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used to do in there, Eddy? With that man?
Goss s eyes flared, and his hands started to shake. I said I don tremember.
Something wrong with your ear, man?
No, I just want you to try to remember
Just get the fuck outta here! Goss shouted. Meeting s over. I got nothing
more to say.
Just take it easy
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I said, get your ass outta here!
Jack nodded, then packed up his bag and rose from his chair. We ll talk
again. He turned and stepped toward the locked metal security door.
Hey, Goss called out.
Jack stopped and looked back at him.
You re gonna get me out of here, aren t you?
I m going to represent you, Jack said.
Goss narrowed his eyes. You have to get me outta here. He leaned forward in
his chair to press his point. Youhave to. I have alot more seeds to sow.
As Jack stood in his living room recalling that conversation, the memory
still gave him a chill. He sighed, shook his head. If the situation wasn t so
serious, he d laugh at the irony. He d secured a psychopath s acquittal, only
to find himself the man s next target.
But was he really Goss s target? Of his rancor, maybe. But Jack found it hard
to believe that Goss would actually do him physical harm. He seemed more
comfortable confronting overmatched women and small animals.
He had more than enough to get a restraining order against Goss, if he wanted
one. But he wasn t sure that was the answer. The legal system had failed once
before to stop Eddy Goss thanks to him.
So it was up to Jack to find something that would work, once and for all.
It was just after 11:00P.M. bedtime at the governor s mansion. Harry Swyteck
was in his pajamas, sitting up in bed against the brass headboard, reading a
recentFlorida Trend magazine article about acquitted killer Eddy Goss. Toward
the end of the story, his irritation ripened into anger as the writer
delivered a fusillade of criticism against Goss s argue-anything lawyer,
Jack Swyteck. They call thisbalanced journalism? the governor muttered as he
threw down the magazine.
A few seconds later, Agnes emerged from the bathroom in her robe and
slippers. She stopped at the table by the window and tended to a bouquet of
flowers, her back to her husband.
Thank you for the flowers, Harry, she said, her body blocking his view of
the bouquet.
Huh, said the governor, looking over. He hadn t sent any flowers. Today
wasn t a birthday, anniversary, or any other occasion he could think of that
called for flowers. But it wasn t inconceivable that in all the campaign
commotion he d forgotten a special day and one of his staff had covered for
him. So he just played along. Oh, he replied, you re welcome, dear. I hope
you like them.
It s nice to get things for no reason, she said with a sparkle in her eye.
It was so spontaneous of you. Her mouth curled suggestively. Then she
stepped away from the table, revealing the bouquet, and the governor went
white.
Keep the bed warm, she said as she disappeared into her walk-in closet, but
the governor wasn t listening. His eyes were fixed on the bouquet of big
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white, pink, and yellow chrysanthemums perched on the table. He rose from the
bed and stepped toward the bouquet. The card was still in the holder. Harry s
hand trembled as he opened the envelope. It suddenly seemed so obvious: the
disguised voice, the threats, the photographs of a gruesome murder, and now
the flowers. His mind raced, making a logical link between the Chrysanthemum
Killer, whose weird pathology had been mentioned in the article he d just
been reading, and the blackmailer.
He read the message. Instantly, he knew it was intended for him, not his
wife. You and me forever, it read, till death do us part.
Eddy Goss, the governor muttered softly to himself, his voice cracking with
fear.I m being blackmailed by a psychopath.
Chapter 13
"
The following morning, Monday, Jack picked up his Mustang from the garage and
went to A&G Alarm Company, where he arranged to have a security system
immediately installed in his house. By noon he had new locks on the doors and
was thinking about escape plans. He still couldn t bring himself to believe
that Goss would try to kill him, but it would be foolish not to take
precautions. He imagined the worst-case scenarios an attack in the middle of
the night or an ambush in the parking lot and planned in advance how he would
respond. And he called the telephone company. In two days he d have a new,
unlisted phone number.
But there was one basic precaution he decided not to take. He didn t call the
police because he still felt the cops would do little to protect Eddy Goss s
lawyer. Besides, he had another idea. That afternoon he bought ammunition for
his gun.
It wasn t actuallyhis gun. He d inherited a .38-caliber pistol from Donna
Boyd, an old flame at Yale. Most people didn t know it, but crime was a
problem in certain areas of New Haven where many students lived off campus.
After Jack s neighbor had been robbed, Donna had refused to sleep over anymore
unless Jack kept her gun in the nightstand. Even for an independent-minded
Yale coed, she was a bit unconventional. He agreed but took the precaution of
signing up for a few shooting lessons at the local range. He didn t want to
make a mistake they d both regret.
As it turned out, the gun stayed in his drawer until after graduation, when
he was packing for Miami. By that point, he and Donna had broken up and she d
been bitter enough to leave town without stopping by to pick up her things. A
mutual friend said she d gone to Europe. So Jack had just packed the gun away
with her racquet-ball racket and Elvis Costello CD and forgotten about it
until now.
Suddenly, he had a use for the gun that had lain in his footlocker for the
last six years, last registered in Connecticut, in the name of Donna Boyd.
Jack had never considered violence an answer to anything. But this was
something altogether different. This was truly self-defense. Or was it? Deep
down, he wondered if he actually hoped Goss would break into his house. As he
sat back in the sofa in his living room with the ammunition he d just
purchased, he thought hard about his real motivation for not calling the cops.
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