Reading Online Novel

Justice(104)



Mirabelle comes in from the interview area, a bright smile forming when he sees me. “It’s the traitor!” We hug and I sit back down. “Thought you and the boss man would be sipping Mai Tai’s by now.”

“Cam needed him to sign a few things before we left.”

“Well, you’re looking good. How are you feeling?”

“A lot better. I don’t even need the pain pills unless I move my arm too much.”

“I’m sure the sun and lots of sweaty sex will help with that.”

I smack his arm. “Pig.”

He chuckles back. “What? Now you don’t have to sneak around in the nursery or locker room anymore.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say with horror.

“Come on. We all knew, well at least part of the time. You kept looking at each other and blushing. It felt like we were back in high school.”

“And we thought we were being coy.”

“Well, I am a superior investigator.”

I nod in approval. “So, Harry refuses to tell me anything. How goes it here?”

“Clean-up mostly. We arrested the accomplice in the subway,” he says of the goon in the leather jacket. “He talked. Alkaline’s old Lieutenant Mike Spencer hired him to watch the Pendergast house. He’s been pretending to be paparazzi since the engagement party. He didn’t tell us anything we didn’t know. The abandoned station he was using was more helpful. We found blueprints of the Thornton house, the Pendergast house, and your apartment, along with surveillance photos of all of you. Still trying to track down the PI who took them. He also had all of your schedules, your financials, psych profiles, basically your whole lives. Our people are still trying to trace his money. This was a well funded revenge plot. Blitzkrieg’s fee is reported at close to fifty thousand dollars.”

“He won’t be collecting it this time,” I say. “Anything on Jane Smith yet?”

“Just the bra and condom wrappers. We lifted prints from every surface but no hits. She doesn’t have a criminal record. Came up empty on the P.O. Box as well.”

“And the search for Ryder?”

For the first time he looks away from me. “They’re, uh, calling it off today.”

“What?”

“It’s been five days and they still haven’t made it to the old Siegel station. If he was alive down there, he isn’t anymore. When it first happened we combed the tunnels. He couldn’t have gotten past us.”

“I’d feel better if I could, I don’t know, spit on his body or something.”

“If it makes you feel any better, he’s buried under a ton of rocks and dirt in the Ward. I’m sure every day someone will piss on his grave whether it’s intentional or not.”

“That does make me feel better,” I say with a smile. “Thank you.”

He doesn’t smile back. His back straightens, and his face turns professional. I spin around. Dobbs escorts the frail Lucy in. She looks horrible. Her forehead has a bandage, she has a black eye and bruising on the right side of her face, and her arm is in a sling. Both are as surprised to see me as I am them. “Miss Joanna!” Dobbs says, as he walks over. He hugs me, something he’s never done before. I squeeze back. I try to meet Lucy’s eyes, but she gazes down at the floor. Dobbs releases me. “How are you?”

“Good. Fine. No problems.”

Mirabelle walks over to Lucy. “Miss Helms, thank you for coming down. We’ll try to make this as easy for you as possible.”

Her hand clenches into a fist. “Okay,” she says quietly. Mirabelle gestures toward the interview rooms, and Lucy slowly walks over. She refuses to look up as she passes me. For some reason this stings.

It must show, because when she’s out of earshot Dobbs says, “Don’t be upset with her, Miss Joanna. She’s just having a difficult time. She didn’t start speaking again until this morning.”

“Jesus, I’m so sorry.”

“An old friend from Independence is flying in to take her back there.”

“For how long?”

“Until she wishes to return. If ever,” he says, almost haunted by the prospect. My heart goes out to him. He’ll have no one to serve in that huge mansion. We were the closest thing to family he has. “Is there somewhere we can talk that’s more private?”

I don’t like the sound of that. “Okay,” I say. I lead him into the nursery and shut the door.

“I don’t know who else to speak to about this. I know you’re angry and you have every right to be. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t a matter of life or death.”