I shake my head.
He releases me, wide eyes tearing. Disbelief fills his face. “No. No,” he says, shaking his head. He looks at Lucy, who averts her gaze down. Shaking his head even harder he turns to Shannon. She covers her mouth with both hands to stop the sobs. Justin gasps, running his hands through his hair as he looks back at me. Tears fall down his cheeks. “What happened? Jo, what happened?” he roars.
“They were murdered,” I say after a pause.
“Who?” I don’t answer. He grabs me again, eyes wild. I’ve never seen him like this before. There’s something inhuman about his expression. Feral. For an instant, I’m scared of him. “Who?”
“Alkaline. It was Alkaline.”
His mouth slacks open as he gasps and doubles over, just as my mom did. He twists away from me, away from all of us, staggering back to the side of the plane. He keeps gasping, unable to draw in enough air. “No,” he says in between the chokes. “No!” he bellows. He hits the side of the plane so hard it shimmies, leaving a huge dent.
It’s my turn to gasp. I’ve never seen anything like that outside of a superhero fight. “Justin!” I rush over to him.
He rests his head on the plane, fist still imbedded. As I take his hand to check for broken bones, he gazes up at me through tear-filled eyes. I’ve seen that look. My mom had it all her life. It’s in my eyes every moment of the day. I can barely look at myself in the mirror because of it. It’s something I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.
Broken. He’s broken.
“Oh, Jo,” he cries as he crumbles into my arms.
I do the only thing I can. I hold him as tight as I can as he falls apart.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Aftermath
The press began to show up an hour before we left, but by the time we pull through the gate every reporter on the continent is on Justin’s doorstep. The usually calm Dobbs grips the steering wheel, breathing heavily as he plows through the shouting horde, horn honking continuously. Flashbulbs pop and cameras are thrust against the windows, though they can’t see anything. Gotta love tinted windows. That doesn’t stop them. If anything they take it as a challenge, swarming us. They screech their questions, but I can’t make out a single word. Everywhere we look, there they are. Dobbs can barely go one mile an hour, but we make it through the gate.
“Cretins,” Lucy says. “Have they no shame?”
“None,” I say.
“I’m on the phone to the police right now,” Shannon says, pinning a stray strand of brown hair back in her tight bun. “They’ll clear them out.”
“It’s a public street. The police can’t do anything,” I say.
“Bastards,” Lucy says.
Justin stares out the window, lost in his own world. He doesn’t even register their presence.
The reporters stop at the gate, but their questions continue. “Oh, good,” Shannon says. I turn around and see my armed escorts get out of their car for crowd control. “Why were they following us?” Shannon asks.
Justin looks away from the window to me for the answer. “Standard procedure in high profile cases,” I say. “For just this reason. Nothing to worry about.”
As Dobbs retrieves the suitcases from the back, the rest of us retreat inside away from the loud voices. We follow Justin into the foyer where he just stops. Nobody says a word or even moves. We stay like this for almost a minute, even when Dobbs joins us. He looks at Lucy, who turns to me. Justin hasn’t let go of my hand since the airfield. I squeeze it. “Justin?” He says something, but so faintly I can’t hear him from a few inches away. “What?”
“I don’t know what to do,” he says only a little louder. “I have no idea what I’m doing. I don’t know what to do next. Do I…start the funeral arrangements? Do I go into the living room and just sit down? I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”
“Hey,” I say, positioning myself in front of him. He won’t look at me. “We’ll handle everything, okay?” I look at Dobbs. “After you bring the suitcases upstairs, can you make us some sandwiches and coffee?”
“Yes, miss,” Dobbs says as he starts toward the staircase.
“Shannon, why don’t you handle everything at Pendergast? Meetings that need cancelling, worried staff, whatever crops up. Unless there’s an emergency, I don’t want anything work-related to get past you. I’ve already been in contact with Gene Tully in public relations and he’s drafted a statement and is coordinating with the press. On the desk in the parlor there’s a pad with notes about everything he and I spoke about and others who have called. It’ll help you catch up. Dobbs can drive you back to the office when you’re done.”
“Okay,” she says as she walks away, already fiddling with her phone.
“And I think I’ll begin returning phone calls,” Lucy says. “I’ll be up in my room if I’m needed.”
Tentatively, Lucy approaches her nephew. She squeezes his shoulder and with his free hand he pats hers. “Thank you, Aunt Lucy,” Justin says before leaning in and kissing her cheek.
She nods and walks up the stairs to her sanctuary. Just the two of us now. “Why don’t we go into the living room? Or would you rather go upstairs and lie down? I can call Doc Swenson. Get you some Valium?”
“No. Thank you.”
“Okay.” I start toward the living room for lack of something better to do. Justin doesn’t release my hand, so he comes with me. In his shock I could lead him into the ocean and he’d follow.
I choose the living room because it’s the calmest room in the house. The mansion was built over a hundred years ago when the first burnt down. The rest of the house is a cold museum with antique furniture, ancient statues and paintings. When I first stepped in, I was struck by how dark and stuffy it was. Definitely a house, not a home. For the first year I was petrified to even look at the art, let alone touch anything. This room and the library are the only two I’m comfortable in. And since we’ve spent the majority of our friendship in the living room, that is where we end up.
Justin’s dad, J.T. renovated it just before Justin was born. He knocked out an entire wall and replaced it with glass so there’s a panoramic view of the sapphire blue ocean below. There’s a deck and patio where we sunbathe or barbeque when weather allows. Inside there’s a full bar with stools, popcorn maker, cotton candy machine, small fridge, and dart board off to the side. The L-shaped fluffy black couch takes up most of the room with glass coffee table separating it from the sixty-inch plasma TV. Every videogame system invented is attached to the TV. Hundreds of wasted, yet fun as hell, hours have been spent on those things. We’re both very competitive, almost to a fault, and once spent eighteen hours straight trying to kill each other. I won. Taking up half a wall is a bookcase filled with DVDs, mostly comedy and action. Justin’s a cineophile. Last count was a thousand. The digital juke-box is next to a giant stone fireplace big enough to burn a human with the oldest map of Galilee hanging above it. I’ve always thought it’s out of place in here, but elegant.
I sit him on the couch, pulling my hand away. “Can I get you anything? A drink?”
He looks up at me. “You need to tell me everything that happened. Everything. Start with this morning.”
I sit next to him, grabbing one of the throw pillows to hug. “Justin, I don’t think—”
His eyes grow wide. “I don’t care what you think. I need to know. Tell me.”
With a sigh, I walk him through the day’s events, omitting the more gruesome or disturbing aspects, stopping before I get to the threat. He listens, only flinching a few times. “That’s it. That’s all I know.”
“That’s everything?” I nod. His eyes narrow. “You’re lying.”
“I’ve told you everything important.”
“I want every detail.”
“No, you don’t. And I sure as hell am not going to tell you, okay? So don’t ask again.”
He seems to accept this for the time being. “The door was unlocked when you got there?”
&nbs
p; “Yeah. I think he picked the lock.”
“And what time did he, um, enter?”
“Sometime between six and six thirty this morning.”
“I was already in New Urbana,” he says to himself.
“Don’t start that,” I say.
“What?”
“When Pop died I came up with a dozen things I could, would, or should have done to stop it from happening. I turned it around in my head so much, I made it my fault. Stupid things like if I had packed him an apple, he wouldn’t have stopped at that mini-mart. Or if I hadn’t needed all of that Justice crap he would have gotten a safer job. And then I ended up on a bridge.” I reach across and touch his hand. “Listen to me. There is nothing you could have done. They didn’t die because you went on a business trip. They didn’t die because you forgot to tell them you loved them before you left. They died because a psychopath killed them. Nothing more. Making it your fault and torturing yourself will do nothing to change that fact. It’ll just make you crazy. I’m speaking from experience.”
“But—”
“Listen to the words coming out of my mouth like you have never listened to anything before. This…is not—your—fault.” It’s mine.
He pulls his hand away. “I think I need to be alone now.”
“That’s the last thing you need.”
“Joanna, you need to leave me alone.” He looks up at me, eyes like ice. “Right now.”
If anyone else had spoken or looked at me like that, I’d pull my gun just to be safe. “Fine.” I stand and walk to the door. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”
I’d take it personally, but I know how he feels. I didn’t want anyone within a hundred feet of me when Pop died. All those people looking at me, coddling me, it drove me nuts. I screamed at Aunt Emily when she tried to hug me. I locked myself in my room for a whole day after that. Isolation didn’t make things better, but it didn’t make things worse. At least I didn’t have to keep up a strong front.
I make it down the hallway when Dobbs comes up to me. “Miss Joanna, the police are at the front gate.”
“Already? Crap.” I sigh. He’s in no shape to answer invasive questions. “Okay, let them in and show them to the parlor. I’ll be there in a minute.” Dobbs begins walking to the front door, and I go back the way I came. So much for alone time. When I get back to the living room, Justin’s gone. He’s not out on the patio either. I even check the stairs down to the beach, but he’s nowhere to be found. How the hell did he get past me? I rush back inside into the parlor where Harry and Cam wait. I smile graciously as I enter. “Hello.”
“Would you gentlemen like something to drink? We have fresh coffee,” Dobbs says.
“We’re fine, thank you,” Harry says.
Dobbs nods, and then turns to leave. I stop him and whisper, “I can’t find Justin. Can you locate him? Have him come in here?”
“Yes, Miss Joanna,” he whispers back before walking out.
“Sure you don’t want anything to drink? Eat?” I ask.
“No,” Cam says. “How are you doing?”
I sit on the loveseat, and they sit across me on the couch. It’s kind of strange not being on the same side as them. Usually I’m the one on the couch next to my partner ready to grill a witness. But not today. Right now my one and only loyalty is to Justin, and I’ll do whatever I can to protect him. “I’m exhausted. It’s been a long, God awful twenty-four hours.” I glance at Harry whose mouth twitches.
“How’s he doing?” Cam asks.
“He’s in shock. The press outside doesn’t help matters.”
“I already called it in,” Harry says. “There’ll be another patrol car around to corral them.”
“Thanks.” We all sit in uncomfortable silence. That’s never happened before. Usually, we’re a well-oiled machine finishing each other’s thoughts. I’m the host, so it’s my job to make everyone comfortable. “So, have you been making progress?”
“Neighborhood canvas came up with nothing,” Cam says. “Neighbors saw no one, heard nothing.”
“Have they determined a definitive time of death?”
“Between six and seven this morning,” Harry says.
“CSI find anything of use?”
“His fingerprints were all over. DNA will be back tomorrow,” Cam says. “When we catch him we’ll have more than enough to charge him.”
“What about the security footage from the hotel last night? Has anyone started reviewing it? Interviewing the security detail?”
“We’re still processing the crime scene. The hotel’s sending it over,” Harry says.
“I’ve been playing those seconds over and over in my head. It was him. I have no doubt now.”
“Doubt about what?” Justin asks behind me.
The three of us stand as he walks in. Cam and Harry put on their professional, sympathetic expressions that I see every day. “Hello, Mr. Pendergast,” Harry says, holding out his hand. “I don’t know if you remember me, I’m—”
“Lt. Harold O’Hara,” Justin says, shaking his hand. “We met at the policeman’s charity ball two years ago.” Justin shakes Cam’s hand. “Det. Cameron.”
“Mr. Pendergast.”
We sit on our opposite couches. Us versus them. Harry clears his throat. “Um, Joanna, I think it would be best if we questioned Mr. Pendergast alone.”
“I’d like her to stay,” Justin says before I can protest. “If you don’t mind.”
Harry’s mouth twitches, but quickly becomes a small smile. “Fine,” Harry says. “Mr. Pendergast, let me just first say how sorry we are for your loss. We’ll try and make this as quick as possible.”
“I appreciate that.”
He pauses. “When did you last see Dr. Thornton?” Harry asks.
“Around midnight last night. The limo dropped her and her mother off, and then drove me back here. My plane took off an hour and a half later.”
“Did you notice anyone following you last night?” Cam asks.
“No, but I wasn’t looking. Have you spoken to Kim Liu? She’s, I’m sorry, was Daisy’s nanny. She was watching Daisy last night.”
“We have. She didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary in the past week,” Cam says.
“Did Dr. Thornton or her mother mention any strange people or cars hanging around? Any hang-up phone calls?” Harry asks.
“No. Nothing.” Justin turns to me. “What about you?”
“No. Sorry,” I say.
“Did Dr. Thornton and her daughter spend the majority of their nights at their home?” Cam asks.
“Yes, but I would normally stop by after work and spend the night. It was easier for Daisy that way.”
“How many nights a week, on average, would you spend there?” Harry asks.
“Three to five, and usually once a week they would stay here. It depended on Rebecca’s work schedule.”
“So typically you would be with them,” Harry says. “Who knew you would be out of town?”
“My immediate staff, and I told a few friends last night. But anyone could call and get my schedule if they wanted to make an appointment to see me.”
“This was a planned trip?” Cam asks.
“No. The arrangements were made yesterday, mid-morning. I was supposed to be gone until tomorrow evening.”
“Would it be possible to get a list of all the people who knew about this trip? The people you told at the party last night too?” Cam asks.
“Of course.”
“Now, about last night,” Harry says, “did you see anything odd? A person or persons hanging around you for most of the night?”
“No. Why?”
Cam glances at me, but I keep my poker face. “We have reason to believe that Alkaline was at your party last night.”
“What?”
“An eyewitness believes she saw Alkaline there last night,” Cam says.
“What?” Justin asks, flabbergasted. “Why the hell didn’t she report it?”
/> “She wasn’t sure it was him at the time,” Cam says.
Harry decides to save me. “I’m sorry, we have to ask. Can you verify your whereabouts this morning between six and seven?”
My eyes narrow. “Is that really necessary?”
“It’s okay, Jo.” He nods at the men. “My assistant Shannon and I were in New Urbana. My pilot and colleagues were with me at the time. Shannon can give you their contact information.”
“Did Dr. Thornton have any enemies? I understand her ex-husband is in prison,” Cam says.
“He didn’t know where they were living, and he certainly had no contact with Alkaline.”
“What about you?” Harry asks. “Is there any reason why James Ryder would want to hurt you?”
For the first time Justin looks away, the strong façade momentarily crumbling. I’m surprised it took this long. I jump in. “His only connection to that monster is through Grace Pickering and me. That’s it. Right, Justin?”
“Yes.” He recovers, meeting Harry’s eyes again. “I’ve never met or had dealings with the man. I have no idea why he’d target Rebecca or me.”
“Just to err on the side of caution, I’m going to have a patrol car parked out front and another to escort you and your,” Harry glances at me, adjusting his glasses nervously, “um, loved ones when you leave. I’d also recommend hiring private security. Just a precaution.”
“Is there reason for concern?” Justin asks.
Harry and Cam glance at me, but I narrow my eyes to warn them off. Harry clears his throat. “As I said, just a precaution.”
“Lieutenant, why do I get the feeling that there is a lot you are not telling me?”
“Mr. Pendergast—”
“Lt. O’Hara, I am friends with both the mayor and commissioner. Do not make me go over your head.”
I touch his hand. “Justin…”
Harry sighs, and I yank my hand away. “Mr. Pendergast,” Harry says, but I shoot him a pleading look, “I, um…”
“At the crime scene,” Cam interjects, “there was a threat. Alkaline left a burnt picture of Jo tacked onto the front door.”
Justice (The Galilee Falls Trilogy) Page 18