21st Birthday by Patterson, James (mystery books to read txt) 📗

got my phone out and punched in Brady’s number. He picked up. The wireless reception was two bars, but I told him everything in twenty-five words or less.

“I’ll call you back once Burke is in lockup.”

Burke’s actions tonight put terrible pictures in my mind along with doubt. Was Yuki trying the wrong Burke for the triple homicide? I couldn’t shake the feeling, but I had a live killer right in front of me and work to do.

Turning back to Burke, I said, “Alvarez and I watched you kill your companion. We’ll make statements and testify to that. You want any help from us, this would be the time to talk.”

He made a laugh-like sound.

I said, “You’re looking at murder one for this. Feds get next bite at you. The DA in San Francisco might intercede on your behalf for a confession to the murder of Tara and Lorrie Burke, Melissa Fogarty, and anyone else you’d care to name.”

“You’re a riot, lady. Those hits belong to Lucas. I know Luke better than anyone and I’m telling you, sarge, he’s a killer.”

“Like you.”

“He’s worse. He’s been killing since he was a little shit. Baby birds, puppies, cutting them, stabbing them, putting a hole in the chest every second until they died. Don’t waste any sympathy on him, Boxer, is it? Lindsay. He’s a savage. A monster. What kind of man kills his own child?”

Two officers were at the doorway. I gave them the short version. “He killed his date. He’s under arrest. We called for an ambulance. Keep eyes on him at all times.”

Cops were taping off the hallway when forensics arrived.

“Time’s running out,” I said to Burke.

“You look cute in a dress.”

I ignored what he said and asked, “What’s your date’s name?”

“Candy? Tammy? Sugar?”

I snapped a shot of Burke, sent that to Berney as the room filled with paramedics and CSU. Before Jane Doe was wrapped in a sheet and carried out on a stretcher, Alvarez took a close-up of her face, the bullet hole through her forehead.

I kept thinking of her as a girl because she looked so young. Was she twenty? A teen wearing big-girl clothes? How had she hooked up with Evan Burke?

Someone who actually loved her was going to be devastated. I felt bad, myself. She’d fought hard, screamed for help, and I hadn’t been able to save her.

The EMTs uncuffed Burke, lifted him onto a stretcher, and flex-tied his wrists to the rails. Before they could carry him out, Burke called me.

“Sergeant.”

Was he going to talk?

“I’m here.”

“You shoot like a girl,” he said. “Lucky me.” He laughed and flipped me the bird.

An EMT wrapped another flex tie around Burke’s upper right arm and fastened it to the stretcher rail, pulling it tight. Burke was cursing as he was carried out through the emergency exit.

I called Clapper.

“We got him, chief.”

“Good work, Boxer. You two okay?”

“Perfect. Burke needs surgery. We’ll have a talk with him in the morning.”

It was close to 11:00 p.m.

I said, “We should be in the squad room by noon.”

Out in the hallway, Alvarez and I high-fived each other, and then … hell. We hugged.

She said, “Oh, man.”

I said, “That goes for me, too.”

We were both traumatized by how close we’d come to dying in this place. I ripped off the wig and stocking cap and shook out my hair. Then, we followed the paramedics out the emergency exit, leaving the Golden Eagle’s dungeon behind. Forever.

The patrolmen opened the squad car doors for us, and then drove us to the Bellagio.

CHAPTER 97

YUKI NOTICED THAT, this morning, defense counsel was wearing a baby-blue shirt with his fine gray suit.

His five-o’clock shadow at 9:00 a.m. made him look vulnerable, sympathetic, as though he’d been up all night working out of concern for his innocent client.

Newt Gardner even sounded caring when he said, “Good morning, Inspector Conklin.”

Yuki found it a credible act, but an act it was.

Conklin was Gardner’s target. Conklin’s stated belief, under oath, was that Lucas Burke had lied about the time he had left San Francisco for Sacramento. Conklin had also testified that Lucas Burke was the shadow figure who’d slit Melissa Fogarty’s throat in the school parking lot.

Gardner couldn’t let Conklin’s testimony stand, and that worried Yuki. Conklin was strong, but he was facing Newt Gardner, who was determined to win.

“Inspector, Mr. Burke told you that he was at a resort with his ex-wife in Carmel at about eight o’clock on Friday, isn’t that right?”

“Yes.”

“Did Ms. Conroy corroborate that time?”

“Yes, we have his word and her corroboration. But I no longer believe that the timeline —”

“Thanks, you answered the question.”

Conklin said, “As I was saying, I no longer believe Mr. Burke’s stated timeline because the murder weapon puts Melissa Fogarty’s killing squarely on Mr. Burke.”

A juror gasped, then clapped her hand over her mouth. The judge gave the juror a hard gray-eyed stare, then said, “Mr. Gardner, please continue.”

“So to your mind, this murder weapon nullifies Mr. Burke’s stated whereabouts at eight o’clock the night of Ms. Fogarty’s murder.”

“I believe the evidence, sir.”

At that, Lucas Burke rose from his seat at the counsel table and bellowed, “I didn’t do it. I never killed anyone. It was my father. It had to be. My father is the most evil man that ever lived. He set me up!”

The judge pounded his gavel until the emotions in the room abated.

Yuki calculated that took at least three minutes. She held her breath as the judge asked Gardner if he had anything else for the witness.

Gardner said, “I reserve the right to question Inspector Conklin again after the prosecution introduces their so-called evidence.”

Yuki shot to her feet. “Objection to defense counsel’s characterization of the evidence. Move to strike.”

Judge John Passarelli sighed deeply. “Sustained. Mrs. Clemons,” she said to the court reporter, “Strike ‘so-called.’ Jurors will ignore that characterization, and now let’s move on. Yes, Mr. Gardner, you may recall this witness at a later time.”

Yuki understood