Justice (The Galilee Falls Trilogy)

by Jennifer Harlow

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Revelations

  I wake at six, and we really make up. Twice. Afterward, Harry showers as I whip up breakfast, using all of my culinary skills to impress him. Meaning, I try not to burn the toast. All is well until I open the front door to get the paper. I about jump out of my skin when I see the midnight blue clad figure standing in the hall with his arms crossed. “Jesus Christ,” I say, clutching onto my frantic heart.

  “This is the residence of Lt. Harold O’Hara,” the superhero says with disapproval. “Your supervisor.”

  I step into the hallway, closing the door so Harry can’t hear. “Yeah?”

  “You’re wearing his pajamas.”

  “So?”

  “I just…I’m surprised. I had no idea you two were intimate.”

  “It’s none of your business.”

  “How long have you two been…together?” he asks with distaste for the idea.

  “Again, none of your damn business.” I cock my hips and put my right hand on the joint. “Who are you, my father?”

  “I meant no offense. I—I hope you’re both happy together.”

  “We are. Thank you.” I stare into the impenetrable mask. Neither of us utters another word for an uncomfortable moment. “So, what are you doing here? Harry’s in the shower if you—”

  “I knew you were unguarded. I came to keep you safe.”

  I do a double take. “And how’d you know that? Hell, how’d you know where I was? Did you follow me last night?” The thought of him watching as I rolled around in the dirt with Justin turns my stomach.

  “There’s a tracking device in your coat.”

  “You LoJacked me?” I shout.

  “Of course. I have to keep track of you somehow,” he assures me. “And now you know, please do not destroy or leave the coat behind. If you do, I will have no choice but to shadow you. I promise only to use the device when needed. I have a feeling you may be grateful for it one day.”

  “Not today,” I say with a scoff. “Just go away, okay? I’m safe, but completely creeped out right now. Shoo before one of the neighbors sees you.” I snatch up the paper and retreat into the apartment in total shock.

  Harry comes out of the bedroom buttoning up his shirt. “Who were you talking to?”

  “Um…” I say, trying to find the right words, “Justice. He, um, bugged me and tracked me here to make sure I was properly protected.”

  “Really?” he asks, sounding not at all concerned. “Would he like breakfast?”

  I swack Harry with the paper with an amused smile. “This is serious! He put a tracking device in my coat! He stalked me here! He stood out in our hallway while we were…you know! I’m not feeding the man!”

  “He’s just a good detective. Right now, you’re his only lead. We have you under surveillance too, remember? Though they called and said they lost you last night. As for him knowing we’re together…” He kisses my nose. “I don’t mind if you don’t. Is the coffee ready?” My boyfriend walks toward the kitchen as I just shake my head. I glance at the door before following him. No superhero is going to ruin my day.

  After breakfast, which is edible for the first time ever, Harry collects his things for work while I lounge on the couch with the paper. I’ve made the front page again. A photograph of Justin and me walking into the church takes up half the page, but when I look at it, I get a knot in my stomach. I skim the article, just a re-cap of the funeral. Harry comes back out with his coat and tie on, looking quite dapper. I wolf-whistle. “Looking very smart there, L.T.”

  “The governor’s driving up. Have to look my best. What about you? Any plans for the day? You’re welcome to stay as long as you want to.”

  “Thank you,” I say, beaming. “I don’t know. Rearrange your ties? Clean your bathroom? Have a tea party with Justice?”

  Harry leans down and kisses me. “A full day.” We both smile. “I’m just a phone call away if you need me.”

  “I know.” We smile at each other. Harry pecks me again before picking up his briefcase and walking to the door. As he opens it, I turn around. “Harry, I lo…” I say, but the words won’t come out. My face scrunches up with frustration. Shit. The truth is I want to love him, even think I can, but don’t know if I’m there yet. Crap.

  Once again, Harry saves me from myself. “One step at a time,” Harry says with a smile, which I return. He walks out.

  After finishing the paper, showering, and dressing, I flop back down on the couch, watching TV for all of five minutes before I’m bored and anxious. There’s something I need to do, but so don’t want to. After five minutes of psyching myself up, I pick up the telephone. Dobbs picks up on the second ring. “Pendergast residence.”

  “Dobbs, it’s Jo.”

  “Oh, Miss Joanna, we were so worried!”

  “I’m fine. I’m staying with a friend. I’m safe.”

  “Would you like to speak to Master Justin? He’s at the office, I can transfer you.”

  My stomach tightens. “No. Just tell him I called, and I’m fine, okay? Bye.”

  That went better than expected. Now what? I get off the couch and saunter around the apartment awhile, then watch more TV until there’s a buzz on the intercom. “Yes?”

  “There are two men here to see you,” the doorman says. “They claim to be your bodyguards.”

  “Big? Dark suits? One has a crew cut, the other a scar on his right hand?”

  “Yes. Should I send them up?”

  “Yes.” Ugh. I don’t know which is worse, Justice or them. How the hell did they find me? Harry, or maybe Justice, must have ratted me out. Oh, hell. They’re going to tell Justin. He’ll know I’ve been lying for months. In spite of last night I don’t want him to be angry or think any less of me. Nothing I can do now.

  A minute later, through the peephole, I see Geoff and Bryan step into the hallway. They exchange a few words with Justice before he speeds away, off to play hero while I go mad in here. TV ain’t cutting it. Books either. I wander from room to room, settling on the office. I can’t help myself, I have to snoop. The files on the desk and boxes call to me. He’s left them out for a reason. It’s almost as if he wanted me to look. So I do.

  Most of the files are on old, unsolved cases he must peruse from time to time, looking at them with fresh eyes. I have a few of those files myself. Maybe we can help each other. You know what they say, the couple that investigates together… I turn on the computer, enter the password he gave me when I needed to get on before, and find the Alkaline case.

  The tip line’s six hundred fifty leads were all discounted. None of the physical evidence at the scene or his hotel pointed to his current location. “Joe Fallon” has not popped up on any database or other hotels within fifty miles. He must have moved onto another alias. As I’m reading through a list of all the evidence collected at the hotel, a thought strikes me. He checked in under my name the night he escaped. He had an ID and credit card in that name, which meant he had them made before the escape. Before I was even on the case. I’ve asked myself this question a million times, coming up with no answer: Why me? I was nothing to this man. Never met him, never had any dealings with him. I don’t have a clue how I got on his radar before the press conference. The working theory was that I put away one of his friends, but that didn’t pan out. It just doesn’t make any sense.

  The next file in the computer is a report on the second interview with Logan Dodd, which took place yesterday. Still in the hospital, poor guy. He went into great detail this time, even down to the magazine he was reading when Moore was making rounds. Nothing new there, but when I’m scanning the rest of his file, I come across a name that gives me pause.

  Logan Dodd’s father was Desmond Logan. I knew him, or of him, through the neighborhood. He brought cars into Uncle Ray’s shop sometimes. I remember him because he got a seventeen-year-old pregnant, Sophia Dodd, and then before he could marry her, he was gunned down outside her high school as she watched. The scuttl
ebutt was she traded one mobster from a rival gang in for Desmond, and the ex didn’t take kindly to that. Double homicide time as both men killed each other in the shoot-out. When it happened, I overheard Uncle Ray talk about how Desmond was a driver for Ryder’s then fledgling gang. Desmond was never arrested in connection to Ryder, so he wouldn’t pop up as a known accomplice. Dodd never knew his father, so maybe it’s just a coincidence. I hate coincidences.

  I should call Harry or Cam, but they’ll just tell me to stay put and go themselves. If I go, it’ll just be a friendly chat among two victims of Alkaline. And I was one of the people to save him that night. Those excuses work for me. I fix myself up a bit, check to make sure my .38 is still in my purse, and spend a few seconds debating whether or not to put on the coat. The bulletproof factor trumps the tracking factor, so I do. Joanna Fallon, back in action.

  Geoff and Bryan follow me without any questions, only sideways glances. Lord knows what they think or God forbid know about what happened last night. I won’t mention it if they don’t. They follow behind the Cobra all the way to the hospital. When we reach Our Lady, nurses and doctors approach me to offer condolences, but I just smile and walk on. I’m on a mission. There’s no time for pleasantries.

  When I reach the burn ward, I spot Dr. Sharma. He seems surprised to see me and my boulders. “Det. Fallon?”

  “Hi. I just came to check on Logan. How’s he doing?”

  “I assume well,” he says with a hint of frustration. “He checked himself out AMA this morning.”

  “Why the hell did he do that?”

  “Claimed he didn’t feel safe here. I couldn’t persuade him otherwise.”

  “He say where he was going?”

  “Home, I suppose. Your colleagues went with him.”

  Crap. Luckily, I wrote down his mother’s address in the Ward just in case I needed to interview her. We drive there and park on the street. I really don’t want to leave my friend’s hundred thousand dollar car with only a crackhead on the corner to watch it, but I don’t have a choice. Want both guards here for this. Good thing he has six others to drive if it gets stolen. The men and I walk past the police cruiser parked outside the apartment building. I don’t recognize them but I still wave. They wave back. I push several buttons until an unsuspecting resident allows us entry.

  For the Ward this building is upper class with fresh paint, uncracked windows, and no druggies passed out in the hallways. The Dodds live on the sixth floor. I have the men hang back so as not to scare anyone. Nice and friendly, that’s what this’ll be. A woman in her late thirties with graying brown hair and thick body opens the door, the intense smell of cigarettes wafting from inside. She eyes me up and down, not liking what she sees.

  I smile. “Hi, Miss Dodd. Is Logan home?”

  “Aren’t you that cop?” she asks with distaste.

  “Yes, I’m one of the detectives on your son’s case. I found him the night he was injured, and I just wanted to check on him. I heard he was released from the hospital. May I come in?” I don’t wait for an answer. The apartment is nice with recliner, new wallpaper, and big entertainment center. Nothing flashy, though a little on the odd side for an unemployed woman. “You know, I didn’t realize it until today, but we know some people in common.” I pick up a picture of young Logan playing video games in this apartment. “Ray Lilley’s my uncle.”

  “Who?”

  I put the picture back. “He has a garage on the corner of Miller and Frank.”

  “I don’t know it.”

  I saunter back to the door with the Galilee Angel’s pendant on it and stop. “Oh. Well, Logan’s father did. Desmond.”

  “That was a lot of years ago.”

  “I know. I was just a kid when he died, but I remember it. Very dramatic.”

  “Not the words I’d use to describe it,” she says with a cruel smile.

  “It was, even for the Ward. The pregnant girlfriend watching her up-and-coming mobster boyfriend gunned down right in front of her by her ex. It was all anyone could talk about for a week. All the details are seared into my brain. All of them.”

  Her mouth twitches. “What do you want?”

  I smile as brightly as I can. “I told you. I’m looking for your son.”

  She folds her arms. “He’s not here. He’s told the police everything he knows. He needs to rest.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Well, if he needs to rest, why isn’t he here? Gallivanting all over town can’t be good for him,” I say with a chuckle. “Neither can going out without protection. Huh.”

  “Get out of my apartment, Detective,” Dodd says. “You have no right to be here. Get out!”

  I cock my head to the side. “Why so serious?” I reach behind, opening the bedroom door as I spin around. A scared Logan, bad arm in a sling, stands on the other side of his bed filling a duffel bag. “Going somewhere?”

  The kid reaches down onto the bed with his one hand, and my instincts take over. As he raises his arm, I barely get a glimpse of the gun before leaping behind the wall for cover. Two gunshots ring out, hitting the doorframe where I just stood, missing me by an inch. I reach into my purse for my weapon and there’s another shot, this one hitting the recliner in the living room. The front door pounds open at the same time. Geoff and Bryan, guns out, bust in. Sophia Dodd screams and backs into a corner. Not so tough now. Geoff covers Sophia, but Bryan runs over to me. There are no more shots. I peek around the corner carefully, but no shots ring out. I check again and take in the empty room and open window.

  “Geoff, go out the front! He’s running!” I shout as I enter the room with Bryan.

  Logan is halfway down the fire escape when I leap onto it. The rickety metal shakes as we storm down it. Logan fires, the bullet hitting and sparking a few inches from my hand. It doesn’t stop us. Nothing will. Bryan returns fire, missing too. Logan hits the ground first, sprinting down the narrow alleyway as he fires wildly before rounding the corner onto the street.

  When we reach the street I spot him crossing Ditko Ave and disappearing behind the shops. The police cruiser does a U-turn, lights flashing. Geoff runs out of the building and the patrolmen jump the curb to stop him. He can take care of himself. I stay on Logan’s tail. No way in hell I’m losing him.

  We haul ass after him for three blocks, gaining ground, until he goes inside a bodega. People inside the store stare as we run through. I can tell his path by the fallen food in the aisles. He went out the back, the door slamming shut as we enter. Logan’s about halfway down the alley when we run out. At the same time an SUV skids to a stop on the street, cutting off his means of escape. I’d be thrilled if I didn’t recognize the car as one parked down the street from Logan’s apartment. The gun pointed out the window doesn’t help my general “Oh, shit” feeling.

  Dodd sees it too. He stops dead, holding up his gun at the car. It takes me all of a split second to figure things out. Bryan pulls me back into the store. Logan and the men in the car fire at the same time as he runs for cover behind a dumpster. Dodd hits the side of the car, but the assassin misses. The passenger leaps out of the car as he opens fire. At the same time the driver fires as well. Two against one. When the passenger starts running toward Logan, who is huddled behind the dumpster, too afraid to move or fire, I can’t wait a moment longer. I know it’s a stupid move the moment I make it. I run out, shooting at the men to cover my ass. Logan could easily hit me, but he just watches as I race toward him. Prison or death, he’s picking the right one. Bryan is right on my tail, returning fire too. There are so many gunshots I lose track.

  I’m just about to reach Dodd when an invisible truck hits my chest, knocking the wind out of me. I spin around and fall behind the dumpster. I don’t know if it’s the shock or adrenaline but I feel no pain, just pressure below my right breast. There’s a flattened gold slug in my coat. It burns my fingers when I pull it out. I have the wherewithal to point my gun at Logan, whose own hangs limp in his hand. He’s in shock too.

 
Bryan runs toward the car and I hear tires squeal as the car drives away. There are no more shots. A moment later, my bodyguard returns, gun pointed at Logan. “Drop it,” he commands. Like a zombie, Logan does. “You okay?” Bryan asks me.

  “I’ll live,” I say, still having a hard time breathing. “The men?”

  “One’s dead, but the other got away. I couldn’t get the license plate.”

  Sirens come closer. My brothers in blue. I look at Logan, who stares into space with his knees pulled into his chest like a small child. I almost feel sorry for him. “Logan Dodd, you are so under arrest.”

  ***

  All it took for me to get back on the case was a gunfight and bullet to the chest. Small price to pay. I’ll have a bitch of a bruise, and be in pain when I turn, but the bullet broke nothing. I got shot and only have a bruised rib. Thank you, Justice. They wanted me to go to the hospital, just in case, but there was no way in hell I was missing a minute of the drama I set in motion.

  Cam arrived first as I was being examined by paramedics. I gave him the Cliffs Notes version of the events and after a minute of screaming at me, he went off to take charge. Geoff wouldn’t leave my side, even when I had my shirt off. I did convince him not to call Justin. I don’t need that right now. I also instructed all the first responders not to mention names, so the press doesn’t get wind of the Alkaline connection. Right now this is nothing more than another shooting in the Ward.

  Poor Bryan was taken away in handcuffs to be questioned. I gave Mirabelle and Kowalski my statement, so Bryan should be released by tonight. If this isn’t justifiable homicide, I don’t know what is. The poor guys drew the short straw and have to investigate this mess. I don’t envy them, or me for that matter. Internal Affairs is going to kick my ass.

  Kowalski is still going over my statement as I sit in a patrol cruiser with ice on my ribs when Harry lifts up the crime scene tape and sprints over to us. A tech tries to stop him to ask a question, but he waves her away. It takes effort, but I get out and stand. Without a word Harry takes me into his arms. It hurts, but I don’t let on. I squeeze him back. “Are you okay?” he asks.