Judge & Jury

I aimed the Glock at Cavello, ready to take this pathetic animal out. I was thinking that we were in the middle of nowhere, no one around for miles. He couldn't climb out. The smell of blood would act as a magnet and draw whatever predators were up here. Or maybe he'd just die of exposure during the night.

I lowered my gun.

"Y'know, Dom," I said,"I kind of like your idea. I like it a lot. The part about the animals coming for you."

"C'mon, Nick, do it," he snarled."What's the matter, you don't have the guts?"

"His name wasJarrod, Dom. He was ten years old."

"C'mon,do it. Kill me, you sonovabitch.Shoot me! "

"You remember what you said to me that night in jail when I came to visit you, the day the juror bus blew?"

Cavello kept glaring at me.

"Well, I just want you to know-I'm going to sleep like a baby tonight."

I watched Cavello for another minute or so, until I was sure there was no way he could get out of there. Then I left.

Chapter 125

ANDIE AND I landed back at JFK in New York two nights later.

I half-expected to be held by the police as soon as we got off the plane, but we breezed through customs and immigration. The terminal was crazy. Families and limo drivers, hands in the air, waving at everyone arriving. Some guy in a slick black suit came up to us."Need a ride?"

Andie and I looked at each other. We hadn't made a plan, didn't know how we were going to get back to the city."Sure, we could use a ride," I said.

I gave the driver Andie's address. For most of the ride into Manhattan we just stared at the familiar sights-the fairgrounds, Shea Stadium. I think we were both nervous and scared about what was going to happen next. I wasn't sure I had a job anymore. I didn't know if I would get arrested. And Andie-somehow I didn't see her going back to auditioning for Tide commercials.

We crossed over the Triborough Bridge, and as we got closer to Andie's neighborhood, she just looked at me. Suddenly, there were tears in her eyes. She shook her head."I'm sorry, Nick, I just can't."

"Can't what, Andie?"

"I can't get out of this cab. I can't go back to my life without you."

I put my hand to her face and brushed away a tear from the corner of her eye. She held my hand tightly."I can't go back to my apartment and pretend I'm going to start my life over, and that I'm the same. Because I'm not. And if I walk through my door I'll have to face what's there, my stupid life."

"Then don't." I held her by the shoulders."Walk through mine."

"I can't forget my son, Nick, and I never will. But I don't want the rest of my life to be just missing him."

"Andie"-I put my finger to her lips – “walk through my door."

Tears were streaming down her cheeks. I didn't know if they were tears of anguish or joy."You know what I earned last year?" she said."Twenty-four thousand six hundred dollars, Nick. That's all. And eventhat was mostly from residuals."

"I don't much care," I said, holding her, caressing her."I know the truth. You don't have to prove it to me. The girl can act. "

Andie choked back a laugh. Her mascara was ru

I gave him mine. We were going home, together.

Epilogue. ONE YEAR LATER

Chapter 126

RICHARD NORDESHENKO SQUEEZED a look at his hole cards-a king and a ten of hearts. He decided it was worth it to stay in the hand. He was feeling lucky tonight. He had several stacks of chips in front of him, and he'd looked forward to this evening for a long time.

The American had been true to his word. Not a thing had happened after the abduction of his son. No policemen. No Mossad. No Interpol. No one had ever co

A year later, he decided it was safe to put his toe back in. He'd taken another job in America. It involved some desperate men from Iran, but the pay was excellent and had been delivered up front.

This time around he was Alex Kristancic, a businessman from Slovenia. His visa said he was here to sell wine at a trade show in the Javits Center.

All night long, luck had gone his way. His stack of chips had steadily grown. He'd allowed himself two vodkas. He wasn't even counting the money he had made.

Once or twice, he caught the eye of a woman sitting at a table across from him. She was in a low-cut black dress, with thick curly hair pulled elegantly up on her head. She didn't seem to be with anyone, and she was playing at the small-stakes table.

The flop cards showed another king and a ten-matching his hole cards. The luck continued. Another player hung around until the end, which was excellent news. Nordeshenko flipped over his cards. The player groaned, beaten with two low pairs. The gods were still with him.

"That's it for me," he a

"Quite a night for you," she said."I couldn't help noticing. Like everybody else in the room." Her backless dress was sexy, and she was wearing an exquisite perfume. She had a long, very beautiful neck.

"Yes. The poker gods were watching out for me tonight. And you? I hope you did well."

"Just enough to buy a gimlet and a taxi home. I guess I don't trust the gods as much as you."

"Then let me buy the drink." Nordeshenko smiled, signaling the bartender."You'll have doubled your wi

He introduced himself as Alex. She told him her name was Claire. They talked about the popularity of poker, some about wine, and New York City, where she was in real estate. They ordered another drink. A few times, Claire touched his arm as they spoke. After a while, he found himself doing the same thing. Her skin was soft and smooth. Her eyes absolutely dazzling.

Finally it was past midnight. The card tables had started to thin. He was going to suggest to Claire that they continue their drinks elsewhere, when she put her hand on his arm again. She leaned in close. Her breath was clean and sweet.

"You've already had a good night, Alex. Would you like to make it even better?"

Nordeshenko felt a satisfied glow travel through him. It had already occurred to him this woman might be a prostitute, but what did it matter? She was highly attractive, and she seemed to be available. And he had won enough tonight to pay for several women.

"That would be my pleasure," Nordeshenko said, looking into her exquisite brown eyes. He tossed a few bills on the counter. She put her bag over her shoulder, and he took her elbow as she slid off the stool."Let's rock and roll."

Claire gri

"My son's expression. He watches American TV," Nordeshenko explained.

"You have a son?" She didn't seem to mind it. In fact-if he read her right-it made her warm to him more.

"Yes," Nordeshenko said."He's thirteen."

"Is that so?" the woman said. Her eyes seemed to linger on him, perhaps losing a little of their dazzle."I once had a son, too."