Guardian of Justice

by Carol Steward

  GUARDIAN OF JUSTICE

  by Carol Steward

  STEEPLE HILL

  Openers

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Many thanks for making this series possible go to my editor, Melissa Endlich. I couldn’t have gotten through this without you. To my critique partners, Maya and Noelle, and my husband and kids for helping me to keep going through this challenge.

  I’d like to thank the dedicated law enforcement officers and their families and pray for their safety.

  I also want to acknowledge my appreciation to David Galyard for his help, and to my father for inspiring my admiration and respect for the men in uniform. And to my son Matt who surprised me and became a guardian of justice. And to his wife and family, God bless and stay safe out there!

  Chapter One

  ONE

  “Kira Matthews?” The officer at the window of the Police Station motioned her forward. “You’ll be riding with Dallas Brooks tonight. He needs to pick you up right outside these doors. If you’ll go on out, he’ll be here in a few minutes.”

  “Thanks,” Kira said as she hurried out the doors to wait. A cruiser pulled to a stop in front of the station and the driver yelled, “If you’re Kira Matthews, get in.”

  She nodded. “Nice to meet—”

  “Sorry to rush you, I just got called out.”

  She quickly climbed into the car and set her tote bag on the floor. “What’s the call?”

  “Someone dialed 911, then hung up. Not a good way to start a Friday night.”

  “I know what you mean.” Kira buckled her seat belt and Dallas took off, lights on and siren blaring. She held tight to the grab bar above the passenger’s door of the squad car, trying to keep her balance. “You take 911 hang-ups pretty seriously. It doesn’t take more than a few minutes to get anywhere in Antelope Springs. After all, we’re not in Denver. I’m sorry I was late arriving. I had an unexpected call from a foster parent right as I was leaving at five o’clock.”

  “No problem. The dispatcher heard yelling in the background before whoever it was hung up, so I don’t want to waste any time. If it’s a prank, I’d like to catch the kid and teach him not to cry wolf.” As the officer turned the corner to Sixth Street, he cut the lights and siren on the squad car. “I’m Dallas Brooks, by the way.” Pulling to a stop diagonally across the end of the driveway, he glanced quickly at her. “Stay in the car. If it is a viable domestic call, guns or knives are always a possibility.”

  “But I’m a social worker,” she started to say.

  “Good, that may come in handy. Even more reason to keep you out of harm’s way.” He gave her a quick smile and turned off the engine. “I’ll let you know when it’s safe to come in, all right?”

  “I walk into houses unarmed on a regular basis, Officer. We handle these calls every day, all day, just like you do. Dispatch said there may be kids in the house, and I should be there.”

  “And if there are, I’ll come get you when I know if it’s necessary and if it’s safe.” He climbed out of the car, closing the door on her next words.

  “Humph,” she muttered. Kira watched Officer Brooks study the situation as he walked up the driveway. When he reached the front of the house, she opened her door. Just as she put her foot on the asphalt, she heard a loud bang, yelling, and glass breaking. She jumped out of the vehicle and started toward the house.

  “Get back in the car,” Dallas ordered. He pointed to the cruiser. “I don’t need to worry about you, too,” he said in a loud whisper, before putting his hand on his gun and stepping to the side of the entry. He knocked on the door and announced his presence, glancing in her direction again.

  Kira moved hesitantly back to the car and turned her attention to the police radio. It didn’t take long for Officer Brooks to call dispatch for backup. “I hope you have the sense to wear your vest,” she muttered, feeling a sudden pang of anxiety at the thought.

  It was warm for a spring evening and Kira wished she had the courage to turn the key and open the windows. If the sun wasn’t disappearing so quickly, she would. It would be just her luck the call would be nothing and the officer would come right out. Fanning herself with a notepad, Kira propped her door open with her leg to let some fresh air inside.

  She heard a rattling sound and searched for the source. To the side of the house, a man had just jumped the gate in a chain-link fence and was staggering toward the car ahead of the cruiser. I hope he realizes we’re blocking the driveway,she thought. He started to get in, then saw the police car. Ducking behind the other vehicle, he studied the house. He seemed undecided whether to keep his eye on the cruiser or the building as he crawled along the half-dead, creeping juniper bushes edging the driveway. He kept turning his head back and forth, as if watching to make sure Officer Brooks didn’t come out and catch him. He brushed his long bushy hair back as he stepped around a bicycle in the driveway and moved toward the driver’s side of the patrol car.

  Surely he wasn’t thinking of taking it, she thought. Kira pulled her leg into the car and quietly closed the door, searching for an automatic door lock. Where is it?

  As soon as he was past the tallest juniper, the man charged toward the cruiser. Kira dived across the seat, pressing the lock button on the driver’s door just as the creepy guy tried to open it. He had tattoos, she noted, and his T-shirt was torn and spattered with blood.

  He slammed his fist against the window and swore. Then he slumped across the hood, pressed his face to the windshield and locked his attention on Kira. Blood dripped from his forehead.

  Her heart raced. Sure, stay in the car where it’s safe. Thanks a lot, Officer Brooks.

  The madman stared at her for long moments, his eyes full of rage. He had to be high on something.

  “God, stop this man before he hurts anyone else,” Kira prayed aloud. “Keep me safe, and the officer, too.”

  Finally, sliding off the car, he turned and disappeared among the shadows of the trees near the front entrance.

  Why is he going into the house?Kira grabbed the radio receiver and pressed the button, just as she’d always wanted to do when she sat in her father’s patrol car as a child. “Help!” Suddenly, the radio codes she’d heard so many times vanished into thin air. She could practically visualize them as if they were written on paper, but for the life of her she couldn’t think of the one she needed. “Dispatch, this is Kira Matthews,” she finally said. The man had appeared again, and was bending over in front of the house to pick something up.

  “What are you doing on this channel?” a voice answered. The dispatcher obviously wasn’t used to distress calls from ride-alongs.

  “Send help,” she yelped, dropping the mike when she saw the man heading back toward her, waving a huge rock above his head.

  Panic pulsed through her. She found the mike again and forced herself to speak slowly. “I’m a…a social worker riding along with…” What was his name? “Brooks,” she blurted, then screamed as the crazy man heaved the rock at the driver’s door, shaking the squad car. “A man is trying to break into the cruiser. Help!”

  Dispatch didn’t respond.

  The man threw the rock at the car again, barely missing the window this time. The rock bounced onto the hood and he followed it.

  Kira gulped. He was going to get in unless she did something. She searched fervently for controls for the lights and sirens.

  “Oh come on, where are they?” She leaned closer to the dash in her search.

  As the man stood up on the hood of the car, he threw the rock directly at her. Kira reached out and hit the horn.

  Chapter Two

  TWO

  Dallas approached the modest brick house, taking mental notes. Small basement windows. Tall juniper bushe
s block the view from street to front door. The edge of a curtain is caught in the closed window. Where’s the screen?He stepped closer and looked around, wondering if he’d missed it on the ground nearby. The other windows each had them. Why not this one? He glanced at the front door again, then the window. Dallas heard a loud bang and reached for his gun as glass shattered.

  A deep voice yelled profanities. Doors slammed, as if someone was leaving. Someone madder than a raging bull. Dallas stepped back into the driveway, around the junky old car, and took a look around the corner of the house to get his bearings. A heavy padlock secured the chain-link gate to the backyard. Junk was piled on the other side. He listened, but didn’t hear any sounds of movement. He had a sudden image of being back in the high school the day of the shooting.

  Inside, a woman’s voice bellowed, “You just had to torque him off, didn’t you? I don’t know how you think we’re going to come up with the money to fix that window!”

  “Same way you pay for everything else, I ’spect,” a young boy snapped back, a slight crack in his voice.

  Dallas heard the sound of skin slapping skin. It didn’t sound like a prank call any longer. He glanced toward the cruiser. Looked like Kira Matthews was going to be working tonight, after all. She was already on her way.

  “Get back in the car,” he said as quietly as he could, waving her away. She took her own sweet time following his order, he noted. He crept up the steps and to the side of the entrance.

  “PD 138 requesting backup ASAP. Domestic disturbance in progress.”

  “Copy 138.”

  “One-ten responding,” Mark Pierson replied.

  Dallas knocked on the door, ready to announce his presence, just as the woman blasted the child with enough profanity to burn even his jaded ears.

  “Police, open the door,” he yelled.

  The woman murmured something that he couldn’t make out, then yelled, “Hold yer horses.”

  Dallas heard faint footsteps run on hard floors inside the house. “Police. Open the door,” he repeated. He rested one hand on his gun and the other on the handle of the screen door. He pressed the button and pulled. Locked.“Ma’am, open the door, now.”

  He heard three locks click before the wood door opened, then one more click opened the screen. The residents were afraid of anyone getting in, that was for sure. In most neighborhoods, two locks were overly cautious. In this subdivision, three was definitely overkill. A padlocked gate and heavily secured door? Something wasn’t right.

  “Yeah?” The woman who appeared pulled the door closed behind her, blocking his view of the inside.

  He nodded toward the house. “We had a 911 call from this residence. I’m going to need to come in and make sure everything is okay, ma’am.”

  “No one here called you.” She glanced behind her and muttered another profanity before returning her attention to Dallas. “My kid just broke that window and I lost my temper. Ya know, kids don’t have any respect these days.” Her speech slurred and she tugged her stringy blond hair away from her pocked face. “It’s no big deal. I mean yelling, ya just gotta do it sometimes with fifteen-year-olds.” The woman’s hands didn’t stop moving in random jerky gestures.

  Keep her calm, she’s on some sort of drugs.“I’m going to need to talk to everyone, make sure you’ve all calmed down before I can leave.”

  There was a long pause before she opened the door and motioned him inside. “See? The kid is fine.”

  Dallas looked around as he stepped in, adrenaline causing a pulsing in his temples. He had a bad feeling. Just like the day in the school. “Is there anyone else in the house?”

  She got a panicked look on her gaunt face. “I don’t want no trouble, Officer.” Her head twitched as she spoke.

  Dallas took another step inside. A gangly boy stood, barefoot, in the middle of the broken glass, glaring at his mother. “Who was slamming doors when I walked up the steps?” Dallas asked.

  No one said a word. Everything seemed quiet elsewhere in the house. Was it too quiet? He glanced down the hall toward the next room. There were no lights on, no sounds.

  Pulling a small pad of paper and a pen from his chest pocket, Dallas jotted down a few notes for the report. “I need your name,” he said with his pen poised.

  She threw her head back and crossed her arms over her chest as she let out a groan. “Shirley Mason.”

  He heard dialogue from dispatch coming through the radio on his shoulder and turned it down slightly so it didn’t interrupt his discussion with the family.

  Dallas shot a quick glance at the boy. Drops of red on the floor next to the window caught his eye as he did so. “And this young man is your son?” he asked.

  The woman nodded.

  “Your name?” Dallas asked the teenager.

  After a short pause, the boy answered, “Cody.”

  “Last name?”

  “Jones,” Cody said.

  “What happened here?” Dallas asked him.

  “I just told you what happened. You got more questions, ask me,” Shirley ordered, making it clear that she’d do the talking.

  Dallas looked at Cody’s bare feet and the shards of glass surrounding them. “You cut?” Something didn’t add up here. Dallas lifted the boy out of the glass, noting the lack of meat on his ribs.

  Cody shook his head. “I’m fine,” he said, with obvious satisfaction at disobeying his mother. Her glare was lethal.

  “So who’s bleeding?” The child he’d heard running had sounded much smaller. Was that who’d been cut? Could that be who’d slammed the doors? A sibling, maybe? Was Cody trying to protect a brother or sister? “Ma’am, please go sit on the sofa while we sort through all of this.” He checked the boy for cuts while the mother stomped over and dropped onto the shabby couch.

  “Who else is or was in the house?”

  No answer. Over the mike, Dallas heard broken messages from a frantic voice. Why in the world wasn’t dispatch intervening? He didn’t need a distraction right now, he thought, as he turned the volume down even more.

  The beeping of a car horn sounded. What’s going on now?He went to the door to see what was happening, and noticed the lights of his cruiser flashing. Then the siren started, drilling through the brick walls.

  “Don’t either of you move an inch!” Dallas said as he rushed out the door. He jumped off the porch in time to see a man running down the street.

  Dallas looked frantically for the social worker. “Miss Matthews?” He turned and scanned behind him, then spun back to the car. Where is she?

  Again he radioed dispatch. “We have a suspect fleeing a domestic disturbance. He’s headed south on Sixth Street, toward Main Street. Long dark hair, medium build, average height, jeans and white T-shirt. There are three, possibly more subjects here at the house.”

  He couldn’t see Miss Matthews in the car, but the doors were still closed. And the passenger half of the windshield was shattered like a spider web.

  “Subject may have vandalized a police cruiser,” he reported. He looked down the street again, then scanned the area between the car and the road, seeing nothing. He leaned closer to the cruiser and finally saw her lying across the seat with her hands over her head. She’s hurt! He realized. The adrenaline pulsing through his body came screeching to a sudden halt.

  Mark Pierson’s police car rushed past the house and took off after the suspect while Dallas tried to open his cruiser’s door.

  It wasn’t closed tight, but it was locked. He knocked repeatedly. “Miss Matthews, open the door.” When she jumped, she hit her head on the steering wheel. She turned toward him, rubbing her temple. Her huge eyes shone with fright as she fumbled for the door handle.

  “Are you okay?” Dallas reached across and turned off the siren and lights, then backed out of the car again. She was shaking. He quickly took stock, glad to see that the broken windshield had held. The majority of the damage was right in front of the passenger. He shook her gently. “Miss Matthews?”
>
  “Stay in the car, out of harm’s way, my foot!” She pointed to the windshield and started to climb out, but Dallas stopped her.

  He touched his hand to her shoulder and knelt down between the door and the car. “Hang on there for a minute. Tell me what happened.” Kira’s cocoa-colored skin seemed paler than it had before the incident. Was she in shock?

  “What happened? Didn’t you hear me telling dispatch?” Wide-eyed, he gazed darted from the shattered windshield to him.

  The frantic voice made sense now. “A little, but it wasn’t really clear,” he said, not about to admit she’d sounded like a lunatic. He hadn’t even realized it was her speaking. Now he at least understood why.

  She was going through everything that had happened when as another officer approached. Pete Ford paused, listening.

  “You’re sure he wanted to get in in order to take the car?” Pete asked.

  The social worker glared at him. “Look at the driver’s door! It has to have a dent the size of…” She glanced at her hand, then at Dallas’s. “The size of your fist,” she said, grabbing his wrist and lifting it in the air.

  Pete walked around the car and nodded. “Yep, it sure does.”

  “And when he couldn’t get in, he must have decided I could be convinced to let him in, for he threw the rock at the door again and again. He obviously wasn’t thinking about safety glass.” She shivered.

  When Miss Matthews had finished talking, Pete pointed to the house. “Who’s inside? I’ll catch up there.”

  “Mom and a son. Shirley—” Dallas glanced at his notes “—Mason, and Cody Jones. I suspect there’s a younger child, but no one is talking yet. This guy must have been leaving the back of the house as I was going in—”

  “He jumped the fence about three to five minutes after you went inside,” Miss Matthews confirmed.

  Dallas waited a minute to make sure she was through. “I think we need to get that cleared up right away, find out what he was doing here. The suspect I saw running had dark hair—”