Justice (19 page)

“
Of course.
”

She sets down the glass.
“
Wake me in two hours. I’ve already contacted the airfield. They won’t grant clearance until we arrive.
”

“
Okay.
”

We face each other, neither wanting to speak. Then she does something I never thought she’d do. She leans in, wrapping her thin arms around me in a stiff hug. I’m too shocked for a moment to move, but quickly remedy that, hugging her back. It’s over in a second. She pulls away first, a little embarrassed by this show of emotion.
“
Thank you.
”

“
Go rest.
”

On unsteady legs, she totters out with her head up to maintain dignity. I’ve never seen her drink more than a single glass of champagne. I run my hand through my hair with a ragged sigh. If she’s reacting like this, Justin’s going to be inconsolable.

My hands begin shaking again and I have the strongest urge to sit. Really, I want to run out of this house, hop into my car, and drive as far away as possible. Check into some random hotel, drink myself into oblivion, and sleep for a month. And I could. I really could. They’d be better off without me. Everyone would. I—

The telephone rings, making me almost jump out of my seat. My nerves are shot. I could really use a drink. Or Valium. Or both. But no, I’m not touching the crap.

Okay, I failed one job, I’m not going to do it twice. I’ll just do the best I can. Just show up. I can do it. I can.

So I do.

***

The ride to the airport is a quiet one. Dobbs sits in the front of the vintage Rolls Royce separated by a clear sliding partition. Lucy and I sit side by side in the back, looking out our respective tinted windows. Even with the car in relative darkness, Lucy and I wear sunglasses to help with our hangovers.

The adrenaline that was keeping mine at bay wore off soon after Lucy left me to field a thousand phone calls from concerned friends and business associates. I told the truth, which turned out to be a mistake. Bitsy even began to sob, blubbering for close to five minutes. I let the machine pick up after that, only answering those which needed immediate response. The aspirin helped with the headache and a sandwich settled my stomach, but I’m still exhausted. My body feels as if I’ve just run across the country.

I rest my head against the cool window, watching my city go by. The airport is on the mouth of the river where it meets the ocean, though Justin has his own hangar across the street from the real airport. To my left is the urban jungle, to my right the dark water of the Andalucía River with huge boats parked at the docks. Longshoremen in yellow hard hats unload crates with cranes and mill around chanting to their colleagues and drinking coffee. In the distance, a line of trucks wait to leave the port terminal. Overhead planes begin the descent, engines roaring. If I didn’t already have a headache, the noise alone would give me one. Lucy presses her temples to help assuage hers. What a pair we are. Justin would be better off with a hyena to comfort him.

Dobbs pulls into the private airport with my police escort following behind. The guard at the gate lets us pass. Justin does a lot of traveling and gives a mean Christmas bonus, so they all know the car. The rich people airport, as I think of it, is nothing more than five hangars, two air strips, a small terminal where they bring your plane to the door, and tiny access roads. Normally we’d wait at the terminal, but since the plane’s only here to refuel we drive toward the hangar itself. It’s fairly deserted except for the fuel trucks, tiny prop planes, and bigger private jets scattered around with mechanics tinkering on them. The hangar that Justin shares with the Pickering and Lockwood’s is the last on the tarmac. We’re just in time as Justin’s jet lands when we pull in.

“
Should I tell him or do you want to?
”
I ask Lucy.

She takes off her sunglasses, revealing red eyes.
“
Want is in no way is associated with this endeavor.
”
She places the glasses into their case.
“
We’ll play it by ear.
”
Dobbs opens Lucy’s door, but I don’t wait for him.

This isn’t the first death notification I’ve done. They come with the job. Ask any officer what their least favorite part of the job is, and they’ll say death notification. You become the most important person in the worst day of their life. Some people burst into hysterical tears. Some throw things. Some just stare blankly as if you’re speaking a foreign language. You never can tell.

I remember my first. It was around three in the morning when I heard the knock on our apartment door. At first I thought it was Mom in the kitchen looking for another bottle, but the second knock woke me fully. I got up thinking Pop had forgotten his keys, but when I saw the two officers in the hall my stomach dropped. I’d seen enough detective shows to know something bad had happened. The patrolmen were both young, early twenties if that, and visibly uncomfortable. Sands and Webb were their names. I made it a point to remember them in case they were lying. I’d sue their butts if they were. I was grasping at straws, working very damn hard at denial at that moment. When I joined the force I sought them out. Sands had quit, but Webb was a fraud detective. He remembered me after a little prompting. Like I said, it’s hard to forget your first notification.

Sands, the taller of the two, asked if my mother was home. Too stunned to talk back, I ran into her bedroom. Mom was asleep, or should I say passed out on the top of the bed. I shook her for a few seconds to no avail. She’d fallen off the wagon a week before for no conceivable reason, and would never climb back on again. This was an especially bad night for her. Pop threatened to leave her, taking me with him, if she didn’t start attending meetings again. I was overjoyed. We’d finally be free of her drama and bullshit. Before I went to bed I got the newspaper and began circling possible apartments we could move into.

After slapping her face, she jerked awake. I told her the police wanted her. Still half asleep and drunk, she stumbled to the front door. The officers exchanged a glance, one I’d seen on neighbors and family members’ faces when she was like this. They asked if she was Maeve Fallon, wife of Sean Fallon. When she asked why, they ignored her, asking if there was anyone else at home. I found out later this is standard in case one person flips out, there’s another there to calm or comfort her. Otherwise the officers could be there for hours, especially with a fainter. Mom said no. Having no choice, they told us what happened. Pop was shot three blocks from the apartment in an apparent robbery.

“
I’m sorry, but he didn’t make it.
”

Mom clutched her stomach as if stabbed, gasping and doubling over. The officers helped her to the couch as she burst into tears and wasn’t able to stand on her own anymore. Until that moment I thought she hated him. They fought constantly, especially after she’d been drinking. I can count on one hand the times I saw them be loving to each other or even hug. I think the only reason they married was because of me. But in her way she loved him. After his death she never seriously dated, instead choosing one night stands with other alcoholics. She was so distraught she couldn’t even handle the funeral arrangements.

Mom was a crumbler. I just went into shock. Those words came out of Sands’ mouth and it was like a two-ton iron door shut inside me. Everything just closed. My emotions, my ability to think, my belief in anything decent and fair. It only opens on rare occasions, usually to let one of the demons out that can’t be contained anymore to wreak havoc on my life. Like last night.

I think I was catatonic for a minute, floating outside myself for that time as my brain assimilated the information and prepared me for my new life. Then Sands touched my shoulder and I snapped out of it. He asked if I was okay, an insanely stupid question. I looked into his eyes and told him I needed to call my uncle for my mother. Mom sobbed even louder, resting her head on Webb’s shoulder. He later told me that I looked at her with such utter contempt he got a chill. I went into her bedroom to make the call as her cries were too loud to hear over. This would be my life until I emancipated myself when I was sixteen. Mom falling apart and me having to handle everything from paying the bills to doing the repairs.

It was twenty years ago, and I remember every detail, down to the pajamas I was wearing. Justice t-shirt with purple shorts. My first next-of-kin notification. Now, I have to take center stage on the worst day of my best friend’s life. The day when all of his hopes and dreams are shattered with a few words. Will he fall apart? Take a swing at me? Never look at me the same way again? I’m about the find out.

As the jet taxis into the hangar, three mechanics hop to, grabbing tools and the fuel hose. I walk around the car to join Lucy and Dobbs. Her arms are folded across her small chest, already defensive. Dobbs has his hands crossed in the back and chin up, even now the proper servant. I don’t know what to do with my arms, so they stay at my side, the shakes that started again when we pulled in controlled by balling my hands into fists.

Justin peers through one of the small windows, smiling but confused. Shannon, Justin’s assistant’s, head bowed, lifts her cell phone to her ear. She better not tell him before we do. The plane stops and one of the mechanics opens the door. After saying something to Shannon, Justin stands to deplane. I sigh before starting toward the plane with Lucy behind me.
I can do this.

As Justin comes into view at the door, Shannon’s face falls. She looks at us, stunned, her mouth gaping open. I keep walking but glance at her, lightly shaking my head to signal her to keep her trap shut. Her tiny mouth closes.

“
This is a nice surprise. What are you doing here?
”
he asks with a chuckle as he steps down.

I have no idea what to say. He’s smiling.
Smiling
. I keep my face neutral as I keep walking. His grin grows as I approach, but so does the confusion. He tries to read me, but I’m not giving anything away. Lucy isn’t either.
“
Seriously guys, what are you doing here?
”
We keep walking. His smile wanes.
“
Jo? Aunt Lucy? What’s going on, you guys?
”
He tries to meet my eyes. When I don’t let him, the smile disappears. A dumbstruck Shannon appears in the plane door, trying to stop her oncoming tears.
“
Jo, you’re starting to scare me.
”
I’m only a few feet away, and I can’t not meet his gaze.

We know each other too well. Confusion changes to fear when our eyes lock.
“
Jo, where’s Rebecca?
”
This is one of the few times I’m glad for my walls. The look on that handsome face, the abject terror and sadness, would kill me otherwise. He grabs my upper arms, shaking me.
“
Joanna!
”

I do my job.
“
I’m sorry to inform you that Rebecca Thornton, Daisy Thornton, and Marnie Holt were found dead this afternoon in their residence. I’m so sorry.
”

My face is pressed against the glass as my best friend’s heart breaks. Fear turns to anger which becomes unfathomable sadness. He clutches onto me with quivering arms so tight I want to wince. I don’t. I accept the pain.
“
Daisy?
”
he asks, voice cracking.

I shake my head.

He releases me, wide eyes tearing. Disbelief fills his face.
“
No. No,
”
he says, shaking his head. He looks at Lucy, who averts her gaze down. Shaking his head even harder he turns to Shannon. She covers her mouth with both hands to stop the sobs. Justin gasps, running his hands through his hair as he looks back at me. Tears fall down his cheeks.
“
What happened? Jo,
what happened
?
”
he roars.

“
They were murdered,
”
I say after a pause.

“
Who?
”
I don’t answer. He grabs me again, eyes wild. I’ve never seen him like this before. There’s something inhuman about his expression. Feral. For an instant, I’m scared of him.
“
Who
?
”

“
Alkaline. It was Alkaline.
”

His mouth slacks open as he gasps and doubles over, just as my mom did. He twists away from me, away from all of us, staggering back to the side of the plane. He keeps gasping, unable to draw in enough air.
“
No,
”
he says in between the chokes.
“
No!
”
he bellows. He hits the side of the plane so hard it shimmies, leaving a huge dent.

It’s my turn to gasp. I’ve never seen anything like that outside of a superhero fight.
“
Justin!
”
I rush over to him.

He rests his head on the plane, fist still imbedded. As I take his hand to check for broken bones, he gazes up at me through tear-filled eyes. I’ve seen that look. My mom had it all her life. It’s in my eyes every moment of the day. I can barely look at myself in the mirror because of it. It’s something I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.

Broken. He’s broken.

“
Oh, Jo,
”
he cries as he crumbles into my arms.

I do the only thing I can. I hold him as tight as I can as he falls apart.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Aftermath

The press began to show up an hour before we left, but by the time we pull through the gate every reporter on the continent is on Justin’s doorstep. The usually calm Dobbs grips the steering wheel, breathing heavily as he plows through the shouting horde, horn honking continuously. Flashbulbs pop and cameras are thrust against the windows, though they can’t see anything. Gotta love tinted windows. That doesn’t stop them. If anything they take it as a challenge, swarming us. They screech their questions, but I can’t make out a single word. Everywhere we look, there they are. Dobbs can barely go one mile an hour, but we make it through the gate.

“
Cretins,
”
Lucy says.
“
Have they no shame?
”

“
None,
”
I say.

“
I’m on the phone to the police right now,
”
Shannon says, pinning a stray strand of brown hair back in her tight bun.
“
They’ll clear them out.
”

“
It’s a public street. The police can’t do anything,
”
I say.

“
Bastards,
”
Lucy says.

Justin stares out the window, lost in his own world. He doesn’t even register their presence.

The reporters stop at the gate, but their questions continue.
“
Oh, good,
”
Shannon says. I turn around and see my armed escorts get out of their car for crowd control.
“
Why were they following us?
”
Shannon asks.

Justin looks away from the window to me for the answer.
“
Standard procedure in high profile cases,
”
I say.
“
For just this reason. Nothing to worry about.
”

As Dobbs retrieves the suitcases from the back, the rest of us retreat inside away from the loud voices. We follow Justin into the foyer where he just stops. Nobody says a word or even moves. We stay like this for almost a minute, even when Dobbs joins us. He looks at Lucy, who turns to me. Justin hasn’t let go of my hand since the airfield. I squeeze it.
“
Justin?
”
He says something, but so faintly I can’t hear him from a few inches away.
“
What?
”

“
I don’t know what to do,
”
he says only a little louder.
“
I have no idea what I’m doing. I don’t know what to do next. Do I…start the funeral arrangements? Do I go into the living room and just sit down? I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.
”

“
Hey,
”
I say, positioning myself in front of him. He won’t look at me.
“
We’ll handle everything, okay?
”
I look at Dobbs.
“
After you bring the suitcases upstairs, can you make us some sandwiches and coffee?
”

“
Yes, miss,
”
Dobbs says as he starts toward the staircase.

“
Shannon, why don’t you handle everything at Pendergast? Meetings that need cancelling, worried staff, whatever crops up. Unless there’s an emergency, I don’t want anything work-related to get past you. I’ve already been in contact with Gene Tully in public relations and he’s drafted a statement and is coordinating with the press. On the desk in the parlor there’s a pad with notes about everything he and I spoke about and others who have called. It’ll help you catch up. Dobbs can drive you back to the office when you’re done.
”

“
Okay,
”
she says as she walks away, already fiddling with her phone.

“
And I think I’ll begin returning phone calls,
”
Lucy says.
“
I’ll be up in my room if I’m needed.
”

Tentatively, Lucy approaches her nephew. She squeezes his shoulder and with his free hand he pats hers.
“
Thank you, Aunt Lucy,
”
Justin says before leaning in and kissing her cheek.

She nods and walks up the stairs to her sanctuary. Just the two of us now.
“
Why don’t we go into the living room? Or would you rather go upstairs and lie down? I can call Doc Swenson. Get you some Valium?
”

“
No. Thank you.
”

“
Okay.
”
I start toward the living room for lack of something better to do. Justin doesn’t release my hand, so he comes with me. In his shock I could lead him into the ocean and he’d follow.

I choose the living room because it’s the calmest room in the house. The mansion was built over a hundred years ago when the first burnt down. The rest of the house is a cold museum with antique furniture, ancient statues and paintings. When I first stepped in, I was struck by how dark and stuffy it was. Definitely a house, not a home. For the first year I was petrified to even look at the art, let alone touch anything. This room and the library are the only two I’m comfortable in. And since we’ve spent the majority of our friendship in the living room, that is where we end up.

Justin’s dad, J.T. renovated it just before Justin was born. He knocked out an entire wall and replaced it with glass so there’s a panoramic view of the sapphire blue ocean below. There’s a deck and patio where we sunbathe or barbeque when weather allows. Inside there’s a full bar with stools, popcorn maker, cotton candy machine, small fridge, and dart board off to the side. The L-shaped fluffy black couch takes up most of the room with glass coffee table separating it from the sixty-inch plasma TV. Every videogame system invented is attached to the TV. Hundreds of wasted, yet fun as hell, hours have been spent on those things. We’re both very competitive, almost to a fault, and once spent eighteen hours straight trying to kill each other. I won. Taking up half a wall is a bookcase filled with DVDs, mostly comedy and action. Justin’s a cineophile. Last count was a thousand. The digital juke-box is next to a giant stone fireplace big enough to burn a human with the oldest map of Galilee hanging above it. I’ve always thought it’s out of place in here, but elegant.

I sit him on the couch, pulling my hand away.
“
Can I get you anything? A drink?
”

He looks up at me.
“
You need to tell me everything that happened.
Everything
. Start with this morning.
”

I sit next to him, grabbing one of the throw pillows to hug.
“
Justin, I don’t think—
”

His eyes grow wide.
“
I don’t care what you think. I need to know.
Tell me.
”

With a sigh, I walk him through the day’s events, omitting the more gruesome or disturbing aspects, stopping before I get to the threat. He listens, only flinching a few times.
“
That’s it. That’s all I know.
”

“
That’s everything?
”
I nod. His eyes narrow.
“
You’re lying.
”

“
I’ve told you everything important.
”

“
I want every detail.
”

“
No, you don’t. And I sure as hell am not going to tell you, okay? So don’t ask again.
”

He seems to accept this for the time being.
“
The door was unlocked when you got there?
”

“
Yeah. I think he picked the lock.
”

“
And what time did he, um, enter?
”

“
Sometime between six and six thirty this morning.
”

“
I was already in New Urbana,
”
he says to himself.

“
Don’t start that,
”
I say.

“
What?
”

“
When Pop died I came up with a dozen things I could, would, or should have done to stop it from happening. I turned it around in my head so much, I made it my fault. Stupid things like if I had packed him an apple, he wouldn’t have stopped at that mini-mart. Or if I hadn’t needed all of that Justice crap he would have gotten a safer job. And then I ended up on a bridge.
”
I reach across and touch his hand.
“
Listen to me. There is nothing you could have done. They didn’t die because you went on a business trip. They didn’t die because you forgot to tell them you loved them before you left. They died because a psychopath killed them. Nothing more. Making it your fault and torturing yourself will do nothing to change that fact. It’ll just make you crazy. I’m speaking from experience.
”

“
But—
”

“
Listen to the words coming out of my mouth like you have never listened to anything before. This…is not—your—fault.
”
It’s mine.

He pulls his hand away.
“
I think I need to be alone now.
”

“
That’s the last thing you need.
”

“
Joanna, you need to leave me alone.
”
He looks up at me, eyes like ice.
“
Right now.
”

If anyone else had spoken or looked at me like that, I’d pull my gun just to be safe.
“
Fine.
”
I stand and walk to the door.
“
I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.
”

I’d take it personally, but I know how he feels. I didn’t want anyone within a hundred feet of me when Pop died. All those people looking at me, coddling me, it drove me nuts. I screamed at Aunt Emily when she tried to hug me. I locked myself in my room for a whole day after that. Isolation didn’t make things better, but it didn’t make things worse. At least I didn’t have to keep up a strong front.

I make it down the hallway when Dobbs comes up to me.
“
Miss Joanna, the police are at the front gate.
”

“
Already? Crap.
”
I sigh. He’s in no shape to answer invasive questions.
“
Okay, let them in and show them to the parlor. I’ll be there in a minute.
”
Dobbs begins walking to the front door, and I go back the way I came. So much for alone time. When I get back to the living room, Justin’s gone. He’s not out on the patio either. I even check the stairs down to the beach, but he’s nowhere to be found. How the hell did he get past me? I rush back inside into the parlor where Harry and Cam wait. I smile graciously as I enter.
“
Hello.
”

“
Would you gentlemen like something to drink? We have fresh coffee,
”
Dobbs says.

“
We’re fine, thank you,
”
Harry says.

Dobbs nods, and then turns to leave. I stop him and whisper,
“
I can’t find Justin. Can you locate him? Have him come in here?
”

“
Yes, Miss Joanna,
”
he whispers back before walking out.

“
Sure you don’t want anything to drink? Eat?
”
I ask.

“
No,
”
Cam says.
“
How are you doing?
”

I sit on the loveseat, and they sit across me on the couch. It’s kind of strange not being on the same side as them. Usually I’m the one on the couch next to my partner ready to grill a witness. But not today. Right now my one and only loyalty is to Justin, and I’ll do whatever I can to protect him.
“
I’m exhausted. It’s been a long, God awful twenty-four hours.
”
I glance at Harry whose mouth twitches.

“
How’s he doing?
”
Cam asks.

“
He’s in shock. The press outside doesn’t help matters.
”

“
I already called it in,
”
Harry says.
“
There’ll be another patrol car around to corral them.
”

“
Thanks.
”
We all sit in uncomfortable silence. That’s never happened before. Usually, we’re a well-oiled machine finishing each other’s thoughts. I’m the host, so it’s my job to make everyone comfortable.
“
So, have you been making progress?
”

“
Neighborhood canvas came up with nothing,
”
Cam says.
“
Neighbors saw no one, heard nothing.
”

“
Have they determined a definitive time of death?
”

“
Between six and seven this morning,
”
Harry says.

“
CSI find anything of use?
”

“
His fingerprints were all over. DNA will be back tomorrow,
”
Cam says.
“
When we catch him we’ll have more than enough to charge him.
”

“
What about the security footage from the hotel last night? Has anyone started reviewing it? Interviewing the security detail?
”

“
We’re still processing the crime scene. The hotel’s sending it over,
”
Harry says.

“
I’ve been playing those seconds over and over in my head. It was him. I have no doubt now.
”

“
Doubt about what?
”
Justin asks behind me.

The three of us stand as he walks in. Cam and Harry put on their professional, sympathetic expressions that I see every day.
“
Hello, Mr. Pendergast,
”
Harry says, holding out his hand.
“
I don’t know if you remember me, I’m—
”