by Nolon King
“It’s not about the punishment. It’s about stopping bad people from doing terrible shit. Period.”
“Is that what it was with Calum and Brianna?”
“I didn’t kill them. Well, not her.”
“You let him do it, though! She didn’t deserve to die. And how exactly did killing them make the world a safer place?”
“But … she hurt … they hurt you.”
“They didn’t kill me.”
There it was, that awful thing he kept trying to forget. And Jordyn yet again reminding him of it.
A high-pitched whistling, like a tea kettle in his head. Pressure building to a terrible, swelling pain.
“Stop!” he shouted.
The car was silent, save for the falling rain and thrumming wipers.
“I killed myself, Dad. Not them.”
His voice cracked. “They may as well have.”
“Do you really think they were going to hurt someone else? Okay, yeah, I wanted Callum dead. I wished him dead many times. But Brianna didn’t deserve to die. She was just a stupid kid.”
“I did it for you.”
“No, Dad. You did it for you. I begged you to let them go. I’m not sure how much longer until you become just as bad as the people you’re hunting. Or … ”
“Or what?”
“Nothing.”
“Say it, Jordyn. Or what?”
“Or maybe you already are.
Ouch.
Jasper wanted to deny it, to argue, to accuse her of being ungrateful. But her disappointment was a sack of bricks and he needed every ounce of strength to hold it.
He drove in silence, feeling like the shithead he obviously was.
Victor’s SUV wove down several back roads, in and out of what appeared to be random neighborhoods.
“Where the hell is he going?” Jasper wondered, staying back a turn or a fair stretch of straight roads at all times.
“Do you think he knows we’re following?” Jordyn’s first words since their ugly little exchange.
“Sure seems like it. Unless he’s being overly paranoid.”
“He stopped.” Jordyn pointed to the GPS showing Victor’s dot on Harrison Street — a long, straight road they’d gone up and down at least eight times already. They were one right turn from swinging onto it themselves.
“Stopped?” Jasper was confused. There was nothing on either side of that road but woodlands.
“Could be he’s dumping a body. Maybe Spider’s?”
Jasper cut his headlights then turned on to Harrison. There were red lights ahead on the roadside, and the SUV door was wide open.
It was too dark to see if Victor had gotten out or was still inside the vehicle.
“Maybe he broke down,” Jordyn said.
Jasper turned on his lights and started toward the SUV, which was about two hundred yards away. He slowed to twenty-miles per hour, well short of the posted forty-five.
He was so focused on the SUV and searching for Victor, he didn’t see whatever he ran over until an explosion beneath him caught his attention.
Had to be a spike strip.
He screamed as the windshield shattered.
“Ambush!”
Jasper ducked, ordered Jordyn to do the same. He reached for his pistol, readied it as he peeked above the dashboard, expecting a second shot.
Nothing.
His phone rang, the one Victor had left for him.
He ducked as he answered.
A Russian man with a thick accent said, “You have a choice. Die now or stop trying to find the girl. When she’s done, we will find you.”
A red dot fell over his windshield.
“I want you to look up,” ordered the man.
“Maybe when you’re not aiming a rifle at me.”
“I’m not aiming a rifle at you.” The light disappeared.
Jasper looked up.
The back doors of the SUV were open and sitting in the back was the man, holding what appeared to be a machine gun.
Fuuuuuck.
Jasper had a pistol, but the SUV was too far for a precision shot. The man would turn their car to shredded cheese before he could try.
“Do you want to die tonight?” the man asked.
Jasper glared but could only make out the man’s silhouette against the light behind him in the cabin of Victor’s SUV.
“No,” said Jasper reluctantly.
“Very well, then.” The man hung up.
The doors of the SUV closed and the brake lights died as the vehicle moved forward.
Jasper didn’t follow.
As the truck left, the dot on his screen stayed the same.
And sitting in the road next to where the SUV had been parked was a small cardboard box.
“What the fuck?” Jasper got out of his car and approached it.
“No,” Jordyn said, following him. “Don’t touch it. It could be a bomb.”
“The Russian would have killed us if he wanted us dead.”
Jasper knelt next to the box, then turned to Jordyn. “Maybe you should scoot back a bit … just in case.”
She scowled, then moved way the hell back. “This good?”
Jasper nodded and reached out to open the box.
Big mistake.
Chapter 20 - Mallory Black
Mal was feeling good, despite still craving the pills after flushing her stash. Helping Maggie get her life back on track steered her mind from the addiction.
As she sat in Oasis waiting for Mike, who’d called earlier wanting to “talk about something,” she wrote tips for Maggie in a notebook she planned on giving her. A cross between inspirational quotes and supplemental information she might need while escaping her husband’s hold.
There was information about the women’s shelter in Creek County, the local NA meeting places in case Tommy went looking at her old home group, and the names of a few divorce lawyers who specialized in difficult separations.
Maggie and Emma could stay at her house as long as they needed. She’d stick around for a bit, just in case Tommy somehow found her. She’d also help Maggie get on her feet, find another job cashiering or pursuing other ambitions. The big thing was breaking the addiction.
Helping Maggie felt an awful lot like helping herself.
Hitching her rehab to someone else’s wasn’t ideal. Relying on others always led to disappointment and stripped the onus to get better for herself. Besides, she shouldn’t tie herself to a self-destructive anchor.
But maybe Maggie was ready to change.
And just maybe Mal needed someone to need her. She never considered herself the co-dependent type — quite the opposite — but right now she needed something bigger than herself to get better for. She couldn’t give in to her worst tendencies if she was improving for Maggie and her kid.
“What the hell happened to your face?” Mike said.
“Nice to see you, too.”
“Seriously, what happened? Did you get in another bar fight?”
“Would you believe me if I told you I ran into a tree?”
He stared at her for a moment before his smile finally cracked. “No.”
“I was jogging and moved out of the way for this woman and her child on a bike and SMACK, right into a tree.”
“Damn,” Mike said, seeming to believe her.
He asked Mal if they could eat in her room. They ordered for delivery then went upstairs and took adjacent seats on the L-shaped couch.
Mike set Manila folders filled with documents on the coffee table.
“What’s going on?” Mal asked.
“That’s everything I’ve got on Calum and Brianna. No matter how I spin it, I see no evidence that points at anything other than your buddy, Jasper Parish. I need to bring him in for a talk.”
She shook her head. As much as she hated doing that to her partner, Mal had to hold the lie.
“He died in Mexico.”
“Yeah, Gloria told me. And, sorry, I don’t believe you.”
<
br /> “What?”
“I don’t know what his hold over you is, but he’s not a good person, Mallory.”
“He risked his life — not once, but twice — to save me and Jessi Price. Or do you still think he was involved with the kidnapping?”
Mike sighed. “And you’re still going with the ‘psychic’ angle? Your guy killed Richardson and probably that lawyer. At worst, he’s involved with these scumbags and cleaning up his own mess. At best, the guy’s a vigilante.”
“I trust my gut, Mike, and my gut says he isn’t a bad guy.”
“Isn’t?” Mike asked.
“Huh?”
“You meant wasn’t a bad guy, right? Because he’s dead.”
Mike stared through Mal’s deception.
“Fuck, Mike. Dead, alive, I don’t know. And if he is alive, I sure as hell don’t know where he is.”
“So, you haven’t seen him at all since Mexico?” Mike questioned her like a suspect in the box.
Mal was nervous. Had Mike seen her with Jasper? Had he been following her? And if he was, what else had he seen her do?
“No.” She met his eyes, challenging him to call her bluff.
Instead he looked down at the folders. Picked two photos from inside one then dropped them in front of Mal on the table.
“Jasper Parish blamed these two individuals for the suicide of his daughter. And these two just happen to go missing. Poof, off the damned map. Let’s do the math, Mal. You have two missing kids and an unstable vigilante who blames these same kids for his daughter’s death. You gonna’ try and tell me it’s all some big coincidence?”
Mike was right. And Mal was impeding the investigation by withholding information. But at the same time, she couldn’t burn the person who had saved her. Twice. Jasper had also been in Mexico when she murdered Dodd in cold blood. If she betrayed him, why wouldn’t he do the same to her?
She had to try and sway her partner not to go down this path. “If we put it out there that we even think he’s alive, do you know what Barry, Ford, and all those fuckers will do? They’ll bury Gloria in the election.”
“So, we hold up justice to make sure Gloria gets re-elected?”
She didn’t respond, despite his staring.
“Jesus, Mal, I thought you were above all the politics.”
“What does Gloria want you to do? Do you really think she wants you to find Jasper and bring him in? Wants it out there that the department fucked up the arson investigation then sat by while a vigilante picked people off?”
“She put me on the case. She wants the truth, no matter the cost.”
“Then you really don’t know Gloria.”
“If she really would want me to bury this, then how is she any different than the guy she replaced?”
Mal didn’t have an answer.
Mike grabbed his files, shoved them into his satchel, then stood. “I’ve got to go.”
“We didn’t eat.” Mal stood and reached out to stop Mike before he got to the door.
He turned around and eyed her like a stranger. Then he headed out as a young woman rolled up with their dinner waiting under silver lids.
“I’ve lost my appetite,” he said without turning back.
“Mike!”
He kept walking.
“Should I—”
“Just bring it inside.” Then Mal chased Mike to the elevator.
He paced in front of the doors, angry enough to explode.
“Please, come back. Eat. We’ll talk.”
“No, Mal. I’m not trying to be dramatic, but I can’t be in the same room with you right now.”
The elevator opened.
He stepped inside. “You change your mind and want to tell me where I can find your friend, give me a call.”
The door slid shut.
She slumped back to her room.
The staffer smiled awkwardly and apologetically as she handed Mal the bill. “I can come back for this later.”
“No.” Mal gave her signature and a generous tip.
She wanted to scream. Or hit something.
Wanted to use.
Somehow, she avoided all those and bit into her burger with rage.
It was eight-forty-five and Maggie still hadn’t called.
And Mal still didn’t want to leave a voice mail
Maybe Tommy didn’t go to his pool league.
Even if that is the case, she should’ve messaged me to let me know.
Something’s wrong.
Something’s gotta be wrong.
He found out. Maybe he beat her real bad.
Or worse.
Mal had to find out, so she left her hotel and drove to Jacksonville.
She arrived at around nine-thirty. No car in the driveway.
She parked in front of the house, got out, and ran to the front door and knocked softly.
No response.
She knocked louder, hoping Emma wasn’t asleep.
Maggie finally opened the door in her pajamas. Emma wasn’t in the living room. Neither were any packed bags. Maggie had two swollen eyes.
What the hell?
Her gut filled with acid. “You two ready to go?”
Maggie looked down, shame on her face. “I can’t go now.”
“What?”
“I thought about it, I really did. And thank you for the offer, but what kind of wife or mother am I if I don’t stick with him when he’s trying?”
“He’s not trying. He fucking hit you!”
“We talked today, before he went to his pool league—”
“You told him you were leaving?”
“No. He came to me, apologizing. Got me flowers and everything.”
“Oh, flowers! Well, shit, Maggie, why didn’t you say so?”
“You don’t know him. You don’t know what he’s been through.”
“You’re right. I don’t know him, but I’ve seen enough men like him bury women like you.”
Maggie looked as if Mal had smacked her across the face.
Good, she needs to see how serious this is! Maybe she’ll come to her senses.
“I’m sorry, Mal. I can’t do it. Not now.”
“You can’t leave if he kills you.”
“He’s not going to kill me, Maggie. It isn’t as bad as you think it is.”
Mal wanted to stay and maybe persuade her, but it was pointless. She was a stranger. Even if they were close friends, Maggie still wasn’t ready to leave.
“You have my number if you change your mind.”
She got in her car and drove away, resisting the urge to peel out or sock her steering wheel. She had to control her anger before it led her to do something stupid.
The thought of Maggie staying with her personal abuser turned her stomach. She thought of all the men she’d seen victimizing their wives, kids, and girlfriends, so many of whom ended up hurt or dead.
She couldn’t think of any of those men who had changed, none she’d met first hand. Sure, it was possible, but only if an abuser was ready to change.
I should’ve just gotten her to go with me earlier. We could’ve waited for Tommy to come home with Emma.
Mal had another thought, one she wasn’t proud of. What will I do now?
This isn’t about you, it’s about Maggie. Fuck, Mal, get out of your own misery for a fucking second.
I know it’s about Maggie. But I can’t help but think how much I was looking forward to helping her.
To maybe have another child in the house?
Best to squash the thought before—
A honking horn and flashing lights snapped Mal’s attention to the rearview.
A cop, maybe one she knew, trying to flag her down.
She slowed on instinct.
The car pulled around her, then stopped horizontally, occupying the entire two-lane road.
Tommy’s Camaro.
He hopped out then raced toward her door.
Mal barely had time to reach for the gun in her glove compartm
ent.
She slid her finger around the trigger as he reached her door but kept the gun low, not drawing it until she felt a more certain danger.
His hands were empty as he approached, his face twisted in anger.
He smacked her window three times.
Mal snapped. She threw open her door, forcing him to fall a step back.
She kept her gun behind her back, ready as he got in her face.
“What the hell are you trying to do to my wife?”
“What?”
“Why were you at our house?”
His eyes were red, bloodshot. His breath reeked of alcohol.
Best she provoke him to take it out on her, and maybe give herself an excuse to take this fucker down. Get him thrown in jail for battery on a sheriff’s deputy. After she kicked his ass, of course.
She smiled. “I was trying to get her to leave you, Tommy.”
He stepped back, his eyes wide and registering surprise.
“Yeah,” Mal leaned forward, “I saw what you do to her. Big man laying hands on a woman so much smaller than him. Boy, you must have a tiny dick.”
“Fuck you, dyke.”
Mal stepped toward him, hoping he’d take a swing. “Wanna put me in my place, tough guy? Or do you only hit women dumb enough to marry you?”
He balled both fists at his side, jaw clenched as he stepped toward her.
“Come on, pussy. Do it.”
Tommy somehow managed to stop himself, despite his drunken haze. He barked a bitter laugh. “Nah, I ain’t gonna give you the pleasure, bitch. I see what you’re trying to do.”
Fuck!
“You stay the hell away from Maggie.” He pointed a shaking finger at Mal. “You think for one fucking second I’m’a let you come between me and my family, you got another thing coming.”
Tommy turned to walk away.
Fuck, fuck!
Mal had really thought the asshole was dumber than he was proving to be. Maybe he wasn’t a fucking idiot. Maybe he was even capable of not being a total and utter piece of shit.
Maybe.
But then he turned around and started walking toward her.
Yes, do it! Do it!
He smiled again, his eyes still crazy, “And if you think for one good goddamn minute that I’m gonna let her take my daughter away from me, that ain’t happening. I’ll kill us all first.”