“Why did you shoot at her?” Harry asks.
“I wasn’t trying to hurt her. I just wanted to get away.”
“The men who shot at you, have you seen them before?” Cam asks.
“No, but he must have sent them. I—I get protection now, right?”
“What else can you tell us about Jane Smith?” Harry asks, ignoring him.
“Nothing. I never spoke to her or even met her.”
“You said you and he had conversations,” Harry says. “What did he say about her?”
“He barely talked about her. I’d bring her up, just ask questions, but all he’d say was they’d do anything for each other, and he loved her for it.” Logan scoffs. “Said he felt the same about me. All we really talked about was me. Girls I liked, my future. He said he’d talk to Mike again, get me in the organization when I got bored working at the prison.”
“So you have no clue who she is?” Harry asks.
“None! I’d tell you if I did! I’ll tell you anything if you just keep me and my mom safe!”
“Did he tell you his plans about when he got out? Did you know he was going to rape and murder an entire family?” Cam snarls.
“No! God, no! He was supposed to meet up with Jane and go to Rio.”
“Do you have any idea why he targeted them? What else he might have planned?” Cam asks.
“No.”
“And here I thought you were his best friend,” Cam says.
“What else did you two talk about?” Harry asks. “Did he mention any other names? Locations? Is he going to butcher another family? Blow up another building?” Harry pounds on the table. “Tell me!”
He can’t hold it in any longer. I’m surprised he’s lasted this long. Logan bursts into hysterical tears, wiping them away with the stub while he winces in pain. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. He…and I…that little girl.” They let him cry for a minute until he’s capable of coherent words.
“Do you know why he killed the Thorntons?” Harry asks gently.
My body tenses. I don’t want to hear the answer.
“One—One time, a week before the escape, when I was checking his cell, I found some newspaper articles on them. And pictures. Real pictures someone took. There were names, addresses, times, all typed up. And not just on them. He had the same stuff on that detective and this rich old lady, the one who was at the funeral with the lady detective.”
“Why—Why?” Harry asks, visibly upset.
“I don’t know, I didn’t get a chance to ask him. But it must have to do with Justice.”
“Justice?” Cam asks.
“I mean, you saw his cell. James was obsessed with him. When he did talk it was about their battles and how Justice ruined his life right when everything was going great. He hated him. Said he needed to be taught a lesson in humanity or something. The only time I was ever afraid of James was when he talked about Justice. His lip would quiver he was so angry. Then he’d snap out of it and be nice again.”
“What does this have to do with Rebecca Thornton?” Cam asks.
Logan sniffles, looking back and forth at the men with confusion. “You don’t know? You’ve worked with him for like a decade. It took me all of a minute to figure it out after I heard about the deaths. Why else would James kill them? He hated Justice. Wanted to punish him. And he knew the best way to do that.”
I stop breathing.
“What—what are you implying?” Harry asks as Cam glances at the camera as if he can see me.
The room begins to spin along with my thoughts. Please don’t say it.
Don’t.
Logan scoffs. “Justin Pendergast is Justice. Duh.”
And the bottom drops out of my world.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CONFRONTATION
I’m vaguely aware of the commotion around me. Cam asking furious questions to Logan. Harry shouting at Chip to turn off the feed. The always steady Chip struggling to get to the button on the computer, accidently brushing a stack of DVRs that go clattering all around. Harry and Cam walking in, almost arguing about what to do next. Cover it all up or haul him in for questioning. But I’m too damn busy going through twenty years of memories to be helpful.
How could I have been such a fucking idiot? So blind? I didn’t have a clue. Not an inkling. I’ve often wondered who the man behind the mask was. I thought maybe it was ex-Olympian runner Salvatore Rossetti. I’d met him a few times in person, and he was always cordial. He was even the right height and build. The age was wrong, he’s in his late forties, but I figured he just replaced the previous Justice when that Justice retired. I wasn’t wrong on that front, I guess. J.T., Justin’s father, must have been Justice before, and his father before him. Guess old J.T. didn’t die of a heart attack. It must have been in that battle with Ache. I watched in horror with my Pop as that giant snapped Justice’s neck and tossed him off that boat. They never found the body. About ten years later he resurfaced. Same costume, same powers, claiming he was traveling the world. We all knew the truth, but went along with the lie. Is that what I’ve been doing? Living in denial?