Part 5 (2/2)

Veil. Reginald Cook 62700K 2022-07-22

”Exactly what's the problem?” Thorne demanded.

”Don't get your panties in a bunch. I'm just the messenger,” Marilyn snapped.

Thorne walked forward, Marilyn didn't back down. Robert jockeyed between them and turned toward his partner. ”Thorne, wait for me outside.”

Thorne hesitated, then moved back. ”We don't need this Robert, and I won't take it. Not off her, or any of these other sorry a.s.s stuffed s.h.i.+rts.”

”I know,” he said. ”I know. Wait for me outside. I'll handle it.” Thorne pierced Marilyn with her eyes, and left the room.

Agent London seemed amused. ”Next time,” she mouthed in Thorne's direction.

”That was out of line, Agent London,” said Robert.

”She had it coming, and feel free to call me Marilyn. We're going to be working together so let's kill the formalities. At least when it's just the two of us.”

She walked over to Robert and stood chest to chest, a playful, inquisitive look on her face. ”Exactly who at the Justice Department is backing you?”

”That's cla.s.sified,” said Robert. ”Let's just say you'll probably never reach that high.”

”Oh you'd be surprised,” said Marilyn. ”You're not the only one who likes this pretty blonde a.s.s of mine.” Robert walked toward the door.

”Mr. Veil,” Marilyn called. ”If you can stop this guy, fine. If not, then you're wasting time and money.”

Robert turned. ”You can call me Robert, and we've never missed yet.

Furthermore, this is the sixth judge the Bear's killed and you haven't got a clue. So I think you can use all the help you can get.” Robert started out of the bedroom, then stopped. ”And next time you f.u.c.k with Thorne, I won't stop her. Trust me, it'll be the last person you f.u.c.k with for a long, long time.”

”Stop, you're making me all weepy and nervous.” Robert smiled and left the room. Lady, you have no idea.

Outside, Thorne leaned against her SUV, smiling. ”I wasn't going to kill the cow, just rough her up a bit.”

”Yeah right,” said Robert. ”Remember, I've seen you get rough.” Thorne laughed.

Robert surveyed the grounds once, making sure they didn't miss anything. ”So what'd you think?”

”He had it staked out ahead of time just like the others. Knew exactly when to strike and expected the judge to be alone. His wife bought it by accident.”

”That means he's definitely not choosing them at random,” said Robert. ”He has a plan and we don't have a clue. Let's get an updated list of judges and note any who've turned down protection. We better review your tape. Maybe there's something we've missed.” Robert's cell phone rang. He checked the caller ID but didn't recognize the number and ignored it. A few seconds later, it rang again, same number. This time he answered.

”Mr. Veil, this is the D.C. police department calling from the Crossroads Rescue Mission.”

”Yes?”

”It's about Patrick Miller. He's dead.”

7.

”Mommy, can we go to the movies, or the arcade or something?”

”No Jessica. We've already discussed it and the answer is still no.” Fiona Patrick felt bad confining her daughter to the yard. The weather finally s.h.i.+fted and the sun stayed out all day. Perfect, except for the federal agents watching her house.

”We suggest you and your daughter keep close to home, until the Bear is apprehended,” they told her.

In all her years as a lawyer, prosecutor, public defender, and now, federal judge, she'd never been frightened or worried, despite dealings with some of the worst murdering gutter-sc.u.m in the world. Drug dealers, bank robbers, child molesters, and gangsters stood before her bench, sometimes promising death, and she never once so much as flinched. However, she didn't have Jessica for most of those years, and her husband John stood by her. Now, with him gone, life demanded she handle things differently.

”Honey, why don't we go inside and play video games? How about a little Play Station?”

”No! I want to go out!” Jessica shouted, her bottom lip poking out.

”We haven't been anywhere for almost a week!”

”I know honey and I'm sorry. It won't be for much longer.” I hope.

”This is no way to treat an eight year old. I'm almost an adult.” Jessica stomped her foot like a horse counting out numbers at a carnival sideshow, arms folded defiantly across her chest.

”Well, I don't know about that, but tell you what. If you're good and change that att.i.tude, we'll go out to dinner later, maybe even the arcade or the movies. In fact, let's do it.”

Fiona kissed Jessica on the cheek. Normally she'd punish her for such an outrageous outburst, but she was a little stir crazy herself.

Getting out would give them both a break, and they were going no matter what the federal stiffs said. She didn't like living in fear.

Tonight we're going to have a normal night out, I don't care what the Secret Service says.

”Okay mom,” said Jessica, a look of great satisfaction on her face.

”Deal!” Jessica ran off into the yard, jumped on her bike, and sped away-her lips spitting motorcycle bursts.

”Be careful honey, it's still a little slippery out,” Fiona shouted.

Jessica disappeared without a word.

Several trucks filled with yard workers and equipment pulled through the gates. With spring finally peeking through, she thought it a good idea to have her flower gardens tilled. Just the therapy I need. I'll ask Fernando if we can plant the rose bush bulbs I flew in from South America.

The crew unloaded the truck. Fiona took a cleansing breath. She loved the therapy of working in the garden. She and John often worked in it together, and he loved it as much as she did, maybe more. She smiled, remembering the night Jessica was conceived there, and ached for John even more.

She watched two Secret Service agents, on loan to her from the White House, speak to Fernando, her head caretaker. The agents finished, and the Guatemalan landscaper made his way to her, all smiles and waves.

”Good afternoon Fernando,” she said, smiling and shaking his hand.

”I'm sorry about the inconvenience. I hope they won't be in your way.”

”No ma'am, don't be sorry. I read about the crazy man that's killing judges and I worry about you. Don't be sorry.”

”Thank you Fernando. Do you think it's too early to turn the soil and plant rose bulbs?”

<script>