Justice(74)
We lay on my bed unable to move for a minute afterward. Tiny pinpricks of blood rise on his back from where I mauled him. I’m not unscathed either. I’m already sore inside, stretched and torn, but find the pain welcoming. “Did I hurt you?” he asks breathlessly.
“Nothing I can’t handle.” I gulp. “Did I hurt you?”
He looks into my eyes, concern falling into sadness. “Yes,” he says after a pause.
We let that word hang between us like a millstone. He might as well have plunged an icicle into my heart. I didn’t think it possible, but I hate myself even more. I’ve lost him. He sits up then slides off the bed, collecting his clothes from the floor. More tears threaten stream out, but I push them back. If I start again, I’ll never stop. Never.
***
The mansion is quiet when I return. Harry doesn’t walk me to the door and mutters, “Call me if you need anything,” as I get out. We couldn’t even look at each other since the bedroom. First time things have been awkward between us. I hate it more than anything, and that’s saying something. Geoff the guard carries my suitcase inside, but Bryan joins the third guard in walking the grounds. Harry drives away, off to try and save the woman who broke his heart.
Dobbs greets us, looking as exhausted as me. Despite this he smiles as he says, “Welcome home, Miss Joanna.”
“Hi, Dobbs.”
He takes the suitcase from Geoff. “I’ll take this upstairs to the blue bedroom.”
“Thanks. Is Justin up?”
“No, and Miss Lucy has retired as well. She was not feeling well.”
“Why don’t you go to bed too? I have a feeling we’ll be very busy tomorrow.”
“Thank you. I will.” Dobbs glances at Geoff. “We’ve left out food for you and your men.”
“Thank you,” Geoff says in his baritone voice.
Dobbs nods, then starts up the stairs, leaving me with my jailer. I’m in a fancy prison, but a prison none the less. “Look, I’m completely safe now,” I say to Geoff. “This place is a fortress. I’m going to the living room, and I’m going alone, okay? Don’t follow me.” I’m shocked when he actually listens. Like the rest of the house, it’s as quiet as a crypt in the living room. My first impulse is to race over to the bar and down a whiskey bottle. I actually have to stop myself walking midstride toward it. God, I want a drink. It takes all my strength not to make those last few steps.
Instead, I plop down on the couch with a sigh. I turn on the TV, finding the news. The story’s gone national. Top story on BNN and every other news outlet. Some woman interviews Bitsy, who tearfully recounts last night’s party and Justin’s tragic love story. There are a few more testimonials from Rebecca’s co-workers and friends from Independence. As people talk pictures from last night and today are intersliced, including the rolling out of the bodies. Tasteful.
I flip to MSCBC where the mayor, commissioner, and Marshal Napier stand in front of the city hall answering questions. Napier does most of the talking, saying the same crap the other two promised a week ago. Terrible tragedy. Doing all we can. We’ll catch him. Being on the other side of things, the victim’s side, is odd. Listening to them talk with self-serving platitudes and empty promises makes me want to spit in their faces. They don’t really give a damn. They just don’t want to look bad in front of their constituents. I change the channel.
We even made Jury-TV. They’re replaying Ryder’s trial. One of his henchmen, now in the witness protection program, recounts the plot to hijack a boat with a deadly virus on it. Ryder sits next to his thousand-dollar-an-hour attorney staring impassively at the man on the stand. A flash of the moment he passed me last night pops into my head. Both of them. My opportunities to get him, and I blew them. Doubt I’ll get another unless he crawls out of his hole to take a shot at me or someone I love. I need to—
Through the glass doors I see a man appear out on the patio. My heart stops as I leap up and grab for where my sidearm usually is. The terror subsides a moment later when my brain connects to my instincts. Justice stands on the porch looking directly at me. “Superb.”
As I open the patio door, Bryan and a third guard come running from both sides of the house, guns up and pointed at the superhero. “Freeze!” the other guard shouts. Geoff barrels into the living room with his gun out too. I suddenly feel underdressed for this meeting.
“I’d put those down, guys,” I say as I step out. “I’m pretty sure he can take you.”
The men lower their weapons. “Sorry, sir,” Bryan says. “We didn’t know it was you.”