Justice (The Galilee Falls Trilogy)

by Jennifer Harlow

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Fault

  The ride to the church takes so long I begin to worry we’ll be late. Surely Reverend Matthews won’t begin the service without the guests of honor. We can’t help that crews are taking forever to clean up after Hexen’s latest bid for attention. I heard on the radio they’ve caught two of the unicorns he summoned on Infantino Avenue.

  Three days. It’s been three days almost to the hour since I found them. It’s flown by, I’ve been so busy. Lucy handled the funeral plans, Shannon the work-a-day problems and I helped with both, along with fielding the press and a million phone calls from old friends. When I wasn’t glued to the phone, and he wasn’t asleep, I watched old movies with Justin and played pool. He’s been sleeping a lot. Close to sixteen hours a day. Mom did the same thing after Pop. I’ll start to worry in a week.

  I have found tiny pockets of time for myself, mainly used to aid in the investigation whether anyone liked it or not. It’s hard to do when you can’t leave the house, but I’ve managed. The photographer sent me the pictures from the engagement party, and in the hundred shots, I found about six with Alkaline in them. He wasn’t speaking to anyone, but in each he was close to me, Justin, or Rebecca. Stalking us. I phoned the others at the party who claimed to have seen him, but like me they only noticed him in passing.

  Cam’s been feeding me information. He and Mirabelle stopped by for a follow-up interview with Justin and me. As far as I can tell, they’ve garnered no new information. Three days and nothing. He checked out of the hotel and vanished. No more dead bodies, no more leads, just dead quiet. He’s biding his time, waiting like a snake to pop out of a hole and strike. Where better than his victim’s funeral?

  St. Agatha’s Church is the oldest standing building in Galilee. Even the heroes and villains leave it alone. People of all denominations flock here for the sheer beauty of it. Anyone who is anyone in Galilee celebrates their milestones here. Weddings, christenings, and funerals for the elite. It’s a beautiful, gray stone building with cathedral ceilings, statues of St. Agatha and the Virgin Mary, and six stained-glass windows each a story high. The ones in the back and front of the church are glittering rose windows with a red cross in the front. The other four are of Archangels Michael, Gabriel, Rafael, and Uriel, all in epic battle. They added those a hundred years ago when Madman, one of the first villains, tried to blow up the church. Lightening, the protector of the city at the time, managed to stop him, but the church was in tatters. It’s been neutral ground since. Hope Alkaline remembers that.

  Police presence is palpable with patrolmen walking up and down the sidewalk two blocks in either direction. As we move closer, the press outnumbers the mourners and police. They’ve been pushed over to the other side of the street, held back by barricades. The police have also cordoned off the blocks surrounding the church. Bryan, the guard, pulls up to the barricade and shows the invitation to the patrolwoman. She orders all the windows rolled down and she peeks in. It takes her a second to realize who we are, and she’s suitably mortified. “Sorry, ma’am. Sir.”

  “Just keep up the good work,” I say.

  We roll up to the front of the church. Justin looks at it and sighs. He was supposed to be walking in here to get married a month from now, not to attend his fiancée and her daughter’s funeral. None of us moves. I take Justin’s hand, squeezing it. He looks at me, indecision all over his face. “We can stay here as long as you need to,” I say.

  He takes a deep breath, and then slowly lets it out. “Let’s get this over with.”

  The moment I step out of the car following Geoff and Lucy, it is as if a rock concert erupts. Screaming reporters overrun the usual city sounds. We’ve become national celebrities. Front page of newspapers across the country. My life has been picked apart and analyzed by every talking head with a microphone. I’m either a strong victim or as a few have hinted at, a possible murderer in league with Alkaline. The popular theory is that he butchered them at my behest so I could have Justin all to myself. Plausible, but only the tabloids were running with that one, and they stopped after Justin’s battalion of lawyers went after them. Besides that blip, I’m now considered a tragic hero and Justin is just tragic. And here we are in our designer funeral attire looking very melancholy and beautiful surrounded by police in case a mass murderer tries to melt us. I’m shocked they’re staying behind the barricades and not rushing us like groupies.

  As quick as we can, the four of us—me, Lucy, Justin, and Dobbs—rush into the church. It can seat three hundred and will today. Lucy just took the wedding guest list and sent out funeral invitations from it. Though instead of pastels the guests are in black and instead of pink and white daisies there are solemn lilies and a cornucopia of wreaths from mourners at the front of the church. In the center of the field of flowers there is a recent picture of the Thorntons taken at the beach. Marnie gazing down as Rebecca and Daisy build a sandcastle. I’ll bet Justin took the picture. There are no coffins as they were cremated. The remains were delivered this morning and we’re keeping them at the mansion until Sam, Rebecca’s brother, can fly back from the Middle East to bring them to Lake City. They’ll be interred near her father. Makes the most sense, I guess, keeping them all together. Justin didn’t object.

  People offer their condolences to Justin as we pass, some I know, but the others must be from Independence, Lake City, or the hospital. Scattered around are police in dark suits trying to blend in with the crowd. Mirabelle nods at me, and I do the same back. I wonder if Harry’s here. The mayor and commissioner push their way toward us, no doubt to suck up or beg for forgiveness. Either way while Justin is distracted, I worm my way around the group and down the aisle to the less populated front with my shadow a step behind me.

  I barely have time to take a breath before Bitsy rushes over to me, her eyes red and swollen. Without a word, she hugs me tight. My bodyguard doesn’t stop her, the louse. “Oh, God, I don’t know how I’m going to make it through this,” she says.

  I pull away as politely as possible. “Yeah.”

  Bitsy dramatically turns to the photo. “They were so beautiful. This is just such a tragedy. I still can’t bring myself to tell Preston. He’ll be heartbroken. He loved Daisy too.” She looks back at me. “We try and shield him from unpleasantness such as this.”

  “Probably a good idea,” I say.

  “And how are you? We haven’t spoken since…the day.”

  “I’m fine. I’m coping.”

  “And Justin? How is he?”

  “Holding up well, considering. You should go over. He’d love to see you.”

  “You think? Okay, then.” She squeezes my arm. “If you need anything, please call.”

  Yeah, right. “Thank you.”

  She walks away, and I plunk myself in the front pew, already exhausted. A few guests walk up to the altar to examine the flowers or put checks in the donation box just underneath the photo. My kind-hearted friend has spent most of his waking hours organizing the “Dr. Rebecca Thornton Pediatric Recovery Wing” where parents and children will have a mini-apartment to stay in if the child needs long-term care. That way they can all be together and maintain a sense of normalcy. Good thing he’s on the hospital board as it cuts through a lot of red tape. There’s going to be a gala fundraiser in two weeks if all goes as planned. The cute doctor that Rebecca tried to set me up with, Jem something, puts his check in. He glances at me, smiling awkwardly and blushing, before rushing away. Probably counting his lucky stars we never got past flirting.

  “Mind if I sit for a minute?” a woman asks.

  I turn and smile at Grace. “Only if you dare. I am a marked woman.”

  “Welcome to the club.” Her sunglasses envelop half her face, a tiny bid for anonymity. They match her black suit with large diamond brooch. “I snuck in through the back. The press hasn’t stopped phoning me since Saturday.”

  “I’m surprised you came. It’ll mean a lot to Justin.”

  “That’s
the only reason I’m here. I almost told my driver to turn around three times.” We sit in silence for a moment as she gazes to the photo. “They were beautiful. All of them. I wish I had met them.”

  “You would have gotten along.”

  “It’s such a waste, and to die like that.” She pauses again. “He didn’t…um…with the child, did he?”

  “No. He smothered her with a pillow. The other two, he burnt alive.”

  “How much evil can one man be capable of?” she asks to herself.

  “I stopped asking myself that question years ago. Just when you think you know the answer, someone goes and does a thing like this. It makes me want to go and live in a cave.”

  “I’m surprised you aren’t in one right now,” Grace says. “I heard he threatened your life. I’d be halfway around the world if I were you.”

  “Doing what’s in my best interest has never been my strong suit.” I pause. “You have just as much reason to be afraid today as I do.”

  She looks down at the floor. “Not really. It would seem James has a new obsession to occupy him now. I don’t envy you.”

  For some reason the word “obsession” grips my attention. “Why do you assume he’s obsessed with me?”

  Before she can answer, Justin and Lucy approach. Grace and I stand. “Hello, Grace,” Justin says, hugging her tiny body. “Thank you so much for coming.”

  “How could I not? You were so wonderful to me after everything. This is the least I can do. I’m just sorry I never got to meet them. I’ve heard nothing but lovely sentiments.”

  “How are you doing?” Justin asks.

  “Isn’t that my line?” We all smile. “I’m fine, Justin. I am so sorry, though. I know what you’re going through. It’s complete and utter hell. If you need to talk…”

  “Thank you, Grace.”

  She kisses his cheek, nods at Lucy, and walks off to find a seat. The reverend starts preparing for the sermon at the pulpit so the guests begin sitting, as do we. The bodyguards sit behind us and when I glance back, I spot Harry a few pews behind with Cam next to him. My stomach clenches. I haven’t seen or spoken to Harry since Saturday. I’ve wanted to, and have actually picked up the phone, but just couldn’t dial. No idea what to say, I guess. Both he and Cam smile sympathetically and nod. I do the same.

  “We are here today,” Reverend Matthews begins, “to mourn the passing of three young souls who were ripped from our lives too soon. Marnie, Rebecca, and Daisy Thornton were new to our city, but judging from the sheer number of you here, I can say that they have made their impact, and that we are all better for having had them here.”

  Reverend Matthews continues on, showcasing their accomplishments mixed with bible verses. Behind me, people sniffle or weep. This is only the third funeral I’ve ever attended. Mom’s was merely a formality. Quick and painless. But Pop’s…it was small, only about ten people showed. Uncle Ray and Pop’s boss Dominic gave eulogies, but they could barely be heard over Mom’s sobs. She hadn’t stopped crying since the police came to our door. Four days of her crying and I was in shock. I’m the one who planned it. She couldn’t even decide which suit to bury him in. I didn’t cry once, not until I was alone in my room that night. Everyone had gone home, Mom was passed out in her bedroom, and I felt completely and utterly alone in every sense of the word. The unfairness of it all was crippling me. A girl shouldn’t know the world is a shithole with no chance of it ever improving at age twelve. My heroes were gone, leaving me with nothing but misery on the horizon.

  I sat on my bed just looking up at all my Justice crap. Posters, action figures, even a mask like his. Fury and desolation just washed over me. I felt betrayed. I worshiped the man, and the one time I needed him, he didn’t show up. I thought he actually cared about us. No. Another lie. I couldn’t take it anymore. I ripped off, smashed, and then burnt anything with his face on it before running out of that apartment. I hopped on my bike and rode until I couldn’t anymore, finally stopping on Pendergast Bridge, willing myself to jump. You can only be strong for so long before you break. I broke.

  Like now. I’m sitting here, head up high, stoic, representing their family when I really feel like screaming at the top of my lungs, but I can’t even cry. I’m the strong one, forged by fire and ice. Dobbs blots his tears with a tissue, Lucy remains stony, but when I glance at Justin my façade crumbles. He’s desperately trying to keep himself together, though his eyes are rimmed with tears and his chin quivers. It literally feels as if someone plunges a knife into my heart. I can’t look at him for the rest of the service.

  As the eulogizers speak about the deed’s multitude of achievements, I scan the pews. More than a few mourners whisper to their friends, eyes on me the whole time. My hands start shaking, and I ball them into fists as I set them in my lap. It takes every ounce of self-restraint not to run out of this church. The guilt is suffocating. I can do this. I will do this for him.

  Rev. Matthews concludes the service with a prayer about forgiveness, and the moment I can I leap up, excuse myself, and rush toward the door behind the altar. I know there’s an empty office. I shut the door, and take several deep breaths. I pace back and forth, wringing my hands to stop the shaking, trying and failing to expel the pent-up energy that’s about to explode out of me otherwise. Geoff steps in, but I tell him I need a minute. He listens, but I’m sure stays close. I keep pacing on those wobbly heels, now my whole body shaking while I try to catch my breath. I was doing so well. No tearful breakdowns or drinking binges, and now I’m a second away from a full-blown panic attack.

  They all know. All of them in there know. How I feel about him, how I felt about her and God knows what they’re all thinking. Who knows how long it will be until he figures it out too? I can’t keep this up. The pretending. I almost wish Alkaline would just come in and kill me already. He—

  There’s a knock on the door. “Jo?” Harry asks on the other side. He steps in, and I stop my crazy person routine. “I saw you run in here. Are you okay?”

  “You know, I am so sick of people asking me that. ‘Am I okay?’ No. No, I am not okay. Not in any way am I okay. I am…exhausted. And pissed off. And scared out of my mind. All I want to do is take a few pills and fall into oblivion for a few months, and when I wake up I’ll find out this was all a dream. That my friend hasn’t shattered into a million pieces, that you don’t hate my guts, and that I’m not responsible for either.”

  “Jo—”

  I start pacing again. “Everyone is just being so fucking nice. It’s driving me insane.” I can feel my blood pressure rising. “They just want to keep hugging me, and saying kind things to me. I can’t stand it. I can’t. Especially when I know it’s all fake. All those people in that room know who I am. What I’ve done. Then why won’t they just fucking say it? Once, just once I’d like someone to look me in the eye and say, ‘Joanna, this is your fault. You let him slip through your fingers twice. You challenged a cold-blooded murderer, and he just rose to that challenge. We know you didn’t mean it, but there it is. Their blood is on your hands.’ Just one person, instead of platitudes and—and—and fucking comfort I don’t deserve!”

  Harry doesn’t respond right away. He just keeps looking at the floor as I keep walking. “Okay,” he finally says as he takes a step toward me. “Speaking as head of the investigation, the strongest motive for the murders we have found is revenge.” I stop pacing. “We have surmised this due to the savagery inflicted on Dr. Thornton, the fact he used your name to check into the hotel where he stalked her, that he most likely summoned you to the prison that night, and the picture left at the scene. No other known connection to the victims has been found, so that leads us to conclude that you are at the center of this. We have examined the lives of the victims and Justin Pendergast, and none have had dealings with James Ryder or any of his known accomplices, and believe me we have looked.”

  “See? I told you—”

  “I’m not done talking, Joanna,” he says with another step
my way, “so kindly shut up and let me finish.” He’s never spoken to me like that. I’m stunned into silence. “As I was saying, as best we can figure, this was retribution.” Suddenly, he takes my arm and pulls my ear toward his mouth. “But that still doesn’t make this your fault, Jo,” he says quietly. “He didn’t do this because you cared for her, which I know you did despite everything you said or did. He didn’t do this because you asked for it in anger a few times. And he didn’t do this as some divine punishment you feel you deserve. He did this because he’s insane, and cruel, and evil. You are none of those things. So stop torturing yourself. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. It’s wasted energy.”

  He releases my arm. “And I don’t hate you,” he continues. “Am I pissed off you didn’t trust me? Hell, yes. Am I hurt? Damn straight. But I could never hate you. You try my patience, and you make me nuts sometimes, but you also make me laugh and make me feel good about myself. I like being around you. You’re beautiful, and strong, and fiercely loyal. I just don’t know why you can’t see that. That’s why you’re in love with a man who can’t love you back. You think that’s all you deserve—misery and heartache. You’ve built this damn wall around your heart, and I don’t know if I have the strength to bust it down. I don’t.” He shrugs. “You gotta help me here.”

  Before I can respond, there’s another knock on the door. Without permission, Justin steps in. Harry steps away and composes himself, but I have to take a deep breath and turn my back on the men. “I’m sorry,” Justin says, “am I interrupting something?”

  “No,” I say, struggling to calm down.

  Justin steps next to me, trying to read my face. “Are you okay?” I turn away, and his gaze whips back to Harry. “What’s going on?”

  “Jo, you want to tell him?” Harry asks with an undercurrent of anger.

  I open my mouth, but have no clue what to say. Each of them stares at me, waiting for an answer. I don’t know where to look. “I, um…we were just talking.”