The Judge’s List
- Автор: Гришэм Джон
- Серия: Lacy Stoltz #2
- Год: 2021
- Язык: английский
- Год: Doubleday/Random House
- ISBN: 978-0-385-54602-7
- Жанр: Триллеры
Электронная книга - «The Judge’s List». Краткое содержание книги:
Then she meets a mysterious woman who is so frightened she uses a number of aliases. Jeri Crosby’s father was murdered twenty years earlier in a case that remains unsolved and that has grown stone cold. But Jeri has a suspect whom she has become obsessed with and has stalked for two decades. Along the way, she has discovered other victims.
Suspicions are easy enough, but proof seems impossible. The man is brilliant, patient, and always one step ahead of law enforcement. He is the most cunning of all serial killers. He knows forensics, police procedure, and most important: he knows the law.
He is a judge, in Florida — under Lacy’s jurisdiction.
He has a list, with the names of his victims and targets, all unsuspecting people unlucky enough to have crossed his path and wronged him in some way. How can Lacy pursue him, without becoming the next name on his list?
The Judge’s List is by any measure John Grisham’s most surprising, chilling novel yet.
“Got a question,” she said as she sipped iced tea. Gunther had toyed with the idea of a cold beer, even said he had never eaten oysters without one, but he was, after all, flying an airplane.
“Anything.”
“I just got a call that sort of changes my plans. There’s a town called Crestview about an hour east of Pensacola, population twenty thousand. I need to meet an important witness there at nine tonight. Would it be possible to land there and rent a car?”
“Probably. Any town of that size will have an airport. What’s going on?”
“It’s big.” She glanced around. They were on a deck at the edge of the water and the other tables were empty. It was almost 5:00 p.m., on a Saturday, too late for lunch and too early for dinner. The bar was crowded with locals drinking beer.
“Last time I mentioned that we’re investigating a judge who might be involved in a murder.”
“Sure. Not one of your run-of-the-mill cases.”
“Hardly. Well, the call came from our star witness and she says she has some important information. I need to see her.”
“In Crestview?”
“Yes. It’s on the way home. Could we stop there?”
“I guess I’m not going back to Atlanta tonight.”
“Please. It would be a big favor, plus I’d like to have someone with me.”
Gunther pulled out his smartphone and went online. “No problem. They say they have rentals. This could be dangerous?”
“I doubt it. But a little caution might be in order.”
“I love it.”
“And this is strictly confidential, Gunther.”
He laughed and looked around. “And who might I tell?”
“Just keep it between us.”
He stood in the dark room beside her bed and listened to her heavy breathing. His instincts told him to take the rope dangling from his left hand and finish her off. It would be the easiest one of all. He could do it quickly, effortlessly, then wipe down the cabin and drive away. It would be days before she was found.
On the one hand, he hated her for what she had done to him. She had brought down his world and his life would never be the same. She and she alone had stalked him, tracked him, and now his game was over. But on the other hand, he couldn’t help but admire her pluck, brains, and doggedness. This woman had done better work than a hundred cops in several states, and now he was on the run.
He tossed the rope onto the bed, took a microfiber cloth wet with ether, and held it onto her face. As she jerked, he clasped one arm around her neck and held the cloth as tightly as possible with his hand. She fought and kicked but was no match. A minute passed and she began to go limp. When she was still, he released his grip and put away the cloth. Slowly, methodically, he took a hypodermic needle and poked it into her arm. Five hundred milligrams of ketamine, enough to keep her out several hours. He toyed with the idea of another dose, but it was risky. Too much and she might never wake up. If he had to kill her, he preferred doing it the proper way.
He walked into the other room, tossed some more files onto the fire, picked up the handcuffs and ankle chains, and took them to the bed where he pinned her wrists tightly behind her back and locked the cuffs. He secured her ankles with the chains, and for fun wrapped the nylon rope lightly around her neck. As always, he was wearing plastic gloves, but for good measure he wiped down the surfaces anyway. He checked the windows, again, and could not open them. It was an old cabin, and in bad repair, and the windows had been locked by dried paint and disuse. He burned the last of the files, and when he was certain the fire was safe he locked the cabin’s only door, stepped onto the porch, and checked his watch. 7:10. He was about an hour north of Crestview, near Gantt Lake, in Alabama.
The dirt trail wound through the woods with only an occasional glimpse of the lake. It passed a drive here and there but the other cabins were not visible. He turned onto a gravel road and waved at two scruffy teenagers on ATVs. They stopped to watch him go by.
He preferred not to be seen by anyone and debated returning to the cabin, just to make sure the kids were not curious. He let it pass, called it paranoia. The gravel eventually yielded to a paved county road and he was soon on a state highway, headed south.
39
It was dark when Lacy spotted the white Camry in the motel’s lot. As instructed by Jeri, she parked her rental next to it and got out. Gunther did not.
She entered the lobby a few minutes early and loitered in the gift shop looking at postcards for sale. At 9:01, Gunther entered from a side door and said hello to the receptionist. Lacy took the elevator to the second floor. Gunther took the stairs. The hallway was short, about ten rooms on each side, and a red exit sign glowed at the far end. She stopped at the door to room 232 and took a deep breath. She knocked three times, and at that moment all the lights went out.
Across the hall, Bannick used his laptop to turn off the lights and security cameras. He tossed it on the bed, grabbed a cloth with ether, and opened his door. Lacy heard him and turned around just as he lunged for her in the darkness. She managed to yell, “Hey!” before her brother charged from nowhere in the pitch blackness and bulled over them. All three fell into a pile. Lacy screamed and scrambled to her feet while Bannick flailed away at his attacker. He landed a kick somewhere near his ribs and Gunther grunted. Both men punched and grappled violently at each other as Lacy ran to the end of the hall, screaming. Someone opened a door and yelled, “Hey, what’s going on!”
“Call the police!” Lacy said.
Bannick landed a kick in the face and Gunther was stunned. He crawled away, grabbing at anything, finding nothing. Bannick ducked into his room, got his laptop, and disappeared toward the exit.
Lacy and Gunther found the stairs and hustled down one flight to the dark lobby. The receptionist had a flashlight and was saying to some guests, “I don’t know, I don’t know. Same thing happened last night.”
“Call the police,” Lacy said. “We were attacked on the second floor.”
“Who attacked you?”
That’s a long story, Lacy thought, but said, “Hell if I know. Hurry, he’s getting away.” More flashlights appeared from behind the desk as more guests stumbled down in the dark.
Gunther found a chair and took a seat to nurse his wounds. “Son of a bitch can kick like a mule,” he said, still dazed. “I think my ribs are broken.” Lacy sat next to him as things settled down and they waited for the police. She said, “I have to call Jeri. I think she’s in trouble.”
“Who’s Jeri?”
“Betty Roe. Our girl. The source. I’ll explain later.”
Jeri did not answer her phone, which was not at all unusual. Lacy scrolled through her recent calls and punched the number for Clay Vidovich. He answered after the second ring and she told him where she was, what had happened, and said she was certain they had been set up by Ross Bannick. She could not positively identify him but everything added up. He was in the process of fleeing the area. No, she did not see what he was driving. Vidovich was having dinner with his team in downtown Pensacola, an hour away. He would notify the Florida state police and get the authorities in Mobile to check on Jeri. Lacy was certain they would not find her there. Vidovich was headed her way and told Lacy to inform the motel not to touch the two rooms.
Moments later, the local police arrived with blue lights flashing. They found the lobby in chaos as guests milled about in the semidarkness. The motel’s lighting smart panel and security grid had been hacked and no one on the skeletal staff knew what to do. Lacy explained as much as she could and gave a general description of Bannick. No, she had no idea what he was driving. They, too, called the state police, but with no description of the vehicle they were not sure where to begin.