21st Birthday by James Patterson (e book reader android .TXT) 📕

“Lucas Burke said something.”

“Right. Right. Then he says with his lawyer’s encouragement, ‘I think my father killed my mom and sister and maybe others. I think my father is a serial killer and I think he killed Lorrie and Tara.’”

“His father?” said Joe. “Burke says his father killed his wife and daughter?”

“That’s what he said. His own wife and daughter and Burke’s, yes.” I let him in on the day’s work. Evan Burke had an old boat license and no known address; I had a verified police report that Evan Burke’s wife and daughter had in fact disappeared and been investigated as a homicide.

“It’s a cold case now.”

Joe said, “So I’d look for patterns of several women disappearing in various places. See if Evan Burke lived in the vicinity.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure. Might be able to find something like that if we had a computer wiz on staff or three of them who could just hunt for that.”

We were both silent for several minutes, watching the kids, having thoughts of serial murder.

Then Joe said, “I have a thought. Did I ever mention a guy named Berney?”

“Don’t think so. Who is he?”

“He was with the FBI, DC office, back in the day. We used to think of him as a magician of the dark side. He had contacts, informants, a network here and overseas. And a special kind of mind for detail. I think I still have his number.”

Joe pulled his phone out of his jacket, swiped a few buttons, and a few seconds later, his call was answered.

The two did some catching up. Where are you? What are you doing? How long has it been? Then Joe said, “Berney, here’s why I called. You remember my wife, Lindsay, an SFPD Homicide sergeant? She’s working on a case that resembles a black hole.”

I didn’t have my ear to the phone, but from what Joe said, I got the impression that Berney’s network remained intact. He knew of the Burke-related killings. He also knew that Lucas Burke was on the hook for them.

Joe said, “Could you run a check on the father? Name’s Evan Burke. And before you ask, I don’t have a location beyond our general vicinity.”

Joe listened. Berney was doing the talking, punctuated by Joe saying, “Okay, I understand,” “Got it,” and finally, “Well thanks. I’ll tell her. You, too.”

Joe disconnected the line.

“Berney knows who they are. He said words to the effect that this is a dangerous situation—for you. I can’t swear but I think Burke and son might be an active case with the FBI. Or, maybe Berney has been aware of them for a while on an earlier crime. Lucas Burke’s mother and sister, say. Either way, Lindsay, be very careful when you’re around Lucas, and if you find Evan, that goes for him, too. Berney will call me if he gets anything solid.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s a lot.”

With her usual impeccable timing, Julie ran toward us and climbed over Martha and into my lap.

“Home now,” she said.

“Home, now, pleassssse.”

She laughed at me. So did Joe.

Fine. We gathered our belongings, including Martha’s leash, and making a family chain with our held hands, walked slowly home.

PART TWO

Chapter 56

When Yuki’s eyes opened Monday morning, the sky was black outside her window.

She checked her sleep tracker, and by that slight green glow she learned that it was just after four. No, no, no. Too early. Her head was swimming with thoughts and images, and the sound of Lucas Burke’s pathetic voice. She thought about the autopsy pictures Claire had shown her of Tara Burke, and before that, the heartbreaking images of Lorrie. She pictured Newton Gardner, Burke’s showboat attorney. Yuki knew that if anyone could get Burke off, it was Gardner.

She fluffed up her pillow and closed her eyes, tried counting backward by sevens, but it was hopeless. Ninety-three, eighty-six, and then she was flashing on Gardner’s TV appearances and recalling a time she’d watched him in court. She’d both despised and learned from his attack-dog methods and his ability to captivate juries. They loved him. During recesses, he’d go out to the hallway outside the courtroom and manage the press. They loved him, too.

Gardner would turn this Burke case into a billboard for himself.

Yuki lay quietly under the bedcovers, thinking, dozing off, thinking some more, listening to her husband breathing beside her, dozing again.

Next thing she knew, Brady was standing next to the bed, towel around his waist, saying, “Your turn, darlin’.”

“Okay. Can you make the coffee?”

She got out of bed, showered, washed her hair, blew it out, twisted the blond streak around her finger. All the while, she was organizing her thoughts, wondering if things would go much better for her if she just ignored Newt Gardner. Yeah, yeah, he’d hate that.

Besides, this was arraignment court. Guilty or not guilty, how do you plead? And she thought about the judge, Vivian Kahn, a no-nonsense litigator, originally from LA, appointed to the bench in San Francisco three years ago. Yuki thought Kahn was the perfect judge for the job. She had personality. She could be acerbic, but she also had a sense of the absurd. And if Burke told the judge that his father did it, Yuki thought there was no way Kahn would take it seriously.

But there was no way to know until she was standing before her, presenting the charges against Burke.

Yuki slipped on her robe, checked the time. Only seven fifteen. She would have time to get to the office, meet with Red Dog, check her mail, and obsess a little more. Yuki found Brady in the kitchen dumping the dregs of his coffee into the sink.

“A little high-test goes a long way,” he said. He scrutinized her expression and said, “You’ve got this in the bag, darlin’. I’ll try and git there to see you running over the defense counsel.”

“Yeah. You always say that.”

“Let me put it this way, then. I’ll do my best. But I can already see it. You’re gonna leave the courtroom glowin’.