“This is awesome, Lacy. You gotta let me in on the investigation. I love this cloak-and-dagger stuff.”
“You’re in, Darren. You and Sadelle. That’s the team. Got it? Just the three of us. And you have to promise you will not ask for the real identity of the contact.”
He sealed his lips and said, “Promise.”
“Let’s go.”
There was a café on the far left side of the lobby behind the registration desk. Darren peeled off without a word as Lacy walked to the elevators. She rode alone to the third floor, found the right room, and pushed the doorbell.
Jeri opened the door without a smile, without a word. She nodded toward the room behind her, and Lacy stepped in slowly, glancing around. It was a small room with only one bed.
“Thanks for coming,” Jeri said. “Have a seat.” There was one chair next to the television.
“Are you okay?” Lacy asked.
“I’m a wreck, a total disaster.” Gone were the stylish clothes and fake designer frames. Jeri was garbed in an old black jogging suit and scruffy sneakers. She wore no makeup and looked years older. “Sit down, please.”
Lacy sat in the chair and Jeri sat on the edge of the bed. She pointed to some papers on the desk. “There’s the complaint, Lacy. I kept it short, used the name of Betty Roe. I have your word that no one else will ever know my real name?”
“I can’t promise that, Jeri. We’ve been through this. I can guarantee that no one at BJC will know who you are, but beyond that there are no promises.”
“Beyond that? What is beyond that, Lacy?”
“We now have forty-five days to investigate your complaint. If we find evidence to support your allegations, then we’ll have no choice but to go to the police or FBI. We can’t arrest this judge for murder, Jeri. We’ve had that discussion. We can remove him from the bench, but by then losing his job will be the least of his worries.”
“You have to protect me at all times.”
“We’ll do our job, that’s all I can promise. At BJC, your name will be known to no one.”
“I prefer to stay off his list, Lacy.”
“Well, so do I.”
Jeri stuck her hands in her pockets and rocked forward, and then back, lost in another world. After a long, awkward pause she said, “He’s killing again, Lacy, not that he ever stopped.”
“You said there might be another one.”
“There is. Five months ago he killed a man named Lanny Verno in Biloxi, Mississippi. Same method, same rope. I found out why. Me, Lacy, not the police, but me. I found Verno’s trail in Pensacola thirteen years ago. I searched for the intersection, the crossing of the paths, and found it, but not the police. They have no clue.”
“They also have no idea about Bannick,” Lacy said. “What happened?”
“An old dispute over some remodeling in Bannick’s house. Looks like Verno pulled a gun, should’ve pulled the trigger. Bannick was just a lawyer then, not a judge, and he took him to court on assault charges. Lost. Verno walked, and I guess he walked himself right onto Bannick’s list. Thirteen years he waited, can you believe that, Lacy?”
“No.”
“He’s killing more frequently, which is not unusual. Every serial killer is different and there are certainly no rules to the game. But it’s not unusual for them to speed up and then slow down.” She rocked slowly back and forth, staring ahead, trance-like.
She said, “He’s also taking chances, making mistakes. He almost got caught with Verno when some poor guy showed up at the wrong time, wrong place. Bannick cracked his skull, killed him, but didn’t use a rope. It’s reserved for chosen ones.”
Lacy again marveled at the certainty with which she described things she had never seen and certainly couldn’t prove. It was frustrating how convincing she was. Lacy asked, “And the crime scene?”
“We don’t know much about it because it’s an active investigation and the police are sitting on everything. The second guy was a local builder with lots of friends and the police are taking heat. But, as always, it appears as though Bannick left nothing behind.”
“Six and two make eight.”
“That we know about, Lacy. There could be others.”
Lacy reached over and picked up the complaint but didn’t read it. “What’s in here?”
Jeri stopped rocking and rubbed her eyes as if sleepy. “Only three murders. The last three. Lanny Verno and Mike Dunwoody last year, and Perry Kronke from two years ago. Kronke’s case is down in the Keys, the big-firm lawyer who supposedly withheld a job offer when Bannick was finishing law school.”