by Nolon King
No Return
No Justice Series: Book 4
Nolon King
David Wright
Copyright © 2018 by Sterling & Stone
All rights reserved.
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Contents
Wednesday August 28
Prologue
Prologue 2
Friday, August 23
Chapter 1 - Mallory Black
Chapter 2 - Mallory Black
Chapter 3 - Mallory Black
Sunday, August 25
Chapter 4 - Paul Dodd
Monday, August 26
Chapter 5 - Paul Dodd
Tuesday, August 27
Chapter 6 - Paul Dodd
Chapter 7 - Paul Dodd
Wednesday, August 28
Chapter 8 - Mallory Black
Chapter 9 - Paul Dodd
Chapter 10 - Mallory Black
Chapter 11 - Jasper Parish
Thursday, August 29
Chapter 12 - Paul Dodd
Chapter 13 - Jasper Parish
Chapter 14 - Mallory Black
Chapter 15 - Mallory Black
Chapter 16 - Mallory Black
Chapter 17 - Mallory Black
Chapter 18 - Jasper Parish
Chapter 19 - Paul Dodd
Friday, August 30
Chapter 20 - Jasper Parish
Chapter 21 - Paul Dodd
Chapter 22 - Mallory Black
Chapter 23 - Jasper Parish
Chapter 24 - Jasper Parish
Chapter 25 - Jasper Parish
Chapter 26 - Jasper Parish
Chapter 27 - Mallory Black
Chapter 28 - Jasper Parish
Chapter 29 - Jasper Parish
Chapter 30 - Jasper Parish
Saturday
Chapter 31 - Jessi Price
Chapter 32 - Mallory Black
Chapter 33 - Paul Dodd
Chapter 34 - Paul Dodd
Chapter 35 - Jessi Price
Chapter 36 - Paul Dodd
Chapter 37 - Paul Dodd
Chapter 38 - Mallory Black
Chapter 39 - Jasper Parish
Chapter 40 - Jasper Parish
Chapter 41 - Mallory Black
Chapter 42 - Jasper Parish
Chapter 43 - Paul Dodd
Chapter 44 - Jasper Parish
Chapter 45 - Jasper Parish
Chapter 46 - Mallory Black
Chapter 47 - Jasper Parish
Chapter 48 - Mallory Black
Chapter 49 - Jasper Parish
Chapter 50 - Mallory Black
Chapter 51 - Jasper Parish
Chapter 52 - Mallory Black
Tuesday
Epilogue 1
Epilogue 2
Epilogue 3
Epilogue 4
The story continues…
A Note From The Authors
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About the Authors
Wednesday August 28
Prologue
Jessi Price stared out the window of her mom’s SUV wishing she could sit at the bus stop like a normal kid.
Destinee laughed and pointed at Rodney, one of the funniest kids they knew. He was chasing Amber Carrington with something on the end of a stick.
“Oh, my God. I think it’s dog poop!” Destinee looked at Jessi.
The thought of the snobby, awful, Amber Carrington getting poop on her overpriced clothes made Jessi laugh.
“He got some on her!” Destinee squealed.
Jessi watched her best friend and felt bad she was stuck in the SUV. Destinee would rather be leaning on the guard rail in front of the pond with the other kids, be in on the fun instead of watching from afar.
She made eyes with her mom in the rearview. “Come on, Mom, can’t we just sit there for a few minutes.”
“Be glad I’m even letting you ride the bus. Eventually, things can go back to normal. Just … not yet.”
Not yet.
A familiar phrase ever since Paul Dodd destroyed Jessi’s life and killed her father last year. She’d survived her abduction, yet it seemed that life would never be normal again. Any time Jessi asked to do anything, or go anywhere, the answer was always the same.
Not yet.
“It’s okay,” Destinee said, “I don’t mind sitting in here. Plus, it’s air conditioned.”
Not that it was hot.
“Thank you,” her mom said.
Jessi looked down at her backpack, wanting to pull out her stuffed pink unicorn and hug it. HappyCorn was Jessi’s secret. Even Destinee didn’t know about the stuffie her father had given her a few years ago that she now smuggled to school in her backpack. Knowing that HappyCorn was in there gave Jessie the strength to return. But she was ten and felt silly admitting it to anyone.
As Destinee kept watching the other kids goofing around, Jessi’s eyes focused on her blue-and-yellow striped tights, tracing a finger over a slight change of color where two of the lines met to see if the material was raised there or if it was an optical illusion.
Just an illusion.
Destinee laughed louder and harder, stoking Jessi’s anger.
“Please, Mom? You can stay right here. You can watch us the whole time.”
“Sorry.”
“Come on, nobody’s going to take us. Nobody is going to do anything with that cop sitting right there.”
Jessi looked back at the unmarked patrol car. Today it was blue. She couldn’t really see the officer behind the wheel, but she didn’t need to — it was one of the people looking out for her.
“I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” Her mom sighed and stared out the window.
“He’s in jail,” Jessi said. “He’s not coming back.”
“No more.” Her reflection glared from the rearview. “Be glad I’m letting you take the bus.”
“It’s okay,” Destinee said again.
She was nine, one year younger than Jessi, but in the same grade and taller. Most people thought she was at least eleven. Jessi wasn’t sure if people pegged Destinee as older because she was a tomboy and played a lot of sports or if it was because she was a big sister to her four-year-old brother.
Sometimes, she acted like Jessi’s big sister, like when she agreed with her mom and said stuff like, “it’s okay” or “your mother is only looking out for you.”
Times like that, Jessi wanted to tell her to mind her own business, that she wasn’t her older sister. And that’s when she was tempted to remind Destinee of her age.
But Jessi never complained, because Destinee was one of the few kids who didn’t tease her or ask a lot of questions about what happened with that man.
Being with Destinee was what it was like before him. They hung out, made each other laugh, and talked about normal kid stuff, not horrors that Jessi only half remembered, usually when waking from nightmares. Horrors she was trying to put behind her. But it was hard to move on when people no longer saw you as you, but rather, that girl — someone to be pitied, whispered about, and sometimes, for reasons Jessi might never understand, teased.
Jessi spotted the bus rolling down the block. She unbuttoned her seatbelt, grabbed her backpack, and leaned between the front and back seats to give her mother a kiss. “Bye. Love you, Mom.”
Seconds later, she was following Destinee out her door.
“Have a good day, girls.”
Destinee turned to wave. “Goodbye, Mrs. Price!”
Jessi closed the door and followed Destinee toward the other kids, lining up for the bus.
As they approached, she could feel the eyes on her and Destinee, but mostly her. At least they weren’t whispering so much these days. That was the worst, because as much as Jessi wanted to ignore the comments and speculations, a part of her wanted to engage them, to know what they were saying.
But Mom ordered her to ignore them.
The bus squealed to a stop.
The door opened and Francine, a heavyset black woman in her late fifties, greeted each group of kids with “Good morning.” Most of the kids echoed the sentiment, but only barely. Jessi always smiled when she saw Francine, remembering the time she intervened when kids were overwhelming her after she first returned to school, on a day when Destinee wasn’t there to protect her.
“Good morning, Francine,” Jessi said as she climbed aboard.
She and Destinee found a seat in the middle of the bus, their usual spot, with Jessi taking the window seat. As Amber boarded with her bestie, Kayla, the girls stared at Jessi, trading whispers and giggles.
Destinee glared up at them. “Got something to say?”
Amber must have smelled something rotten, the way her nose tried to crawl back into her face. She shook her head, rolled her eyes, and said, “Whatever.”
Then the girls passed.
Destinee watched them, balling her fist. “You sure you don’t want me to hit her? I will.”
“It’s not worth it,” Jessi said.
She secretly liked that Destinee was willing to defend her but didn’t want her friend getting into trouble. Not just for Destinee’s sake — her parents were cool — but for Jessi’s. If being outside the house became an issue, then back to homeschooling it was.
And Jessi hated homeschooling.
Being home all day and all night reminded her of everything she went through. All that she’d lost.
Rodney was sitting with his friend, Jack, one seat in front of them. He turned around. “’Sup? Did you see what I did to Amber?”
Destinee laughed. “That was sooooo awesome. Did you get any on her?”
“No. I just wanted to scare her.”
Jessi was sure Destinee liked Rodney, even though she said “eww” whenever it was suggested.
They talked about the latest Star Wars movie, which Jessi hadn’t seen. That one or any of them. But she liked listening to the conversations, even they didn’t always make sense.
A white van with blacked-out windows kept pace beside the bus. Jessi tried to ignore it, but it was going so much slower than all the other cars. And maybe whoever was on the other side of those tinted windows was watching them.
Rodney caught her stare. “Whachya lookin’ at?”
“That van. It’s driving so slow. Can you see inside?”
Now all four of them were looking.
“No,” Destinee said. “But there’s nobody in front of them.”
“Probably a pedo van.” Jack laughed.
Jessi had never heard that term, nor did she know where Rodney got it from, but she could put two and two together. Still, that wasn’t her first thought. Not when someone could drive by, look up, and see that girl — Jessi Price. The one from the news. The one who had those terrible things happen to her.
Jessi got that look a lot when she went out. Sometimes people, actual adults, would come up and say something, like “I’m so sorry” or “You’re such a brave girl.”
Sometimes she even saw people sneak photos of her with their phones, like they were going to tell their friends, “Hey, look who I saw.”
She suffered the worst sort of celebrity.
Rodney and Jack both offered the driver their fingers.
Destinee laughed and added a third.
Some other kids saw what they were doing and joined the salute.
Jessi’s shoulders tightened, her stomach filling with butterflies.
She wanted to plead with them to stop, to avoid angering the driver.
Maybe he was an old man who would look up and see them all flipping him the bird. Maybe he’d follow the bus to the school and report them, and they’d all get in trouble.
The van lurched forward and sped away.
The boys laughed.
Her shoulders relaxed.
The bus kept rolling as her friends talked about their PE teacher, each taking turns imitating the way he was always yelling at the kids.
Jessi could finally exhale and surprised herself with a laugh. Their impressions, especially Jack’s, was spot on.
A few blocks later, as the road narrowed from four lanes to just two, the bus stopped a full block short of a stop sign.
And it wasn’t moving.
Jessi looked up, past the bus driver.
A white van was stopped in the road, parked sideways, occupying both lanes. Smoke poured from the engine, the driver standing in front of its raised hood, shaking his head.
Was it the same white van? Its windows were blacked out, just like the other one.
Her heart was racing.
Her shoulders tightened again.
A cold chill rippled through her core.
Destinee looked at Jessi. “You okay?”
“Something’s wrong.”
“What?” She followed Jessi’s gaze. “The van?”
The driver had his back to them, covered in a blue hoodie. Then he turned and started walking toward the bus. Francine looked over at him as he approached her door.
Don’t open it. Don’t open it. Don’t—
She didn’t need to.
He forced the door open.
Francine started to stand. “What are you—”
She never finished her question.
The man’s hand emerged from his jacket, and before Jessi could register what he was holding, the muffled gunshot made a hollow pop and sent Francine falling back, her blood painting the window behind her.
Children screamed.
Jessi sat frozen, mute and staring ahead.
Chaos. Kids in the front running toward the back, as the man raised his gun.
He was wearing a blue ski mask under the hoodie. And she could only see his scary brown eyes.
He fired another shot into Francine’s body, then yelled, “Quiet, or I start shooting you!”
Silence.
Except for the whimpering.
Jessi was still quiet.
Terrified, and unable to move, breathe, or swallow.
Movement to her left, then Destinee pulled her arm from Jessi’s grasp. “Ow!”
Jessi hadn’t realized she’d been clutching Destinee’s arm, let alone clawing at her skin.
“All right,” said their attacker, “this’ll be over fast. One thing, then I’m outta your hair.”
The kids stared in silence.
Jessi’s mind was a mess, flashing back to when that man had stolen her. She saw flashes of things she’d thought she’d forgotten — Paul touching her in places he shouldn’t. Then ready to do it again in front of the detective, Mallory Black.
And then there were his eyes.
Were they blue? Or brown?
She could only remember the ice inside them, and a terrifying hunger she could not understand.
“I’m looking for someone on this bus. Maybe you all can help me.”
A warm puddle beneath her.
The bus was quiet enough for Jessi to hear her heart pounding.
She wondered if everyone else could hear it. Or smell the pee.
How long until Destinee felt it seeping over to her side.
Still, Jessi couldn’t move. Could barely breathe. She couldn’t move her eyes from the man with the gun.
“I’m looking for Jessi Price. Is she on this bus?”
Every kid turned and looked right at her.
Her heart froze.
The man started down the aisle, his gun on Jessie.
She shook her head and stuttered, “No, no, no, no.”
This couldn’t be happening.
Was it Paul Dodd? Had he come back to finish what he’d started?
She tried to tell if the man’s eyes were the same color as the monster’s.
Why can’t I remember?
He was four rows away, and every bit of her was screaming to stand up and run.
But her body refused to listen. Or do anything at all.
Someone stop him.
Someone do something!
But nobody else moved, either.
And then he was there, staring down at Jessi, gun aimed at her head.
This is it.
He’s going to kill me.
She wanted to ask why, wanted to beg for her life. But her mouth would only make the word No, over and over.
Destinee stood up beside her. “Leave her alone!”
She took a swing at the man.
He raised the gun and—
No!
—fired.
Destinee fell back against the window, her eyes wide in disbelief.
Destinee!
Jessi stared, mute, a pain in her throat strong enough to split her in two.
She reached out to help her friend, to do something, but he grabbed her by the hair and yanked Jessi out of the seat.