No Justice Series (Book 1): No Justice

by Platt, Sean

  She grabbed the bottle again, shook two pills into her palm, popped them into her mouth, then washed them down with her water.

  She closed her eyes, waiting for the familiar euphoria. Only these days it was more of a gentle calm, a return to normalcy only the pills could provide.

  There was some euphoria, but it wasn’t the same as it had been in the early days when the bliss had lasted so much longer.

  Now it was a spike, enough to stave off the depression and anxiety she suffered through the day. It had gone from recreation to necessity.

  Addiction, she heard Ray in the back of her mind. You’re an addict, Mal.

  She thought about him coming to her home, to their home, offering help. She’d been so bitchy, flat out rejected his offer then made him feel terrible on top of that.

  There was a time she wouldn’t have dreamed of hurting Ray. He was a genuinely nice guy and didn’t deserve a shitty wife who was more concerned about her job than her home life.

  Nor did Ashley deserve a mother who wasn’t nearly as present as she should’ve been.

  Mal had failed as a wife.

  As a mother.

  And as a deputy.

  Now she was nothing more than an addict, forced to sit on the sidelines and watch while a bad man did terrible things to innocent children.

  She was helpless.

  And then in a moment of odd clarity, Mal realized she wasn’t helpless.

  She had one card left to play.

  A way to redeem herself and to possibly spare Jessi.

  Mal knew what she had to do.

  Tears welled in the corners of her eyes. She hated that the pills made her so emotional, but that was often the only time she wasn’t numb. In an odd way, Mal enjoyed feeling something, even if it was pain.

  She reached into her inside pocket, fished out her cell phone — the new one, not the one that Paul may have compromised — and dialed Ray.

  After a long moment, his tired voice answered, confused.

  “Hello?”

  “It’s me.”

  “Mal? What number are you calling from?”

  “It’s a new phone.”

  “You okay?” he asked.

  She could hear him getting up out of bed, probably so as not to disturb Julie. She wondered if his new lover was there, looking at him, perturbed at his ex-wife calling, interrupting their time together.

  “I need to talk to you.”

  “Okay. What’s wrong?”

  “I’m sorry about what I said.”

  A pause. Then, “It’s okay. I understand.”

  “I’m not sure you do.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “I’m not even sure I understand.”

  “What is it, Mal?”

  “I’m about to do something very stupid, Ray.”

  “What are you going to do?” Concern raised his pitch by several octaves. “Where are you?”

  “I’m standing twenty feet above the man who murdered our daughter.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Have you seen the news? Paul Dodd?”

  “Yeah. Wait, is … is he the man that … killed Ashley?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you’re there with the Feds and the sheriff’s office?”

  “Yes.”

  “What are you going to do, Mal?”

  She told him.

  “No. You can’t do that.”

  “Someone has to do something. He’s going to kill her.”

  Ray was quiet until he finally said, “Mal, you know I love you, right?”

  Silence.

  “Please, Mal. You called because you’re not sure this is a good idea. Right?”

  “I called just in case I didn’t make it out of this. I wanted you to know that I … I’m sorry. For everything.”

  She hung up and slipped the phone back into her pocket, ignoring the buzzing as Ray tried calling her back.

  She reached into her other pocket, took out her pills, said “fuck it” and swallowed another two.

  She turned around and looked at the hatch. It was thirty yards away, several lights all aimed at it, illuminating the immediate area like a football field. There was no way she’d make it all the way there without someone trying to stop her.

  Still, she had to try.

  Mal started toward the hatch, walking briskly, without looking at any of the other agents or deputies along the fringes.

  Twenty yards away and still no one said a word.

  Every instinct in her body told her to turn around, stop before she got herself arrested, or worse, got Jessi Price killed.

  But Mal couldn’t stop.

  If she could just talk to Paul Dodd, she could get him to trade Jessi for something he wanted more.

  * * * *

  CHAPTER 54 - JASPER PARISH

  Jordyn’s scream woke Jasper immediately.

  He sat bolt upright in bed, adrenaline flooding his system.

  He grabbed his gun from the nightstand, then ran into the living room, weapon aimed, sweeping the area, ready to kill whoever was dumb enough to break into his house.

  But no one was there.

  Only Jordyn, crying.

  “What is it?”

  “She’s going to die.”

  “Who?”

  “Mallory Black.”

  * * * *

  CHAPTER 55 - MALLORY BLACK

  She was ten yards from the hatch.

  Mike called out, “What are you doing, Mal?”

  “What needs to be done,” she said without stopping or turning to see if he was alone or standing with others who might not be so polite while trying to stop her.

  Gloria called out, “Stop, Mal!”

  She reached the hatch, not daring to look back at her former colleagues.

  She looked down at the hatch and called out, “Open up, Paul!”

  It looked even more impenetrable up close. The hatch, raised about eight inches out of the ground, was a square gun-gray metal blast door with a screw-on steel cap covering a deadbolt lock and four portholes, one along each side, where a person could look outside before opening the door.

  A speaker was built into the top.

  It crackled to life.

  “Well, well, well. Look who decided to pay me a visit.”

  “Let’s talk, Paul.”

  “Okay, talk.”

  “No, I want to come inside.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “I have an offer for you.”

  “Oh? Go on.”

  “A trade. Me for Jessi Price.”

  “What are you doing, Mal?” Mike shouted from behind her.

  Mal didn’t answer, and couldn’t look at Mike. She held her focus on the hatch, awaiting Paul’s response. “Why would I give you the only leverage I have to get out of here?”

  Confirmation. He admitted to having Jessi.

  “Because you don’t want Jessi. You want me.”

  Paul laughed. “Now why would I give up my pleasurable company for your disagreeable temperament? Plus, I’m sure you wouldn’t come down here without trying something.”

  “No tricks. Paul. A straight trade. I think you want to talk to me. I think you need to talk to me. Let’s face it; there’s no way they’re letting you leave here, especially if anything happens to that girl. You let me in, and we’ll work something out. Just you and me.”

  Paul said nothing.

  Mal hoped that she guessed correctly. That he did have some obsession with her, whether it was her or the connection to Ashley didn’t matter in the end. As long as Mal could get down there and set Jessi free.

  “How would this work? How do I know this isn’t a trick?”

  “Obviously, you have the upper hand. I won’t do anything stupid that might jeopardize Jessi’s life. You open the hatch. I come down. You make sure I’m unarmed or whatever you need to do, then send Jessi up the ladder.”

  “And then what?”

  “That’
s up to you. But no tricks. I promise.”

  “Tell everyone that I want the area cleared, they all need to go up the service road. If I see a single cop, FBI agent, sniper, anyone, other than you, I kill the girl. Got that?”

  “Got it.”

  Mal turned around and finally saw the disappointed faces of Mike, Gloria, Tellison, and McDaniels.

  She approached them.

  Tellison laid into her first. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “I’m getting her out.”

  “We don’t trade hostages!”

  Mal glared at him. “Why not? I don’t care what happens to me. I just want that girl safe and back with her parents. You can send the Army in after Jessi’s free; I don’t care.”

  “And what if he doesn’t free either of you? Then we lose two to him.”

  “I won’t let him hurt her,” Mal vowed, meeting Gloria’s eyes, then Mike’s.

  Uncharacteristically, neither said a word.

  She wasn’t sure if this was their way of supporting her, or if they simply saw no point in arguing after her deal with Dodd.

  “Let her do it,” Gloria said.

  Tellison looked baffled. “What?”

  McDaniels agreed. “Yeah, let her do it.”

  “And then what?” Tellison asked.

  “I’ll either figure something out,” Mal said. “Or, I won’t.”

  * * * *

  CHAPTER 56 - MALLORY BLACK

  Mal was all alone, just outside the swaths of light focused on the hatch.

  Every deputy and agent had backed up, along with all emergency personnel, per Dodd’s demand.

  It was just her, the monster, and Jessi Price.

  Paul’s voice spoke over the intercoms. “Now remove your clothes.”

  “What?”

  “Remove your jacket, your shirt, pants, and your shoes. Leave your weapon, your cell phone, and any other belongings on top of your clothes. You may keep your underwear on.”

  Mal didn’t allow him to see her annoyance, assuming he was watching her via closed circuit cameras. She shook off her jacket, all too aware that she was leaving her gun and pills behind.

  She took off her shirt, boots, and pants.

  Mal set her gun and one of her two phones on the clothes, leaving them on the ground. Then she stood there, almost naked, the cold air pimpling her skin.

  Mal wasn’t sure if Paul wanted her to feel vulnerable as she entered his domain, or if he asked her to strip so he could see she wasn’t packing a gun or anything else to try and apprehend her.

  Either way, she wasn’t about to let him get the upper hand. She didn’t need her clothes or her gun for strength. Mal had all she needed to defeat him in her head.

  She stepped toward the hatch and heard a metallic thud — the lock sliding open.

  The door raised with a hydraulic hiss, probably opened from some remote control below. Paul was nowhere in sight.

  She reached the opening and peered down into darkness.

  She couldn’t see anything except a dark, carpeted floor.

  Paul called out, this time not on the intercoms, his voice a hollow echo, caroming off the walls.

  “Step down then stay with your face to the ladder. Don’t turn until you’re instructed.”

  She climbed over the lip, carefully using her bare foot to find a rung.

  She began her descent. The door slowly shut above her with a THUNK.

  There was the sound of a lock sliding home.

  Mal was trapped, but she kept going, bracing for a bullet to the back of her head.

  Her feet hit the carpet.

  She stopped.

  A loud sound of metal exploded beside her.

  She jumped — a pair of handcuffs thrown by Paul. “Put your hands behind your back and cuff yourself.”

  “It this really nec—”

  “Now!”

  His rage was an echo that rattled her body.

  She reached down, grabbed the cuffs, and followed his order.

  “You may turn around now.”

  She slowly turned, finally coming face to face with Paul Dodd.

  In some ways, it was like seeing a celebrity in person for the first time. She’d watched him on video, though she hadn’t been able to see his face. When she did get a name, then access to his driver’s license photo, social media, and all the other photos they managed to find, she was able to start putting a face to her daughter’s killer. A face she imagined putting a bullet through. But seeing him up close, in person, was unsettling. He was scarier as a concept than as a man.

  He was average build, slim, and didn’t look crazy at all. He was, as she remembered thinking at the toy store when they first met, handsome.

  It was hard to reconcile the monster in her mind with the man in the flesh.

  She might have doubted he was the same man if not for his gun, and the sobbing girl on its end. His other hand was on her neck, his smile like a Cheshire’s threat. “Welcome to my humble abode.”

  Jessi was no longer the cute, innocent, fun-loving kid in the school photo that served as her missing child pic, taken when she still knew what it meant to be a happy, normal little girl.

  Everything was different now.

  Her hair was a mess.

  She was wearing a long pink tee, with seemingly nothing underneath.

  Her eyes were haunted, ringed by circles of midnight.

  She looked like a ghost of the child she was.

  Mal’s heart broke. She forced herself not to tremble. “Has he hurt you?”

  Jessi nodded.

  Mal wanted to kill the fucker four times.

  If she wasn’t cuffed, she might’ve tried to end him with her hands. A bullet was too fast for a fucker like that.

  “You’ll be okay,” Mal said. “People are waiting to take you back to your parents.”

  “My daddy is dead.”

  Mal looked at Paul.

  “Whoops,” he said with a dismissive shrug and The Good Son’s smile.

  “Okay, you got me down here. Let Jessi go.”

  “And have your stormtroopers bust down my door? I don’t think so.”

  “You said you’d let her go.” Mal held her calm. She couldn’t afford to lose the little control she had left.

  “Have you learned nothing in all your years as a cop? Why let her go when I can have you both?”

  “Because if you don’t send her up, you’re right, they’ll be sending the stormtroopers down.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “I’m the only thing keeping you alive right now.”

  “And I’m the only thing keeping you both alive,” Paul snarled. “Remember that. Now, why don’t you take a seat over there on Jessi’s bed?”

  He nodded toward one of the two beds before moving the gun just enough to remind her that Jessi Price might not always have a head.

  Mal walked over to the bed with its sheet half off the mattress, blanket balled atop the pillow. She tried not to think of the ways Paul may have already soiled Jessi on that bed.

  She sat.

  Paul told Jessi to join her.

  Jessi walked over to the bed and sat beside Mal, close enough to hear her rapid breathing and see the pulse trying to escape her neck.

  Paul looked at them both, a fat canary in his mouth. “Wow, so here you are, in the flesh! I must say you look much prettier when you’re not passed out drunk.”

  Mal said nothing.

  She stared at Paul, giving him nothing.

  “Swooping in here like a mama bird to save the chick! That’s really something; I’ll give you that.”

  He stepped closer, his eyes on Jessi. “Say, Jessi, do you think this nice lady is a good mommy?”

  She looked up at Mal, her eyes red, lip trembling. Then she looked back at Paul and nodded.

  “What was that? I can’t hear you.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Paul smiled and shook his head. “I’m sorry. She was not a good mommy. If she
were a good mommy, I never would’ve taken her little girl. Just like I never would’ve taken you, if your mommy had been good.”

  Jessi said nothing. Her arms were crossed, fingers tightly grasping them, as if flesh could protect her from the devil, rather than tempting him.

  Mal wasn’t sure where Paul was going, but she had to be careful. He had a gun, and she was cuffed. Her only chance was to play passive, then wait for him to slip. If she could lure him close enough to her, she could use her feet to knock him down, and maybe incapacitate him. Then Jessi could get the keys and free her.

  Plans galloped through her mind. So many variables, and with each one she sought the best possible means to take Dodd down and rescue Jessi.

  “Like your mommy, Jessi, Miss Mallory is no longer with her husband. It’s always a shame when parents can’t find a way to stay together. The children always suffer. I would never disturb a happy home. I would never have picked you, Jessi, had your family been together. Nor would I have taken Ashley, or any of the others.”

  He smiled as he said others, taunting Mal with the knowledge that he alone had, knowledge that could help other parents of missing or murdered children.

  Only the killer knew how many he killed.

  Mal wondered if he bought into his bullshit about only picking kids from broken homes, or if these were the lies he told himself to justify his actions. Maybe he didn’t buy a word of it and was only hoping to inflict pain, to put all of the responsibility for Ashley’s death on Mal.

  Either way, she wasn’t about to give in.

  “Tell me, Mal. Do you ever wonder what you could’ve done differently to save her?”

  Mal said nothing.

  She stared into his dark eyes, trying not to let her rage show through.

  “I asked you a question, Mal. Please don’t make me angry. I would hate it if you made me take it out on the child.”

  Jessi flinched, fingernails digging deeper into her arms.

  “Of course I do.”

  “And how does it feel to lose your child like that?”

  “Why don’t you tell me how it feels to kill a child, to take a little girl from her mother?”

  His smile faded. “The first time was rough. To be honest, I didn’t want to do it. But I had to, or she’d tell. And I wasn’t going to prison.” He stared at the ground. Mal was surprised to hear the regret in his voice and see it in his pensive stare. “I liked her.”