Justice (The Galilee Falls Trilogy)

by Jennifer Harlow

  The apartment’s small but cozy with the original hardwood floors, stone fireplace, kitchen nook that is as pristine as when I moved in, a closet, one bedroom and bath. Simple, just the way I like it. I’m not much of a decorator, so the walls are pretty bare except for the odd family photo or poster Justin bought me as a gift. I have about five old noir movie posters like The Lady from Shanghai and Double Indemnity. They look pretty cool. My favorite has a place of honor above the fireplace. An authentic Japanese samurai sword from the sixteenth century. The handle is black with white writing in Japanese. “Duty before all else.” Does my best friend know me or what?

  I don’t bother even turning on the lights. I kick my shoes off at the door, my jacket goes over the dark blue velour loveseat, the shirt and pants fall in a pile by my bed. I pull on my flannel pajamas before crawling in bed, setting my gun on the nightstand, and set the alarm for eight. I close my eyes.

  I must have fallen asleep because the clock reads 4:23, an hour and a half after I last looked. The creaking floor boards should worry me. I’m still half asleep when I hear them, but fully awake when I catch a whiff of that familiar scent. Old Spice. I do love that smell.

  “Harry?” I ask groggily.

  He stands in the door, holding his shoes in his hand. “Sorry. Did I wake you?”

  “It’s okay.”

  He sits on the other side of the bed, and I flip over to face him. I watch as he shakes off his jacket and lays it on the chair in the corner. “I almost fell asleep at the wheel,” he whispers as he sets his watch on the nightstand. “Didn’t want to chance it. Your place was closer.”

  “I gave you the key to use anytime for any reason,” I whisper back.

  He strips down to his boxers and white undershirt, neatly folding everything before setting it on the chair. A person wouldn’t know it by looking at him dressed in those stuffy suits, but he’s got a great body. Toned chest, arms, and legs with only a hint of middle age spread around the stomach and waist. He hates it when I nibble him there, but they don’t call them love handles for nothing.

  I pull the covers back for him before he sets his gun and glasses next to the watch. “I’m exhausted,” he says with a sigh as he lies next to me on his back. “And if I have to speak to one more city official, I’ll throw myself in front of a car.”

  I settle in my favorite spot, my arm and leg flung over him and my head resting on his beating heart. He wraps his arm around my back, hand resting on my bare hip. “Can’t have that. Who else would put up with me?” I whisper with a smile.

  He smiles and kisses the top of my head. “Got that right.”

  I close my eyes, nestling in closer. We both lie there silent for a minute as he traces a circle on my hip. Even after five months, his touch still makes me tingle. “I’m scared, Jo,” he finally says. “He wanted you there for a reason. He could have…”

  I press his hand to my lips and kiss his fingertips. “Hey, I’m fine.”

  “What you did tonight was insane. Completely insane, reckless, and stupid.”

  “I know,” I whisper. “I just…he winked at me. You’re not disappointed in me, right? For letting him get away?”

  “Of course not. You were a hero tonight. A stupid one, but a hero none-the-less.”

  With a smile I snuggle in closer to him. “Thank you.” He continues tracing my hip but doesn’t relax. “What?”

  “He’s had three years, who knows what the hell…”

  “Hey,” I whisper. I trace his thin lips with my thumb. “He made his first mistake tonight. He pissed me off. We’ll catch him.” I close my eyes, feeling at peace for the first time today. “There isn’t a doubt in my mind.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Harry

  Like most mornings, I wake before the alarm. Harry snores lightly beside me, looking peaceful and content. A familiar tingle of lust charges through me and on any other day I’d wake him up with a little nookie, but not today. Evil genius with the ability to shoot acid out of his wrists on the loose. City in peril. No sex for Joanna today.

  After a quick shower and blow-dry, I creep out of the bathroom and get dressed. The press will be swarming, so I put on my best suit. Tailored black pant suit with matching vest and sky blue dress shirt that makes my eyes pop. I’m buttoning the vest when I notice Harry watching me with a huge grin on his face.

  I smile back. “Morning.”

  “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?” he asks.

  A yummy, gooey feeling like caramel fills me. “You don’t have your glasses on,” I say.

  He slides them on and the smile widens. “I stand by what I said.”

  I never intended to sleep with my boss. I didn’t take one look at him and say to myself, “I can’t wait to see him naked.” And I’m not doing it for the usual reasons. I’m ambitious, but not to the point of whoring myself. Hell, I don’t know why I’m taking the risk except…he’s the best.

  Before I started working under him I’d heard of him, the Eliot Ness of the GFPD who led the investigation of the Borelli family that resulted in a hundred arrests and convictions. The few times we actually met I acted like a star-struck idiot, babbling away. He was always very cordial but nothing beyond that. When I heard there was an opening on his squad, the elite Priority Homicide, I tirelessly pursued it. Called in favors, had Justin put in a good word for me, all so I could work for one of my heroes.

  For the first year there was nothing but mutual respect, at least on my part. I’d always had a little crush on him, but pushed it down when I started working with him. I never got a sexual vibe from him, but in hindsight I should have. When I’d invite him out alone for drinks after work, he’d decline. He never met my eyes. He never touched me, not even a pat on the back. The few times we’d accidently touch or brush against each other, he’d freeze and mutter an apology. I just thought it was because I was a woman and he didn’t want a hint of impropriety.

  Until the night of Justin’s big news.

  I sobbed the whole way to Neptune’s and didn’t leave for three hours. I’m pretty sure I had an entire bottle of Jack Daniel’s with a vodka bottle chaser. Harry was working late, and Mick the bartender called him. When Harry came, I was in the middle of a heated argument with poor Mick, where things got a little…animated. My mom would be proud. Harry pulled me off the bar by the waist and dragged me back to the squad room, plying me with an entire pot of coffee until I rushed to the bathroom to puke my brains, intestines, and toenails out. After showering, brushing my teeth, and changing into my spare sweats, I felt almost human. He was waiting for me with more coffee and aspirin, not once asking me what had happened. I loved him for that.

  Harry drove me home. I was sober enough to know how awkward the whole thing was. The ride was quiet except for the police band. I just watched as the buildings went by, so emotionally and physically wrecked it took strength for me to blink. He opened my car door and helped me out, following me to my door.

  “Thanks, Lieutenant,” I said in a small voice. There was just enough booze in me that hugging him seemed like a good idea. His body tensed as if he had turned into concrete. I didn’t care, I just inhaled the hint of Old Spice and felt a little better. A moment later his arms enfolded me too, and the tension lifted. That’s when I felt it. One good thing about being a woman, we can hide our sexual attraction. If we like a guy our boobs don’t pop out involuntarily. Guys aren’t that lucky.

  I should have been offended. Pulled away. After all, he was my boss and all. But I was actually a little giddy. Be it the booze, the ever present crush, or crazed emotions, I felt good. He released me, the stone body returning. “I…” he muttered.

  I wouldn’t let him go. Before he could utter another word, I mashed my mouth against his, kissing him with all I had. No hesitation this time, he kissed me back. Boy did he kiss me back. All the sadness, all the rage evaporated, replaced with red hot lust. We ground into each other like teenagers. If we hadn’t been standing on the street, I’
m sure we would have gotten horizontal right there. But some catcalling idiot drove by, and we were brought back to reality. Harry all but jumped away from me, shocked and embarrassed at himself. He mumbled something and walked back to his car, not looking at me. I just watched silently as his car sped away.

  I didn’t sleep that night, processing everything. I could not have a thing for my boss. Besides the whole it’s against regulations thing, and the threat of us both getting fired, there were several other issues. He’s fifteen years older than me. He’s divorced, though no kids thank God. His idea of fun is staying in and reading a book. He was fucking Harry O’Hara for God’s sake! The legend! Was I that desperate for companionship that I’d risk my entire career with a stupid move like that? Or was it just a lame, girly attempt to make a man I admire and respect take some notice of me as a woman? My mind twisted itself up, down and sideways trying to make sense of it all. As the hours ticked by I convinced myself it was a fluke. I was semi-drunk, vulnerable, and self-destructive. I’d pretend nothing happened. That was the plan.

  Until I got to the squad room and saw him. He was coming out of his office as I walked in. Our eyes locked and it took all my resolve not to run across the room, push him up against a desk, and kiss him for all my worth. His expression told me he felt exactly the same way. He turned back into his office and didn’t come out until I left on a case. Still, after that look, I couldn’t pay attention to work all day. That kiss, that look…I knew I should stay away. It’d be better for us both. I would deal with Justin and his perfect bride, bride Jesus Christ, without dragging my fantastic boss and livelihood down with me. I’d be alone, sure. But that’s easier.

  With those thoughts circling my head, I grabbed my keys and headed over to Harry’s. He met me in the lobby, and I managed to wait until we were in the elevator before I did what I had wanted to do that morning. And more. I’m a bad girl.

  That was five months ago. Five months of dinners in out of the way places, stolen kisses in his office, and hotel rooms at lunch. Harry could lose his job, and I’d be a laughing stock, but we can’t stop. It’s thrilling, all the sneaking around. I haven’t even told Justin. And yet this has been my longest, most healthy relationship ever. I’ll enjoy it while it lasts.

  Like now. I walk over to him and sit on the bed, entwining my fingers in his. “You’re already getting laid. You can lay off the charm.”

  “Never.” He kisses my palm. “Why don’t we both call in sick? Stay in bed all day?”

  “Well, I would, but my boss is kind of a slave driver. He’d have my ass.”

  “Learn some new jokes, Fallon.” He kisses my wrist where I have a massive bruise from last night.

  “Well, the bad jokes are all part of my dastardly plan to get you to break up with me. I figure I say them enough, you’ll get bored, realize you’re far too good for me, dump me, and then I can have the bed all to myself again. Is it working?” He pulls me to him for a sweet kiss, his now ten o’clock shadow scratching my chin. “Eww. Morning breath.” I sit back up. “You need a shave, O’Hara. Can’t face the press resembling a hobo.” I stand up and continue getting ready.

  “You are such a ray of sunshine in the mornings, Jo.”

  “I’ve had about five hours of sleep in two days. You’re lucky I don’t grow snakes out of my head and turn you to stone.”

  “I think you’d look sexy with snakes in your hair.”

  “You have got sex on the brain! I don’t think your girlfriend is satisfying you enough. You should dump her.”

  “I’ve grown accustomed to your face. And wise-ass remarks.”

  I stick my tongue out, garnering a chuckle. My expression softens. “I dry cleaned your spare suit. It’s in the closet.”

  He tosses the covers off as I walk into the living room. While I make the coffee, he does his thing in the bathroom. I don’t know when exactly we started that annoying ritual of leaving things at each other’s apartments. It started with toothbrushes and toiletries, but somewhere around month three I noticed that in both our apartments we unconsciously made room for each other’s clothes. Suits, pajamas, underwear all meshed together. It blew my mind, especially when I noticed the tampons in his medicine cabinet. Still makes me uncomfortable.

  I turn on the radio as I down my black coffee. The prison break is on every station. Alkaline terrorized the city for two years, killing three dozen people, destroying buildings, and scarring superhero Ranger so badly he was forced to retire. Apparently, the city is “gripped in panic,” people should “stay indoors,” and “nobody is safe from this madman.” I shut off the radio when the president of the Alkaline fan club comes on pledging her undying love. Sensationalist bullshit. If this city were gripped in panic every time the news says we are, this would be the biggest ghost town in the world. At least my name isn’t mentioned.

  The shower runs as I walk into the bathroom, setting the coffee cup on top of the toilet. “City’s gripped in panic again,” I tell Harry.

  “It must be a Tuesday,” he responds behind my powder blue shower curtain.

  “I’m gonna get going. Your coffee’s on the toilet. Lock up when you leave.”

  His wet, warm hand shoots out from inside the shower and grabs my wrist. “Jo?”

  “What?”

  He doesn’t say anything and releases my wrist a moment later. “Nothing. I’ll see you at work.”

  “Okay,” I say skeptically. He does that sometimes, and it drives me nuts.

  I clip on my phone, gun, shield, grab my jacket, and head out the door.

  Time to catch a bad guy.

  ***

  Priority Homicide, along with most of the investigative divisions, works out of Police Plaza. It’s a six-storied, brown brick building as old as the city itself. Right next door is the courthouse, which is twice as tall as the Plaza. On its other side is City Hall, which is still under construction after Aura and Justice got into it a month ago. Every day since I’ve been greeted by catcalls and jackhammers when I walk into the building. My middle finger has been getting quite a work-out.

  This morning a fresh hell awaits me. The press. All us civil servants park in the ten storied structure then trudge a quarter-mile to our respective buildings which share a courtyard with a fountain in the middle built to resemble The Falls. This is where the vultures lay in wait with their microphones, cameras, and tape recorders. Every reporter in the country must be here because uniformed officers man the barricades set up to create a path to the front doors of the three buildings. Their news vans are lined up three deep on the side of the road, the antenna coiled up like a field of stalks.

  I smooth my frizzy hair and walk through the barricades. Dealing with the press is old hat for me. As the best friend and rumored paramour of the city’s Golden Boy, I’ve been exposed to them since I was seventeen. Justin threw this big eighteenth birthday bash and he hooked up with starlet Amanda Garfoyle. The next day, I got about ten calls looking for quotes, and a few painted me as the jealous ex-girlfriend and stalked me at work. It hasn’t gotten better since, especially after the engagement. I’ve gotten used to them, like someone who learns to live with chronic ringing in their ears.

  They see me approach and all perk up, thrusting their instruments of torture at my face. An overwhelming cacophony of voices assaults my ears.

  “How long until you catch him?”

  “How did Alkaline escape?”

  “Do you have any leads?”

  “Which designer did Rebecca choose for the wedding dress?”

  I do what we’re told to do. Ignore them.

  The inside of the plaza isn’t any less of a zoo, just without cameras and annoying questions. The line to pass through the metal detectors for civilians is almost to the door, and the number of police employees is triple the norm. Uniforms, plainclothes, techs all take their turns showing their credentials to get to the elevators. The Galilee Falls seal of an eagle soaring over the falls is covered under dozens of feet.

 
The elevator doors open and we fill it to capacity. One or two people get off on the narcotics floor, only one on the fraud/computer crimes floor, but half pile out on the investigative support floor where the lab work is carried out. I’m sure they have their work cut out for them just as much as we do. The rest, me included, exit on the fifth floor: Violent Crimes.

  Because we cover the entire fifteen miles that comprises Galilee, there are sixty detectives assigned to four different squads, each run by their own Lieutenant. Robbery is one, Special Victims is another, Homicide is the third, and Priority Homicide is the last. We distinguish regular homicide from priority by the number of victims, and off the record, which ones will get the most press attention. As a detective, we’re all trained for each squad in case one needs extra bodies, but we pretty much stick to our specializations.

  Priority Homicide, where I work, is packed so tight people have spilled into Special Victims in the next room. I can’t even see my desk, let alone get to it. There is no order, only people milling around or looking bored. Wouldn’t the reporters love this? There’s an escaped maniac on the loose, and the people supposed to catch him are twiddling their thumbs and talking about the last Galilee Angel’s game. Cam waves as I worm my way in, but disappears into the file room.

  Kowalski, who had the privilege of staying up all night and dealing with this mess, steps out of Harry’s office looking on the verge of collapse. I not so politely nudge my way through the dead weight. Kowalski’s face almost lights up when he spots me.

  “Jesus Christ, you are a sight for sore fucking eyes,” he says as we step into the office.

  Harry’s office is cramped with only a desk, three chairs, a map of the city on the wall, and a gold desk lamp. The only window looks out onto the bullpen but the gray, vertical blinds are drawn for privacy. The desk is covered with files, pink message slips, and loose papers. When Harry gets in and sees this mess, he’ll flip. Unlike me, he’s a neat freak almost to the point of anal retention. Makes him great at paperwork but a lousy roommate. Not that we’re even close to that point. Hell, we just exchanged keys two weeks ago.