Mr. Justice Read Free Page A

into her sparkling green eyes. “Any day with you and Megan is special, hon. It doesn’t matter where we eat.”
    Jenny’s eyes misted. “‘Pitha,’ here we come.” She kissed her husband on the cheek and hugged him like there was no tomorrow.
    “Pitha! Pitha! Pitha!” Megan sang as the happy family headed for the car.
     
    The McDonalds meandered down Route 250 on their way to Crozet Pizza, one of the hidden gems of the area. UVA students in the know understood that a trip to Crozet for a hand-tossed pie was as sacred as a naked sprint across the Lawn.
    Fortunately for Jeffrey Oates, Route 250 was a back road and wasn’t heavily trafficked. He followed closely behind the McDonalds’ Volvo, but not so close as to be conspicuous. He had borrowed a colleague’s car with Virginia license plates for the same reason. It was a late-model Mustang, and unlike his ten-year-old Taurus, it had speed to burn. That was crucial because Oates would need to make a quick getaway.
    Oates followed the McDonalds for the better part of ten miles. Where the heck were they going? he said to himself more than once. He wasn’t from Charlottesville, but he knew that a college town of its size and significance must have a number of quality restaurants.
    Finally, the Volvo turned into a gravel parking lot about a quarter of a mile west of a small wooden sign that readC ROZET at the top andI NCORPORATED 1791 at the bottom. In a way, Oates thought, it was good that the McDonalds had decided to celebrate Valentine’s Day outside of town. There would be fewer witnesses this way. He knew it took only one witness, though. One person who could identify him. He needed to be careful.
    Jenny McDonald was the first to exit the car. She placed her purse on the roof, tucked her hair behind her ears, and opened the back door. She leaned over and unbuckled the child safety seat that held her slumbering daughter. Megan never stayed awake for more than five minutes in the car. Jenny and Peter had discovered that when Megan was a baby and wouldn’t sleep through the night. One evening, at about half past eleven, Peter decided to drive his crying daughter around the block. Five minutes later, she was sleeping as soundly as a senior citizen after a Wheel of Fortune marathon on the Game Show Network.
    “Come on, Professor,” Oates muttered. He bit his lip. He had picked the wrong time to try to quit smoking. “Get out of the car. Get out of the goddamn car.”
    Oates felt more than a little guilty about the prospect of shooting McDonald in front of his wife and daughter, but he had no choice. Senator Burton had insisted that the deed be done ASAP. And what the senator wanted, the senator got. Everyone on the senator’s staff knew that. Jeffrey Oates certainly did.
    McDonald finally exited the car. He locked the doors with the press of a button on his key chain and then did a quick sprint to where his wife and sleeping daughter were waiting. He eased his daughter from his wife’s tired arms, positioned her comfortably on his shoulder, and took his wife by the hand. He still got tingles when Jenny caressed his hand with the back of her thumb, and he still felt all warm inside when Megan wrapped her tiny arms around his neck.
    No, Peter McDonald said to himself, life doesn’t get any better than this. Then …
    A shot! McDonald heard a shot !
    He felt his wife’s grip loosen from his own. He watched her knees buckle as she crumbled to the sidewalk like one of Megan’s rag dolls.
    “Jenny!” he cried out. “Jenny!”
    Then …
    A second shot!
    He heard a sharp squeal.
    Megan! The second shot had hit Megan !
    “No!” he cried out. “Please God, no !” McDonald dropped to the sidewalk. Megan lay limply across her mother’s chest. Jenny had a hole in the side of her head the size of a quarter. Both McDonald’s wife and daughter were soaked in blood, and both had their eyes open. “No!” he said again.
    It didn’t take long for people to start