Without Justice

by Carsen Taite

  She needed coffee if she was going to figure this out, and instinctively, she reached across her desk for her cup from that morning, but stopped when she realized it was probably ice-cold by now. Her gaze fell on the envelope Asher had hand-delivered. Don’t get distracted. She looked back at the file from Nash, but after a few seconds, curiosity won out. She grabbed the envelope and ripped it open.

  A single sheet of paper fell out. Like the information in the file she’d been reading, the piece of paper was covered in bullet points, single-spaced on both sides. She devoured the entire document, finding a careful, calculated presentation of facts that had to have been written by a brilliant legal strategist, designed to convince her there was more than enough reason to doubt Kevin Miller was guilty of Sam Wade’s murder. Asher might have delivered this to her, but she knew it had to be Cade’s work. Cade, doing everything she could to protect what she thought was an innocent man, even at the risk of her own protection.

  Any lingering doubts she might have about the kind of person Cade was receded as she considered the struggle Cade had faced since she’d realized Fontana, the man who wanted her dead, might have been the one who’d killed Wade. The anxiety of knowing he was close by coupled with the fear of not knowing when he might strike against her might have driven a lesser person into hiding, but Cade had used the skills from the life she’d given up to meet the challenge.

  She tried to tell me, but I wouldn’t listen.

  Guilt washed over her, but Emily refused to let it paralyze her. She couldn’t do anything about the past, but she could change the future. She pulled out her phone and composed a simple text, hoping it wasn’t too late for her to make things right.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Cade checked her watch again, disappointed to see it was only five minutes later than the last time she’d glanced at it.

  “Everything okay with you today?”

  Monica’s voice was gentle, caring, and Cade felt bad for lying to her about where she’d been all morning and even worse about being completely distracted when she’d finally shown up for work. “I’m sorry. I know I’ve been worthless today.”

  Cade had gotten to work around noon, and despite her best efforts to dig in to her work, she couldn’t stop thinking about her encounter with Emily at Brody’s office. After her little drive in the country with Kennedy, she’d gone directly to Emily’s office but didn’t get very far. The secretary told her Emily was out and she was tight-lipped when Cade had pressed for details. About an hour later, she’d resigned herself to a long, boring afternoon at work when she’d received a two-line text from Emily: I know everything. Can we talk?

  She didn’t waste any time typing her reply: Yes. Now? She hit send before thinking about the ramifications, drawing courage from the knowledge Emily knew the complicated truth and still wanted to talk.

  Seven. Where?

  Cade stared at the phone for a moment, wavering. If she was going to invite Emily into her life, she needed to go all the way. My place. She typed the address before she could change her mind.

  I’ll be there.

  Cade had been counting the minutes ever since.

  “You can leave if you have somewhere else you need to be,” Monica said.

  “You must think I’m a flake.”

  Monica tilted her head. “No, but I do think you’ve got something weighing on your mind. I’m happy to listen if you need to talk.”

  “And I appreciate that, but it’s nothing I can share right now. I promise I’ll get my act together.”

  “The offer to leave early still stands.”

  She wanted to get home just before Emily arrived and no sooner. Extra time would only give her a chance to lose her nerve. “Thanks, but I think I’ll stay and try to be of some use here.”

  “Fair enough.” Monica started to walk away, but then turned back. “Hey, I need a fourth for tennis this weekend if you’re in.”

  Even if she was still around, she wasn’t ready to commit to something that would cause her to run into Emily until she figured out where things stood between them. She managed a weak smile. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  At six, she grabbed her coat and headed to the parking lot. By now she’d achieved expert status at spotting her tail, and she risked a small wave at Eric who was sitting in an already running sedan parked one row away. Like any well-trained fed, he didn’t react, but she spotted him in her rearview mirror as soon as she exited the campus.

  The drive home took forever, and she occupied the time practicing what she would say when Emily arrived. Her text said she knew everything, but Cade wasn’t quite sure what that meant. Certainly, she knew the highlights of the case in Chicago, the grisly murders, and the reason she was in hiding. But no matter what Kennedy and the FBI told her, Emily couldn’t possibly know the things that really mattered. How the memories of that awful day haunted her dreams, both when she was awake and asleep. How incredibly disheartening it had been for her to walk away from the career to which she’d devoted her entire life. How every time she saw Emily with her family—brunch at the club, pictures on the mantel—the pain of never seeing hers again pierced her heart. Did she dare hope by sharing the details with Emily that maybe, just maybe, she would have a chance at recapturing the life she’d lost?

  She pulled into her garage, no better equipped to face the unknown, but determined to shoot for a chance to make things work between them. Before she closed the door, she spotted Eric parked on the street, a couple of houses down. There was nothing clandestine about his stakeout, but his overt show of force gave her some comfort. His presence, in addition to the FBI agent stationed out back, was the reason she’d suggested her house for this meeting instead of Emily’s more comfortable place.

  Cade entered the house through the garage door and looked around, checking to see if anything needed to be cleaned, but her Spartan quarters were well-kept. As her gaze swept the room, she couldn’t help but compare the bare bones of her existence to Emily’s robust life. Emily had a career she loved, a family who supported her, and friends with whom she could be open and honest.

  Cade didn’t know if she would ever have those things again. She could leave the protection of the marshals service, but even if Fontana was arrested, the Oliveris might send someone else to take his place. No way would she put Emily’s life in danger for her own satisfaction. The revelation told her exactly what she needed to say to Emily tonight.

  Resolved, but unhappy, Cade found the liquor bottle she’d purchased several weeks before and set it on the counter with two glasses. She’d always planned to share the expensive whisky with Emily, but as a celebration, not a good-bye. She twisted off the cork top and poured several fingers into each glass, her mind so deep in thought she didn’t hear the footsteps behind her until it was too late.

  A cold knife against her throat. Hot, panting breath. Her pulse hammered, and sweat trickled down her back. She knew exactly what was happening with the kind of clarity people who have near death experiences always profess. The gravelly voice confirmed her worst fears.

  “Nice whisky,” Leo Fontana whispered close to her ear, sending chills down her spine. “Too bad you’re not going to live to enjoy it.”

  *

  Emily pulled up to the house and double-checked the text messages on her phone. The front porch lights weren’t on, but this was the right address. She glanced around—a sedan on the street, two doors down, probably one of the federal agents assigned to protect Cade, and a nosy neighbor peeking out from behind her drapes.

  Emily had been worried about how she was viewed in the public eye, while Cade was under scrutiny of a different kind. Worse really, since her life depended on it. What must it be like to have your entire life turned upside down, your identity vanished, and everything that defined your existence stolen with a single gunshot?

  Emily closed her eyes and remembered the scar along Cade’s side, a terrible, tangible reminder of the danger Cade had faced and overcome at si
gnificant loss. Drawn to Cade’s strength, she felt a surge of desire. They would need to talk and clear the air between them, but in this moment, all she really wanted was to hold Cade and keep her safe from anything and anyone that would ever try to hurt her again.

  She started toward the door, anxious to see Cade. The afternoon had been a whirlwind spent preparing a packet of information for Brody Nichols based on everything she’d learned from the FBI. She wasn’t quite ready to ask the judge to dismiss the case against Kevin Miller, but she’d decided to share what she knew until she could make a final decision. She was about to press the doorbell when her phone buzzed.

  Sorry. Running a little late. Key under the mat. Wait for me inside?

  Emily hesitated for a moment. The prospect of entering Cade’s home when she wasn’t there was a little disconcerting, but since the alternative was to loiter on the porch in full view of the curious woman across the street, she decided to go in. She reached down and pulled the key from under the mat and typed her response—Sure—but her thumb hovered above the send button.

  With all the security measures in place to protect her life, would Cade really leave a key to her house in the most obvious place? And for someone who valued her privacy, it seemed out of character for Cade to tell her to just go on in. Something was off.

  She checked her phone again to confirm the text had definitely come from Cade’s number. It had. She started to call, but a sense of foreboding stopped her, and she dialed another number instead. While she waited through the rings, she walked over to the window on the right side of the porch and surreptitiously glanced through the tiny crack between the blind and the frame. Dark. She stopped at the garage door, but it didn’t have any windows. Before she could explore any other options, her call was answered.

  “Kennedy Stone here.”

  The voice on the other end of the phone was clear and brisk. Emily paused for a minute feeling a little silly at the prospect of translating gut feelings into a coherent reason for sounding alarms. She kept her voice low. “This is Emily Sinclair. Sheriff Nash gave me your number. I’m the DA for Lawson County. I’m outside Cade Kelly’s house,” she paused, trying not to stumble over the surname she now knew wasn’t real and hoping Inspector Stone wouldn’t ask why she was standing outside Cade’s home. “She was supposed to meet me here, but she just sent a text saying she’s running late, and that I should use a key under the mat to let myself in. Seemed a bit odd to me that she’d leave a key outside, considering…” She let the words trail off, hoping the marshal wouldn’t make her spell it all out.

  “What time were you supposed to meet her?”

  “Seven.” Emily glanced at her watch. It was quarter after now. If Cade was running a few minutes late, she should pull up any second.

  “Stay on the line. I’ll be right back.”

  The wait was interminable, but Emily hung on, resisting the urge to walk around the perimeter of the house. Finally, Stone came back on the line. “I’ve tried to reach both of the agents assigned to her detail, but no luck. Maybe Cade stopped somewhere along the way home.”

  Emily looked down the street at the sedan still parked out front. “Is one of yours in a dark blue Crown Vic? Tinted windows. License plate RSL-7741?”

  “Someone’s got good observational skills. Yeah, that’s one of my guys.”

  Emily started walking toward the car, tamping down the rising thread of panic spiraling through her insides. “He’s parked in front of the neighbor’s house. Doesn’t sound to me like this particular guy is very good with this whole protection thing.”

  “His name’s Marshal Eric Bosco, and he’s one of the best. I’m about fifteen minutes away. Sit tight and I’ll be right there.”

  “Wait a sec. I’m standing right in front of the car. You want to talk to him?”

  “Sure, hand him your phone.”

  Emily knocked on the window, waited, and knocked again. She heard Stone’s voice through the phone, asking what was going on, but she ignored her while she looked for answers. The dark night combined with the tinted windows meant she couldn’t make out anything inside the car. She reached for the door handle, surprised to see her hand trembling, but when she pulled open the door, her instincts were confirmed.

  Eric was slumped in the driver’s seat, his entire chest covered with blood. Emily’s hands flew to her mouth. Her gut told her to suppress her screams, but she couldn’t completely contain her horror. A small cry escaped.

  “What is it? What’s happening?”

  She raised the phone and stared at the screen, frozen with fear.

  “Emily, talk to me!”

  The sound of her name jarred her into action. “Bosco’s unconscious.” She took a deep breath and tried to stay calm as she searched for a pulse, but what she found confirmed her fears. “He’s dead. He’s been shot and his throat’s been slit. You need to get here. Right now.” Emily took a breath and summoned all her reserve strength. “You and the cavalry. If anything happens to Cade, I will hold you personally responsible.” And I will never forgive myself for pushing her away.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Fontana paced across the kitchen floor, while Cade struggled to stay calm—hard to do considering she was bound to a chair. She dug deep to remember everything she’d learned about him during her investigation of the Oliveri family. One thing stood out—his trademark cool, contained demeanor. The few witnesses who had lived to talk described him as a cold and ruthless killer, and her personal experience bore that out.

  But the guy pacing her kitchen floor was anything but calm. Fontana was a hyped-up mess, sweating, jumpy, and his eyes were full of crazy. This guy looked more like an associate on his first job than the capo he was.

  “Why don’t you tell me what you’re after?” she said. “I still have plenty of connections. I can guarantee you’ll be safe. We can make a deal to give you whatever you need for the rest of your life.”

  He laughed, a maniacal sound that sent chills running through her. “Are you talking about witness protection? Of course you are, because you know so much about it.” He made a slashing motion through the air with his knife. “Let’s talk about how safe the feds have kept you.”

  Keep cool and keep him talking. “Well, I may not be smart enough to keep a low profile, but you are. How did you find me anyway?”

  “Shut up.”

  “I mean it’s pretty clear you want to keep me alive. What’s your end game? If you don’t want protection, what do you want?”

  “I said shut up.”

  If shutting up would keep her alive, she’d gladly comply, but she’d have a better shot at escape by keeping him rattled, and talking seemed to be doing the trick. “I bet I know what you have in mind.”

  Fontana merely sneered as he drank down one of the glasses of whisky she’d poured. When it was empty, he slammed it down, and she flinched at the loud crack of the heavy glass against the counter. Suddenly, she was back outside the courthouse in Chicago, walking into the middle of a crime scene, oblivious to the carnage she was about to see. When Fontana’s bullet struck her, she thought she’d suffered the worst of it, but the aftermath was a pain that kept on taking. She’d imagined someday she’d have to face Fontana in a courtroom, but she’d never let herself believe he’d show up here to finish the job he’d started.

  She looked up and saw him typing on his phone. “Calling for reinforcements?”

  “Just letting your girlfriend know she’s welcome to join us. It was nice of you to leave a key under the mat for her.”

  Cade was confused at first, but then she noticed the outline of a phone in his pocket. The phone in his hand was hers and he’d likely taken her keys as well. Damn. She’d never bothered setting up a password on this phone since she didn’t keep anything personal on it. Except Emily’s number. And the messages they’d exchanged. All short, but precious, since they were the only tangible memories she’d have of their brief relationship when it was all over.

 
Now he was using the same device that housed her memories as bait to lure Emily in. Every detail of Cade’s conversation with Kennedy about what the feds had learned raced through her head. The Oliveris wanted to get to Senator Sinclair. What better way than through his only daughter? Cade realized she was the real bait.

  She wanted to grab the phone out of his hand and break his fingers, but her restraints meant her only option was to scream for him to put the phone down. But she didn’t. She had to act like it didn’t matter what he did. She had to make him believe his text would have no effect in hopes he would abandon the plan and give her a chance to plot some kind of escape. “She’s not coming.” Cade hoped her tone held more conviction than she felt.

  He held up the phone and pointed at the text bubbles. “That’s not what this says. She’s supposed to be here at seven sharp. I bet she’s driving down the street right now.”

  “We talked. After that text. I called her from work and we argued. She was pissed off when she found out I wasn’t who I said I was. She’s not coming.” She watched his face carefully, certain she saw a trace of doubt in his eyes, but she wasn’t sure if he doubted her or himself, so she kept talking. More rambling toward a singular goal. Keep him focused on her, not Emily. Cade didn’t hold out any hope she would make it through her second encounter with Leo Fontana alive, but she would do anything in her power to ensure Emily didn’t get hurt.