Robert K. Tanenbaum - Fury

F ICTION

Hoax

Resolved

Absolute Rage

Enemy Within

True Justice

Act of Revenge

Reckless Endangerment

Irresistible Impulse

Falsely Accused

Corruption of Blood

Justice Denied

Material Witness

Reversible Error

Immoral Certainty

Depraved Indifference

No Lesser Plea

N ONFICTION

The Piano Teacher:
The True Story of a Psychotic Killer

Badge of the Assassin

1230 Avenue of the Americas
New York, NY 10020

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright 2005 by Robert K. Tanenbaum

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.
For information address Atria Books, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Tanenbaum, Robert.
Fury / Robert K. Tanenbaum.
p. cm.
ISBN: 1-4165-1054-0
1. Karp, Butch (Fictitious character)Fiction. 2. Ciampi, Marlene (Fictitious character)Fiction. 3. Brighton Beach (N.J.)Fiction. 4. Public prosecutorsFiction. 5. New York (N.Y.)Fiction. 6. Trials (Rape)Fiction. I. Title.
PS3570.A52F87 2005
813.54dc22 2005041001

ATRIA BOOKS is a trademark of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

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To those most special,
Patti, Rachael, Roger, and Billy,
and to the memories of my legendary mentors,
District Attorney Frank S. Hogan and Henry Robbins

Then

T WENTY - EIGHT - YEAR - OLD L IZ T YLER WOKE IN THE DARK moments before her alarm clock would have chimed. Reaching over to the nightstand, she turned it off. She lingered for a moment, enjoying the warmth of her husband, who slept soundly next to her, half hoping that hed wake up and make love to her.

Shed never been more in love with him in their seven years of marriage. Thered been a rough spot three years earliera meaningless fling with the clich tennis instructor to get even with her husband for his workaholic hours as a stockbrokerbut hed forgiven her and understood that hed played a role in her infidelity. Wading through a flood of tears and self-recriminations, theyd reached a new level in their relationship and were stronger and more loving as a result. Theyd conceived a baby, Rhiannon, named in memory of their first meeting at a Fleetwood Mac concert, and the child, now two, had cemented them to each other still further.

Sighing but getting no response, Liz decided to move on. This was her favorite time of dayjust before the dawn, a precious few minutes to be alone with her thoughts before the demands of mommyhood and domestic engineering drove all other considerations from her mind until after the last bedtime story.

Liz slid from bed and into a sports bra, baggy sweatshirt, running shorts, socks, and running shoes. She walked around to his side of the bed and leaned over to kiss his cheek, rough with a days growth of beard.

Going running? he mumbled, finding and stroking her long muscular leg with the hand that hung off the bed.

Yeah, lazybones, want to join me? She didnt really want him to gothis was her timeand knew he wouldnt but it was polite to ask.

Maybe next time. He sounded more than half asleep, but his hand had continued to explore up her leg until it was reaching suggestive levels.

She moved away from his fingers, raising a muffled complaint. You missed your chance five minutes ago, tiger, she said, laughing. Im up, dressed, and off to the beach. Ill be back before you go.

Leaving the bedroom, shed tiptoed into her daughters room and peeked over the rail of the crib. Rhiannon lay on her stomach, a thumb stuck in her mouth. She was dreaming, judging by the small sounds of discovery and joy she made in between sucks. Liz leaned over until her nose was less than an inch from her toddlers neck and inhaled deeply the sweet and sour smells of childhood.

With an effort, she straightened and left her daughters room. Time to start or youre going to miss the sunrise, she thought, grabbing the lanyard, with the whistle on it, off the coatrack and heading out of her Brighton Beach apartment.

She quickly made her way over to the boardwalk and down the steps to the beach. Crossing the loose sand over to the shoreline where it was harder and more compact, she then headed up the beach toward Coney Island. She could just make out her destination in the growing gray of the dawna big insectlike pier a mile away.

Liz liked running in sand. It gave her a better workout and was largely responsible for her shedding the twenty extra pounds shed gained during pregnancy. Only five foot six, she was down to a lithe, trim 110 pounds with just enough breast to give her cleavage. She was proud of how she treated her body and had adopted a tan, athletic look with short, spiky black hair that framed her green, almond-shaped eyes nicely.

Pounding up the beach, scattering the seagulls, who complained obscenely about the intrusion, she was mostly alone. She could see the occasional beachcomber in the distance and the early riser or two along the boardwalk, but this stretch of beach was all hers. It gave her a chance to think about an issue that was troubling herwhether to return to work.

She didnt like the idea of leaving Rhiannon with a babysitter. But on the other hand, shed had a career she enjoyed before she got pregnantworking as a florist after getting an associates degree in horticulture at Brooklyn Community College. She missed the work and she missed getting to socialize with adults during the day. But that just made her feel even more guilty, like she was being a bad mother.

The dilemma consumed her so much that as she approached the pier, she didnt notice the shadows moving beneath the weathered, barnacle-encrusted pylons. That was unusual, because she really didnt like to run beneath the hulking structure. As a little girl, shed been afraid of dark placesthose spaces beneath the bed, in closets, and down in basements where monsters were said to hide.

The dark places beneath the pier frightened her as an adult. But she always forced herself to finish this half of the run by racing beneath its beams, timing the sprint to match the waves receding enough to allow her a clear shot to the other side. In part, the idea was to conquer a childhood fear, but it was also similar to the reason people enjoy watching horror moviesthey like being scared.

Liz was so caught up in the internal debate over going back to work that she didnt see the real monsters until she was halfway under the pier and one jumped out at her and yelled, Boo!

She veered and tried to sprint away but stumbled, giving him time to cut in front of her again. He wasnt horrible-looking for a monster, just a tall, gangly black teenager with mocha skin, nice, white teeth, and hazel-colored eyes. But he talked like a monster. Say, where you going, bitch? Me and the homeboys was partyin and thought maybe you should join us.

Standing as a wave came ashore and soaked her running shoes, Liz noticed that she was surrounded by a half-dozen teenagerssome of them leering, others looking uncomfortable. Leave me alone! she said forcefully as shed been taught in a rape-prevention course shed once taken at the YMCA, but the teenagers just laughed and smirked.

Liz tried to push her way past her tormentors. She could see the light on the other side of the pier and thought if she could just get there, she would be safe. She almost got through them, too, but then one of the boys, who seemed to be their leader, grabbed her by the arm and spun her around.