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whether his brain was big enough to comprehend it all.

"Nice try," he said, "but you left out my fucking eyewitness over

here."

"Your brother?"  I asked.  "Frank's not going to turn you in, are you,

Frank?"

This pissed Derrick off for some reason.  He said, "I told you she was

full of shit, Frank.  Don't pretend like you don't know what's going

on, bitch.  My first mistake was letting Master Crime Fighter here live

when it turned out he was a DA and not some salesman from Idaho like he

said.  Dumb and Dumber here meet each other in a chat room.  So one day

Frankie tells me he knows a furniture salesman from Idaho who's willing

to pay big for a gang bang on a young' un  We set him up with Jamie,

and next thing you know the girl's dead and, lo and behold, the

salesman's a DA.  Should have killed you then, O'Donnell."

"Frank's the one who killed her, Derrick, not me," O'Donnell said.

"He's the one who got out of control.  Luckiest thing that ever

happened to you was me being on call when her body was found.  I got

you guys out of that jam, and I've been getting you out of this one."

O'Donnell was getting Derrick riled up again.  "That's bullshit, man!

You helped yourself out on that first one, but now you've been screwing

us."

"Tim, you were involved in this and then told Landry what to say?"  I

asked, trying to follow the conversation between the two of them.

"That's how she knew everything about Jamie?"

"I don't know how she knew, Sam, I always assumed it was Forbes.  But I

ran with it and got the convictions, didn't I, Derrick?  And, even

though we were supposed to be even after that, I've been trying to help

Frank out ever since.  When he got popped in Clackamas County, it was

me who told him to argue consent instead of that stupid alibi.  And it

got him a damn good plea deal, didn't it?  I've been trying to get him

out of this one, too.  I used information from confidential police

databases to write those Long Hauler letters.  Even tonight, I've done

everything you asked.  You wanted me to leave a message for Sam, I did

it.  I got you the alarm code.  I've helped you."

Tim obviously didn't care anymore about lying to me; he was doing

whatever he could to save himself before the Derringers killed me.  His

pleas hadn't seemed to work.

"And now I'm under fucking indictment," Derrick said.  "So it's time to

put this thing to rest."

"What message?  I didn't get any message."  I was frantically stalling

for time before they could implement whatever plan they had in mind.

"Yes, you did, and the police will find it with your bodies," Derrick

said.

Frank went into the kitchen and pushed a button on my answering machine

with his knuckle.  I heard Tim's voice say, "Sam, it's Tim O'Donnell. I

just wanted to make sure we're still on for tonight to talk about the

case.  If I don't hear from you, I'll be at your house around eight.

See ya."

Frank came back in, looking very proud of himself.  "See,

Tim tells us that the FBI's waiting for the Long Hauler to make a big

splash.  So he's going to come here tonight to kill you both."

Derrick laughed.  "Yeah, Tim.  Thanks for the imaginary friend.  It was

brilliant.  He'll take care of the two of you, and down the road we'll

take care of Haley and the Martin girl after we've turned them out for

a few more months.  They'll just be a couple of dead prostitutes."

"Yeah, maybe the Long Hauler can write a letter about it," Frank added,

laughing with his brother.

They were psychopaths, but I had to give them credit.  They were smart

psychopaths.  My head was reeling.  There was no Long Hauler. O'Donnell

had access to the Northwest Regional Cold Case Database. He'd written

the letters, carefully selecting details only from cases that lacked

DNA evidence.  He'd probably mailed them when he was out of town at his

fishing cabin.

"Frank, Derrick," I said.  "It doesn't matter that Tim was there when

Jamie died.  There's a rule that says a co-conspirator's testimony

alone isn't enough to convict.  Even if Tim testified against you, the

State would need other evidence to corroborate the testimony.  There

isn't any.  Anyway, he's the last one who's going to turn you in.  It

implicates him too."

O'Donnell finally clued in.  "She's right, Derrick," he said.  "I'd

never testify against you, but even if I did, the rule she's talking

about would keep there from being any case."

The tag team approach seemed to be working.  "You're better off blowing

town than killing us," I said.  "You commit a double murder, and you're

looking at the death penalty.  They won't just assume the Long Hauler

did it.  They'll check for copycats, scour the files we were working

on.  They'll find the pictures I have of you with Haley.  They'll find

Travis Culver.

Once the police are done fishing around, you'll wind up on death row.

As it is, you can bail."

Derrick thought about it for a few seconds, then shook his head.  "Nice

effort, but our previous counsel here already gave us some advice.  I

tried like hell to get those pictures back to be safe, but O'Donnell

here tells me they don't show much.  Hell, my face ain't even in 'em.

As for Culver, he'll be shot during a robbery gone bad at the Collision

Clinic."

"Derrick," O'Donnell said, "don't you think the police are going to put

it together?  A witness, the DA, and the victim in Frank's trial all

turn up dead?  Don't do this, man."

They needed to see that their plan was starting to fall apart.  "The

police will find the transcript of the grand jury testimony against

you," I said.  "They'll draw the same conclusions I did.  Right now,

there's not enough proof, but with two dead DAs they'll put it

together.  And the grand jury testimony will be admissible in court if

any of the witnesses are dead."

"What grand jury testimony?"  Derrick asked.  "Tim, you said there was

no record of a grand jury testimony.  Is there or isn't there?  Don't

you fucking lie to me!"  he yelled, back-handing O'Donnell with the

gun.

Tim's head jerked to one side with the blow.  When he sat back up,

blood was running from a cut beneath his right eye.  "We don't have

court reporters for normal grand jury sessions, but you can request one

if you want to keep a record."

Derrick smacked him again in the same place, bursting the cut open even

wider.  "Now you fucking tell me, man!"  He pursed his lips, trying to

figure out his next move.  "OK, bitch."

I assumed he was talking to me.

"You think you're so smart, but now I know you got a transcript, you're

gonna tell me where it is."

"It's at the office," I said.