Eyes of Justice Read online

  Praise for the Triple Threat Novels

  “Who killed one of the Triple Threat? Look into the Eyes of Justice. You’ll be shocked by what you see.”

  —Bill O’Reilly, FOX TV

  and radio anchor

  “Book three in the wonderful Triple Threat Club series is a fast-paced thriller full of twists and turns that will keep you guessing until the end. What makes these books stand out for me is my ability to identify so easily with Allison, Nic, and Cassidy. I truly care about what happens to each of them, and the challenges they face this time are heart-wrenching and realistic. I highly recommend!”

  —Deborah Sinclaire, editor-in-chief,

  Book-of-the-Month Club and the Stephen

  King Library regarding Heart of Ice

  “Beautiful, successful, and charismatic on the outside but underneath a twisted killer. She’s brilliant and crazy and comes racing at the reader with knives and a smile. The most chilling villain you’ll meet . . . because she could live next door to you.”

  —Dr. Dale Archer, Clinical

  Psychiatrist regarding Heart of Ice

  “As a television crime writer and producer, I expect novels to deliver pulse-pounding tales with major twists. Hand of Fate delivers big-time.”

  —Pam Veasey, writer and

  executive producer of CSI: NY

  “With Hand of Fate, author Lis Wiehl has crafted a thriller that is unmistakably authentic and irresistibly compelling—both streetwise and sophisticated, and a flawless reflection of this former prosecutor’s own expertise in law, life, and broadcasting.”

  —Earl Merkel, author of

  Virgins and Martyrs and Final Epidemic ;

  cohost of talk radio’s Money & More

  “A talk show host with a long list of people who want him dead? Has Lis Wiehl been reading my e-mail? Talk radio fans and mystery lovers alike won’t rest easy until they discover who had a hand in the fate of Fate.”

  —Alan Colmes, host of The Alan Colmes Show

  on radio and FOX News contributor

  “From its gripping opening to its shocking conclusion, Hand of Fate keeps readers guessing until the very end. Lis Wiehl does it again!”

  —Megyn Kelly, FOX News anchor

  “What a fantastic read! Lis Wiehl’s Hand of Fate is a no-holds-barred, flat-out suspense masterpiece!”

  —David Latko, host of the talk

  radio show Money & More

  “One word: THRILLER! It was all I could do not to race to the end and read the last pages.”

  —Nancy Grace, CNN Headline News anchor, former

  prosecutor, New York Times best-selling author of

  The Eleventh Victim regarding Hand of Fate

  “A thrill-a-minute mystery from one of my favorite radio/tv personalities.”

  —Steve Malzberg, host of The Steve Malzberg

  Show on WOR Radio NYC and the WOR

  Radio Network regarding Hand of Fate

  “Don’t take this book to bed—you’ll end up turning pages all night and won’t get any sleep. Suspense . . . character . . . action . . . Linda Fairstein had better watch out: there’s a new prosecutor/crime writer stalking the best-seller list!”

  —John Gibson, host of The John Gibson Show,

  FOX News Radio regarding Hand of Fate

  “Feels fresher than today’s headline story.”

  —Sean Hannity, FOX anchor

  regarding Face of Betrayal

  “Only a brilliant lawyer, prosecutor, and journalist like Lis Wiehl could put together a mystery this thrilling! The incredible characters and nonstop twists will leave you mesmerized. Open this book and find a comfortable seat because you won’t want to put it down!”

  —E. D. Hill, FOX News anchor

  regarding Face of Betrayal

  “Lis Wiehl’s been there, done that, and reported on it all. A riveting and revealing fast-paced look at our criminal justice system and the press who cover it.”

  —Dr. Michael Baden, current chief forensic

  pathologist for the New York State Police;

  former Chief Medical Examiner, NYC; host,

  HBO’s Autopsy regarding Face of Betrayal

  “Wiehl exposes the malevolent side of power in this murderous thriller. A harrowing tale ripped from the headlines!”

  —Catherine Crier, former judge, journalist, and

  best-selling author regarding Face of Betrayal

  “A real thrill ride! Filled with twists and turns you won’t see coming.”

  —Rita Crosby, Emmy award-winning

  TV personality (formerly with

  MSNBC) regarding Face of Betrayal

  “Three smart women crack the big cases! Makes perfect sense to me. [Face of Betrayal] blew me away!”

  —Jeanine Pirro, former DA; hosts The CW’s daytime

  court television reality show Judge Jeanine Pirro

  EYES OF

  JUSTICE

  Other Books by Lis Wiehl with April Henry

  The Triple Threat Novels

  Face of Betrayal

  Hand of Fate

  Heart of Ice

  Also by Lis Wiehl with Pete Nelson

  The East Salem Trilogy

  Waking Hours

  Darkness Rising* Coming October 2012

  EYES OF

  JUSTICE

  A Triple Threat Novel

  LIS WIEHL

  with APRIL HENRY

  © 2012 by Lis Wiehl and April Henry

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or other—except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  Published in Nashville, Tennessee, by Thomas Nelson. Thomas Nelson is a registered trademark of Thomas Nelson, Inc.

  Thomas Nelson, Inc., books may be purchased in bulk for educational, business, fund-raising, or sales promotional use. For information, please e-mail [email protected].

  Scripture quotations are from the The Holy Bible, New International Version®, copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission. All rights reserved Worldwide.

  Publisher’s Note: This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. All characters are fictional, and any similarity to people living or dead is purely coincidental.

  ISBN 978-1-40418-353-7 (IE)

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Wiehl, Lis W.

  Eyes of justice / Lis Wiehl ; with April Henry.

  p. cm. -- (A triple threat novel ; 4)

  ISBN 978-1-59554-708-8 (hardcover)

  I. Henry, April. II. Title.

  PS3623.I382E94 2012

  813’.6--dc23

  2011051155

  Printed in the United States of America

  12 13 14 15 16 QG 6 5 4 3 2 1

  For Jacob and Dani. With all my love, from Mom. And for every Triple Threat reader. Your support and kindness is inspiring and humbling. Thank You.

  Leave room for God’s wrath, for it is written:

  “It is mine to avenge; I will repay,” says the Lord.

  —Romans 12:19

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14
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  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  CHAPTER 33

  CHAPTER 34

  CHAPTER 35

  CHAPTER 36

  CHAPTER 37

  CHAPTER 38

  CHAPTER 39

  CHAPTER 40

  READING GROUP GUIDE

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  AUTHOR BIOGRAPHIES

  CHAPTER 1

  When the authorities questioned Channel Four’s receptionist later about the phone call, Marcy King couldn’t recall a single distinguishing characteristic about the voice of the person who had made it. Age, accent, attitude—all she could remember was that it belonged to a man. A man insisting that he had to speak to Cassidy Shaw, the TV station’s crime reporter.

  Cazdeshaw,” Cassidy said into her headpiece, fast enough that her name ran into a single blurred word. Her hands never stilled on her keyboard. She was finishing a piece for the evening news, a terrible story about a man who had killed his two children rather than see his ex-wife get full custody.

  “Is this Cassidy Shaw?” A man’s voice, so soft it was nearly a whisper.

  “Yes.” She lifted her fingers, straining to hear. That sixth sense she had, the sixth sense that had never steered her wrong, told Cassidy it would be worth her while to listen.

  “I’ve got a story for you.” He hesitated and then said in a rush, “About a cover-up.”

  Her elation slipped away as fast as it had come. A cover-up? It sounded like some sort of boring malfeasance. “You know I handle the crime beat, right? I could transfer you to the business reporter.” Her hand was already hovering over the button on the phone.

  “No!” Panic edged his voice. “I only want to talk to you. It’s about the Portland Police Bureau. And what’s being covered up is . . . well, I don’t want to get into it on the phone. Something bad.”

  The Portland Police Bureau? Cassidy’s antennae were quivering again. “What’s your name?”

  “I can’t give you my name over the phone. If they find out I talked, I’m in big trouble.”

  “Come down to the station then.” She opened a new document, typed in the words police cover-up, and hit the save key. “I would love to talk to you.”

  His voice arced higher. “Are you crazy? If I’m seen walking into Channel Four, something will happen to me. I could end up being shot in the back and they’d rule it an accident.”

  What could be bad enough that this man feared being murdered? Whatever it was, it had to be juicy. Cassidy hoped he couldn’t hear the soft tap-tapping of her fingers on the keys.

  “Then we can meet someplace else—a Starbucks, a restaurant, a shopping mall,” she said in a soothing tone. “You name it.”

  “You’re not listening to me. It can’t be anywhere out in the open. Not where people can see me. If anyone sees me talking to you, I’m as good as dead.”

  “I could wear a baseball cap,” Cassidy said as she typed in the words as good as dead. “And dark glasses.”

  “That won’t work. Everyone in Portland knows who you are!”

  Cassidy smiled, but was careful not to let it color her voice. “So why’d you call me?”

  “Because you’re the only one who has the guts to break this story. We all saw how you stood up to Rick. Everyone wanted that hushed up, but you wouldn’t step off.”

  Rick McEwan was Cassidy’s old boyfriend. And a cop. Over time he had changed from a generous and loving boyfriend to a man who kept her in line with well-timed outbursts of violence. Finally Cassidy had gathered her courage, pressed charges against him, and gone public with her story. She had laid her heart bare on live TV, spoken honestly about how even a smart woman could find herself cowering and afraid. The piece had won some local awards.

  But what she really dreamed of was an Emmy.

  “I watch you,” the caller said now. “Even when you went after Rick, you were fair. You didn’t throw mud at the whole bureau, just Rick, and everyone knows he’s bad news. I figure you’ll be fair here too.”

  From the way this guy talked, he had to be a cop.

  “Okay, maybe we don’t have to meet,” she said, as she typed in Rick McEwan and a question mark. Was he hinting that Rick was involved? “You can just tell me what you know.”

  And then later she could talk him into being filmed in silhouette with his voice artificially deepened.

  “But I have proof. Proof I need to show you.”

  “What kind of proof?”

  “Proof that they planted that gun on that homeless guy. He was just a crazy transient, but they lost control and killed him.”

  This story was vaguely familiar. Cassidy hadn’t covered it because it had been an open-and-shut case. In a new computer window she opened Channel Four’s website and typed in the words homeless, Portland, police, and shooting. A few seconds later she found the story: Homeless Man Shot Dead by Police. Her eyes quickly scanned the three short paragraphs.

  Two weeks earlier, just before midnight, an officer responding to a prowler call had been dispatched to northeast Martin Luther King, Jr. Boulevard. When the cop spotted the suspect, the guy ran. The officer gave chase and was joined by five other cops. According to Sgt. Joe Morton of the police bureau’s media relations division, at some point during the foot chase the suspect produced a handgun. After pointing it at the responding officers, he was shot by one of them, Kevin Craine.

  Cassidy leaned closer to the screen. Rick McEwan had been one of the other officers on the scene. At the sight of his name, the hair rose on her arms.

  The story went on to say that the prowler, Vernell Williams, a black man who normally lived in a ravine underneath a freeway overpass, had been declared dead at the scene. Records revealed that he had spent time in prison, in mental health treatment, and in rehab.

  Mentally ill, black, homeless, an alcoholic, an ex-con. Any of which could be problematic when it came to the local police. The Portland Police Bureau had an unfortunate history of occasionally treating crazies like criminals, seeing danger when there might not be any, and miscommunicating among themselves.

  In the last year the city had made three expensive settlements: two for using excessive force and one for a wrongful death. And the chief of police had been working to change the perception that Portland cops would rather shoot first and ask questions later.

  In the news brief, Williams’s family said they couldn’t believe he’d had a gun. But without evidence there was no way it could be proved that he hadn’t. Now Cassidy was being offered that proof.

  “How do you know what really happened?” she asked.

  “Because I was there,” he said, confirming Cassidy’s suspicion. “We all promised to tell the same story. The chief has been wanting to make an example of someone to prove he’s serious about shaking things up. If you shoot an unarmed civilian, at the very least you could lose your badge. Maybe even go to prison. So they planted a piece on this guy.”

  “A throw-down gun.”

  “Right.”

  “Who supplied it?” Cassidy wondered if she already knew the answer.

  “I’m not saying that on the phone. But it was a spur-of-the-moment decision. And now we’re all in too deep to go back. If the others knew I was talking, they might feel like they had no choice but to . . .” His voice trailed off. “But I keep thinking about the poor guy they shot. If someone like you starts asking questions, maybe the truth will come out.”

  This story was dynamite. They had to meet. Someplace private. Someplace safe. Someplace where people wouldn’t notice them.

  Her con
do building.

  Riverside Condominiums was a great place to go if you wanted to be unobserved. The builders had broken ground at the height of the real estate mania, when property was appreciating 15 percent every year. Everyone had wanted in. The management held lotteries to choose who was allowed to buy, and Cassidy had felt lucky when her number came up. Six months later the bottom fell out of the market. Roughly half the units in her building remained unoccupied. A lot of investors ended up walking away from the debt, giving their units back to the bank. As a result, the building was often eerily silent.

  “Okay,” Cassidy said. “How about this? There are a couple of meeting rooms in my condo building. No one ever uses them.” It had been one of the perks of the building, but the parties and business meetings the owners had envisioned never materialized. She had signed her mortgage agreement in one of them, and that might have been the last time it had been occupied.

  The caller finally agreed, reluctantly. Cassidy added up the time in her head. She agreed to meet him at six forty-five, after the last broadcast of the local news. She was supposed to be joining Allison and Nicole for dinner at seven thirty, but like her, they were professionals. They’d understand if a story caused a delay. She sent a quick text to each of them.

  Might be a bit late—following a lead. Save some chips and salsa for me.

  As she drove home, Cassidy’s hands were slick on the wheel, and it wasn’t just from the oppressive August heat. There was no doubt this story could be dangerous. Cops—even good cops—tended to band together when one of them was under attack. And Rick was far from a good cop. The story had so much potential. And she would be the one to break it.

  What Cassidy didn’t realize was that this story would really break her.

  CHAPTER 2

  I can see why Cassidy likes this place,” Allison Pierce said as she lifted a tortilla chip laden with bean dip to her mouth. She bit down with a satisfying crunch.