Justice

by Dustin Stevens

  Everything around her beginning to cackle, a smile coming to her face.

  Without even thinking about it, her fingertips began to tap at the steering wheel, a steady cadence that never slowed.

  Shifting her focus from the rear section to the back seat, Rye looked at Blue, his gaze on hers. Even with his enormous jowls and tufts of skin around his eyes, his features seemed to be drawn tight, silently willing her on toward what she was thinking.

  Letting her know he was right there with her, he too having unfinished business with Gerard and his team.

  Ahead of her, Mattox again signaled, this time to get on the freeway, to hit the outer belt encircling Columbus, the route that would take them back down to Franklinton, to the station where they would sit in that same office and have the same conversation, trying to figure out how to get their man.

  They were cops. That was their job.

  But it damned sure wasn’t hers.

  Sliding her hand into the middle console, Rye took up the RoamZone. Pulling it onto her thigh, she again reached across, unfolding the papers on the passenger seat.

  “Look up address...”

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  The front gate looked the part. Made from dark wood, it was bulky and square, on a track that moved slowly into place, relaying the enormity of the object it was conveying. Reinforced with steel beams at the top and bottom, it did perform some of the tasks for which it was built, deterring the occasional intruder that may try to steamroll through.

  The problem, as Clarence Koob was all too familiar, was the support it sat on. Instead of moving across the driveway, creating a ninety-degree angle, making it almost impossible to push inward, it rested on an arc.

  Swinging in a wide loop, the only point of contact for the closed gate with the rest of the wall enclosing the property was a single point. Constructed of three durable magnetic strips, it was more than enough to keep the gate in place, standing up to even the harshest of wind or rain.

  But it would be no match for a midsize vehicle, given the proper angle and rate of acceleration.

  Something Koob was more than certain Sydney Rye would be arriving with.

  The gate was the sole point of contention that Gerard had had when they were first discussing the renovations that would be needed to secure the place.

  By and large, he had gone along with whatever Koob suggested, making it known that he thought the exercise was unnecessary, but allowing his Head of Security to do his job.

  To a man like Gerard, his home was his sanctuary, the place in the world where he felt most indestructible. The thought of someone breaching that, of having the temerity to step on it with ill will, never truly entered his mind.

  Compounding the problem was the fact that he was a man used to being the aggressor. In his mind, the entire process would be a very simple affair, a linear operation from A to B to C.

  They would come to America.

  They would kill the girl to lure in Sydney Rye.

  They would find and eliminate Rye.

  There might be some slight variance, especially on the third part, but boiled down to its most base elements, that’s how things would go.

  Of course, as Koob had learned many times over, even the best of plans never really survived initial contact with the enemy.

  And this was far from the best of plans, an oversimplification that was almost an insult to all parties involved.

  The thought sat up front in Koob’s mind as he unrolled the strip of tire spikes across the front drive, his forearms bulging as he slowly moved backward, unfurling a few inches at a time. As each successive link hit the cobbled brick, a clear clicking sound could be heard, conveying the weight of the item.

  Grunting softly, he used the lines of the brick along the way as a guide, keeping the spikes back a good foot or more from the gate, out of sight from anybody that would be approaching.

  The goal was that should she try to breach from the front, she would have to be going at a rate of speed strong enough to smash the gate open, leaving her zero time to decelerate before hitting the spikes.

  From there, her car would be rendered useless, leaving Rye right out in the open.

  Which is where he would be waiting.

  The thought brought a flicker to Koob’s lips as he dropped the last few feet into place, droplets of sweat falling from his nose, his spandex shirt clinging to his back.

  Rising to full height, he checked the positioning of the strip one last time. Content it was well positioned to do its job, he left it where it lay, moving back toward the house.

  The property was designed with only a single point of entry, the stone wall encasing it standing tall enough to provide at least some level of obstruction. All trees had been pruned back to provide clear camera lines along the top of it and no handholds of any kind were available, making it virtually impossible for anybody to come in undetected.

  The intent of such an arrangement was clear, Koob wanting to funnel everything through the front, bottlenecking anyone foolish enough to try and breach into one narrow lane.

  A lane he could monitor personally.

  Stepping back up the steps, he slid through the front door, moving to the right. What was previously a dining room was now an open space, a bank of monitors along the wall, various angles of the spread depicted on all of them.

  A day earlier, this would have been a job for Neville. Now, it was on him to split his attention, for the first time wishing that he had been granted a larger working contingent for the assignment.

  Not because he believed he needed it.

  But because he wanted his entire focus to be devoted to Rye.

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  As he first pulled away from the curb outside of Deke’s house, Reed Mattox held his breath, his focus square on the rearview mirror.

  There was no reason to believe he had gotten through to Sydney Rye, that his arguments about evidence and jurisdiction and whatever else had made the slightest dents. Those were all his concerns, things that made life difficult for a detective, but were a necessary part of the process.

  It was clear Rye had no such compunctions, whatever group she worked with granting her carte blanche to do as she chose.

  A green light she obviously rather enjoyed working with.

  The look on her face as they climbed into their respective vehicles told him she was at best conflicted. If given his preference, he would have had her climb into the front seat alongside him, personally escorting her back to the precinct.

  There, they would sit down with Grimes, would figure out the best way to proceed, maybe even try to wake up a local judge and get a warrant for the address Deke had handed them.

  Of course, there was no way his sedan would hold all four of them, the thought of Billie and Blue in the backseat together a nightmare that would have ended in a bloody mess, both animals locked on to the death.

  Not until he reached the stop sign at the end of Deke’s street and saw her pull out behind him did he release the breath, his nerves settling slightly as she made the same turn to follow.

  For all her faults, for the short fuse and hair-trigger approach she took, there was no mistaking the personal connection Rye had to the case, to the intense desire she had to see it through.

  If that meant partnering up, acting against her natural instincts, so be it.

  Or at least that was Reed’s hope as he pulled his phone over onto his lap. Using his thumb, he scrolled down a couple of entries in his call log before hitting send. Putting the call on speakerphone, the sound of ringing echoed through the car, Billie stirring slightly in the backseat in response.

  Three tones later it was answered, the graveled voice of Grimes coming over the line.

  “Mattox.”

  “Captain,” Reed replied.

  “What the hell happened at the apartment complex?”

  Given all that had occurred in the last hour, everything that Deke had handed them, Reed had forgotten he’d
not yet checked in. Running a hand over his face, his skin still burned with sensation, the feeling that had begun while climbing the basement steps still present.

  “What a mess,” Reed began. Glancing to the rearview, he could see streaks of dried blood striping the bottom half of his face, a few errant splinters still stuck in his hair.

  “Give me the overview,” Grimes said.

  Pushing out an elongated breath, Reed again glanced to the rearview mirror, checking to make sure the pair of square headlights were still there, remaining just a few lengths back.

  Starting with his return to the Franklinton Luxury Suites, he ran through everything that had happened, culminating with the arrival of Earl and his turning the scene over to him and Greene to run.

  When he was done, silence was the first response, the captain remaining quiet for several moments, working his way through things, just the way Reed had witnessed countless times before.

  “The shooter?” he eventually asked.

  “No ID on his person or in the apartment,” Reed said, “but Rye seemed certain it was one of Gerard’s guys.”

  “Reason being?”

  “Same clothes and weaponry as the guy she put down on the street before,” Reed replied. “Other than that, nothing in the place that gave any kind of identity at all.”

  This time, a sigh was the immediate reaction. “Christ.”

  “Yup,” Reed agreed. “To be fair, it looked like the guy had been there a while, and he definitely had a rifle on his person, so there was no doubt he was the one that tried to take us out.

  “Whether or not he works for Gerard, that’s the part we’re still not certain about.”

  “Hmm,” Grimes said in response, again going quiet for a moment, working the information into place. “Do we have anything new on Gerard?”

  Slowing as he approached a red light, Reed timed things so he didn’t have to come to a complete stop, accelerating quickly the instant it turned to green, the sedan bucking beneath him.

  “Well, there’s the rest of it,” Reed said. “We just came from Deke’s.”

  Now considered something of a personal consultant to the precinct, mention of the computer whiz didn’t even earn a sharp inhalation from the captain.

  “And?” Grimes asked.

  “And, he was able to track down a home outside of the city,” Reed said, bypassing all the backstory about holding companies and money transfers. “We’re near certain Gerard is there, Rye and I are on our way to you right now to figure out how to move on this.”

  “Hmm,” Grimes said again. “How far out?”

  “ETA, ten minutes,” Reed replied.

  “Okay,” Grimes replied. “Let me chew on this a minute, make a call or two. We’ll get moving as soon as you arrive.”

  “Roger that,” Reed said, ending the call without another word and shoving the phone over into the middle console.

  Things were still choppy, but they were starting to come into focus. They had a lead suspect, a place of residence, and some idea of how to proceed.

  Raising his turn signal, Reed drifted into the exit lane, his car angling up the on-ramp for the freeway.

  Just ten minutes and they would pound out the next few hours, figure out how to bring down Gerard and his team, solve a double homicide and get the media and the downtown brass off their back.

  Raising his focus to the mirror, he looked at Billie in the backseat, her gaze fierce, it clear she was as ready as he was to be done with this.

  Locked in their silent conversation, Reed barely noticed the blur behind him. Just caught the flash of light as Sydney Rye surged past the exit, punching the gas and shooting straight ahead.

  A jolt of electricity passed through his core, his heart rate rising in kind, both hands clasping the wheel as he jumped higher behind it, his focus on the mirror.

  “Shit!”

  For an instant, his right foot rose from the gas, reaching for the brake.

  Just as fast, he returned it, the front of his car already too far gone up the ramp, making it impossible for him to retreat, to have any hope of getting back down without endangering any other drivers that might be out.

  Pumping the gas hard, he shot ahead, reaching out and flipping on his front flashers, alternating pulses of halogen light splashing across the asphalt before him.

  Opening his left hand, he smacked at the top of the steering wheel, his molars clenched tight.

  Behind him, Billie seemed to share the sentiment, pacing across the seat.

  There was no doubt where Rye was headed, Deke giving her the same printouts he had, leaving him with only one possible course of action.

  “Damn you, Rye.”

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Ditching Reed Mattox had nothing to do with the detective himself, pertaining entirely to the organization he worked for. In no way could Sydney Rye allow herself to be pulled back to the precinct, sitting through an interminable meeting, a lot of men sitting around, trying to figure out how to proceed without causing a single ripple.

  Many times she’d heard titles such as circle jerk to describe sitting around stroking each other’s egos, but in this case, it would be the complete opposite.

  There would be no movement at all, everybody painfully aware of the media, or the brass, or doing something the wrong way and suffering in the court of public opinion.

  Which, really, was a pretty accurate summation of society as a whole, if she really wanted to get down to it.

  Blowing past the exit, watching in her periphery as his brake lights flared before blinking out, presumably as he sped off into the night, was not her preferred option, but it was the only one she had.

  By morning, Gerard and Koob and whoever else would know they had heat on them. If they could procure an estate from across the ocean without raising an eyebrow, they could easily do it again.

  And again.

  As many times as necessary until she was pinned down.

  Given what had already happened to Nora, she couldn’t allow that to happen.

  Having Mattox and his partner along for the ride would have been helpful, no doubt. Of the various players she had come across in the time since she’d taken up this line of work, he certainly seemed one of the more capable, his association with Deke only proving that.

  Still, his line of reasoning outside the house was proof that he too was tethered to the restraints of public service.

  Which meant she had to do something to jolt him out of it, to rip away that option, if she was going to get shit done.

  “In three-quarters of a mile, turn right.”

  The mechanized voice echoed throughout the car, the volume turned as loud as it would go. Glancing to the device in the middle console, the screen glowing bright in the darkness, Rye nodded.

  Right now, somewhere nearby, Mattox was scrambling to catch up with her. Seeing his brake lights drop out meant he had realized instantly what was going on, had probably expected it even, and was speeding ahead, armed with the same address she had.

  Her lead on him was preciously thin, the narrow slit of a window all she needed.

  All she had to do was put things in motion, to kick things off.

  From there, momentum would carry it through until they were finished.

  Running the list of supplies she had in her head, Rye ticked off the items procured one at a time. Each she considered, weighing the viability of one woman working with them, the time it would take to stop and bring them to the front.

  In the backseat, a low and persistent rumble rolled from deep in Blue’s diaphragm, an audible confirmation that he sensed what was occurring, was there and ready to join her the moment they arrived.

  Hearing it, seeing the pair of Sig Sauers still sitting on the passenger seat, Rye let the natural order of her body take over. Feed on the adrenaline surging into her system. Allowed her breathing to become shallow, on the border of hyperventilation, heightening her senses.

  Every pore prickled with sensati
on, a sadistic smile crossing her lips.

  She lived for this shit. Moments like this, just seconds away from meeting some of the most wicked people on earth, knowing there was nothing they could do to stop her, was why she was in this line of work.

  The first time she had met Clarence Koob, she had underestimated him. She had seen the goofy look and the pale skin and assumed he was like Vincent Gerard, just another piss ant with gym muscles that were pretty but completely non-functional.

  He had proven her wrong.

  It would not happen again.

  Outside, the city lights of Columbus faded into the background. Lined streets subsided, giving way to a rural route, trees clumping close along either side.

  Any residual light from the heavens was blotted out by branches extended out over the asphalt, reflector strips the only thing to demarcate the roadway laid out in front of her.

  “Stay on this road for one mile,” the automated voice said, the words sending another jolt through Rye, spurring her higher. “Your destination will be on the left.”

  Leaving the device on despite no longer needing it, already envisioning her end goal coming into view, Rye stamped down on the gas. A few inches in front of her, the RPM gauge snapped hard in a half-arc before leveling off, the V6 rumbling slightly.

  Never before had she seen the place, had no idea what to expect, but that didn’t slow her in the slightest. Somewhere on the undercarriage of her vehicle was a tracking device, Koob probably sitting close, staring at a screen telling him she was set to arrive any second.

  There was no point in trying to be covert. No slipping in the back.

  She was going to knock down the damn door and stomp inside, Gerard or Koob or whoever else be damned.

  Pushing out to the right half of the road, Rye saw the break in the tree line ahead, could see a gate stretched across a cobbled brick drive.

  “You have arrived at your destination.”

  The smile grew a bit larger as Rye nodded, nudging the speedometer higher, the front of her SUV aimed squarely at the front gate.

  “God damn right I have.”