Justice for All (The Outcast Book #1)

by P. T. Dilloway

  The problem now is Carr will know someone has broken into his office, but he won’t have any idea who it is. In case there are cameras or anything I keep my hoodie pulled up. I don’t have a credit card or hairpin, but there are plenty of paper clips and a letter opener on his desk. Thanks to YouTube I know how to pick a simple lock; I practiced on Daddy’s old desk until I got it right. Carr’s desk isn’t much different; I can pop the locks in a minute or so.

  Like most people, Carr doesn’t keep his itinerary on paper. He doesn’t have one of those old Rolodexes either. He probably keeps everything on his phone. There is an old trick I saw in a movie once that I decide to try. I pick up his Post-It notes and then rub a pencil over the top page to see if it will show the indentation from the last thing he wrote.

  After a few seconds, some words appear: Star of Panama, 11pm, Saturday. Tomorrow is Saturday. What’s the Star of Panama? It could be a famous diamond, an actor, or even a book, but since I’m in a warehouse on the docks, I’d bet it’s the name of a ship. A ship that’s coming in tomorrow with a bunch of illegal stuff on it.

  And if I’m lucky, Carr and maybe some of Madame Crimson’s other top people will be there to oversee the shipment. Even if she’s not there, destroying that shipment would probably be a serious blow to her. It wouldn’t repay her for killing Daddy, but it would be a good start.

  As I’m considering this, there are footsteps coming up the stairs. I shut the door, but with the glass broken, it’s easy enough for one of the guards from out front to open it. I duck behind the desk as he sweeps a flashlight around. I still have the gun from Tiny Dashner in my pocket, but that would make a lot more noise than breaking the window did.

  I still have Daddy’s pocketknife and the letter opener I used to open the desk drawers. I tighten my grip on the letter opener and then slide under the desk; for once I’m glad not to be very tall. A pair of black boots come to stop next to the chair behind the desk. The owner of the boots grunts as he looks around. There’s a crack and then a hiss before he says, “Someone broke into the boss’s office. Don’t look like they took anything.”

  A man’s voice says, “They still there?”

  “Don’t see no one.”

  “Check around inside in case they’re still around. I’ll go around the back.”

  “Yeah, sure.” There’s a click as the guard must turn off his walkie-talkie. In a movie this is the point where I’d sneeze or something and then have to fight my way out. My nose doesn’t even tickle and in a couple of minutes I hear the guard’s boots clomping down the stairs.

  I peek over the desk to make sure he’s gone. The problem is now he’s in the warehouse looking around and his buddy is outside walking the grounds. I can stay up here for a while, but eventually someone will think to check the office again. Or at least in the morning Carr will come back.

  There are only two of them, so maybe I can shoot my way out. I’ve never used a gun before, but now is as good of a time as any to learn. But what if I miss? Then I’ll be in big trouble.

  I force myself to relax beneath the desk for a little while. I’m not sure how much time goes by before I decide to peek around the desk again. Not seeing anyone in the office I go over to the window. I look through the hole I punched to see a flashlight panning around the warehouse. They’re still looking around, but for how much longer?

  I sit down on the floor just in time for a beam of light to go through the hole in the window. I’ve got to think of a way out of here and quick. It won’t be much longer until they take a second look around the office.

  I don’t see any choice except to make a run for it. If I’m quick they probably won’t be able to catch me. I slide away from the door and then put my hand to the knob. I count down from ten. At one I throw the door open and then get to my feet.

  I hear a guard call out as I’m halfway down the stairs. I keep running, pounding down to the bottom of the stairs. I start for the door I came in through, until I see the second guard in the doorway. He shines his flashlight at me; I have just enough time to shield my eyes with one hand.

  “Ah, man, it’s just some kid,” the guard says. “You looking for a place to sleep or some drug money, kid?”

  I deepen my voice to sound more like a boy as I say, “I thought all these warehouses were abandoned.”

  “Well they ain’t. You take anything?”

  “No.”

  “Benny, search him. Make sure he ain’t got nothing.”

  I take a couple of steps backwards, but the other guard grabs me from behind. His hands grope my chest. My face turns warm as he laughs. He yanks back my hood to reveal my face. “Hey, Leroy, this ain’t no dude. It’s a little girl.”

  “I’m not a little girl, asshole.”

  Benny’s hand touches the pocket of my hoodie. He takes the gun out to hold up. “Check it out, the kid’s packing heat.”

  They both laugh at this. As embarrassed as I am, it’s good in a way that they’re underestimating me. I can use that to my advantage. Leroy steps forward to shine the flashlight in my face again. “What you need a piece for, kid?”

  “Protection. From guys like you.” I force some crocodile tears out. “Are you going to hurt me now?”

  “You ain’t got to worry about us, princess. We ain’t into little girls. Right, Benny?”

  “Yeah. Leroy ain’t even into girls.”

  “Shut up, Benny. Don’t listen to him, princess. We ain’t going to hurt you, at least not this time. We see you here again and we might not be so generous. Got it?”

  “Yes.” I sniffle pathetically and then start to walk away. Before I can get past Leroy, he yanks me back by the hood of my sweatshirt. I cry out with exaggerated pain.

  “You think about going to the cops or anything, we’ll find you and then you’ll really be hurting. You got it?”

  “Yes.” I sniffle again and then add, “I can’t go to the cops. They’d send me home. I don’t ever want to go back there again.”

  “Whatever, princess. You find somewhere else to sleep, got it?”

  I nod and then trudge out of the door. I lost the gun, but at least I still have my head on my shoulders. That’s a victory in itself. I shove my hands in my pockets and then start to think about what I can do tomorrow.

  Chapter 10

  I’ve been sneaking into and out of the house since I was twelve. Even when I was a goody-goody honor student I liked to sneak out every once in a while for the thrill of it. Most of the time I’d only go down to the convenience store for a candy bar and soda and then sneak back in before Daddy, Jessica, or my designated babysitter could find out.

  I still listen closely at the door, but the house is quiet. I slink down the hallway, to my bedroom. I barely have the energy to kick off my boots and then drop onto the mattress. It has been a long night. A productive night, but much too long.

  The alarm goes off what seems like five minutes later. I throw back the blankets and then remember I’m still wearing my vigilante outfit. I change into a T-shirt and shorts before I go downstairs.

  I know I’m in trouble when Carol is sitting next to Jessica at the kitchen table. They’re both glaring daggers at me. Jessica taps the front page of the newspaper. “What the hell were you doing last night?”

  Before I can try to think of an answer, I study the newspaper. On the front page is a picture of me squatting over the jerk from the train. It must have been taken by a cell phone because the shot is grainy and out of focus. There’s a headline proclaiming: Hero Girl Foils Rape. The article doesn’t identify me, Melanie, or the guy, but the details are pretty accurate.

  I toss the newspaper down on the table and then shrug. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. That doesn’t even look like me.”

  “Robin, you’re my sister. You don’t think I can recognize you even if the picture isn’t in focus?”

  “It’s not me! I swear!”

  “You’re supposed to be grounded and instead you’re on a train downtown
fighting people? What the hell?”

  Carol clears her throat before I can say anything. “Robin, it’s a very brave thing you did. From what the other passengers said, that man was going to hurt that girl, maybe even kill her. That still doesn’t excuse what you did. Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?”

  “No one got hurt except the guy who deserved it. You two should be thanking me.” I collapse onto a chair and then fold my arms over my chest. What is it they say about no good deed going unpunished?

  “You could have been killed!” Jessica shouts. “What would Dad say—?”

  “He’d thank me for putting that criminal in traction.”

  “No, he wouldn’t,” Carol says. “Your father always tried to protect you girls. And he always worked within the law.”

  “So what was I supposed to do: call 911?”

  “There should have been an officer on the train,” Carol says.

  “You shouldn’t have been there in the first place.” Jessica wags a finger at me. “You are grounded for six months. And I’m going to make sure you keep to it if I have to handcuff you to your bed.”

  Carol puts a hand on Jessica’s shoulder. “Calm down. You’re right that Robin shouldn’t have been out there, but she did help that poor girl.”

  “That doesn’t make it OK.”

  “Listen to me for a minute,” Carol says. “Robin needs punished, but it’s obvious grounding her isn’t the answer.”

  “What am I supposed to do: spank her?”

  “Like hell you will,” I grumble.

  “Both of you, settle down. I happen to know one of the staff shrinks—”

  “You a patient?” I ask.

  “I was, yes. Not long after I joined the force, I shot a perp and the department sent me to see a psychologist. We’ve stayed in touch since then. He’s a good guy. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind seeing Robin.”

  “You want me to see a shrink? Because I snuck out and stopped a guy from raping someone? That makes sense.”

  “I’m not a shrink, but I think it’s pretty obvious you’re acting out because of what happened with your dad. Dr. Tyrell can help you with that. Give you a safe place to talk things through.”

  “Maybe he can get her to stop putting all that black gunk on her face,” Jessica says. I flip her off, but she doesn’t say anything. Instead she turns to Carol to ask, “How soon do you think he can see her?”

  “I’ll call to ask him. In the meantime, you two try not to kill each other.”

  “It wouldn’t be much of a fight,” I grumble.

  Carol takes her cell phone out and then goes into the living room. This leaves me and Jessica to stare at each other. I snatch the newspaper up to study the picture again. “It’s not a great picture, is it? Whoever took it should have focused better.”

  “This isn’t a joke. If Carol weren’t here, I’d have probably beaten you to death with the rolling pin.”

  “Why is she here?”

  “So I wouldn’t beat you to death with the rolling pin.” Jessica shakes her head. “I don’t know what’s going on with you anymore, Robin. I know it has been hard with Dad dying—”

  “Getting blown up in front of me,” I correct her. “It’s not like he died of cancer. That bitch Madame Crimson had him assassinated in front of everyone. In front of us. Don’t you get that?”

  “And you think sneaking out to beat someone up is going to change that?”

  “No.” I take a deep breath and then let it out slowly. Until Daddy died, we never kept secrets from each other. We were always like best friends. It can’t be like that, not anymore. “I heard there was a party down on Reynolds Street and I decided to go. Then that jerk started hassling the girl and I don’t know, I guess I snapped. I’m sorry.”

  Jessica stares at me for a long time and then shakes her head. “I really want to believe you, but I’m not sure I can anymore. Maybe it would be good for you to see someone.”

  “I don’t need a shrink. I’m not a crazy person.”

  “Neither is Carol, but she saw the guy.” Jessica runs a hand through her hair and then sighs. “Maybe I should go see a shrink too. I don’t know what to do anymore. I’ve tried to do what Dad would, but it doesn’t seem to be working. You’re out of control.”

  “I’m not—”

  “You’re smoking, you’re getting suspended from school, your grades are slipping, and now you’re fighting. If that’s not out of control, then I don’t know what is.”

  Before I can say anything, Carol comes back into the room. She gestures to her phone. “Good news: he agreed to see Robin today. Nothing formal, just to get to know her. Size her up.”

  “She’s right here,” I say.

  Carol puts a hand on my shoulder. “Get dressed, kid. We’ll get breakfast on the way.”

  ***

  Since it’s Saturday, we meet Dr. Tyrell at his house. It’s the kind of house with flowers in the front yard and one of those stupid gnomes hiding amongst the plants. The old guy who meets us at the front door reminds me of Morgan Freeman, especially when he opens his mouth. He has that same warm voice that would be perfect for narrating a documentary about baby penguins. “Hello again, Carol. And this must be young Miss Howe.”

  “Robin,” I say.

  “I’m Dr. Henry Tyrell. You can call me Henry if you’d like. Come on inside. I just put the water on if you’d like some tea or coffee.”

  “Coffee would be good,” I say. I glare up at Carol. “I didn’t get any this morning.”

  Dr. Tyrell leads us into an old-fashioned farmhouse kitchen. There are a lot of ugly paintings on the wall, mostly landscapes that look like a four-year-old with Parkinson’s painted them. “My wife paints those,” the doctor says. “What do you think?”

  “Is this a test?”

  “We’ll do the tests in my office. Just give me your honest opinion.”

  “She shouldn’t quit her day job.”

  He chuckles at this. “That’s what I think. Don’t tell her that.”

  “Where is she? Still sleeping?”

  “No. She had to go to the hospital. As a doctor, not a patient.”

  “Oh. You’re both doctors?”

  “Does that surprise you?”

  “Kind of.”

  “Why is that?”

  “I thought we were doing the tests in your office.”

  Carol elbows me in the ribs. “Sorry, Henry. Robin’s going through a smart-ass phase. At least I hope it’s a phase. She used to be the sweetest little thing.”

  I roll my eyes at this. “That was a long time ago. When I was like four.”

  Dr. Tyrell chuckles again. He pours two cups of coffee and a cup of tea. “Cream or sugar?” he asks. He flashes a bright white smile as he says, “I promise that’s not a test.”

  “Just sugar,” I say. I usually take mine black, but I could use some sugar this morning.

  Dr. Tyrell dumps a teaspoon of sugar into my cup and then sets it in front of me. The coffee won’t give Starbucks any competition, but at this point it’s manna from Heaven. I have half of it drunk before Dr. Tyrell even sits down. He sips his tea and then says, “I heard about what happened to your father, Robin. I’m very sorry.”

  “Whatever.”

  “I’m sure you miss him a lot.”

  “Maybe.”

  Dr. Tyrell sets the front page of the newspaper on the table. He points to my picture. “Is this you?”

  “Aren’t we going back to your office?”

  “For today this is my office. I can definitely see the resemblance.”

  “Yeah, it’s me. What’s the big deal? I snuck out, some guy was hassling a girl, and I kicked his ass. Why’s everyone got to make a Federal case out of it?”

  “I’m not making a Federal case out of anything. I only wanted to establish the facts. What made you sneak out last night, Robin?”

  “I felt like it. And Jessica was dead to the world, so it seemed pretty easy.”

  “Where were
you going, Robin?”

  “I don’t know. Just around.”

  Dr. Tyrell doesn’t have a notepad, but the way his eyes twitch it’s like he’s making mental notes. “Carol, I think it would be best if Robin and I talk alone.”

  “Sure. I’ll be back in an hour.” She tousles my hair like I’m still ten years old. “You behave yourself.”

  “Yes, Mother,” I grumble.

  After Carol has gone, Dr. Tyrell says, “Your mother died when you were very young, didn’t she?”

  “Yeah. You going to say I have some hidden resentment or something?”

  He grins at me again. “You are a very bright girl. I know it’s cliché, but what do you want to be when you grow up?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “When you were younger, what did you want to be? A dancer? A movie star? An astronaut?”

  “A cop. Like Daddy and Carol.”

  “But you don’t want to do that anymore?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because cops are useless in this city. Daddy was the best cop around and they blew him up for it.”

  He taps the front page of the newspaper. “Then why did you do this?”

  “I was supposed to sit there like everyone else?”

  “But it was very dangerous, wasn’t it?”

  I snort at this. “Dangerous for him.”

  “What if he had a gun? Or a knife?”

  “Or a bazooka. What’s the point?”

  “Did you consider how dangerous this was or did you simply go by instinct?”

  “Mostly by instinct.”

  “I see. Your instinct is to help people. Like your father would.”

  “Maybe.” I finish my coffee and then push the cup away. “I don’t see what the big deal is.”

  “Your sister and Carol are worried about you. They say you’ve become sullen and withdrawn. Would you agree with that?”

  “I wouldn’t say sullen.”

  “Then what would you say?”

  “I’d say I woke up. The world is shit. Why try to deny that?”

  “I see. That would explain the Goth look, wouldn’t it?”