Read Justification for Murder Online
Authors: Elin Barnes
Tags: #Fiction, #Medical, #Retail, #Suspense, #Thrillers
Sunday: Two weeks later
S
affron circled upwards in the parking lot across Best Buy until she found a spot on the fourth floor. That was the easiest place to find parking in Santana Row. As she walked, she could hear the band playing in the courtyard outside of Starbucks. She smiled and for the first time in a week, she realized her muscles weren’t clenched anymore. Saffron was the first one to arrive. She went inside in case any of the others were there, but the place was fairly empty. Most people were sitting outside, enjoying the warm sun and the music.
She felt a chill run through her back. She’d noticed that she still felt that certain sense of uneasiness every time she stood in line to order coffee. She looked over her shoulder and then she took half a step to the side so she could see the door and the large windows that were previously behind her. She wondered if she would ever be able to enjoy a cup of java in one of those large dark brown leather chairs without fearing somebody would shatter the glass with massive bullets, trying to get rid of her.
Maybe it’s time to quit caffeine
, she thought. But she knew she wouldn’t.
As soon as her order was ready, she grabbed it from the counter and walked outside, sitting at a large table with six chairs. She pulled her phone and checked work email. Her inbox had 2,288 unread messages. She selected them all and marked them read. She knew she would never be able to catch up, so why not start from scratch?
A woman’s shadow settled on the table, and she looked up.
“Hello Saffron,” Roona Moore said.
Her black hair was shorter than Saffron remembered but still cute and stylish. She stood and hugged her. They both sat. Saffron nursed her coffee. Roona sat across from her, staring down at the table.
Finally, she said, “I think I’m going to be okay.”
Saffron’s eyes lit up. “Yes?”
“Dr. Leavenworth met with all of us.” She looked at Saffron for a second, then looked away, resting her eyes on a woman playing with a small child by the band.
Saffron waited, hoping Roona would tell her more without her having to probe.
Finally, Roona locked eyes with Saffron and continued: “She said that the Sheriff’s Department let her talk to the researcher who started this whole thing, and they thought that we may be okay if we got mastectomies.” She crossed her arms around her chest. “I’m not sure if everybody opted for the option, but I did. It wasn’t a very hard decision, considering the alternative.” She looked to her right, as if she were back in the basement and she could see Keith bleeding out in the corner.
“I still can’t believe they did this to us,” Saffron said.
“Me neither.”
“Detective Lynch told me that when they arrested Julia and the researcher, they told him everything.” Saffron paused to ensure Roona wanted to hear it. When their eyes met again, Roona nodded almost imperceptibly. “They thought they had found the cure for breast cancer but they didn’t have enough data to prove it, so the investors started pulling out. The CEO, Tyler Warren, was convinced that if they could show positive results in humans, they would get the investors to jump back in. So he convinced his sister, Julia, to exchange the regular titanium markers with the ones with their medicine, and the rest is history, as they say.”
“Heeeeloooooo.” yelled a voice from across the courtyard.
They both looked. It was Tami Lynn, her face fully made up, her blond bob bouncing as she hopped toward them. She had a wide smile splashed on her face, and she was waving both hands as she ran in small little steps, keeping amazing balance on spike heels.
“You look great,” Saffron said, appreciating the flagrant contrast to the hysterical woman in the basement. She looked down at her cleavage, a little too pronounced for a woman her age.
“I think we all look better in the light of day, darling. That basement was a horrible, horrible place.”
She extended her hands, expecting the other two women to grab them. Once they did, she squeezed them, then smiled again, showing a hint of rosebud lipstick on her front teeth.
“Okay, what can I get you? I need some serious caffeine.”
After repeating Roona’s order, she walked in to get the drinks.
Saffron and Roona exchanged glances and laughed.
“I like her much better this way,” Saffron said.
Roona nodded. “It almost feels like it never happened.”
“I feel that way most of the time, except at night. I still have to leave some lights on at home.”
“Me too. Weird.”
Padmini Kapoor showed up last. She demurely sat down to the right of Saffron after saying good morning.
Tami came out of Starbucks carrying a tray with three cups and a few bags with pastries. “I figured you may want a chai tea, so I got you one, just in case,” she said to Padmini.
She took the steaming paper cup, probably too shy to refuse. She placed it in front of her and smelled it deeply. Her shoulders moved back, relaxing for the first time since she’d sat down.
“So, who’s taken Dr. Leavenworth’s offer?” Tami asked.
They all nodded except Saffron.
“Good. Me too,” she said, then, straightening her back, she added, “And then I opted for a bit of enhancement,” moving her shoulders as if she were in a salsa club.
“I should have thought about that.” Roona said, laughing.
“So what’s the story with you?” Tami asked Saffron.
“Well, I learned from Darcy.” She stopped and looked around, “Detective Lynch—”
“We know, dear. He saved our lives,” Tami said.
Saffron went on: “Apparently there were twelve people in the control group. They killed eight, and they tried to kill me a few times before they realized that the side effect only occurs when the patient actually has cancer.”
“How could they not know about this before?” Padmini asked with a strong accent.
They all looked at her.
“I don’t know. When they arrested the researcher—Qian Li’s her name, I think—she said that they only learned of the side effect when people started killing themselves in that horrible way.”
The four women shuddered at the same time.
“Then they just assumed that it was the medicine, so they figured it would happen to everybody in the trial. The researcher kept trying to find out what had gone wrong, but the only thing she was able to find was that the drug only interacted with the cancer cells, creating the side effect. But didn’t interact with noncancer cells, so that group was okay. She called Tyler to tell him, but he never picked up.”
Silence overtook the table.
“By the way, what happened to that man with the black and red checkered shirt?” Roona asked.
“Alton Lane.” Saffron said. “He was the neighbor of the guy who tried to kill me. He’s ok. Got a bad concussion, but was released from the hospital after a few days.”
“He had the knife Keith used—” Padmini said.
“Enough about this,” Tami cut in. “I’m glad we’re all okay.” Looking at Saffron she asked, “So, what’s the story with Detective Lynch?”
Saffron blushed but couldn’t hide a smile. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, pleeeaaazzz. Look how coy you are. We all know you two have a thing. And I have the perfect dress to show my new girls for the wedding.”
She shook her boobs again and they all laughed, a little embarrassed.
“T
hree yards,” Sergeant Stella yelled. “Three rounds, center mass.”
Darcy fired holding the gun with both hands and counted one-one-thousand, two-one-thousand, three-one-thousand.
Okay, three rounds in less than four seconds. I guess I’m still okay
, he thought. He holstered the Glock.
“Repeat with emergency reload and strong hand only,” Stella said, his voice steady and loud enough to be heard through the earmuffs.
Darcy dropped the magazine, grabbed a new one from his holster and slammed it in the gun, counting the fourth second as he fired the last round. He repeated both exercises under Stella’s directions. Then he was allowed a few seconds to shake up his tense body. Darcy rolled his shoulders, moved his head from side to side and stretched his hands. The shooting range was empty. All the lines were dark except his. The only two people in the entire place were him and Stella, though his large body could have counted for two.
“Seven yards,” he announced.
Darcy took a step closer to the shelf and reloaded each clip. The target moved further away.
“Three rounds, center mass, stay aimed in.”
Darcy counted the seconds.
“Three rounds, center mass, transfer weapon to support hand and fire three more rounds. Stay aimed in.”
Darcy fired, counted, changed hands, fired, counted.
Each time the instructions got longer, more complicated, more detailed. Some of the shots were aimed at the head, some at the chest, all timed. Darcy was wearing plain clothes under the bulletproof vest. He felt the sweat soaking his shirt, sliding down his temples. As soon as he was able to holster his gun, he wiped his face with his sleeve.
Stella didn’t provide any feedback. Darcy had no idea how he was doing. All he could do was follow each instruction, aim and count the seconds.
“Fifteen yards.”
Darcy saw the target move again. He blinked a few times, hoping his good eye would adjust and focus.
“Draw and fire three rounds, center mass, in six seconds. Scan, and assume a high ready position.”
Darcy aimed.
One-one-thousand
. He blinked, but he felt as if he had something in his eye.
Two-one-thousand
. He blinked again.
Three-one-thousand
. He focused and exhaled, then fired as he counted. The last round hit the target as he reached,
Six-one-thousand
.
Stella yelled more instructions. The ear protectors felt heavy on Darcy’s head. He was drenched in sweat.
“We’re almost done, Lynch.”
“Any feedback?”
“You know better than to ask,” he said, but his voice was affable.
Darcy wondered if he felt sorry for him because he was doing badly. He shook the thought and forced himself to concentrate.
“Twenty-five yards. This is an untimed exercise,” Stella instructed.
Darcy exhaled. This was the last one.
“Aim in prone position, fire six rounds, center mass. Move to kneeling, strong side prone position, and fire three.”
Darcy got set and fired. Before he had reached the sixth second, he knelt and with his right side in prone position, fired the last three rounds. He holstered the Glock as he reached the twenty-fifth second. It was nice to know he could do it under thirty, even though the exercise wasn’t timed.
He unhooked the bulletproof vest and started unbuttoning his shirt. Stella came behind him.
“I’ll send the results to Virago right away,” he said, extending his hand.
Darcy took it and returned a strong grip. “Thank you. I know you didn’t have to be here today. I appreciate it.”
“Buy me a beer sometime.”
“You got it,” Darcy said, heading toward the bathroom to change his clothes.
When he came out he was surprised to see Virago in the front room, chatting with Stella.
“Good morning, Captain,” he said. “I’m not sure if it’s good or bad that you’re here.”
She had the targets rolled in her hand. She placed them on the counter and walked toward him.
“Detective Lynch, I guess your worst nightmare is now official.”
Darcy’s color drained. He had hoped to pass. Maybe solving the murder cases, maybe working on putting Warren’s colleagues behind bars made him realize this was what he really wanted to do, what he was really good at doing. He didn’t want a desk job anymore. He sighed and met her eyes. She was a good seven inches shorter than he was.
“I told you,” he said.
Before he could continue with some self-deprecating commentary, she interrupted. “You have now passed and will no longer be on desk duty.”
She smiled and extended her hand.
Darcy stood there, not comprehending the words he’d just heard. “I passed?”
“Indeed.” She still had her hand extended.
“Holy shit!” he said fighting an urge to hug her. He took her hand in both of his and then turned to meet Stella.
“Thank you,” he said.
Stella punched him on the shoulder.
“Detective Lynch, I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow. I want you there when I give Sorensen the news that he no longer has to look for a partner.” Virago said.
“Oh no, are you kidding? Why did you have to ruin this moment so soon?” he asked, smiling.
“Funny, that’s exactly how he feels about you.”
“Still? Even after I saved his life?” Darcy complained.
“He’s like a goldfish. He has a very short memory,” she said and walked toward the door with the targets under her arm.
“Captain,” he called after her. “What’s my score?”
She looked at him over her shoulder and smiled, then walked out without saying a word.
THE END