by Jamie Magee
Tears came then. She couldn’t believe him, then again she could. She had not only seen and heard her father and his buddies spin stories, but watched them destroy lives—watched them take over property because of some loophole in the law, and make cash off the development of land that had been in families for years. They were all cold, vindictive, and cared more about how they were seen than how they were.
“Yeah, that’s good. Keep those coming,” Murdock said with a nod to the tears that soaked her face right along with the rain. “An accident is your only way out of this clean. You and me were snuggling up and shit and we saw a fire—done, over. You’re a grieving daughter, and I’m the boyfriend here to make you feel safe—who feels like shit because he could not save your father for you. I feel bad. You do. That’s our truth.”
Justice didn’t care about getting in or out of anything clean. But she knew the last thing she was going to do was allow her drama to suck in the Rawlings’— to suck in Declan.
Horrid visions of what a drill sergeant would do to him if they even thought he had been involved in statutory rape—or even worse, was the reason she killed her father—raced through her head.
By the time she heard the sirens she was numb again.
By dawn, she had heard Murdock say the same story enough, and heard herself agree, on record, that she nearly believed her father must’ve slipped and fell. She hadn’t gotten there fast enough to save him, and she was devastated.
Murdock never left Justice’s side. The first responders had insisted she be taken in to be checked out, him too. He didn’t like leaving her in the room alone with her grandmother, the grief counselor, or the doctor, but they made him.
When he saw the flash going off, glowing through the curtain, from the bay he was in, he became all the more tense. He knew he’d have to stay hip to hip with Justice for a long while to make sure all this stuck the way it should. He had told his father that he wanted to be as close to Justice as possible, for as long as possible. Monty happened to agree.
Murdock would have gone to his mother with the same reasoning but she was taking the loss of Brent Rose harder than Murdock expected her to. He knew they were friends, but having to be medicated into a deep sleep because she was panicking was a bit much for Murdock to understand. And in all truth, he didn’t really care what his crazy ass mother was going through.
He had to get Justice right, and at first light, he had to go back to the scene of his own crime and make sure there was no evidence to shatter the broken ground he was standing on.
With his father, the Sheriff, insisting, Murdock drove Justice home. Bell rode with them. It was a silent stand off but he didn’t care. As long as Justice had eyes on him, then he knew their pact was growing stronger.
Murdock waited until he heard Justice get in the shower, then made up the excuse that he was going to look for her cat who must have gotten out the night before during all the madness.
Murdock fired Brent’s four-wheeler to life and took off.
The shop was still smoldering, and there was still a fireman or two there, investigators, but no one was paying him any mind. He pulled up right in the middle of them, asking if they had seen a cat—one he knew was actually in the house. Covering his ass with his empty excuses and exhausted ‘I just want to help’ smiles.
They joked with him a bit, told him he was brave to try and help his girl’s dad, but a fool. The shop was obviously an inferno waiting to happen.
Murdock donned a devastated expression as he stared at the pile then nodded. “Gotta find my girl’s cat,” he said then he pulled off, driving along the tree path as if he was really looking.
Once around the bend, he took off wide open to the scene of his crime.
The pooling rain had covered most of the tracks from his truck, and from where Declan’s drove off the side, but for good measure, he drove his four-wheeler over the same path.
Earlier, at the ER he had stepped outside, rifled through his toolbox. He was pretty sure he was only missing three baseballs. He hadn’t intentionally counted them when he loaded his bag the night before, but it was a habit of his from batting practice, making sure he left with what he came with.
He scoured the road and found one more, but that was all. With fear and anxiety ripping his belly his dark gaze moved to the river he could see through the trees. To hide any more guilt, he went up a ways, then looked down river. His gaze searched the bank and the water.
Murdock could not figure out why Declan hadn’t even bothered to hit the brakes, or why he hadn’t swam out of the truck once it hit the water. He was sure he hadn’t, that Declan had not reached out for help somewhere—Murdock had listened to every murmur from his father’s radio.
It was just a matter of time before someone started to look for him. Those Rawlings’ were worse than any cult.
Murdock was going to have to figure out if Justice knew Declan was stopping by and where that box went—without asking her. She was the only one who could connect him to any ‘disappearance’ of Declan Rawlings.
***
A thousand times, maybe more, Justice had thought to just tell someone—anyone—what happened. Especially when she saw the knowing look in her grandmother’s stare. Bell knew the story didn’t line up.
Justice and Murdock snuggling on the porch? After Justice had cried herself to sleep every night that week? After Justice’s gaze welled on the way home as she told her grandmother she’d seen Declan that dawn and he was going to write.
It didn’t fit.
Not even if Murdock happened to show up at the house after she left—Justice didn’t have it in her to fake affection. Emotion in general was hard for her to express in front of others.
Justice had come close to telling both Bell and the counselor, who’d asked to take photos of Justice’s face and the spot on the back of her head where a clunk of her hair had been ripped clean.
The counselor wanted to take pictures of the fading bruises on her side, too, but Justice refused, sticking to her ‘she fell’ story. What stopped Justice from uttering a word was when the lady said the Sheriff didn’t have to take the statement, he would just make sure she was safe once Justice put it in writing.
“All you have to do is tell us you need help...needed help,” she’d said.
Both Bell and Justice met each other’s gaze, a gaze that said a million things. The Sheriff was a well-known friend of her father’s, and he was an elected official. Being linked to an abusive man was bad PR, and more than likely whatever Justice did say would be washed away and then, just like Murdock said, they would turn this all on her to save their own image.
Her fears were all but confirmed when Monty Souter did come in the room and asked if she had seen her father before the accident, if he was upset about anyone or anything that he might have brought to her attention—which was how he asked in his own round about way if her father had figured out she was under the school a week before with a host of Rawlings’.
In one way, the human way, Monty was trying to understand what really went down. He had feared all week Brent Rose would hear the real story of where his daughter was and with who, and had expected a call like this he’d have to deal with. So he wasn’t surprised at all when the call did come in, but he was surprised at the result.
In another way, as a Sheriff, as someone who had ties to this family, he needed a good story. A back way out of whatever drama this could spur.
If it did come out that this was not an accident, or even it was an accident but one spurred by Brent’s temper and drinking, the blame could land anywhere but near the Souters.
He could hear his rebuttal now: Brent Rose was furious the Rawlings’ trapped his daughter. As he discussed it with her, he slipped, a spark started a fire. Justice could not move through the flames to help her father—Murdock couldn’t either—we are all heroes here today, damn those Rawlings’ and their womanizing ways. If they had not cornered that poor girl during a horrifying storm, none of this w
ould have happened. We lost a pillar of our community because of them. Damn shame.
Justice shook her head no to the Sheriff and repeated Murdock’s story almost in a robotic fashion.
When she did make it home, the smell of smoke was thick in the air, and it was nauseating, which made her feel all the dizzier. It made her remember the night before all the more vividly.
Her grandmother had come into the bath and across the cover of the water, Justice told the truth.
“He fell...”
Eleven
If Justice had any doubt about how this town saw her father, the next days slaughtered said doubt. Her home was full. There was enough food to feed the town and then some. A ‘fund me’ account was launched for Brent Rose’s ‘poor, young, daughter.’
Soul after soul told her what a great man he was, how blessed they felt to know him and how sorry they were for her loss. Those comments were often, if not always coupled with comments about how lucky she was to have Murdock, a strong protective boyfriend to help her through this tragedy.
For the first hundred times she had said, “He’s a good friend.” But then Murdock pulled her into a closet at the memorial and told her his father was looking at her like she was crazy—for her to stick to the story. They were together, snuck away in the shadows that night.
When they emerged in the parlor after his talk, Monty Stouter was indeed looking right at Justice, and beside him was the mayor, the councilmen...the list went on.
Not long after then, she was hiding out in the gardens at the memorial grounds trying to find one breath...but failing and ended up crying. That was when she felt someone tap her shoulder with a napkin in hand.
It was a familiar gesture she had been broached with over the last few days, and one she had to be careful with, each tear made lines in her foundation that was covering the very telling marks on her face, wiping them away only made them more revealing, a mistake she was sure she had made one too many times.
When she glanced to her side and saw Chasen Rawlings behind the kind gesture, she gasped and stepped back a bit.
“Didn’t mean to scare you,” Chasen said as his concerned gazed moved over her tear soaked visage.
She knew what he was looking for. Atticus was the last person to see her with her foundation wiped away.
“Are you all right?” Atticus had asked.
“Yeah, just a lot,” she said, holding her head down.
“I read you were a brave one, chasing Murdock in a burning building, slipping and getting hurt—barely making it out with your life and all.”
Justice had refused to look him in the eye, to look any Rawlings that had stopped by in the eye. They hadn’t come by to pay their respects to Brent Rose—at least as far as she knew they hadn’t—but they had come by for Bell and Justice. More than a few used to be in her grandfather’s congregation and were family friend’s generations deep.
She was sure it was impossible to look an honest to their core person in the eye and lie; at least it was for her. Looking at any of Declan’s brothers, much less his father, in the eyes was not easy on any day of the week. It made her miss him all the more, it made her realize she had listened to the last thing he told her and landed where she was.
For better or worse, she had no idea, it was all too new, a haze. She knew, under it all...she had left one set of shackles for another. She wasn’t out of hell, just in a different zip code of it.
When Atticus had said his spiel to Justice, he reached forward and lifted her chin, turned her head to the side. “Looks like the ground had a hell of a back swing.”
Justice remained silent.
“Are you safe now? You need my help? Our help?”
The only Rawlings she had ever truly been herself around was Nolan. Yeah, she had been more than real with Declan, but that was all emotion, felt not seen or said. Nolan, though— she didn’t have to say much but he got it, and he made her feel better. He was a breath of fresh air.
Wanting to tell Nolan she never found his letters, and to hear a true friend’s voice, she’d tried calling him. He didn’t answer. But she wasn’t surprised. The first leg of his adventure was some kind of hiking trip.
So she’d smiled at Atticus and told him she was fine, hugged him, then walked away. That was early that morning.
Since then, she had reapplied makeup three times over and avoided every stare Tobias, Boon, and Atticus had given her.
And now, here she was, face to face with the leader of the pack, their father, Chasen Rawlings.
“I’d ask how you were holding up,” Chasen said, his gaze moving right to her cheek. “But that would be foolish small talk you don’t need.”
Justice wanted to look away from him, needed to. But couldn’t.
“I’m going to ask you if you’re all right, and you’re going to nod if you are, and stare me down if you are not.”
She stared, the seconds ticked on and on, then Murdock opened the back door to the home. He didn’t say anything, he just looked over Chasen carefully, almost fearfully then stepped inside, but kept his stare on Justice through the window.
Hesitantly, she nodded. Then walked away from Chasen.
“Justice,” he said. She glanced back. “We’re here.”
“I like that,” she said honestly, before dropping her gaze once more and going back in.
Weeks and weeks passed, Murdock had all but moved into Justice and Bell’s home. Finally, Bell put her foot down, said it was inappropriate. Murdock needed to be with his family, and Justice needed time alone. She chose to say as much to Mary Souter in front of several of her friends. Of course she didn’t say ‘inappropriate’ she said ‘it’s time to give Justice a sense of normalcy and privacy, which is hard to do with a constant houseguest.’
He was angry, but Murdock hadn’t stayed a night on her couch since. However, it didn’t stop him from spending time with Justice. He took her to work, and he picked her up. If she did meet up with friends, he was there.
Most times she didn’t mind it much. She struggled to seem balanced and not like she was still traumatized from the ‘accident.’ Murdock was good at calming her down, or at least taking her hands when they’d fidgeted, or wrapping his leg around hers if she shook her legs too much or even pulling her out of a crowd if her stare became a bit too cagy.
From the outside looking in, Justice was sure they looked like a young couple bound by a hell they’d survived. Not like two souls who shared a deadly secret, one where the risk and level of crime seemed to grow with each day.
The ‘accident’ had left her on edge, but him more so at times. The littlest things would upset him, bring out agitation she had never seen in Murdock before. He now hated the batting cage. He hated driving at night. He’d speed up just so none was close to him on the long back highways.
A few times he had completely lost his cool—and so had she. The pair of them would end up in a screaming match, one she always lost because she would finch in the middle of it. Showing weakness gave him every reason to pull her to him, and sway her. “I’m just so worried about you. I’m spying on my dad, his friends. The case is still on his desk, even though they closed it officially. I don’t know what he’s doing and we’re both too deep into this now.” He’d sway her more, brush his lips across her brow. “I didn’t mean to yell, I swear. We just have to stick together through this.”
Murdock claimed they were too deep the second Bell and Justice used the ‘fund me’ account to pay for the burial. He told her fraud could be strapped to her then. And when the life insurance check came it would be even worse.
Justice was used to living with a reasonable degree of anxiety, or well, a reasonable amount for a girl who was abused, but now she lived with entirely too much.
Her mother not coming back for the funeral, even to check on Justice, and barely returning her calls made it all the worse. At night Justice would lay in bed and replay the fight. Looking for a new way out and ending up sick in the bathroom every
time.
Bell never asked for a play by play, not even when Murdock actually went home, but she had gathered what had occurred. “Did he tell you why? Murdock covering this up—the risk...I don’t know that it makes much sense.”
In all truth, Bell would have expected a Rawlings to cover-up and defend Justice, not a Souter. A Rawlings would have carried their secret to the grave and been prepared for any backlash. A Souter? Murdock? That kid was too worried about his own self. And there was no way he was in love with Justice. He didn’t even try to act like it. She was merely property, a status symbol to him.
To a Souter when property is damaged, it’s discarded. When a status symbol is harmed, it’s covered up.
“Said I’d be in trouble.” She looked right at her grandmother. “He said daddy knew I was with Declan, and could’ve told the Sheriff or others.” Her voice cracked as she went on. “He said Declan would get in trouble for it, too.”
Bell lifted her brow. She could see both the truth and the lie in the excuse. There was a good possibility her father did know. Brent had asked her why Justice was so down days before he died. But then again, there was the basic nature of the Souters, self first. Murdock defending Justice made no sense.
“What do we do?” Justice asked.
“Nothing,” Bell said. “You said more than you thought to the counselor. If it ever does get messy, we have a point to argue. Let your ghosts rest, child. Murdock has guilt in this now. He’ll hold your secret. And as soon as he believes you will too, he’ll be gone, on to someone or something else.”
Justice all but turned green, knowing Murdock was far too paranoid to go away anytime soon.
Bell pulled Justice to her. “Not your fault, baby,” she said as she rocked her. “He fell.”
“Mom is still not coming back,” Justice said.
Bell moved Justice back and looked her in the eye. “You’re stronger than your mother. Always have been. The only way for her to cope is to move forward, not back. She loves you, but...”
