2nd Chance (Women's Murder Club 2)

“I knew it,” Cindy shouted with a triumphant beam.

“You’ve got to find out what that lion image represents,” insisted Claire.

I nodded. “I’m on it. Big-time.”

Jill, the A.D.A., inquired, “Anything out there that actually ties these two victims together?”

“Nothing so far.”

“What about motive?” she pressed.

“Everyone’s reading them as hate crimes, Jill.”

She nodded cautiously. “And you?”

“I’m starting to read them differently. I think we have to consider the possibility that someone’s using the hate crime scenario as a smoke screen.”

There was a long silence at the table.

“A racial serial killer,” Claire said.

Chapter 16

I HAD SHARED MY NEWS, all of it bad. Everyone ran it over glumly.

I nodded to Jill. “Now you…”

Cindy jumped the gun. “Bennett’s not going to run again, is he?” In her eight years in the prosecutor’s office, Jill had shot up to be his number two in command. If the old man decided to step down, she was the logical choice to be appointed San Francisco’s next D.A.

Jill laughed and shook her head. “He’ll be propped up at that oak desk the day he dies. That’s the truth.”

“Well, you’ve got something to tell us,” pressed Claire.

“You’re right,” she admitted. “I do….”

One by one, Jill met each one of our gazes as if to ratchet up the suspense. Those normally piercing cobalt eyes had never looked so serene. At last, a crooked little smile crept across her face. She let out a sigh, then said, “I’m pregnant.”

We sat there, waiting for her to admit that she was just putting us on. But she didn’t. She just kept those sharp eyes blinking right in our faces, until thirty seconds must have gone by.

“Y-you’re joking,” I stammered. Jill was the most driven woman I knew. You could catch her at her desk most any night until after eight. Her husband, Steve, ran a venture fund for Bank America. They were fast-track achievers: They mountain-biked in Moab, windsurfed on the Columbia River in Oregon. A baby…

“People do it,” she exclaimed at our amazement.

“I knew it,” Claire exclaimed, slapping the table. “I just knew it. I saw the look in your eyes. I saw that sheen on your face. I said, something’s toasting in that oven. You’re talking to an expert, you know. How long?”

“Eight weeks. I’m due the end of May.” Jill’s eyes sparkled like a young girl’s. “Other than our families, you’re the first people I’ve told. Of course.”

“Bennett’s gonna shit graham crackers.” Cindy cackled.

“He’s got three of his own. And it’s not like I’m trading it in to go off and grow grapes in Petaluma. I’m just having a baby.”

I found myself smiling. Part of me was so pleased for her, I almost wanted to cry. Part of me was even a little jealous. Most of me still couldn’t believe it. “This kid better know what he’s in for.” I grinned. “He’ll be rocked to sleep by tapes of California case law.”

“No way.” Jill laughed defiantly. “I won’t do it. I promise I won’t do it. I’m gonna be a really good mom.”

I stood up and leaned across the table to her. “This is so great, Jill.” For a moment, we just stared at each other, our eyes glistening. I was so damned happy for her. I remembered when I was scared shitless because of a blood disease I had, and Jill had bared her arms to us and showed us her terrible scars; she explained how she had cut herself in high school and college, how the challenge to always go to the top had so deeply ruled her life that she could only take it out on herself.

We threw our arms around each other, and I squeezed her.