Chapter 15

Eight men in Thailand- accessory, convicted

Three year old daughter

Elizabeth Hitchins

Franklin Winthrop – accessory

Kate Robbins – accessory

Mark Bayley

Connie Matson

Daniel Croydon – found not guilty

Ella Miyazaki

Zach Thaler

Larry Chapel

Bernard Freemont

Frank Goren

Katie read and re-read the list, and chills crept through her every time, especially when she read the last name. Uncle Frank. She'd known he was murdered, but she'd never been told the details. She'd never known it was related to her parents' work, or that this woman was behind it.

Her eyes scanned the list again. Twenty people. Her father suspected that Nicole was involved in or committed the murder of twenty people. Katie folded her arms and held her breath. Those were only the ones they were aware of. This woman was a horror.

Disgusted, Katie hastily gathered up her research and piled it in a corner of the floor. She got into bed and curled into a ball, with the covers tight around her neck. She thought of the old pictures she'd seen of Uncle Frank, pictures from when they were kids. Katie knew Frank had been an addict. She knew he wasn't perfect. She also knew her Daddy loved him, and would always love him. Because of that, she loved him, too. No wonder her parents were afraid for her.

No wonder her father was so easily consumed by the pursuit of Nicole Wallace.

Mike Logan navigated the halls of the homeless shelter on the heels of the director, Phin O'Neal. At the end of the hall, they found Andy, covered from head to toe with purple paint. The walls of the bare room were also purple.

"Lookin' good, son," Mike said cheerfully.

Phin smiled. "It does look good, Andy. Thank you."

Andy's smile was as wide as his face. "It's not done yet. When this dries, I'm gonna put a rainbow on that wall, you know, and some clouds."

The men smiled as they pictured it. "You ready?" Mike asked.

"Uh, can I have about ten more minutes, Dad? I just want to finish up the trim."

"Sure, kid," Mike said. Phin shook both of their hands and headed back down the hall to his office. Mike took up a paintbrush and helped Andy finish the job.

"The Tercel turned up in Yonkers."

"Oh?" Bobby asked, with interest.

"We've got it in impound now. Wanna come have a look? Off the clock, you know. I just thought you'd want to see it."

"Yeah, sure. Thanks, Lichter."

"No problem, Goren." She gave him the time to meet her at the impound lot.

Mike led the way down the street to the Mustang.

"What is this?" Andy asked, astonished. "Uncle Bobby's?!"

Mike shrugged. "We needed a car; he wasn't using it."

Andy was stunned. He waited while his Dad opened the trunk and dropped in the supplies he was taking home for the night. "Dad… can I drive?"

Mike paused, looked at the keys, then at his son.

Andy hung his head. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't even ask. After what happened, I don't blame you if you never let me drive again."

"Whoa, hold on a second," Mike said. "That wasn't your fault, Andy. She forced you off the road. As far as I can tell, you did everything right. You both wore seat belts, you left by 10 like we asked you to…" Mike clutched the keys, waited until Andy looked up, and tossed them to his son. "Now… don't you put a scratch on this car, or Goren will never forgive me."

Thrilled, Andy ran around to the driver's side while Mike walked to the opposite side and climbed in.

Goren gloved up and peered inside the open door of the white Tercel. It had been burned, and there wasn't much chance of finding any useful evidence, but he was compelled to look, anyway.

He visually inspected the car first, then he squeezed into the seat and felt along the console, the ceiling, the glove box. He asked one of the technicians to pry the glove box open, and was pleased to find the contents relatively intact. Bobby removed the stack of papers and went through them slowly. He handed the car's registration to Lichter. "Anna Drake," he mumbled, committing the name to memory.

Katie sat in her English class, absently doodling in the margin of her notebook. The professor was droning on about responses to essays and expectations for the upcoming assignment. Katie was thinking of her father.

She'd read all the transcripts now, several times. She had been entirely focused on Wallace, on figuring her out, but now she found she was sidetracked, figuring her Daddy out.

He'd told Nicole he believed there was good in her. He attributed feelings to her that she either didn't have or didn't understand enough to act on in an appropriate way. It was personification, really. Nicole was no more capable of an honest emotion than her Daddy's mustang. Why would he do that?

On the other hand, he knew she was evil incarnate. He spoke openly to Wallace about the "unrelenting pursuit of evil." Nicole tried to put Bobby on the same plane as she, and he had stated with conviction that he was nothing like her.

Yet, he was like her. Katie's study of Nicole Wallace had convinced her of the woman's intelligence. The transcripts of the interrogations had convinced her that Wallace was just as accomplished in examination and cross-examination as her father. She was clever, carefully planning out her crimes, and even her own death. Of twenty victims, she had only served time in Thailand as an accessory to the murder of eight tourists. Her parents had arrested Nicole once and sent her to trial, but she'd been found not guilty thanks to a slick lawyer paid for with her husband's money. So for the murder of 12 other people, Nicole had been clean enough to get away.

Again, Katie reminded herself that those twenty victims were most likely only the tip of the iceberg. God Himself was the only one who knew, besides Nicole, how many deaths she was responsible for. And Bobby hadn't been able to catch her, not even for the murder of his own brother.

Bobby Goren despised this woman for the hateful things she'd done, but he admired her cleverness and her intelligence. In spite of the woman she had grown to become, he empathized with the abused child she had been.

Her father's empathy was honest, and that was the thing that truly encouraged Nicole's craving for him. Katie sighed. That was the thing that kept him so tangled up in her web.

Bobby was cooking dinner when his phone rang. He checked the display before answering. "Hey."

"What are you up to?"

"I, uh, I thought I'd make us some dinner."

She smiled, pleased to hear he wasn't obsessing about Nicole. "Good," Alex said, then frowned. "Only I'm not going to make it home on time. I'm sorry, Bobby. We've got a case that's down to the wire, here."

"Oh, you know, no sweat. It's fine. I'll just, you know, put it up for you for later."

"I love you."

He smiled. "I know. I'll see you later, Eames."

"Bye, Bobby."

He ended the call, set the phone down on the table, and sighed. Looking over the meal, he started turning off the burners. He dished out enough for himself and then sat down to eat while the rest of the food cooled.

When the phone rang, flashing its "UNAVAILABLE" caller ID, he stared at it, motionless. After the third ring, he snatched it up in his hand. "Goren," he barked.

"I called you this morning. Did she tell you?"

"Yes."

"She is quite insecure, you know. How often do you show her you love her? Or perhaps… things are slowing down with your advancing age."

"No, Nicole, things are still pretty peppy around here. How about you? Did you and Anna Drake, you know, have a romp first, or did you just kill her and steal her car?"

"Now your insecurities are showing, Bobby. Rather than a thoughtful response to my question, you become judgmental and accusatory. I haven't killed anyone."

"I'm sure my brother would disagree."

She feigned sympathy. "I heard about your brother, Bobby. I heard he killed himself."

"Frank… Frank hated needles, Nicole. You injected him and shoved him out the window. Y-you get sloppy sometimes, Nicole. Don't do enough… research. He was my… brother. Did you think I didn't know him?"

"You feel guilty that he died while you were estranged."

"At least I'm capable of remorse." He heard her breathing on the other end of the line, but his words had scored a hit.

"You've changed, Bobby," she said sadly, and hung up the phone.