10 The Motive by John Lescroart

Author:John Lescroart
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: John Lescroart
Published: 2011-01-05T09:02:28+00:00

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31

On a fogbound, windswept and blustery Thursday in early March, six weeks to the day after Jackman dismissed the charges against Catherine Hanover and Braun ordered her released from jail, Glitsky was doing his own driving. He was not in uniform. Instead he wore a pair of dark, heavy slacks and a blue dress shirt and his new Glock .40 automatic in his shoulder holster. When he got out of the car, he’d cover the weapon with his all-weather jacket.

The night before, he’d checked out another city-issued Taurus, and this morning he’d gone against the traffic over the bridge to the East Bay and taken Interstate 80 east. Now, just beyond American Canyon Road outside of Vallejo, he encountered a blanket of some of California’s Central Valley fog—he’d heard of “tule fog” but hadn’t before experienced it. For his money, the stuff put its more notorious San Francisco counterpart to shame.

Never mind the fog that rolled in over the city for six months out of the year off the Pacific. This, he thought, was the real deal. Every year, he knew, it was responsible for multivehicle wrecks and double-digit fatalities from Redding to Bakersfield, Fairfield to Auburn. Visibility was under a hundred yards, and Glitsky got into the slow lane and decreased his speed to thirty-five, which still felt too fast. But on his left, cars continued to fly by at twice his speed, each on the tail of the vehicle in front of it. Three times people in the slow lane had come up on him hell-bent for leather from nowhere out of the whiteness, disappearing back into it as they swerved to avoid him, honking all the way, flipping him off.

Idiots.

Glitsky wasn’t in a hurry and even if he was, this wasn’t the time or the place. He’d get where he was going when he got there, and that would be soon enough.

The reason for his reluctance was that he wasn’t completely certain of the wisdom of his intended actions, and the more time he took before they became irrevocable, the more comfortable he’d remain. He might even give himself enough time to change his plan entirely. But he didn’t think so.

On the D’Amiens matter, and the Hanover murder— they were one and the same—he’d decided to stay on in the role of prime mover in whatever events unfolded. The smart move, the professional approach, he knew, would take him out of the loop. He should leave it to the local jurisdiction in the valley now, or to the FBI. Each had an equally strong claim to supervise and carry out the apprehension of Missy D’Amiens.

But almost a year ago Kathy West had asked him to take a watchdog role in the case. He’d been unable to prevent Cuneo from end-running around him, getting an indictment on a woman who was almost undoubtedly innocent. Then the trial—with all of its tabloid stupidity, vulgarity and waste—had led to the renewed currency of the conspiracy theory. Cranks came out of

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