"

She waved Anita over.  "Have a look."  The detective leaned over her shoulder and examined the data.  It was so neatly compiled, the conclusion was overwhelming.  This MrFoXxX was in fact the same person that had contacted Hudson and Walker.   Though he used different variations on the screen name, and though over the course of the past few years he had spoofed the IP addresses from sixteen different ISP's world wide, he had not anticipated the powerful detection programs available to the state's computer forensics lab.

Anita gasped.  Waves of revulsion tossed like a storm in her belly as she scanned the billing information connected to this freak.  She was going to be sick all over the computer.  Her cyberlover was not from Omaha.  He was from San Diego.  The spreadsheet displayed his real name.  Anita grabbed the back of Judy's chair to keep from falling.

 Chapter Fifty-Five

He'd kept so many steps ahead of the authorities that he never had to think twice about getting caught.  He lived by rules and principals—his own, of course, and devised all the contingencies.  Forget about Plan B, he had everything up to plan X in line.

Intellectual superiority was a lonesome burden.  But it afforded him the right to go forth and take what was his.  If a tree fell and nobody heard him dismember it, did it really fall?  Had it ever existed?   Better still, if someone else was caught with the chainsaw, then that person might as well be given the credit for the fallen oak.

But he was now experiencing something entirely alien.  Anxiety.  How could he have possibly misstepped like this?  He'd taken every precaution: IP spoofing, a cryptic screen names.  And yet, they had connected the dots!

"Stupid!" He slammed his fist on the computer desk.  Coffee splattered onto the morning paper.  No, not stupidity.  Hubris.  He could have easily plugged this hole a long time ago.

Forget it.  Don't question past choices.  Where would the challenge be if there was no risk of getting caught?  "All right, breathe."  He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his eyebrows.  Why had Anita signed off so abruptly?  Wasn't like her.  In the three years they'd been having cybersex, she would always say something, even if she had to sign off suddenly.

Maybe it was that little Asian lawyer, Rachel Cheng.

No.  Anita could not have learned anything from her.  Especially since he'd run the little upstart off the road last night at 85 miles per hour.

Unless...

Think.

THINK!

He picked up the phone and dialed Sharp Memorial.

Swore at the recorded menu.

He drummed his fingers on the desk, feeling the morning rays toast the back of his hand.  Finally, he punched in the correct selection. "Yes, I'm calling about Rachel Cheng."

"Please hold." More infernal elevator Muzak.

Finally she picked up again. "Sir, may I ask who this is?"

"I'm her brother," he lied.  "Just got into town when I heard.  Did she survive?" A pause on the other end.  "I'll speak slow-ly so you can understand," he said.  "Did...she...make...it?"

"No need for sarcasm, sir.  Yes, she did.  She's in the ICU right now."

"Can anyone visit her?"

"Only next of kin and police authorized—"

"Hello?  I said I was her brother."

"I know that."

"Okay, look.  I apologize.  I'm just...worried."

"Of course you are, Mister Cheng."

"When are visiting hours?"

"Between now and—"

He clicked the end button, smirked and tossed the phone onto the sofa and bounded over to his closet where he rifled through the clothes, past all his different uniforms, past his formal attire.  Outfoxing the authorities would be a piece of cake.

Ah, this one was perfect.  A doctor's scrubs and lab coat.

Time to pay Rachel Cheng a visit.

Chapter Fifty-Six

As far as Mack was concerned, this case was about as abundant in clues as hair on Kojak's head.  That is, until Rachel's lucky break from the bowels of the Salton Sea State Penitentiary.

Lucky, right.

Poor kid.  Some bozo pulls a hit and run and now she's in the ICU, hanging by a thread.  He stayed by her side as long as he could, but eventually had to lie down on the sofa in the waiting room.

"Mister Mackey?"  A young female doctor approached the waiting area.

"That'd be me."  He stopped pacing and ran his hand over his whiskery mug.  Covering morning breath with his hand, he said, "How is she?"

"She ought to be dead."

"But she's not, right?"

"And with her injuries—"

Mack took a deep breath, began silently counted to five.  Doctor Janet Wells smiled and shrugged.  "She's going to be okay."

"Can I see her?"

"As a matter of fact, she sent me to come get you."

Mack double-timed down the hallway.

___________________

Rachel sat slightly elevated, tubes running from her nose and arms.  "You look like hell, kid," Mack said.

"Nice to see you too," she answered, with a weak smile.

"Still the prettiest face I know."

"I'm so sorry."

"For what?"

"All this trouble."  Rachel tried to sit up, but grimaced and settled back.  "All I wanted was to talk to you before we brought those files to the police."

"I already sent them to Pearson."

"Oh no, come on, Mack!" Her eyebrows crinkled.   "I thought we'd agreed to discuss it first."

"Look, Pearson's my only real connection."

"Not exactly the first person on my list." 

So naive.  Mack loved her like a daughter, but this girl had a few too many stars in her eyes.  He couldn't blame her though, not after the way they had gone head to head like a Mongoose and a Cobra—Pearson being the snake—during Hudson's trial.  "You're getting way ahead of yourself, Ray."

"Maybe so.  But I don't believe in coincidence.  There's a reason we got this info.  I just know it."  Her eyes lit up with urgency.  "Wait!  What about Aaron?"

"Oh yeah.  Well, Alan called me this morning."

"And?"

"Well, seems there was a little commotion last night in the hospital, some unauthorized visit—"

Rachel's mouth fell open.  "Did something happen to him?"

"Nah.  But a couple of police officers got some egg on their face, real good."

"What about Aaron?"

"Tell you what, this is a day for miracles.  Not only did the kid make it, his fever broke and his breathing's getting stronger."

"Oh, thank God," Rachel said.

"Uh... yeah, whatever.  I'm going to play the lotto today."

Just then a bear-like growl erupted from Rachel's stomach.   Her cheeks turned crimson.  She smiled and patted her stomach.  "Excuse me."

"You gotta be starved."

"I'll live."

"Why don't I go and bring up some breakfast?  We'll talk about what we're gonna say to The Ice Prin—-I mean, Detective Pearson."

"Thanks, Mack."

As he stepped out into the hallway, he nearly collided with a doctor with a stethoscope dangling from his neck and a clipboard in hand.  "Sorry, bud." Mack stepped aside and allowed him to pass.

"No worries."  The doc smiled and did a double take.  "Hey, aren't you that personal injury attorney on TV?"

"Uh, no," Mack said.  "Not me."

"Funny, you look just like him."

"Besides," Mack said, hiking a thumb towards Rachel's room, "she can represent herself just fine."

"So many ambulance chasers these days preying on accident victims."

"Nah." Mack shook his head.  "I'm just a friend."

"I'm Doctor Reynolds," He said and stuck out his hand.   "We're going to take a quick look at her vitals.  Can you give us a few minutes?"

"Sure, I'm just going out to get her something to eat.  She can eat, right?"

"Of course."  If the doc's smile grew any wider, Mack could drive a Hummer through it.

"Back in ten, kiddo, " Mack called back to Rachel.

"Perfect," the doc said, patting Mack on the back.  "She'll be finished by then."

Chapter Fifty-Seven

I once read that Baboons in South Africa could be found on the roadside in the hills.   Friendly looking creatures, but they have the strength to rip a man's arm right out of its socket or eviscerate him, whichever it fancied most.   Far be it from me to call Bishop a primate, but I was about to learn what those unfortunate tourists in Capetown had.  The hard way.  Bishop twisted my arm and I fell to my knees.

"You're starting to get on my nerves, Hudson!"

"I'm sorry about the tray, okay?  Just...let go!"

Luther stood a couple of yards back, his arms folded over his chest.

"Okay, I get it," I said.  "You're working with Butch now, right?  Finishing me off for him because he hasn't got the—"

"Shut up!  I don't do anything for that little turd!"  The dull pain in my wrist turned white hot as he twisted harder.  He threw me to the floor and grabbed my throat, bearing down with formidable weight.  All because I spilled cereal on his pants?

"It was an accident," I sputtered.

Luther huffed.  "You disrespected The Bishop!  And for that, you gonna have to pay.  Just like everyone before you, just like everyone after you.  That's just the way it works, ain't that right, Bish?"

"Damned straight."  He released my neck and then struck my face with a cast iron fist.  The ferrous taste of blood filled my mouth.  My first day as a believer and I was about to meet my maker.  The vision replayed my mind.   Bishop as a younger man, holding a dying woman's hand.   "It must have really hurt to see her die," I said.

  He pulled his next punch and blinked. "What?"

"Was she your mother?  Because I know how it feels to lose someone you love." He yanked me to my feet.  Shoved me and backed away as if I had suddenly grown a third eye.  "We need to talk," I said, wiping the blood from my busted lip.  Something within me rose up, stronger than anger, stronger than self-preservation or vengeance.