Guilty by Lee Goldberg Page A

screaming against the wall, his body melting into a ball of flame.
    Macklin shook his head at Groove's flailing, fire-consumed body. "You never learn."
    He casually tossed the burning blanket over him and pulled himself to his feet, his face knotted in pain. Macklin hobbled towards the door, glanced back once at the bedroom, now a chamber of pulsating fire, and then stumbled out, his singed legs smoking.
    # # # # # #
    Wednesday, June 19, noon
    Brett Macklin's name was chiseled in the marble tombstone. The fresh dirt underneath it was strewn with cut flowers. The grass surrounding the grave was flat and torn from the dozens of people who had stood mournfully an hour ago and listened to Father Harriman's standard eulogy.
    He shifted his gaze from the distant tombstone, squinted up at the blazing afternoon sun and then down at his wristwatch. The crystal was cracked, but he could still see that only an hour had passed since the funeral, since he had crept behind this tree, lifted the binoculars to his bloodshot eyes, and watched his daughter, a hundred yards away, shake with sobs.
    Not many men get to see their own funerals.
    "This won't work, Mack," said a voice behind him. Macklin turned and saw Shaw approaching quietly, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his black slacks. Right on time. Macklin had called Shaw after escaping from the fire. Shaw made sure Groove's corpse was identified as Brett Macklin.
    "If I'm dead, the Bitch will stop," Macklin said. "She'll let down her guard, get careless."
    "She's sharp. She won't buy the ruse that you died in that fire." Shaw leaned against the tree and studied Macklin's face. "Even if this works, you aren't going to see Cory again, are you?"
    Macklin shook his head. "Everyone I love dies. I want to spare my daughter. The money from our life insurance policies should guarantee her security."
    Using the arm that had been in the sling, he put the tiny pair of folding binoculars in his pocket and walked away. The motion hurt bad. The pain was so strong, Macklin had a hard time remembering what life had been like without it. The pain wasn't only physical. His heart had been torn out and buried with the corpses of his loved ones. Mordente's body, jerking against the impact of his gunshots, danced in front of his eyes.
    "What can you tell me about the Bitch?" Macklin asked.
    Shaw shook his head. It had gone too far already. Giving Macklin any information now was like giving a lunatic a loaded gun.
    "Nothing," Shaw said.
    Macklin grabbed Shaw roughly by the shoulders, spun him around, slammed him forward against the tree, and jammed his .357 Magnum into Shaw's back. "I've lost everything now. My family. My friends. My daughter. My life. I want the Bitch who did this to me."
    The jagged bark tore into Shaw's cheek. Tiny rivulets of blood dripped off his chin. "Go ahead, Mack. Pull the trigger. Go over the edge. You're no better than she is."
    Macklin kept Shaw pinned against the tree, removed the detective's gun, and tossed it away. He searched him with his free hand, turning out the pockets and letting Shaw's badge, wallet, and assorted papers fall to the ground.
    "C'mon, Mack, admit it. You don't think anymore. You just kill. You've lost yourself to the violence," Shaw said. "You're dead now. Walk away before your bloodlust kills more innocent people."
    Macklin found the computer printout in Shaw's inside coat pocket. He shook it to unfold it.
    "You ran my description of Vanowen and Cory's description of Van Rijn through Interpol," Macklin said, reading. "You got a match."
    Macklin's eyes narrowed and he stepped back from Shaw, though he kept his gun trained on him.
    "Demetria Davila," Macklin read slowly. "International assassin. Wanted for murders all over the world. Expert at disguise."
    Shaw pushed himself away from the tree, picked up a Kleenex off the lawn, and wiped his bloodied cheek. Macklin eyed Shaw warily.
    "She's a sadist. Big surprise," Macklin scanned the printout.