A Reasonable Doubt Read online

  “The Randall and Gentry cases.”

  Dillon nodded. “Sophie Randall had a daughter, Jane, who was five when Randall died. She’s in her twenties now, and she’s trying to kill everyone who was responsible for her mother’s murder and the dismissal of Chesterfield’s murder charge.”

  Ragland looked skeptical. “How did you come to this amazing conclusion?”

  “We didn’t. Robin Lockwood figured it out.”

  Ragland laughed. “Of course she did. And I suppose she can prove her wild theory.”

  “It’s more than a theory now. We just came from Renee Chambers’s house—”

  “Renee Chambers?”

  “Chambers was supposed to be Chesterfield’s third assistant. Jane Randall kept her captive in her apartment. She forced Chambers to tell her agent that she had to go home because of a family emergency, and to say that she knew another magician’s assistant named Nancy Porter who could fill in. Randall has been living in Chambers’s place and keeping her captive. Randall’s fingerprints are all over the duplex, and Chambers can ID her as the person who kidnapped her.”

  Ragland stared at the detectives. “You’re telling me that Turner and Rodriguez are innocent?”

  “It looks that way,” Dillon said.

  “What about the ten thousand dollars?”

  “I think we’ll find it came from Randall,” Anders said.

  “What does Porter or Randall, or whatever her name is, say?”

  “We haven’t been able to ask her. She’s on the run. We have an APB out. You can ask her when she’s under arrest.”

  * * *

  Robin spent the rest of the afternoon at police headquarters giving a statement. When Anders dismissed her, Robin thought about going to her office, but she was too exhausted. Instead, she called Jeff and gave him a condensed version of her day, promising to tell him everything that had happened when he came home.

  Jeff picked up a steak, potatoes, and an excellent pinot and listened to Robin’s tale while he cooked dinner.

  “She sure had everyone fooled,” Jeff said when Robin finished.

  “That she did.” Robin sighed. “I know Jane’s a stone killer, but part of me feels sorry for her.”

  “Is that the part where she killed Judge Beathard and Morris Quinlan and tried to murder Regina?” Jeff asked as he plated the food.

  “You know what I mean,” Robin said as she poured the wine. “She didn’t kill Renee Chambers, and Chesterfield murdered her mother, made her father so depressed that he killed himself, and turned her into an orphan.”

  “What’s that old saw about two wrongs not making a right?”

  “Okay, smart-ass. Sorry I can feel empathy and you can’t.”

  “I admit that I find it impossible to empathize with a serial killer. Do we know where Randall went?”

  “No, but Carrie found some information about her history. Randall’s been in and out of foster care and her life has been hard. She was abused in two homes and ran away at twelve and fourteen. She may have been homeless for a while, but she did get a GED and a two-year degree at a community college, where she was on the gymnastics team, which explains how she could pick up the skills she needed to be a magician’s assistant.

  “The trail went cold right around the time Chesterfield disappeared and the newspapers published stories about the old murder cases. That’s probably what triggered her.”

  “You did good work, kid. The cops would never have figured this out if it weren’t for you.”

  “Oh, they’d have known who killed Chesterfield as soon as they found Chambers. I’m just sorry that we didn’t figure out what was going on sooner, but she was very clever, and so was her plan.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  After dinner, Robin tried to watch a Blazers game. When she nodded off a second time, she struggled to her feet and went into the bedroom, where she had a troubled sleep. A little after midnight, Robin jerked awake. She looked at the other side of the bed. Jeff was dead to the world. She closed her eyes, but the attempt at sleep was useless, so she went into the living room.

  What was bothering her? The obvious answer was that Jane Randall was still at large despite a massive manhunt, but there was something else she just could not put her finger on.

  Robin went over everything that had happened since Chesterfield announced his performance at the Imperial. Chesterfield should have been Randall’s first victim, but no one knew where to find him, because he was hiding from Rafael Otero.

  Judge Beathard was an easy target, and his death had been written off as a robbery gone bad, with no one suspecting that it was part of an elaborate plot.

  Randall’s next target had been Regina, which made sense. But why had she killed Morris Quinlan? Roger had told Robin and Anders that he had asked his old partner to look into the case. They guessed that Morris had figured out that Randall murdered Chesterfield and had arranged to meet her at the Ramble Inn.

  Robin was starting to feel sleepy, when she realized what was bothering her. There was a loose end: Regina was alive. A sane person would run, but Randall wasn’t sane; she was a fanatic who was dedicated to killing Chesterfield and everyone who had helped him escape justice.

  Robin grabbed her phone.

  Stanley Cloud was only half awake when he answered her call. “Who is this?”

  “It’s Robin.”

  “Why are you calling at one in the morning?” he groused.

  “We know who killed Chesterfield and tried to kill Regina.”

  “Who?” asked Cloud, who was suddenly wide awake.

  “Nancy Porter, the magician’s assistant. Porter is really Jane Randall, the daughter of Sophie Randall, whom Chesterfield poisoned with cyanide-laced chocolates. Randall is killing everyone who helped Chesterfield beat the murder charge. She failed the first time she went after Regina. I think she’ll try again.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Put 911 on your speed dial and make sure your alarm system is on. Get a weapon, if you have one. Then lock yourself in your bedroom with Regina.”

  * * *

  Regina’s house was in one of the wealthiest sections of Portland. One side of the lot was on the river. The rest was surrounded by woods. If Jane Randall was coming for Regina, she had many ways to invade the property.

  On the way over, Robin thought about calling 911, but a bad dream didn’t count as an emergency. She decided she would keep watch tonight. If nothing happened, she would talk to Anders and Dillon in the morning about providing protection for Regina and Stanley.

  It was a moonless night and it was raining hard. As soon as Robin parked, she called Stanley. “I’m here. Has anything happened?”

  “No.”

  “That’s good. I hope I’m way off base, but I’m going to patrol the grounds in case I’m not.”

  Robin checked her gun, pulled up the hood of her windbreaker, and got out of the car. The rain had eased up, but the wind off the river chilled Robin to the bone. There was nothing to distract her, and it took all her willpower to stay focused.

  A little after two, she started to believe that she was on a fool’s errand. Then she saw movement at the edge of the woods on the other side of the house.

  Robin speed-dialed Stanley as she ran along the shore. “You’ve got a visitor,” she whispered when he picked up. “Call 911.”

  Robin pocketed the phone when she neared the patio in the rear of the house. She held her gun in front of her, peeked around the corner, and scanned the lawn. Nothing. Then she heard a faint noise and looked up. A shadow slithered up the side of the house with the fluid grace of a gymnast. Black clothing rendered her close to invisible.

  Robin aimed. “Jane, stop!”

  The figure paused.

  “Come down now. The police are on the way.”

  Randall slipped into the shadows so quickly that Robin didn’t have time to shoot. Robin dashed back to the patio. She shattered the glass in one of the French doors, reached inside,
and jerked the door open. The alarm shrieked. She hoped it would unnerve Randall and make her flee.

  Randall had gone into the house through the top floor, so Robin raced for the stairs. When she reached the bottom step, she paused and peered into the darkness. The alarm was unsettling and made it impossible to hear movement. Robin focused on the top of the stairs. When no shot rang out, she climbed cautiously, her gun leading the way.

  Halfway up, a figure spun around the banister. Robin dropped just before Randall fired. The air moved as a bullet whizzed by her.

  Robin returned fire, hitting the top of the banister. Wood chips flew toward Randall’s face. Robin heard a scream over the blaring of the alarm and saw Randall’s gun fly over the banister. Robin charged up the steps. Randall had a hand pressed to her cheek, and blood was running through her fingers. Robin started to order her to surrender, when Randall swung on the banister and kicked Robin in the chest. Robin’s reflexes saved her from absorbing the full impact, but the blow still sent her tumbling backward. She grabbed the banister to stop her fall, and her gun dropped. Randall’s hand slashed out. Robin saw the knife and twisted away. The blade ripped into her jacket and gashed her forearm.

  Fighting was second nature to Robin. She ignored the pain and squared up to face her opponent, the way she’d squared up against her opponents in the octagon. Randall was smaller, but she had the high ground, speed, and the knife. Randall edged down one step so she would be closer to Robin. Robin moved backward. As soon as they were on a flat surface, she would have an advantage.

  A leg snapped toward her head with so much speed that Robin had little time to react. She threw a hand up and partially deflected the blow. Then she cried out, pretending she was hurt, and rolled down the stairs and away from the knife. Randall flew off the stairs and aimed a kick at Robin’s chest. Robin grabbed Randall’s ankle and twisted. Randall flew sideways, rolled, and landed on her feet.

  Robin stood, turning sideways to make herself a skinny target for the blade. Randall struck. Robin blocked, hitting Randall’s wrist before driving her foot into Randall’s left knee. The knee buckled. Randall sagged and Robin smashed a right into her nose. The pain blinded Randall. When her hands flew toward her face, Robin drove a side kick into the injured knee. Randall dropped, but she still gripped her knife in her right hand. Robin drove a roundhouse kick into the side of Randall’s head. The blow stunned her, and the knife dropped to the ground. Robin spun behind her. Moments before she heard the sirens, Robin choked out Randall.

  When Robin was certain that Randall was unconscious, she called 911. “This is Robin Lockwood. I’m at Regina Barrister’s house. Stanley Cloud, a former chief justice of the Oregon Supreme Court, just called for help because a burglar broke in. The burglar has been captured and is not a threat. I just heard sirens. Please tell the officers that the situation is under control. I don’t want them to shoot Justice Cloud when he lets them in.

  “And please tell Homicide Detectives Carrie Anders and Roger Dillon that Jane Randall has been captured. She’s a fugitive they’ve been looking for.”

  As soon as Robin disconnected, she phoned Stanley to tell him that it was safe to come out.

  “How is Regina?” Robin asked when the former chief justice appeared at the top of the stairs and the lights came on.

  “I calmed her down. The alarm really upset her.”

  “She’s not alone. Can you please turn the damn thing off? And you’d better open the door. The police should be outside by now.”

  Stanley looked at Randall as he walked by her on the way to the keypad for the security system. Robin took off her jacket and sweatshirt and examined her forearm. It was bleeding, but the cut wasn’t deep. She pressed the sweatshirt against the wound.

  The alarm stopped moments before an officer pounded on the door. Stanley opened it and brought two policemen to the bottom of the stairs.

  “I’m Robin Lockwood, an attorney.” She pointed at Randall. “This woman is responsible for several murders. You should cuff her. And I need a medic.”

  * * *

  Shortly after Carrie Anders and Roger Dillon had arrived at Regina’s house, Carrie had Robin taken to the hospital with instructions to come to police headquarters the next day to give a detailed statement. Robin was discharged after her wound was treated, and she arrived home a little after four in the morning.

  Robin tried to be quiet when she entered her apartment so as not to wake up Jeff, but he walked out of the bedroom before the front door closed.

  “Where were you?”

  “I was staking out Regina’s house, and I captured Jane Randall.”

  “What?!”

  Robin blushed. “I didn’t tell you, because I didn’t want you to worry.”

  Jeff saw the bandage on Robin’s forearm when she took off her jacket.

  “Are you okay? What happened?”

  “There was a fight. I was stabbed, but it’s not serious.”

  “Are you crazy?”

  “I had to protect Regina and Stanley.”

  “Did you think about calling the police? They’re paid to protect citizens.”

  “I didn’t have a shred of proof that Jane would try to kill Regina tonight. The police wouldn’t have taken me seriously. If I hadn’t gone out there, Stanley and Regina would probably be dead.”

  “We’ve talked about this, Robin. You seem to think you’re invincible, and you put yourself in danger when it’s not necessary.”

  “This was necessary.”

  “Jesus, you don’t get it, do you? You keep forgetting that there’s another person in your life who cares about you and worries about you. There were several ways you could have protected Regina without putting your life in danger. One involves asking me to come with you. Did you forget that I was a police officer, trained to handle serious situations? All that martial arts training doesn’t mean a thing if you’re facing a gun.”

  “I faced a gun tonight and came out on top, and it’s not the first time,” Robin insisted stubbornly.

  “You’re not listening to me. I know how tough you are. I’m talking about our relationship and what it would do to me if you were killed or seriously injured. You are not a one-woman army. That stuff is for the movies. You were stabbed tonight and could have been shot. If you’d called Carrie Anders or Roger Dillon, they would have protected Regina.”

  “You can’t keep me in Bubble Wrap, Jeff.”

  Jeff started to answer Robin. Then he shook his head. “You’re hurt, it’s late, and we’re both tired. We’re not going to solve this now. We should go to bed.” Jeff walked back to the bedroom and got into bed on his side.

  Robin went into the bathroom and shut the door. She was exhausted, but she was also upset and she didn’t want to get in bed with Jeff, because she was afraid that he’d argue with her again.

  Robin stripped down and got in the shower, letting the hot water wash over her. She did care about Jeff. He was very important to her. But she couldn’t stand the idea of being controlled. Robin turned off the water and toweled herself dry. She usually slept in the nude. But she’d brought pajamas in with her. She didn’t want makeup sex tonight. She wasn’t even certain that Jeff would want to make love.

  Robin got under the covers and closed her eyes. She tried to see Jeff’s point. She knew he worried about her. This wasn’t the first time they’d had this talk. But she couldn’t admit that Jeff might be right. Having Jeff move in had been a serious decision for her. She had always been independent, and her biggest fear was that any man she let into her world might try to change her.

  Robin had been given a mild painkiller at the hospital when they stitched her up. That and exhaustion made it difficult to think, so she decided not to. Hopefully, when they woke up, the argument would be forgotten. The last thought she had before she drifted off was, What if it isn’t?

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  When Anders and Dillon entered the interview room at the jail, Jane Randall was sitting with her han
ds folded on the table, looking perfectly composed. Her slender body was clothed in an orange jumpsuit that was too large for her and made her look like a child.

  “Good morning, Miss Randall,” Anders said. “We want to talk to you, but you’re under arrest, so I have to read you your Miranda rights.”

  When Anders finished, she asked Randall if she wanted to have an attorney with her.

  Randall smiled. “Do you think Robin Lockwood would represent me?”

  Anders returned the smile. “I think she has a conflict of interest, don’t you?”

  Randall stopped smiling. “An attorney isn’t going to help me. No one else ever has. I’ve been on my own since Chesterfield killed my mother, and I’ll deal with this myself.”

  “That’s probably not wise,” Anders said. “Peter Ragland is prosecuting, and he’s probably going to ask for the death penalty.”

  Randall shrugged. “I don’t care. What do I have to live for? I waive my right to an attorney, so ask your questions.”

  “First, I want to thank you for sparing Renee Chambers and telling us where to find her.”

  “Renee never did anything to hurt me.”

  “What did Morris Quinlan do?” Dillon asked.

  “I do feel bad about that, but Regina Barrister was still alive, and I couldn’t let him interfere before I killed her.”

  “She’s still alive,” Anders said. “Do we have to worry about you, Jane?”

  Randall looked Anders in the eye. “My only regret is that she didn’t eat the chocolates and die, so she would know the agony my mother went through. If I ever get out, my only priority will be ending her life.”

  “I appreciate the honesty,” Anders said. “I guess we’ll have to make sure that you stay locked up for the rest of your life.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  Robin usually got up around five so she could go to the gym before she went to the office, but she hadn’t gotten to bed until four, and exhaustion and the painkiller she’d been given kept her under the covers until nine o’clock. She was groggy when she did get out of bed, and she stumbled into the bathroom only half awake. When she returned to the bedroom, Robin saw that Jeff’s side of the bed was empty. That’s when she remembered their argument.