The Fourth Motive Read Online Free

of typing paper from inside his desk, carefully using
     his handkerchief to prevent leaving any fingerprints. He inserted the paper into his
     typewriter. Still using the handkerchief, he produced a plain white business-sized
     envelope and placed it next to the typewriter. He began typing.
    It had been a good day. Despite that prick of a cop and a speeding ticket, it had
     been a splendid day. And it was shaping up to be a damned good week. Ray would make
     certain of that. This week would be one to remember.
    One for the books.
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
       

CHAPTER 4
     
    Paige came downstairs clad in a pair of jeans and a sweater dug out from the closet
     in her old room. Her hair was still damp, and she’d tied it up with a wide band taken
     from a collection of hair accessories she had left over from her high school days.
     The hairband did an adequate job of concealing the bald patch over her left ear created
     by the ER doctor when she shaved away her locks to sew the gash there. The hairband,
     coupled with her lack of makeup, gave Paige the appearance of looking much younger
     than her twenty-eight years.
    The Judge was seated in the kitchen and looked up when he saw Paige. A mostly empty
     glass of scotch was on the table in front of him next to a just-opened bottle of Dewar’s.
     He stood when she entered.
    “Sometimes,” he said, “you are the spitting image of your mother.”
    “It’s the hairband, Dad,” Paige said. Her nose wrinkled when she saw the bottle.
    “Maybe it adds to the effect,” he said, sitting down again, “but it’s still true.
     You look more like I remember your mother every day. Can I pour you a drink? Might
     do you good.”
    Paige sat down. “You know I don’t drink very often; especially on workdays.”
    Judge Callen stiffened. “You’re not going to work today; I forbid it.”
    “I have a caseload, Dad,” she said, consciously tempering her reply. Paige hated it
     when her father patronized her with his courtroom tone. “I’ve already missed a preliminary
     hearing this morning, and the afternoon’s booked solid.”
    “Surely after what happened this morning you can take the afternoon off? My God, you
     were–”
    “It’s not a big deal,” she interrupted her father. “I’m OK. I’ve handled far worse
     crimes than this one.”
    “Horseshit,” he countered. “You were the victim today, not an impassive third party
     processing the victim through court. There’s a difference.”
    Paige struggled to maintain her cool. Her body ached, her head hurt, and she was still
     rattled from the attack. She didn’t need another argument with her father on top of
     it all.
    “That lunatic is still out there,” the Judge went on. “Maybe he’ll be at the courthouse,
     waiting for you there? Maybe he’s been following you for some time? He called you
     by name; that’s what the detective said. I’m worried.”
    Paige could indeed see concern behind her father’s eyes. She knew him as an aloof,
     impassive personality who prided himself on his gruff, professional demeanor. It was
     said of Judge Callen that he once sentenced a man to the gas chamber and ordered the
     bailiff to bring donuts and coffee in the same breath.
    Yet Paige noticed since her mother’s death two years ago and his subsequent retirement,
     the Judge seemed increasingly frail. More fatherly and less the imposing figure of
     discipline and propriety who had ruled her life as firmly as his courtroom.
    “Dad, this guy is just some kind of a nut. I’ll probably never hear from him again.
     Anyway, I’ll be damned if I’m going to let a lowlife thug scare me. I’m not afraid
     of this jerk.”
    Even as she spoke, she knew she was lying. She had been terrified beyond anything
     she’d ever experienced before and would be looking over her shoulder for a long time
     to come.
    “Besides,” Paige said with a certainty she didn’t feel, “I’m confident APD will identify
     and