Justice Hunter

by Jennifer Morey

  “At which point you’ll only be late again,” the woman said. “I need someone more devoted.”

  Rachel humphed. “It’s a retail job.”

  The woman immediately took offense. “Any job has its responsibility. You’ve shown me none with yours. You’re late more than you’re on time.”

  True, but Rachel considered this a means to achieve something more rewarding. “I rely on public transportation. I depend on bus schedules. They don’t always match my work schedule. I’ve asked you to consider that when you write my schedule.” She began to wonder why she even tried to defend herself and come up with excuses.

  “I’m sorry, Rachel,” she said. “I can’t arrange everyone else’s schedule to suit yours.”

  “This is the first time I’ve been more than a few minutes late.”

  The woman eyed her upper body as though her jacket didn’t cover enough of her shape. “Late is late.”

  She’d often eyed her like that. Rachel let the spitfire that lower-class living had set free in her take over.

  “You’ve never liked me,” she said, a revelation. Why hadn’t she seen it before?

  The woman’s eyes flitted all over Rachel now, down her trim body and back up to her blemish-free face. “Liking you has nothing to do with why I’m firing you today.”

  “You’ve looked for ways to fire me. One or two minutes late isn’t late. You censure the way I talk to customers.”

  The woman stiffened, telltale offense. “Flirting isn’t professional.”

  “I never flirt here.” The woman invented things!

  “I did you a favor by hiring you. It isn’t my fault you turned out to be a disappointment.” She reached over to the counter and picked up an envelope. “This is your last paycheck.”

  Rachel took the money. The envelope, its feel in her hand and the knowledge of what it contained, nearly did her in. No more checks would follow. Her will spared her from crumbling. Slowly, she looked up.

  “Thank you,” Rachel said. “This is best for both of us.”

  The woman’s lower jaw fell slack, and misunderstanding twitched above her nose. She expected another reaction. Would seeing Rachel hurt satisfy her, a woman driven by jealousy?

  “I can do better than this.” With that, Rachel pivoted and walked toward the exit.

  “If you’re thinking about filing a complaint, you should know I’ve documented everything,” the woman called after her.

  File a complaint. As if she’d wasted her time on that negativity. Rachel didn’t turn or respond, just left the store. A man in a nice suit stood at a sunglasses kiosk. He didn’t look her way as she passed.

  Rachel checked her phone. Her boyfriend still hadn’t texted her. She’d tried to get ahold of him all day, but he hadn’t responded. Someone to talk to right now would be nice.

  She saw a woman dressed to the nines, carrying four bags and looking into the window of a jewelry store as she passed. Did she have a husband taking care of her, or had she made her own way in this vicious world? Rachel slowed her pace and watched her come to a clothing store and go inside, her face peaceful and tastefully made up, giant rock on her ring finger sparkling under the store lights. Rich husband. Pampered woman. But happy.

  Rachel loved seeing people this way, comfortable in their environment, the world they created with decisions. The beautiful, sophisticated woman didn’t give off any airs. She had money, her man’s money. Rachel imagined her man treated her as though his money belonged to her just as much as it belonged to him. Equals.

  Why did life have to be such a struggle for some people and so seemingly easy for others? Rachel wanted that. Just once, she’d like to know what it felt like to be that woman, the willowy one with shopping bags, admiring a sparkly dress as though contemplating an upcoming party, no worries in the world.

  All her life, nothing had ever come easy for Rachel. Granted, she’d gotten herself into trouble as a teenager, but that girl had grown up. Finally. Now that she wanted a good, honest life, life seemed to oppose her every effort. What was she doing wrong? She tried so hard and never got ahead. The constant battle had become routine. She’d gotten fired today, and it had barely fazed her. Routine.

  Leaving the mall, she didn’t feel like going home. Somehow, getting fired deserved some kind of memento. Rachel adjusted her backpack as she crossed the street, glancing back to see the man in the suit had left after her. Was he crossing the street, too?

  As she walked down the sidewalk, she began to get an uneasy feeling. Nothing like this had happened in years, not since the disastrous affair she’d had with that executive. He’d contacted her last week, trying to reconcile. After all this time, why? His call frightened her. She’d gently refused his invitation to dinner. Had that started up trouble again?

  O’Shuck’s was a few blocks from here. She covertly looked back. The man in the suit still trailed behind her. He seemed to catch her notice of him but didn’t stop following her. She didn’t recognize him, but he was far enough away not to be sure. Would Jared stalk her?

  Alarm kicked up the knock of her pulse. She walked another block and looked back. Still there. He was following her.

  Rachel walked faster. O’Shuck’s was just up the street now. She could see the lights. Almost at a jog by the time she reached the door, she checked the sidewalk. The man walked toward her, looking right at her.

  Rachel entered the pub and breathed her relief. What was she going to do now? What if the threats started again? She wasn’t sure if it had been Jared who’d threatened her the last time, and she didn’t recognize the man following her now.

  Trying to appear calm, Rachel walked toward the bar. O’Shuck’s drew a nice working-class crowd and boasted Haggis and Irish coffee. She came for the short walk to her apartment, the company and the atmosphere, which was much better than her apartment. Anything was better than that.

  Dropping her backpack and putting her cell phone on the bar, she took a seat and waited for Hans to see her. Glancing back toward the door, she didn’t see the man in the suit.

  “Hey, Rachel.” Hans had a deep-creased grin for her and a sparkle in his Viking blue eyes. He stepped over to her. “The usual?”

  “Make it a vanilla latte.”

  “Coming right up. Special occasion?”

  “I was fired.”

  Hans winced and then said, “Ooh. That is rough. That old bitty come up with a reason?”

  “The bus broke down and I was thirty minutes late.” She looked back again and saw the man in the suit standing just inside the door, looking right at her. What the...

  He was tall and well built and now that she saw him close-up, blond with a buzz cut and a handsome face. Definitely not Jared Palmer. But had he been the man who’d threatened her before?

  Hans put the drink before her. “Sorry, Rachel. You’re good peeps. You don’t deserve that.”

  The stranger began to approach.

  “That man followed me from the mall,” she said.

  Hans looked to the man. “You sure?”

  “Positive.”

  “Sir,” Hans said to the man as he stopped next to her chair. “The lady says you followed her. Do I need to call the police?”

  Hans to the rescue. She felt safe...for now. But what about when she went home?

  “You’re very observant,” the stranger said.

  Of all the things a dangerous man could say, Rachel didn’t expect that. She sensed nothing sinister about him, not as sinister as she’d felt the last time.

  The ding of her cell phone indicated someone had texted her. She looked down and saw her boyfriend had finally answered her. What the text said made her pick up the phone.

  Sorry. No easy way to say this. I met someone else. You’ve been great. Take care.

  That effectively
shifted her focus. Rachel read the text again to make sure it said what she thought.

  “You’ve been great?” She scoffed as the insult began to mushroom. “Take care.”

  Had she really dated someone this insensitive and clueless? Lowering the phone, she looked up at the stranger, who reached into his jacket for something while clips of the last six months passed in her mind. Her boyfriend had been fun to be with but now that she had a bird’s-eye view, his superficiality became obvious. She hadn’t known anything deep about him.

  “I believe this is yours.”

  Startled, she looked down at what the man had taken from his jacket. Her wallet. He put it down on the bar.

  “How did you—”

  “I’ll have what she’s having,” the stranger said to Hans as he sat on the stool next to her. “And put hers on my tab.”

  “How did you get my wallet?” she demanded. Then she recalled what he’d said.

  She backtracked what she’d done with her wallet. She’d had lunch and put it back in the zipper pouch. Hadn’t she zipped it shut?

  “I saw you go into a shop at the mall. Your backpack bumped the door frame and your wallet fell out. I started to go over but I heard you talking to your boss.”

  She had bumped the door frame. But had it been hard enough for her wallet to slip out?

  “I’m Luke Bradbury.” He swiveled to face her better.

  She looked down at his offered hand and then back up at his drool-worthy blue-gray eyes, crinkling with an all-out charm-packed grin. Now that she wasn’t afraid of him, she could appreciate his looks. He was a great package. Dressed as though he had money, too.

  Ordinarily, a man like him would capture her interest. He did capture her interest. But something about this one had her holding back. No, not him. Her boyfriend had just broken up with her in a text message. He was a successful businessman like Luke must be. She’d dated a lot of men like that. Successful men attracted her. Their stability. They had what she wanted. But maybe her criteria needed some tweaking.

  Beyond his attractiveness, Rachel began to wonder why he’d come to this pub.

  “Why did you follow me here?” Why hadn’t he approached her after she left the shop?

  “I confess.” More charm oozed from him. “You looked so upset. I didn’t want to intrude.”

  Intrude? “You had my wallet.” Hardly an intrusion to return it...

  While he didn’t frighten her the way the other man had after her affair, she had to be careful. She didn’t know who’d threatened her back then. And Jared contacting her may have stirred danger. She snatched up her wallet and put it into her backpack, this time making sure she zipped it shut.

  “Yes.” His smiling eyes made a pointed journey down her body and back up. “A perfect excuse to meet you.”

  She gaped at him. Was he for real? She kept going back and forth between seeing him as an attractive man and someone untrustworthy. “Not interested.”

  His confident grin slipped as she turned back to her coffee and sipped.

  “In what?” he asked, as if he didn’t know.

  Seeing his genuine perplexity, she said, “Thanks for returning my wallet, but I’d like you to leave me alone now.”

  “Uh...sure...okay.” He continued to look at her.

  Rachel decided to hurry and finish her coffee and go.

  “I’m sorry.”

  She turned to him. Why was he sorry?

  “I shouldn’t have come on to you like that.”

  “That’s not the only reason I want to be left alone.” She didn’t know why she kept talking to him. She really did want to be left alone now. “My boyfriend broke up with me in a text message.”

  “Is that the, ‘You’ve been great. Take care’ guy?”

  Rachel reeled again from the callousness of those heartlessly chosen words. “Yes.” She leaned a little closer to the stranger. “Do you all do that?”

  “No. I always break up in person. If I’m the one doing the breaking up.”

  Rachel didn’t think that happened to him very often. And she didn’t want to hang around to be the next woman he broke up with in person. She stood from the stool, lifting her backpack and tucking her phone in the same compartment as her wallet, zipping it shut.

  “You’re leaving?” Luke asked.

  “Yes. I came here for company but now I need to be alone.”

  As she put the backpack on, Luke watched her, reluctant to let her go.

  “When will I see you again?” he asked.

  “You won’t.” She waved to the bartender. “Thanks, Hans.”

  Luke noticed her friendly exchange, and Rachel realized she’d just revealed she knew the bartender, which also revealed she came here regularly.

  Luke stood. “All right. I’ll see you here again sometime, then.”

  She stopped from turning to go and his towering height flustered her, as did his impossibly blue-gray eyes. “Will I have to avoid my favorite hangout?”

  “You’d avoid it?” His flirty grin returned.

  Rachel feared her unwanted interest had begun to show. “No. Just you.”

  He chuckled. “Have dinner with me, then. Somewhere nice. Quiet.”

  “I told you I wasn’t interested.”

  “I could have kept your wallet. Thank me for returning it by having dinner with me,” he said.

  “You’d have kept my wallet?”

  “No.”

  She started for the door with a “Goodbye” tossed over her shoulder.

  He didn’t say anything. When she glanced back, he didn’t seem so confident anymore. She’d shot him down, and he couldn’t believe why.

  Rachel smiled before going outside. Luke Bradbury wasn’t a man accustomed to being rejected. His tenacity flattered her, but the cautionary instinct that had reared up when he’d said he’d followed her remained.

  Walking up the street in falling snow, she caught sight of a car parked across the street and a man sitting inside. He looked right at her. Another admirer? The way he just sat there made her think not.

  She walked faster toward her apartment.

  Chapter 2

  Lucas’s stepfather slapped his hand down onto the wooden desk, more indignant animation than anger. “I can’t lie!”

  Joseph Tieber owned Bozeman, Montana’s, busiest private air transportation and tourism company. A pilot for more than thirty years, he now sat behind a desk and employed several young airplane and helicopter pilots and numerous other staff. Lucas wasn’t the executive he’d personified for Rachel, but his stepdad did make a lot of money on his passion for flight. He and Luella had been young when their dad died and their mother married Joseph less than a year later. While the transition had been rough, growing up with Joseph had always been an adventure.

  “Even for Luella?” Lucas hated lowballing, but his motive had a lot of bite.

  His stepdad sighed, full of defeat. He lowered his head as sorrow weighed him down, running a hand through his hair.

  After a moment he rested his hands on the desk and lifted his head. “If you want me to hire this woman, why not create a job for her?”

  “I mean to win her trust. Offering her a job like this will go a long way toward achieving that.” He hoped anyway. He may have difficulty convincing her to take the job. He hadn’t believed how quickly she’d shot him down. He’d dangled a subtle money carrot and she’d gotten up and left, refused an expensive dinner.

  “I may be able to get her to talk, too,” his stepdad said.

  Lucas was relieved he was coming around to his way of thinking. “Yes.”

  “What if she recognizes me?” his dad asked.

  “There wasn’t much news about Luella’s murder. There was something about the search for her
for a while but nothing that will lead back to me. And you never adopted us. Luella and I are Curran, not Tieber.”

  “She may have looked Luella up after she found out about the affair.”

  “Luella didn’t like social media. There isn’t much about her on the internet. I checked. The news didn’t mention her maiden name. Right now Rachel only knows Luella as Luella Palmer, not Curran. She might put it together, but not before I get what I need from her.”

  After mulling that over a little, his stepdad said, “I’ll swear my assistant to secrecy and temporarily reassign her elsewhere in the company. But I’m only doing this for Luella. For the record, I don’t approve of your deception.”

  “Thanks, Dad.” Lucas stood.

  Joseph stood with him. “Before you go, I want to talk to you some more about this vigilante agency you’ve gone and joined.”

  “On my own I don’t have access to databases or certain types of equipment. Dark Alley has everything I need and more. Kadin even arranged for my fake identity. I have a driver’s license and everything.” He’d be a believable Luke Bradbury for Rachel. “I can work anywhere, too. Right here.”

  “Your mother and I are thrilled you came home, Lucas, but we’re concerned with how far you’re taking this. We’re wondering if you should leave the investigation up to the local police.”

  “Her case is cold.”

  “They’re going to be pursuing the affair just like you are. I don’t see why you have to get involved. You should be concentrating on your own life. When are you going to settle down? We didn’t raise you to be an ineligible bachelor the rest of your life. Your mother would like grandchildren. Are you going to take that away from her?”

  This had become an issue after his sister’s murder. It had been a small issue before, but now his mother had grown anxious over her reduced family. She was lonely, Lucas supposed, and mourning, still, the loss of her only daughter. His mother had crumbled after Luella’s death. Lucas would never forget the call early one morning. Some hikers had found a body, and police believed it was Luella. She would never be the same woman. A lot of his dad’s light had dimmed, too. Once a vivacious man who yearned to explore, he now went through his days with less fizz.