Callye's Justice

by Donica Covey

  In a curtained-off room, he waited for a doctor to come in. The examination increased his pain thirtyfold, and he couldn’t keep from shooting a glare at the doctor.

  The visit resulted in X-rays and a diagnosis of fractures to the trapezoid, capitate and hamate bones at the knuckles of his hand, as well as three broken fingers. It took forever to get the cast applied, prescriptions for pain meds and the release forms from the doctor. Three hours later he was done and heading up to her room.

  He met Terese at the door. “How’s Cas?”

  “She’s still out. Why don’t we go get some coffee?”

  He looked inside the room and then stretched out the stiffness in his neck before looking back at Terese. Finally, he nodded. “All right. The little café downstairs has some pretty good coffee.”

  On the main level, the elevator door opened and she allowed him to lead her to the café. He ordered the coffee and brought it to the table.

  She took a drink and then inhaled softly. “Justice. I don’t know how you feel right now. I can only imagine that I could multiply my pain, worry and fear by a thousand and I still wouldn’t reach the level of yours.”

  “I’d say that would be a good bet.”

  “I also don’t know much about law enforcement work, but I do know basic human nature and rules for decency. Beating the stuffing out of a man isn’t going to help your cause.”

  “I really don’t need a lecture right now, Terese.”

  “I’m not lecturing. I just want to understand. To help. Mickey told me Chase had to go and pick you up from a bar? What happened?”

  “Cas blames me.” He did his best to control the crack of emotion in his voice.

  “I don’t believe that.”

  “She told me to get out. The pain on her face, the barely suppressed anger… She knows that if it weren’t for me she wouldn’t have been nearly killed.”

  “Don’t you think maybe you’re projecting your own guilt into it?”

  “No. Even if I was, it’s over between us.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “I’ll be here for her and I’ll always love her, but I won’t put her through any more.”

  “You can’t just make a decision like that. Love shouldn’t be denied just because there’s a chance something will go wrong.”

  “Wrong? This isn’t as simple as something going wrong. I nearly got her killed,” he shouted and roughly shoved the table away, earning questioning looks from the few people seated nearby.

  Terese placed a hand on his arm. “Sit down, Justice,” she ordered in her quiet tone. “You didn’t do this. You weren’t responsible for any of this. I don’t care what you think, and I know Callye loves you. If anything, she knows that the reason she’s still alive is because you were there for her.”

  His heart longed to believe Terese. “If she doesn’t blame me, why did she demand I leave? I swear, she seemed so different, like I didn’t mean anything to her anymore.”

  “Of course she’s changed, Justice. With everything she’s been through, change is understandable. She needs love and support. I know that you, all of us, will be there to help her find the strength she needs. But promise, no matter what, you won’t give up.”

  Everyone wanted promises from him. Megan begged for the promise of life being normal again. His friends wanted him to promise to control his anger. Now Terese wanted a promise of patience.

  “I don’t know, Terese. I can’t make things normal again. Hell, I don’t even know what normal is. I can’t swear I’m not going to feel a killing rage every time I think of what happened to Callye. And patience? Please. I’ve never known the meaning of the word. I wish people would just stop making demands for things I can’t give. It’s just not as simple as me saying the words.”

  “If love were simple and easy it wouldn’t be worth it.”

  “Mickey know he’s married to a fortune cookie?”

  “I don’t know about that, but he does tend to brag about how fortunate I am to have him.”

  A small chuckle escaped him and he realized that he did feel a little better. “Thanks, Terese.”

  “Anytime. I need to get home and get Mickey’s dinner ready. Why don’t I bring you something?”

  “No thanks. I don’t have much of an appetite.”

  She placed a hand on his stomach and he winced at the pain from bruised ribs.

  “Not happy unless you’re black-and-blue from head-to-toe? You’re getting too thin. You’ve got to take better care of yourself. Callye wouldn’t like to see you this way.”

  “There’ll be time for that later, so stop worrying, Mother.”

  “Mother Terese, hmm I like it. Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?” She shot him a saucy grin and patted him on the back. “I’ll see you later. Call if you need anything.”

  “I will. Thanks again, Terese.”

  After she disappeared down the corridor, he headed back up to Cas’s room. Once more he had her all to himself. Keeping the cast well away from the bed, he placed his other hand on her arm. “Cas, I know I put you in this mess. Just by being around me you’re in danger. I need to let you go, for your own sake, but I’ll be damned if I can. I need you like I need air to breathe. God forgive me for it, but I can’t let you go.”

  * * *

  Abrahms sat in the backseat of the silver sedan, holding a cold, wet cloth to his face. “Unbelievable.” His ribs felt cracked. His nose was most likely broken. Bruises and swelling spread all over his body. Damn that man. “I want that Bernard character in jail. No, I want him dead.”

  “Jarold, I have to caution you,” Staunton began.

  “You’re my lawyer, it’s covered under the confidentiality clause, right?”

  Staunton nodded. “Yes. But—”

  “No ‘buts’. This time the job is going to be done right.” Abrahms shifted again, trying to find a comfortable position on the seat. “Now I just need to figure out how to get my hands on him.” His mind whirled with possible scenarios for getting his revenge and saving his own ass.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Somewhere in the dark, Callye heard Justice’s voice calling for her. She searched through the mists, trying to find him, but his voice was so far away. Pain laced the words that floated by. All she knew was pain. His. Hers. She wanted the oblivion that would swallow her, that would carry her far away from the agony, from the terror that she couldn’t press from her mind. God, the images. Why wouldn’t they end?

  She could still see the man, Bismarck. Could still feel his hands touching her. God, make it end, she begged. She wanted to scream. To run. To die.

  White lights chased away the blackness. On air, she floated through wide-open spaces. No pain. Only peace. A release.

  Where was she? What was happening?

  The lights. The comfort.

  Once more his voice whispered beyond the veil. The sadness in his words pulled her away from the light and back into the dark abyss.

  This time his words seemed familiar. He seemed to begging her. She longed to ease his grief, but how could she do that when she couldn’t end her own?

  “Cas, baby, come back to me.” Justice didn’t care if he sounded like a weak fool. Without Cas what difference did it make? “I need you.”

  He gently squeezed her hand, willing her to squeeze back, but she didn’t stir.

  “Justice?”

  He turned to see Valerie standing at the door. “Hey. Where’s Megan?”

  “She’s with a sitter. I couldn’t bring her back here. She wouldn’t understand about Callye.” Valerie stifled a sob. “The doctor says that the longer she’s unconscious, the greater a chance of deterioration of the brain, and the higher a probability for her to…never wake up.”

  “That isn’t going to happen, Valerie, we won’t let it.” He tried to sound positive. Was it working?

  “I’m not Megan. You don’t have to try to convince me that you can fix this.” Valerie’s eyes hardened slightly. “How could you promise her that you’
d make it better?”

  “I never made that kind of promise. I refuse to promise things I can’t deliver. I only promised that everyone was going to do everything they could to make Cas better, that’s it.”

  “But Megan misunderstands. She’s just a kid. To her, you make the sun rise and set. So when you promise that everything will be done, she thinks it means you can mend Callye.” She heaved a sigh. “Never mind. I’m just tired.”

  “I know that feeling well.”

  She stared at his hand. “What happened?”

  “A small accident. It’s really no big deal.”

  She studied his face, seeming to accept his explanation. “I need to know something. I know you and Chase have been talking about someone putting this man up to kidnapping Callye. Do you know who it is? Have you found him yet?”

  “We have a few leads, but nothing solid. I can promise you this much—I will find out who did this. They will pay.”

  “We know you never make a promise you can’t keep,” she murmured as she turned her focus back on Callye’s face.

  “Never. I’ll get him. He will pay, I promise.” He paced to the window and stared out into the gathering dark. Soon the staff would kick them out for the night. He walked over to stand across the bed from Valerie. Lifting Cas’s free hand, he bent over and kissed it. “I’ll be back.” Gently he traced his fingers across her forehead and walked around the bed to head for the door. He’d call Chase and see what they were able to dig up on Abrahms while he’d been gone.

  Valerie’s shoulders slumped in dejection as she held Cas’s hand.

  Unable to watch anymore, he turned and walked down the hall, his steps echoing in the empty corridor. With a quick glance, he found the latest guard. They nodded at each other and Justice left the floor then the building. Outside, the night had cooled, a welcome relief to the heat of the day, if not to the anger and fear that permeated his body.

  On the drive back to his place, he swung by Cas’s dark and empty house. He should gather her mail and papers. The last thing they needed was her place broken into while she was recovering.

  He parked in the drive, grabbed the stack of mail and let himself in. The soft scent of her perfume filled the dark room. He could almost swear to hearing the faint sound of her heels clicking across the wooden floor. Suddenly she was there, a soft smile on her lips, love in her eyes. He had to shake his head to clear away the image. He was slowly losing his mind.

  He set the pile of envelopes and magazines on the deacon’s table in the entryway. Inside the living room, he flipped on a sofa-side lamp.

  They had such happy times. A memory popped into his head. They were at the annual softball game the local police played against the fire department to raise money for the Fallen Heroes Fund. Being a former municipal cop, he still qualified to play on the team.

  The police had won. In retaliation, the chief and deputy chief of the fire department hooked up a small pumper to a nearby hydrant and sprayed his police team, covering the entire field with several gallons of water. He’d been soaked to the bone and splattered with mud, starkly contrasting with Cas’s clean, dry appearance

  Cas laughed, calling them all a bunch of drowned sewer rats. Justice scooped her up into his arms, carried her out to the field and grabbed all the mud he could. With her gently pinned on his knee, he reached into the muck and scooped out a handful. He smashed it into her hair. Each squirm allowed him to slap on a little bit more. When he finally let her go, she slipped in the mud and landed on the ground with a thud.

  Wet mud clung to her hair, a glob of it on her nose, and she still looked like a beauty queen, proving to one and all that Cas would look sexy standing in the middle of a pig pen wearing a gunny sack.

  His Cas.

  He sank into the microfiber cushions of her sofa, pulled down the throw from the back and held it to his nose, inhaling deeply of her soft, fresh fragrance. Bitter tears welled. The agony of her loss cut deeper into the canyons of heartbreak. How was it possible to feel so much more pain than he had already muddled with?

  The image of her smiling face as they danced. She was in a gown of white, miles and miles of lace shimmering around them. People smiling and laughing as they celebrated the union.

  He saw himself waking up to her, making breakfast before they both left for their workday. He could feel her in his arms as he stood behind her at the sink, his kisses dotting her hair.

  All the things that now seemed, like the millions of stars, distant dreams and well out of reach.

  He jerked up from his position and tried to get control over the anger that was quickly gathering momentum as it coursed through him.

  Abrahms had been responsible for destroying his life. It would only be fair to do the same for him. Justice pushed up to his feet, determined to do whatever it took to exact his revenge.

  He turned off the light and secured the locks before heading back to his car. He dialed Chase. “What did you get on Abrahms?”

  “A whole bunch of nothing. How’s Callye?”

  Justice swallowed the acidic bile in the back of this throat. “She’s in a coma.” He cut off any words of solace his friend might try to offer. “So, I guess it’s time to do some stakeout work?”

  Chase paused briefly. “Better if you back off, Jus. You’re lucky the complaint against you has been ‘misplaced’.”

  “While the son of a bitch is free?” Justice roared. After he calmed, he came to the realization that this would make access to Abrahms even easier. “All right, thanks.”

  “Hey Jus, where are you? Maybe we should get together?”

  Justice sat back in his car. “I don’t need someone to hold my hand.”

  “Has nothing to do with hand-holding, my friend. Just one guy to another, hanging out, eating chips, watching the Cards, drinking a beer.”

  “There’s not a game tonight.” Justice sighed. “I appreciate it, but really, I don’t need a babysitter.”

  “Actually, I think you do. See, I’m at your house, but you’re not here. I assumed you were at the hospital, but guess what? You’re not there either. Please tell me you aren’t off doing something stupid again. Why don’t you just limp back home and we can talk?”

  “Can’t do it, Chase.” He clicked off the line and headed for Abrahms’ place. He’d sit and watch for the guy to slip up. When he did, Justice would be right there to catch him. Without people breathing down his neck, he’d be able to get the truth out of the slimebag.

  He pulled into the end of the dark empty street and shut off everything while he watched the house. A few lights blazed in the windows. Shadows passed between the light and the window shades.

  Time stretched until a little after midnight, when the front door opened. Abrahms disappeared into the garage, and soon a car was driving towards Justice.

  He leaned over in the seat until the headlights passed. After the car moved to the intersection and turned left, he started his car, trailing behind to keep a safe distance between the two vehicles.

  When he saw Abrahms’ Corvette pull into a lot in the business district, Justice slowed his car and slid it up near the back curb.

  Abrahms got out. His head moved slowly from side to side like he was looking for something. A tail maybe? Then he moved through the dark into a warehouse.

  Justice climbed out, his gun near at hand, and crept up to the front door. Rage hadn’t blinded him completely. He wasn’t going to storm in, guns blazing. There was no denying how much he wanted to, though. He moved along the building, around the corner, then up the other side. Peeking around the corner, he saw large garage doors open, and light spilled into the yard.

  The sound of presses and forklifts filled the night air. The building was a large machine shop manufacturing plant. The forklifts moved large wooden pallets stacked with shrink-wrapped boxes, loading them into delivery trucks.

  At least a dozen men worked the docks and another six or seven worked the lifts.

  How was he going to get h
is hands on Abrahms here?

  Justice moved back to the front of the building opting for his car. He’d wait and see where Abrahms headed next. There had to be somewhere else to corner him.

  * * *

  Jarold walked around the warehouse and into the small office. This place had been the perfect answer to his shipping problems. They were able to embed the rocks of coke in the machine parts in such a way that the merchandise appeared to be part of the metal shipment. It had taken a bit of doing, planning and scheming, but finally there had been a way to form the pellets of coke and heroine into the shape of plugs, rings and pistons.

  His smile spread. He’d been the one to devise the idea, and a chemist friend of Rivera’s had worked out the mechanics of how. A second plant over in Illinois made thread spools from the imported cocaine.

  There was no limit to the imaginative ways they had dreamed of moving the product across the states.

  From his two businesses, the coke and heroin, along with shipments of meth, arrived in Texas. There it was formed into construction bricks and shuttled out west to California and back east to Florida and New York.

  The DEA came perilously close to the operation. Already the normal delivery system from Oaxaca was nearly destroyed. Fortunately, Rivera changed the shipment forms. Before, they were using the shape of art frames. Now the drugs arrived woven into rugs. Damn, but Rivera was a smart one. Smart, powerful and evil to the core.

  Abrahms tried to suppress a shiver. Rivera was the devil incarnate. Any man who loved pain the way he did wasn’t human. There was a rumor that Rivera had even killed his own wife, the woman who was supposedly the love of his life. Knowing Rivera, it was probably true.

  Abrahms walked back into the main warehouse. The machine pieces were carefully wrapped and prepped for shipping. Looking at the number of crates, he grinned. Another half million would soon be worming its way into his accounts. Life was good. Even deals with the devil had their high points.

  Chapter Sixteen