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

I’d been haunted by questions since I’d come into contact with his father.

I’d had low expectations that he would confess to killing his wife and child, the girl he said he loved, but after meeting with him alone, hearing his voice, feeling his depression at losing everyone, I was surer than ever that he hadn’t done it.

True to Berney’s word, the FBI had made known its claim on the Evan Burke case. DA Masci was fully up to speed on the names of his family members both alive and dead, and that Burke had been on the agency’s most wanted list. Which was why Burke had changed his name, his address, and his face. But he couldn’t change the charges now stacked against him.

Chapter 114

Randall Lanning had called Joseph Masci and told him that his client, Evan Burke, wanted to meet with him.

Lanning had expected a flat “I’ll see him in court,” but instead Masci said, “What does he want? I have a half hour free at three to hear from your client, who claims to be an unindicted serial psycho.”

“He says he has something you’re going to like, and you know, Joe, he wants to make a deal.”

Lanning had conveyed the meeting time back to his client, who was still in the hospital. He added, “See if someone will give you a shave and a haircut.”

“You ask them. I’m lucky to get a bedpan.”

Lanning continued.

“I repeat, Evan. Negotiating with Joseph Masci is not a good idea. He’s like a copperhead snake. He’s venomous. And he’s quick. If you insist on trying your luck, don’t pop off. Think. Then, speak.”

At three, Joe Masci was in his office when Randall Lanning trundled Evan Burke in.

Masci’s assistant made everyone comfortable, and asked the boss, “Hold your calls?”

“I’ll take emergency calls, but you decide, George. We won’t be long.”

Masci wasn’t big, but he was muscular. He shook Evan Burke’s left hand, gave it a good squeeze.

“I have ten minutes,” he said, “and they’re all yours. How can I help you?”

Burke said, “Thanks for your time. I don’t know what you know about me, Mr. Masci. I’m a great man, an important man, and there’s never been a killer on my scale. I kid you not. Hypothetically, I’m willing to do something that pains me. To admit that I killed Lucas’s wife and child and that schoolgirl.”

D.A. Masci was fully up to speed on Evan Burke’s claim that he was an unindicted serial psycho. Masci knew the names of Burke’s family members, both alive and dead, and that he had been on the FBI’s most wanted list. Which was why Burke had changed his name, his address, and his face.

It was because of Evan Burke that Masci had spent that morning on the phone with a highly placed FBI special agent, J. Edward Bernstein, aka Berney, who said he’d be happy to take Evan Burke off the D.A.’s hands.

“And why, exactly, would you implicate yourself in a triple homicide?” Masci asked Burke now.

“I’d do it to save my son, my innocent son, Lucas, whom I hate.”

Lanning started scribbling frantically on his legal pad as Burke continued to speak. This was the first he was hearing of his client’s conflicting objectives.

“And that’s barely the beginning. I’d confess to killing the girl at the Eagle as well as over a hundred murders in three states including Nevada with proof of death.

“I’d ask for a few comforts in exchange.”

“Hypothetically, what comforts?”

“The death penalty is off the table. I get a private cell with TV and access to books and videos. Visitation rights for select people. Conjugal rights and a cell phone for good behavior.”

“Chocolates on your pillow?”

Burke grinned. “Nah. But thanks for the offer.”

“Anything else?”

“A time of day when the bathroom and shower are all mine.”

Masci leaned back in his chair and gazed over Burke’s head.

“And you would provide written proof of your kills?”

“Of course.”

“Not interested,” said Masci.

“What?” Burke said. “I said a hundred bodies plus the three in San Francisco. I’ll give you those three now to show good faith.”

“You killed your grandchild, daughter-in-law, and your son’s girlfriend?”

“Yes. Yes. I’ll say all of that. How and when and where now, and a hundred more I’ll hold in reserve.”

Lanning said loudly, “Evan, stop talking. Stop.”

Masci took out a sheet of letterhead and wrote for a moment. Then handed it to Burke.

“Please read that out loud.”

“I, Evan William Burke, do swear in the presence of my attorney and Joseph Masci, DA of Las Vegas County in the state of Nevada, and hereby confess to killing Tara Burke, Lorrie Burke, and Melissa Fogarty. My son, Lucas Burke, is innocent of these crimes. And at the bottom, Signed and Witnessed.”

Masci pressed a button on his desk and his assistant came in. Randall Lanning squeezed and shook Burke’s bad shoulder to make sure he was getting his attention.

“Yowwww.”

Lanning turned his back to Masci and said, “Evan, no. I said, do not do this.”

Evan shook off his lawyer and said in a whisper, “I know what I’m doing.”

Randall Lanning said, not whispering, “You don’t want to sign that without a guarantee that you will not get the death penalty. I can draw it up, right on that paper—”

Burke said, “I said, ‘In good faith.’ I’m trusting DA Masci, and I’ll give up the info about recent San Francisco murders—”

Masci said, “George, please bring this over to Mr. Burke and witness his signature. Then, have the tape of this meeting transcribed. Thank you.”

When the signed document was back in his hand, Masci said, “Mr. Burke, I’ll turn your confession over to the San Francisco DA and maybe he’ll give your son a break. As I said a moment ago, I’m not interested in making any kind of deal with you. I like our case against you. Keep your secrets. We can only kill you once. Thanks for coming.”

He stood, walked toward the open door, said, “Randall, I’ll see you in court. I can hardly wait.”

And then Joe Masci left the building.

As Randall