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He fell silent again, but I could hear background noise, so I knew we hadn’t been disconnected. “Is Agent Kristoff going with you?” he said finally.
My shoulders sagged in relief. “Yes, he is.”
I heard him sigh again. “Fine. Keep me posted. I’ll cover as well as I can if there are any questions.”
He was hanging his own ass on the line for me as well, I knew. “Thanks, Sarge.” I didn’t add anything trite like I won’t let you down or you won’t regret it. There was too good a chance that either or both could happen.
“Be careful, Kara.”
“I will.”
I hung up, then clipped the phone back onto my belt, finding myself actually admiring Cory Crawford.
I jogged up the steps of the courthouse while Ryan circled the block to avoid the trouble of finding a parking place. We’d left my car at my aunt’s house. It was such a piece of crap that I was willing to use any excuse to get out of having to drive it. I flashed my badge at the security guard as I passed through the metal detector, ignoring the obnoxious beep. I glanced quickly at the schedule taped to the desk, pleased and relieved to see that the duty judge was again Judge Laurent. I’d experienced several moments of worry on the way over to the courthouse, running through improbable and not-so-improbable scenarios about judges refusing to sign the warrant for a fellow judge. I didn’t think I’d have any problems with Judge Laurent.
His secretary was shutting her computer down as I entered the office. She looked up at me with an expression that clearly told me she wouldn’t be happy with me if I made her stay past her usual quitting time.
I gave her my best winning smile. “I’m sorry to come in so late, but this should take only a second. Is Judge Laurent still here? I need a warrant for a buccal swab and a subpoena for phone records signed.”
She sighed. “He’s still here.” She held out her hand for my folder.
“I really appreciate it,” I said with what I hoped was enough fervor.
She just gave a brisk nod as she passed through the doors leading to the judge’s office. A few minutes later she returned without the folder. “You can go on back,” she said, holding the door open for me.
I nodded thanks as I passed by her. The look she gave me in return was narrow-eyed and measuring—no longer the bored resignation. She must have glanced at it, I realized. Oh, well. In less than an hour, everyone would know.
Judge Laurent didn’t look worried or upset. He looked positively gleeful as I stepped into his office and shut the door behind me. “So, you’re gonna nail that randy horn-dog to the wall for boffing his son’s wife to death?” He cackled as he signed the warrant and subpoena in an overly large script, as if to be sure that no one could be mistaken about who had signed it.
“Well, sir, I don’t have anything solid yet. That’s why I need this DNA sample.”
“Ha! You’ll get it. That sonofabitch has nailed or tried to nail every pretty girl in this city. Can’t believe his wife puts up with it.” He shook his head as he handed the folder back to me with the signed warrant. “Maybe she figures being married to a judge is worth dealing with all the women.”
I accepted the folder from him, bemused. “I appreciate your time, sir. I’m hoping this works out the way I think it will.”
He gave me a wide grin. “You just be sure to come back to me when you need the arrest warrant signed.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Absolutely, sir.”
I was still smiling as I let myself out, unsurprised to find that his secretary had left already. I pulled my cell phone out and dialed Ryan’s number as I exited the courthouse.
“I have it,” I said when he answered.
“I’m right around the corner. I’ll pick you up in half a minute.”
Judge Harris Roth lived in Ruby Estates, about half a mile down the road from the Sharps. Just a short walk for the judge to get some action, I thought sourly as we drove past the sweeping staircase and ostentatious landscaping of the Sharp residence. Roth’s house wasn’t on the lake-front like Davis Sharp’s, but he had a double lot that was still mostly woods in the back half. The house itself was large but didn’t have the feel of plantation-wannabe that Sharp’s did. The Roth house reminded me of an English country home—a two-story structure with stone exterior. I could see myself living in a place like this—lovely, tranquil, and quiet.
But not so tranquil right now. An ambulance with lights flashing was just pulling out of the long driveway as we approached. Ryan and I exchanged a troubled look.
“Bad feeling,” he stated.
“Ditto,” I replied.
My bad feeling wasn’t helped by the sight of another ambulance by the house.
“Very bad feeling,” I said.
Ryan parked out of the way of the ambulance. We got out and jogged up the broad front steps. I had the strong impression I wasn’t going to need the buccal swab warrant after all.
