No Justice Series (Book 1): No Justice

by Platt, Sean

  * * * *

  CHAPTER 26 - JASPER PARISH

  Jasper jumped back as the shotgun exploded, falling back into the grass. Glass shattered above him.

  He scrambled to his feet, raising his pistol in time to get a drop on the man charging through the open doorway.

  “Put your gun down. I’m a cop!” Jasper yelled, trying to sound authoritative and defuse the situation.

  “Bullshit,” the man drawled, pushing his way through the brown curtain, agitated as it got in his way, shoving it aside with the barrel of his gun.

  Once through the doorway, he took aim.

  Jasper had nowhere to go.

  Had no choice but to fire back.

  He fired twice, one shot hit the man center mass, the other in his left shoulder.

  He stumbled backward and fell through the broken window of the sliding glass door.

  Jasper stared in disbelief at how quickly the situation had withered.

  A dog barked. It wouldn’t be long before someone called the sheriff’s office.

  He had to move, get the hell out of there.

  He went inside, saw the man sprawled on the ground, eyes wide and terrified as blood pooled beneath him.

  “Where is the girl?” Jasper asked, kicking the shotgun away.

  The man struggled to respond, blood pouring from his mouth. “What girl?”

  “Jessi Price. Where is she?”

  The man looked confused.

  Jasper mentioned the killer by name. “Don’t play dumb. The girl you took with Richard Howell.”

  “I … I’m Rich Howell,” the man said. “And I didn’t t … t … take no girl.”

  The man’s eyes went wide. Death claimed his body.

  Jasper turned, examining the bedroom, seeing photos on the walls of the dead man and a woman Jasper presumed to be his wife. Then more photos of other adults, children, and what were probably grandchildren. A framed wedding portrait said “Richard and Susan Howell.”

  No.

  Jasper raced from the room, searching the house for any sign of Jessi Price, or a dungeon. But all he found was a house belonging to an innocent man that he’d unintentionally murdered.

  Maybe Richard is also the son’s name. Maybe this is his father.

  But of all the photos festooning nearly every inch of the house, none matched the man in the driver’s license photo.

  He was standing in the living room searching when the front door opened.

  Susan was home.

  The woman, a short, squat older woman with poofy blonde hair, looked at Jasper, stunned.

  Then she screamed, and he ran.

  **

  Jordyn was sitting inside the car, waiting.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  He couldn’t talk.

  He could only turn the ignition and get the car moving.

  He raced down the street, passing Richard and Susan’s house, not daring to look, afraid to see the woman he’d turned into a widow.

  Rather than head back into town, he removed his mask and took the long way, heading farther west — less likely to pass sheriff’s deputies approaching from the east.

  After driving thirty minutes, and down several side streets, getting them good and lost, he pulled into a gas station, opened the door, staggered to the restroom on the side of the building, and vomited.

  “What happened?” Jordyn asked, behind him, even though he never heard her coming. “Was Jessi there? Was she … dead?”

  “No. I … I don’t think it was his house.”

  “What?”

  “And the man there. He had a gun. Shot at me. I had to … I had to—”

  Jasper collapsed against the wall outside the bathroom, tears streaming down his face. His stomach churned, twisted as if someone had left a knife inside it.

  His throat hurt, not just from throwing up, but from the scream he’d been holding inside.

  “Oh my God, I killed an innocent man.”

  * * * *

  CHAPTER 27 - MALLORY BLACK

  Mal stared at the television watching the empty lectern in front of the blue curtain with the logo for the Creek County Sheriff’s Department emblazoned on it, wondering who would take the stage for the press conference. Would it be the Public Information Officer, Felicia Day, or would Gloria handle this hot mess herself?

  Felicia, who was both younger and more eloquent than Gloria, handled most press conferences, sometimes bringing the sheriff up with her to be lauded for some major drug sting or other positive press. Felicia usually handled the negative stuff.

  But Gloria was taking the stage this time. She must be really worried about her election odds.

  Mal took a sip of her wine, sitting up and leaning forward on the couch, wondering what Gloria would say, and how Gloria would handle the questions about Mal’s statements.

  Her phone had been ringing off the hook since the story broke. Reporters from every paper and station wanted a quote. She’d ignored them all and finally had to silence her phone. She only allowed Mike’s number through, but he wasn’t calling.

  So Mal sat alone, getting drunk, feeling like shit. What the hell had she’d been thinking? Gloria was right, talking to Presley was the wrong way to handle the situation. And it wasn’t as if Gloria would be goaded into doing the right thing. Mal’s drunken, drugged stunt merely alienated her from the entire department, Mike likely included.

  Gloria updated the Jessi Price investigation, saying they were working on several leads but couldn’t say more during an active investigation. Additionally, the department still considered Jessi’s father, Luke Price, a person of interest.

  After some more information, more or less a repeat of the known facts, including the girl and her father’s description, photos of them, and the make, model, and plate number of his SUV, Gloria opened the conference to questions.

  The first was from Presley Jennings, Channel 4. “Sheriff Bell, what do you have to say in response to former detective Mallory Black’s statement that the department isn’t doing everything possible to find Jessi Price? And that it’s ignoring evidence that the Jessi Price case is tied to the Ashley Black murder?”

  Gloria found a smile, but Mal saw through the facade, and right to the icy daggers she was shooting at Presley.

  She braced the corners of the lectern and drew a deep breath. “Ms. Black has had a rough couple of years. I understand that she’s upset and frustrated and that this case is bringing up a lot of feelings for her. She lost her daughter, and if I were in her shoes, I’d be devastated, too. Nothing can prepare you for the loss of a child, and I can’t even begin to imagine the things going through her mind every day. But I would also remind you that Ms. Black is not part of this investigation, nor is she privy to details that we’ve not made public.”

  “Bullshit,” Mal yelled at the TV. “You’ve got nothing, and you’re not even trying to get anything!”

  Several reporters tried to get a word in, but Presley beat them with a follow-up. “So, are you saying that the Jessi Price case is not linked to the Ashley Black case?”

  Good question! Box her in. Make her give a concrete answer.

  Gloria’s smile widened, but Mal could see that she wanted to scream.

  “As I said, this is an active investigation, and there are things we cannot go into without jeopardizing our efforts.”

  Mal shook her head, took another drink, and yelled at the TV. “Liar!”

  Another reporter, a man off-camera, asked, “Any new developments on the Ashley Black case?”

  Mal waited for more bullshit to spew from Gloria’s mouth.

  Gloria shook her head. “We’re not here to talk about the Ashley Black case. If anyone has any other questions about the Jessi Price case, I will answer those to the best of my ability, but I won’t be discussing any other cases today.”

  Another reporter asked, “Is Luke Price a suspect in his daughter’s disappearance?”

  “He is a person of interest,” Glo
ria said before fielding a few softballs from reporters who were friendlier to the administration. After those questions, Gloria thanked everyone for coming, then left.

  Mal stared at the screen dumbstruck.

  That’s it? Nobody else is going to press her?

  What the hell?

  Mal grabbed her phone from the couch and dialed.

  “Presley,” the reporter said. Mal could hear a lot of background noise. She was probably still in the department’s press room, surrounded by people.

  “Hey, Pres. I just saw the conference.”

  “Hold on a second, let me go somewhere quieter,” Presley said, as she navigated her way out of the noisy room and through a few doors. “Okay, I’m outside.”

  “What the hell?” Mal snapped. “I put my ass on the line by giving you enough to hold Gloria’s feet to the fire, and that’s the best you’ve got?”

  “I asked her. She said it’s an active investigation.”

  “You could’ve hit her with other questions.”

  “She wasn’t coming back to me.”

  “Like that’s ever stopped you. Come on.”

  Mal was quiet. Saying “come on” to someone then closing your mouth often got them to spill whatever they were holding back. It surprised Mal how often it worked, with both criminals and the general public.

  Presley lowered her voice, “I got a directive from the top not to go too far down this road.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  “Because if we’re wrong on this, and it turns out the dad does have Jessi, then we look like we’re interfering with a child abduction case.”

  Mal wondered if that was the truth or the cover story. She wondered if Gloria didn’t reach out to someone more powerful and push Channel 4’s news director in a different direction.

  Channel 4’s station was in Jacksonville, just north of Creek County, but that didn’t mean the Creek County Sheriff couldn’t wield some influence with the right people.

  “So, fuck the truth then, eh?”

  “I’m sorry. If you want to tell your side, I’m sure I could get you a spot.”

  “Yeah, so then it’s about me, eh? The crazy, distraught mother who is upset about her daughter’s unsolved murder. I can see the narrative that Gloria’s spinning and I refuse to play into it.”

  Mal hung up before Presley could say another word.

  She threw the phone to the other end of the couch, then glared at the television, wishing like hell she was still a cop. Then she could be chasing the leads they were too lazy or scared to pursue.

  Mal grabbed her remote and flipped through the channels until she found something to steer her mind away from the bullshit parade.

  She stumbled across an episode of Curious George on PBS and remembered watching the show with Ashley when she was a toddler. Mal recorded the shows during the day then used them to help Ashley fall back asleep when she woke up in the middle of the night.

  They’d lie on the couch side-by-side as the cartoon monkey calmed Ashley down. Mal didn’t know if it was the colorful animation, the soft music, or the humor, but something about the show not only soothed Ashley but also relaxed Mal, making it seem like everything might be okay.

  She remembered Ashley drifting off, occasionally giggling at something George had done, or watching her daughter’s eyes as they got sleepy.

  At the time, she’d been eager for Ashley to fall asleep, but now Mal would give anything to snuggle with her daughter in front of the TV, listen to her raspy little giggle, let her slowly drift off while holding Pinky Bear, or watching George chase the world’s problems away.

  Mal grabbed her pills from the coffee table, took two, and washed them down with the last of her wine.

  Then she grabbed a blanket, pillow, and Pinky Bear from Ashley’s room, brought them downstairs, and laid on the couch, drifting off to Curious George.

  * * * *

  CHAPTER 28 - JASPER PARISH

  Jasper sat alone in his living room, swaddled by darkness, his crime’s weight like an anchor, weighing him down and piercing his soul.

  His head was pounding. The sky was different. Blacker somehow. Same for the air. They both felt … wrong. He was dizzy, unsure whether it was from lack of sleep, or whether he was coming down with something. Either way, hell had descended.

  After narrowly escaping the house without being caught by police, he’d come home, showered, and collapsed into bed. Jordyn tried talking to him, but he’d told her to leave him alone.

  Now he wasn’t sure where she was. The living room was dark, but it was still only mid-afternoon.

  After sitting in the dark for over an hour, Jasper went to the fridge for a bottle of water then turned the TV to see if Richard Heller had made the news yet. The incident had, but the news had yet to release the man’s name or any details beyond “the sheriff’s department is investigating a suspected home invasion gone wrong.”

  He watched a recap of the sheriff’s press conference where she more or less ignored Black’s accusations that the department wasn’t properly investigating the Jessi Price case. She looked, to Jasper, like every other politician on TV, spinning to keep the truth from dinging her popularity.

  He turned the TV off, disgusted.

  Jasper needed time to think, to decompress after what had happened. And he didn’t want any more distraction from his thoughts. He kept seeing the innocent dead man sprawled on the ground, kept hearing the man’s wife scream as he fled like a murderer.

  How the hell did I become like the very men I kill?

  He’d been a normal man once upon a time.

  He’d been a cop who once protected life without needing to take it. He’d fired his service revolver only a handful of times in his dozen years on the force. He’d shot three people as a cop, all good shootings, never taking a life.

  What happened to me? How did I get here?

  “Dad?” Jordyn said from behind, surprising him.

  Jasper turned to see her standing behind the couch holding a Diet Coke, wearing her coziest sweats and most threadbare sweatshirt.

  “When did you get home?”

  “A while ago. I was reading in my room, then came out for a drink and saw you sitting here in the dark like a weirdo.”

  She was smiling, hoping he’d laugh.

  But Jasper was every kind of empty.

  “What’s wrong?” She plopped beside him on the couch and popped the tab on her soda.

  “I killed an innocent man.”

  “It was an accident. You can’t tear yourself up for it.”

  He looked at her, confused. “Aren’t you the least bit upset?”

  She took a drink of her soda, then nodded. “Of course I am, but what good does it do that man? He’s dead. We can’t bring him back. Besides, he shot at you first. If you didn’t kill him, then you would be dead. And sorry if this sounds crass, but I’ll kill ten innocent men to keep my daddy alive.”

  She smiled again.

  “It’s not funny.”

  “I’m just trying to make you feel better.”

  “I don’t deserve it. I screwed up. I should never have brought you into this.”

  “What?”

  “It’s not right. Killing these people. And the worst part is, I knew something like this would happen. Or worse.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You shouldn’t be doing this with me. It’s wrong. You’re going to get caught or hurt, and I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.”

  “Nothing’s going to happen.”

  “Something already did happen, Jordyn. An innocent man is dead.”

  She said nothing.

  After a long moment of consideration, he said, “We can’t do this anymore.”

  “Can’t do what?”

  “This. Going around and killing bad guys. No more.”

  “We made one mistake!”

  “It’s a person’s life! He didn’t deserve to die. His wife and family didn’t dese
rve to lose him.” Jasper met her gaze. Had he corrupted her so much that she didn’t see the value in taking an innocent life?

  “He was going to kill you. You didn’t have a choice.”

  “We shouldn’t have even been there! He’s only dead because I broke into the wrong man’s house. How could this have happened?”

  “Fake ID?”

  “Well, yeah. I looked at the other stuff in his wallet. A few dollars. A few freebie discount cards to make you think there were credit cards in there. Obviously a decoy. We should’ve considered that possibility before going in guns blazing. I screwed up, and there’s no way to take it back.”

  She looked down, either avoiding his gaze or trying to think of some response.

  Then she looked back up. “Do we let Jessi Price die? Because if we sit back, that’s exactly what will happen.”

  He shook his head. It was practically buzzing. Between his headache and the vertigo, he could barely think straight, much less endure this conversation. “I can’t do this anymore.”

  “We are this close. We know where he works. We can find him, get his real name and address.”

  “How will we do that? Keep riding the bus until we can follow him home? Don’t you think maybe he’ll notice his wallet missing and put two and two together, thinking someone’s on to him? Maybe he’ll even turn on the news and see that Richard Howell is dead, and realize it just might have something to do with the man who stole his wallet.”

  “All the more reason to act now. If he thinks that someone is on to him, what’s his next step?”

  “To get rid of the girl.”

  “Exactly.”

  “So, we need to act now. If we don’t, that man’s death was in vain.”

  Jasper looked at his daughter. Her eyes were wide, smile broad, and energy almost manic.

  “Doesn’t it bother you what I did? I mean, you don’t seem the least bit shaken. This isn’t right. The Jordyn I raised would be upset, would be crying with me. But you’re practically giddy over the possibility of catching this guy.”