Gallagher Justice

He didn’t press the point further. “So you haven’t seen or talked to Alicia since before Christmas.”

“No.”

“Tell me about the message you got from her last week.”

Fiona closed her eyes briefly. “I was in court when she called, and by the time I got her message, I was swamped with meetings and interviews. I completely forgot about it.”

“She called on your cell phone?”

Fiona nodded. “I gave them my cell phone number because I’m hardly ever at home.”

“What was the message?”

Fiona frowned, trying to recall Alicia’s exact words. “She identified herself and then she asked me to call her back. She said she needed to talk to me.”

“Did she sound frightened? Anxious?”

“I don’t remember noticing anything out of the ordinary about her tone or the message. I assumed she wanted to set up another dinner before she and Lexi went home for the summer break. I intended to call her back in a day or two when my schedule lightened up.”

“But you never did.”

“No.”

Behind her, Fiona heard the rasp of the zipper closing on the body bag, but she didn’t turn. She didn’t want to look. Didn’t want to see that face, so rigid and silent but still so beautiful in death.

“I have to call Lori,” she murmured. But it was a call Fiona dreaded making more than anything in the world.

“Don’t make that call just yet,” Doggett said.

Fiona glanced at him. “She has a right to know what’s happened to her daughter.”

“The mother may be a personal friend of yours, but this is still a homicide investigation,” he said gruffly. “And you know as well as I do that first impressions on hearing this kind of news are important. I’d appreciate you letting me get in touch with the parents when I feel the time is right.”

Fiona frowned. “And when will that time be, detective?”

“You let me worry about that.”

“What about Lexi? Someone has to tell her, and I don’t think she should hear something like this from a complete stranger.”

But Doggett was no longer listening to her. He was staring over her shoulder, scowling deeply. Fiona turned to see what had drawn his attention.

She sucked in a sharp breath. Frank Quinlan had just arrived with a couple of uniformed minions in tow. He stepped under the crime scene tape and bulldozed his way through the alley. Those not in his immediate orbit scurried for cover.

Quinlan was a stockily built man with close-set eyes and a hawkish nose that gave him a mean, predatory look he’d perfected to his advantage over the years. He was intimidating, arrogant, and had so many connections in the department, knew so much dirt on city officials, that even his superiors were afraid of him.

Fiona consciously straightened her posture because she knew that in a one-on-one confrontation with Quinlan, her height was her advantage. Men like Quinlan couldn’t stand tall women.

He strode past her to Doggett and stabbed a finger in her direction. “What the hell is she doing here?”

That was like him, not to speak to her directly, Fiona thought. Jerk. She pitied the women under his command.

“Commander, this is Fiona Gallagher. She’s an ASA—”

Quinlan cut off Doggett’s introduction with an obscenity. “I know who she is, Doggett. I asked what she’s doing here.”

“Deputy Chief Fox asked for an ASA on the scene to advise.” Fiona was pleased that her voice sounded smooth and professional, as if his little tirade didn’t bother her at all.

He whirled. “Let me give you a piece of advice, Gallagher. Stay the hell out of our way. You interfere with this investigation, you’ll have me to answer to.”

“And if you screw up my case, you’ll have me to answer to,” she shot back. “I expect to be notified the moment you have a suspect in custody. I want to be present for the interrogation.”

Her insinuation was crystal clear, and if there had been sufficient light where they stood, Fiona was certain she would have witnessed Quinlan’s face turn a dark, livid purple. As it was, his rage rendered him incapable of speech for a moment before he sputtered another obscenity, then turned on his heel and stalked off.

Milo materialized beside Fiona. She hadn’t even known he was around, but he must have heard the sordid little showdown, because he muttered, “Asshole,” in a low voice, then said anxiously, “Are you okay?”

She shrugged. “Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Doggett said behind her, “What the hell was that all about?”

She turned. “Let’s just say, I’m not one of Commander Quinlan’s favorite people.”

“Yeah, I got that,” he said dryly. “You want to clue me in on what’s going on?”

Before Fiona could answer, Milo said, “You ever hear of the Fullerton Five, detective?”

“You mean those guys who killed that little girl a few years back?” Doggett’s expression subtly altered. “Wait a minute.” He glanced at Fiona. “Gallagher. That’s why I know you. You’re the prosecutor who went after Quinlan when one of those guys brought a lawsuit against the department. No wonder he’s pissed at you.”

“I didn’t go after him,” Fiona argued. “Allegations were brought against him and some of the detectives under his command that I believed to be credible. I cooperated with the IAD investigation because I wanted to get at the truth.”

“He was cleared by Internal Affairs and by the Office of Professional Standards,” Doggett said. “You still believe he coerced those confessions?”

Fiona shrugged. “I know I can’t prove it. But I learned a long time ago that this is a town built on clout and cronyism. I’ve had to accept that justice is sometimes hard to come by.”

“Yeah,” Doggett said with a frown. “I guess that’s a lesson we’ve all had to learn.” He glanced back down at the body bag, then turned on his heel and disappeared into the darkness.

* * *

FIONA STARED OUT THE CAR window as Milo drove her home a little while later. They were just coming back from Lexi and Alicia’s apartment on the north side of the city, near the university. Doggett had agreed to let Fiona be present when he broke the news to Alicia’s sister, but when they arrived at her apartment, no one was home.

Which was very odd and troubling to Fiona. Where could an eighteen-year-old girl be at four o’clock on a Tuesday morning? Any number of places, of course, but with her sister lying dead in an alley—

She’s okay, Fiona told herself. Wherever Lexi was, she was fine. They couldn’t both be gone. Fate wouldn’t be that cruel to Lori, but Fiona knew all too well that it could be. She’d seen enough heartbreaking cases in her years as first a defense attorney and now as an ASA to know that fate had nothing to do with fairness.

“Fiona? Did you hear what I said?”

Milo’s voice drew her out of her deep reverie. She turned from the window. “Sorry. What?”

“I was asking you about the other twin. Is she—” He broke off, looking sheepish. “I don’t want to sound insensitive here.”

“But you want to know if Alicia’s twin is as beautiful as she was.” Fiona sighed. “Even more so, if you can believe it.”

Milo shot her an incredulous glance. “You’re kidding, right?”

“I’m not kidding. You should see her. Lexi is...” Fiona trailed off. “I don’t know how to explain it exactly. She has this quality about her. Men are...drawn to her.”

“Like she’s always in heat,” Milo said under his breath.

“What?”

He shrugged. “Nothing. I was just projecting, I guess.”

“But you nailed it perfectly,” Fiona said with a frown. “That’s exactly how men look at Lexi.”

Milo was silent for a moment. “Were they models or something? I’ll have to take your word about Lexi, but let’s face it. Alicia was drop-dead gorgeous.”

Fiona winced at the description. “They had offers to model, but their mother tried to shield them from all that.”

“Shield them how?”

By asking me to look out for them, Fiona thought. But for crying out loud, who was she to supervise teenagers? She’d fallen in love with a killer. Hardly a role model most mothers would welcome, but Fiona and Lori went way back.

She could still remember that day after school when Lori had confided in her that she was pregnant. Fiona had been stunned. She wasn’t even allowed to date, and her best friend was pregnant!

Tearfully Lori had explained how she’d met this guy at the mall. He was older, more experienced, and claimed he was in love with her. Fiona could believe that. Even so young, Lori was a blond, blue-eyed stunner, the kind of girl that men couldn’t take their eyes off.

The two of them had started meeting after school and on weekends. Not for real dates, of course. Lori wasn’t allowed to date, either. She’d tell her mother she was going to Fiona’s house, and then she’d meet up with this guy. They’d have a soda together. Go to the movies. All very innocent at first, then things got out of hand.

He dumped her when he found out she was pregnant. Lori was devastated.

“You have to tell your parents, Lori. What else can you do?” Although secretly Fiona thought that the last thing she would ever do was tell her parents something like that. She’d rather die first because her father would kill her anyway, and her brothers.... She shuddered. She didn’t even want to think about what her brothers would do.

But somehow Lori had managed to work up the courage to go home and tell her parents everything. She certainly wasn’t the first girl in their neighborhood to find herself in that predicament, and this was the enlightened eighties after all. But her father had still been so angry that he’d sent her to Detroit to live with his sister while arrangements were made to put both babies up for adoption.

When they were born, however, Lori couldn’t go through with it. She kept the babies and stayed with her aunt until her father finally relented and came for her.

The moment Wayne Mercer laid eyes on the twins, it was love at first sight. He and Lori’s mother doted on the girls, and did everything in their power to help Lori get her life back on track. She graduated with honors from both high school and college, and, like Fiona, was near the top of her class in law school. The two of them had even been associates at the same law firm in the Loop, but then Lori had met Paul Guest, a Houston attorney, and was swept off her feet. They were married two months later, and he took Lori and the twins back to Texas with him.

For a couple of years after the move, Lori and Fiona kept in touch with phone calls and letters, but the calls eventually stopped, and gradually, the correspondence dwindled to only Christmas cards.

Then last summer, Lori called Fiona out of the blue. “I need to ask a big favor of you,” she said, after the two had spent a few minutes catching up. “The twins will be starting college in the fall.”

“That’s impossible,” Fiona insisted. “They were in kindergarten just last week.”

“They were already out of kindergarten by the time we started law school, Fiona.”

She groaned. “Stop. You’re making me feel ancient.”

“Now you know how I feel every day.” Lori laughed, but there was some tension in her voice. “Oh, Fiona, you should see them. They’re all grown up and so smart. And so beautiful! I know every mother thinks that about her children, but Alicia and Lexi are special. You wouldn’t believe all the modeling offers they’ve had. But Paul and I have tried to shelter them from all the attention because we don’t want them to get caught up in something they can’t handle.”

Fiona wondered if Lori was thinking about her own trouble as a teenager.

“We always planned on the girls going to school here in Houston,” she continued. “Paul wanted them to go to Rice. It’s a wonderful school, and his father is one of the trustees. And, of course, the best part is that they would be close enough for us to keep an eye on them.”

“I take it the girls have other ideas,” Fiona murmured. She could sympathize with Alicia and Lexi. Growing up with a father and three brothers who were all cops, Fiona had felt pretty smothered herself at times.

Lori sighed. “Evidently they talked to a recruiter from Hillsboro University, and now that’s where they want to go. They’re bound and determined, especially Lexi. Alicia, I think, would still like to go to Rice, but she’d never let her sister go off to Chicago alone. They have that twin thing, Fiona. Where one goes, the other goes. When one is upset, the other is upset. If one gets hurt, well, you get the idea. They’re so attuned to one another, it’s almost scary.”

Fiona frowned, still uncertain where she fit into the equation. “Hillsboro is an excellent school, Lori. My sister-in-law is head of the forensics anthropology lab there.”

“I know it’s a great school, but it’s so far away. And now that my parents are dead, I don’t have any family left in Chicago. No one to look after the girls.” Lori paused and took a deep breath. “That’s why I’m calling you, Fiona. Would it be a terrible imposition if I gave them your phone number? It would make me feel so much better to know there’s someone in the city they could call if they needed to.”

“I don’t mind at all,” Fiona said impulsively. “In fact, I insist. Tell you what, when are you coming up to help them settle in?”

“Next week.”

“Let’s all have dinner together so the girls can meet me. Maybe then they’ll feel less awkward about calling.”

“I’d love that. Oh, Fiona. I can’t tell you what this means to me.” Lori sounded so relieved that Fiona felt a little guilty. She’d readily agreed to the arrangement because it was an easy thing to do. She didn’t think, for one second, that two gorgeous teenage girls, on their own for the first time, would really feel the need to call on a complete stranger.

She didn’t say as much to Lori, however, and the following week, they met for dinner at a restaurant on Michigan Avenue. Lori and Fiona had arranged to arrive early so they could have a chance to chat before the girls joined them. They were exchanging stories about some of their more interesting cases when Lori suddenly touched Fiona’s hand. “There’s Alicia. She just came in.”

Lori’s whole face was suddenly aglow. For one split second, Fiona almost resented the adulation that radiated from her friend’s eyes. Motherhood couldn’t be that grand, could it? Fiona wasn’t missing out on something that spectacular, was she?

Then she turned. And for several long seconds, she could do nothing but stare at the girl making her way through the crowded tables toward them.

She was, without a doubt, one of the most beautiful young women Fiona had ever laid eyes on. “Oh, my God,” she blurted. “No wonder you didn’t want to let them out of your sight.”

Lori’s smile turned wistful. “She is lovely, isn’t she?”

Lovely was an understatement. In spite of the sedate way she dressed, Alicia Mercer turned heads as she walked through the crowded restaurant. But when she sat down at the table, she seemed oblivious to the stares and admiration. Fiona was instantly charmed. The girl was as modest and unassuming as she was gorgeous. She was almost too good to be true.

And then her sister walked in.

Lexi Mercer was tall like Alicia, with the same pale blond hair and blue eyes, but there was nothing understated about her appearance. She had on low-rider jeans and a cropped shirt that showed off a very flat, tanned stomach and a belly button ring that sparkled in the lighting.

If admiring eyes had noticed Alicia, men literally drooled over Lexi. It was more than just her physical beauty. She had a kind of magnetism that would make even the most principled man have some very dark thoughts.

Fiona tore her gaze away long enough to glance at Alicia. She was staring at her sister, too, and there was something in her eyes. Not jealousy. Not envy. Not even resentment, but...something.

It made Fiona wonder instantly what it must have been like, growing up in Lexi’s shadow. In any other family, Alicia would have been the golden child, and even now, she would still be the most desirable woman in any room—until her sister arrived.

And Lori? What had it been like raising such a child? Lori was still a young, beautiful woman in her own right, but in her daughter’s presence—

Let’s face it, Fiona thought grimly. With Lexi Mercer around, we all look like hags.

But in spite of any latent rivalry, it was obvious the three women were close and had such a wonderful relationship that Fiona again felt twinges of jealousy. It was at that moment that she suddenly became aware of the ominous ticking of her own biological clock.

After that day, Fiona didn’t see the girls again until just before Christmas, when Alicia called to set up a dinner. Fiona had been so pleasantly surprised at how much she enjoyed the girls’ company that she’d honestly meant to keep in touch. But work became extremely hectic. Cases piled up. Every once in a while, if she thought about the Mercer twins, Fiona would promise herself she’d call them when she had a spare moment, just to say hello.

But that spare moment never came. Not even to return Alicia’s call last week.

And now it was too late.

Soon, it would be Lori who received a phone call, one that would turn her perfect little world into a nightmare.

CHAPTER FIVE

“WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO WALK up with you?” Milo asked as he pulled to the curb in front of Fiona’s building. In spite of the earlier tension between them, he’d been very solicitous since they’d left Lexi’s apartment, and Fiona appreciated his effort to return their relationship to normal. The last thing either of them needed was a strained working environment.

She gave him a tired smile. “No, thanks. I still need to do some work on the DeMarco case. We’re due in court in...exactly...” She glanced at her watch and groaned. “Four and a half hours. What about you? Are you ready?”

“I will be.” He frowned suddenly. “Tell me the truth, Fiona. Do you think we have even an outside shot at a conviction?”

“I don’t know. It’s always hard to predict what a jury will do in a he said-she said case like this. With no forensic evidence, it’ll be a hard sale to the jury.”

“How could there not be one single piece of evidence against that bastard?” Milo muttered. “I get that he wore a condom, but no hair, no fibers, no DNA beneath her fingernails? What the hell did he do, scrub her down afterward?”

“You know what happened,” Fiona said. “Same thing that happens in too many of these cases. She went home and showered.” Although in Kimbra’s case, she’d gone to a runaway shelter. She’d gotten rid of her clothes, too, because she’d never planned to report the rape at all. But Rachel Torres, a woman who ran the runaway shelter, saw the bruises and forced the truth from Kimbra. She was the one who took her to the emergency room, but by then a rape kit was almost useless. Whatever evidence there might have been to help put DeMarco away had been washed down the drain.

“I watched the jury yesterday when DeMarco took the stand,” Fiona said. “He scored some serious points.” And nothing she’d been able to do during cross-examination had rattled him. If she didn’t know better, she would have sworn the man was on something. How could anyone remain that calm when she’d gone straight for the jugular?

Milo nodded morosely. “I thought so, too. And Kimbra’s testimony was shaky, at best.”

That was another thing that made this case so difficult. The accused wasn’t just any cop. DeMarco was a decorated veteran of the Chicago Police Department and a war hero from Desert Storm. Good-looking, well-educated, the kind of defendant that was easy to root for because people wanted to believe he was exactly what he seemed to be—one of the good guys.

Kimbra, on the other hand, was a troubled young girl who’d lived on the streets for years. Moody, defiant, and tough as nails, she’d been a difficult and reluctant witness from the start, the kind that sometimes made Fiona wonder if the aggravation was worth it.

She sighed wearily. “Since we didn’t get any help from Kimbra, it’s imperative we make up ground in the closing argument. We’ll both have to be at the top of our game, Milo.”

“Oh, no pressure there,” he grumbled as he got out of the car and came around to open her door. When she stepped out, he said awkwardly, “Look, Fiona, that business about Guy—”

She cut him off. “Let’s just forget it, okay? I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

“I understand.” He ran a hand through his hair, messing his gel job. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything. About the gossip, I mean. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable at the office.”

She shrugged. “I hate gossip, but maybe it’s best that you did bring it to my attention. It’s always a good idea to know what people are saying about you behind your back. But just for the record? I’m not involved with Guy Hardison. On any level. I want you to know that. I want you to believe that.”

“Maybe you’re not involved, but—”

“Milo.” Her tone held a warning note. “There is nothing going on between Guy Hardison and me. Period.”

He nodded. “Okay. I get the message. Case closed. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

They said their good-nights, and then Fiona ran up the front steps and inserted her key into the lock. She couldn’t wait to be inside her own apartment, to lock the door behind her and close herself off from the rest of the world, if only for the next few hours.

Resolving herself to the work she’d left earlier, she went into her tiny kitchen to brew a fresh pot of coffee. But instead, she climbed up on the counter and reached into the far corner of a top cabinet to retrieve the bottle of scotch she’d stashed several months ago when she’d quit drinking.

She stared at the bottle for a moment, then got out a glass and poured herself a drink. Her grandmother’s voice seemed to echo through the silent apartment. “You drink alone, you’re apt to die alone, Fiona Colleen.”

“Sorry, Gran,” she muttered. But dying alone was pretty much a foregone conclusion for her anyway.

Fiona downed the whiskey sitting on the edge of the counter, then poured herself another. The liquor seared a comforting path all the way to her stomach, and she closed her eyes, letting the familiar numbness take hold.

Hopping off the counter, she carried the bottle and the glass into the other room and dropped into a chair at the dining table. Sipping her drink, she read over the notes she’d made earlier.

One out of three women in this country will be sexually assaulted in her lifetime. One out of every three.

She finished her drink, then began to write.

It could happen to me, it could happen to you, it could happen to anyone at any time.

She stared at the words and frowned. Had Alicia been sexually assaulted? Was that the reason she’d been murdered?

They would have to wait for the autopsy to find out, and even then the results, except in the more brutal cases, could be ambiguous.

However, the way she’d been murdered, one shot to the back of the head, suggested—as Guy had said earlier—an execution-style hit. Very deliberate, premeditated, someone wanting to shut her up. But why? What could an eighteen-year-old girl who’d lived a very sheltered and protected existence know that would make someone want to kill her? What might she have seen? Who might she have seen?

And where the hell was Lexi?

The questions swirled inside Fiona’s brain, and she rubbed her temples, trying to shut them out so that she could concentrate on her work. She poured herself another drink and scribbled:

Think of three women in your own life. Your mother, your daughter, your sister...

As she stared at what she’d written, Lori Guest’s words suddenly came back to her.

“They have that twin thing, Fiona. Where one goes, the other goes. When one is upset, the other is upset. If one gets hurt, well, you get the idea. They’re so attuned to one another, it’s almost scary.”