No Escape (No Justice Book 2)

by Sean Platt

  It was touching that Bobby would be protective, even if he was a bit wasted. “Why are you here? It’s too late.”

  “I missed you.”

  “I’m sure Calum and your bros keep you from getting too bored.”

  “Yeah, we’ve been hanging out a lot, but it’s not the same as being with you.”

  She smiled. “It’s only been one week, did you all already run out of Your Mama jokes?”

  “Ran out after two days. Now we’re on to Your Sister jokes, but it’s not the same when we don’t have sisters.”

  “Sorry, that’s a shame. I wish you all had sisters so you could make sexual jokes at their expense.”

  Bobby laughed. “Ha-ha, smart ass. See, that’s what I miss.”

  He started toward her again, putting his hands on her hips, pulling her to him, trying to kiss her.

  She pulled out of his grasp.

  “No. Not now.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s two in the morning and you’re wasted. Speaking of which, why are you driving?”

  She looked around but didn’t see his car.

  “Wait. Where’s your car?”

  “At home. I walked.”

  “You walked? You live like three miles from here!”

  “I wanted to see you.”

  “That’s nice and all, but it’s too late. And if you ever want to see me again, you need to leave before my dad wakes up.”

  “Which window is his?”

  “All of them. He’s like the Eye of Sauron.”

  “Fine. I’ll leave. But I just wanted to tell you something.”

  “What?” she asked.

  Suddenly, Bobby was looking down, his hands in his pocket. Like some shy dorky kid, rather than one of her high school’s brightest stars.

  “I just … I really missed you.”

  There was something there, something in his voice, maybe in his eyes, something sad.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Well, a little high, but otherwise okay.”

  “You sure?”

  “I just realized how much I missed you, and that I’d never properly asked you out.”

  Jordyn wondered if her cheeks were as flushed as they felt.

  “So, you decided that getting high, walking to my house at two in the morning, and throwing rocks at my window was the way to go about it?”

  “Well, when you put it like that it doesn’t sound nearly as romantic.”

  Jordyn laughed.

  “So, is that a yes?”

  “Will you get off my lawn?”

  “Only if you say yes.”

  “My punishment ends on Friday. Come to my house, preferably in the afternoon, before my dad’s had too much to drink, and ask me out then.”

  “You sure?”

  “If you want to go out with me, you’ll have to pass through the gauntlet.”

  He nodded. “Okay, it’s a deal. Can I kiss you goodbye?”

  She shook her head. “Not until you pass through the gauntlet.”

  He laughed. “Okay, Jordyn Parish, I’ll see you, and your father, on Friday. Oh, yeah, one other thing.”

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small gift. “Merry Christmas.”

  “Thank you,” she said, taking the box. “I didn’t get you anything yet.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said.

  “Oh, you want me to open it now?”

  “Yeah.”

  She ripped off the paper, then opened the small black velvet box.

  Inside was a silver ring with a sparkling heart that looked like diamonds, but she didn’t know jewelry well enough to be certain. But it was certainly beautiful, and it made the moonlight dance.

  “Thank you,” she said, sliding it on.

  “Does it fit? I wasn’t sure on your ring size.”

  “Perfect.” It was the first time a boy had bought her jewelry. And while she didn’t have expensive tastes, Jordyn loved the ring and would wear it always — well, after she was off punishment and could say that Bobby gave it to her at a reasonable time.

  “Thank you.” She gave him one last kiss then pulled away.

  He smiled, walking backward. “Merry Christmas, Jordyn.”

  “Merry Christmas, Bobby.”

  He jogged away, and Jordyn stood smiling at him from her porch. Maybe things might be okay after all.

  * * * *

  CHAPTER 25 - MALLORY BLACK

  It had been one week since Katie fell into her coma. A week since the diner massacre, and Orestes666’s disappearance. He’d gone underground. Hadn’t commented online or threatened new attacks, at least so far as the authorities knew.

  The FBI, despite its massive resources, had no luck finding Orestes666 or getting anything from the NonAMus site owners — or the Russian company that hosted it. There was some debate over whether they should try to shut the site down, but it was decided that having a way to monitor Orestes666 was best, even if they had yet to catch him in time. At least that was better than having him slink off to some other anonymous image board that they weren’t aware of.

  Mal worked on her laptop in the hotel room next to Katie, studying a spreadsheet with the saved LiveLyfe profiles from both Peter Kincaid and Lynn Macklin for the hundredth time — at least — clicking on names, looking at public profiles, searching for connections that nobody else had found.

  She cross-referenced shared friends, hoping something would pop out. Kincaid seemed to be friends with half the damned county, and the diner’s owner was beloved, so they had hundreds of shared friends between them.

  Since she knew their killer was male, she moved the men into a separate list, which reduced the number of common friends to 321.

  She searched memorial posts about both victims. Lynn’s posts were mostly about how she was such a wonderful woman and would be deeply missed. The coach’s postings were a mix of people who were shocked about the child porn found on his computer and accusations of abuse from former players. There were also others — including former players — vigorously defending Kincaid, insisting that the media was railroading the coach as part of a conspiracy to sway attention from the murders.

  Mal shook her head, scrolling through page after page of hate and stupidity. She couldn’t stand social media. It gave every moron with an internet connection a platform to abuse and spread ignorance. Still, there was no arguing that it made investigations so much easier. It never ceased to surprise her how many people posted incriminating stuff for all the world to see. Angry people who thought nothing of posting death threats; ex-cons posting pictures of themselves doing drugs or brandishing guns; people claiming they were nowhere near a crime scene only to have their Twitter or LiveLyfe log them in at the exact location they claimed not to have been at.

  Unfortunately, this killer was smarter than the average LiveLyfe user, though that bar was practically in the dirt.

  Mal closed her computer, slipped it into her backpack, and touched Katie’s hand. “I’m going to get some lunch. I’ll be back in a bit, okay?”

  “Okay,” the girl said.

  Mal jumped back, startled.

  “Katie?”

  The girl’s eyes were closed.

  She didn’t seem to be conscious.

  Mal squeezed her hand, “Katie?”

  And then her eyes opened.

  **

  Mal paced outside the room while the doctor and nurses tended to Katie.

  She was out of her coma, and, from what Mal could see while still in the room, the girl was going to be okay.

  Mal’s phone rang. A number marked PRIVATE. “Hello?”

  “He’s not done.”

  A chill ran through her. Mal recognized the voice immediately. The mystery man that had saved her and Jessi Price, and insisted that she kill Paul Dodd.

  “Who’s not done?” she asked, her heart racing, thinking that he had some information about Dodd.

  “The man who shot up the diner. The
man who killed those people on the baseball field. He’s going to do it again. Tomorrow.”

  “Where? And who is he?”

  “I don’t know. But I sort of know where he’s going to strike.”

  “Where?”

  “A strip club. I don’t know which one, but it’s definitely a strip club.”

  “What else can you tell me? Any details to help me figure out which one?”

  “I dunno. It’s dark, and there are topless women. But I’ve never been to wherever it is.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “I told you before that I can’t tell you how. I just know things.”

  “Why don’t you come in and we can talk? Maybe you can help us catch this bastard.”

  Her Mystery Man was a vigilante. In addition to the murder of Dodd’s childhood abuser Wes Richards, which he’d more or less copped to, Mal had found four more cold case deaths that she suspected her Mystery Man — the Hunter — might be behind.

  “Hello?” she said.

  Silence.

  The call had been disconnected.

  **

  Mal called Mike and told her about her the tip, deleting a major detail.

  Mal didn’t want the Feds or the press digging up her daughter’s case or revisiting Jessi Price’s looking for a link between the Mystery Man and Orestes666. It wouldn’t help them find Orestes and it certainly wouldn’t help Jessi’s parents.

  But Mal also had selfish reasons for keeping the source of the tip anonymous. She didn’t want the Feds taking the vigilante case. It was hers, a back burner that wasn’t attracting any attention, and she wanted to keep it that way. Mal wanted to bring in the vigilante.

  “So, you don’t know who the tip was from? Could it have been the killer?”

  “I don’t know,” Mal said, instantly realizing that lying to Mike, and everyone else, might unnecessarily complicate the case. They might start thinking that if it wasn’t the killer that called, but an accomplice instead.

  The door to Katie’s room opened, and the doctor stepped into the hall. It was too late for Mal to recover the lie.

  “I’ve gotta go. Katie’s out of the coma.”

  “Thanks,” Mike said, hanging up.

  Mal dropped the phone in her pocket, hoping that she wasn’t ruining everything.

  * * * *

  CHAPTER 26 - JORDYN PARISH

  “So, what do you think?” Bobby asked as Jordyn bit into her $54 filet.

  “It’s good,” she said, still not sure what the big fuss was, or how this steak was so different from the steaks she’d had from places that weren’t even a quarter as fancy.

  It was their first date, on New Year’s Eve. Bobby delayed plans with his friends to take her out for a special night at Prime, a fancy restaurant with stone floors, high vaulted ceilings with thick wooden chandeliers, rich leather upholstered chairs and dark wood tables. Bobby had to wear a blazer, and even though she was dressed in her nicest dress, she still felt shabby compared to some of the beautiful women she saw sitting at the other tables. Even the hostess, in a dark burgundy gown, looked like a model.

  But Bobby’s mom worked at a construction firm. No big deal. Maybe his father had left him some money. Or maybe he did better than she imagined working at the gym. In any event, Jordyn appreciated the effort. And while she wasn’t used to being spoiled, she did enjoy dressing up and feeling fancy, even if only for a night.

  Bobby looked handsome in an Oxford and tie. Jordyn was even more enamored after he’d gone down the menu, discussing all the different foods with delight and authority.

  They fell into silence once food was set on the table until Bobby asked Jordyn about her steak. She didn’t want to tell him the truth, that she wasn’t the biggest fan, so she changed the conversation. “Where did you learn so much about food?”

  “My mom is a really good cook. She taught me how to appreciate, and cook, good food.”

  “Do you enjoy cooking? Like is it something that you wanna do?”

  “I dunno. It might be something to fall back on if I don’t get a football scholarship.”

  “What’s your favorite thing to make?”

  “Ricotta strawberry French toast.”

  “Ricotta? Like the lasagna cheese?”

  “Sure,” he said. “It’s amazing. The ricotta makes it creamy. Goes great with the honey and mint.”

  That sounded a lot better than steak.

  Jordyn took a bite of garlic mash as Bobby finished off his meal. She’d barely touched her steak, and she felt bad as he looked down at her plate.

  “Wow,” he laughed. “You don’t like it, do you?”

  “Well, yeah, it’s good. I’m just not that big into steaks, I guess.”

  “Then why did you order it?”

  “Um, you only spent the whole week telling me that I just haaaad to try the steak here.”

  “Well, not if you don’t like steak! You can’t possibly appreciate how good it is if you’re a steak philistine.”

  She laughed. “Sorry.”

  “Do you want to try something else? I can see if they have chicken nuggets or something.”

  “Ha-ha. I don’t even like chicken nuggets.”

  “Okay, so what is your favorite food?” He stabbed a piece of her filet with his fork and popped it into his mouth. “I’ll finish it if you’re not going to.”

  She pushed the plate toward him. “It’s all yours.”

  “So, what do you like?”

  “Pasta.”

  “Okay, like what kind of pasta? Linguine and clams? Chicken Tetrazzini? Capellini with zucchini and tomato sauce? Tagliolini with truffle sauce?”

  “No, just spaghetti and meatballs.”

  He laughed again. “Wow. I’m going out with a ten-year-old.”

  “Hey!” Jordyn threw her napkin at Bobby.

  He laughed, then tossed it back.

  She went to return the volley but accidentally knocked over her water. Bobby caught the glass before it hit the ground, but ice and water still splashed them both.

  White hot embarrassment. Eyes like lasers from all the adults. A deep sigh from a table across the way. An older man with an angry face, a bad toupee, and a shiny suit. He, and the young woman he was dining with, had been giving them dirty looks whenever Jordyn or Bobby laughed too loud or looked like they might be having too much fun. Now the guy wouldn’t stop glaring.

  “Hi, buddy! Like the hair!” Bobby waved at the man, giving him a giant shit eating grin.

  The man rolled his eyes and looked back at his date.

  Jordyn laughed, then covered her giggle. “Aw, you stuck up for me.”

  “Fuck that guy,” Bobby said, way too loud.

  Strangely, Jordyn liked seeing Bobby’s aggressive side.

  A busboy came and swept up the ice cubes from the ground, along with some crumbs from the table.

  “Sorry,” Jordyn said.

  “No problem,” the busboy nodded.

  The waiter appeared with more water.

  “Do you all have chicken nuggets?” Bobby asked.

  The waiter looked confused. “I’m sorry?”

  “Never mind,” Bobby said, “just an inside joke. We’re ready for the check.”

  “Of course,” the waiter said.

  He returned a few minutes later and set a black leather folder onto the table. Bobby looked inside, added some cash, then set it back on the table.

  “Thank you,” Jordyn said as they stood.

  “Next time I’ll take you to a nice Italian restaurant. It’s the best. I’m not sure if Generosità does sketti and meatballs, but they do have other pasta.”

  She laughed.

  They stepped outside and onto The Boardwalk, home to several seaside restaurants, shops, and trendy spots. Jordyn had never been to The Boardwalk at night. It was a different place, almost beautiful with strings of lights, a salty breeze, and the moon hanging like a lantern in the sky.

  “Wanna walk around?” Bobby looked
at his watch. “We’ve got another hour before you’ve gotta be home.”

  “Okay,” she said as Bobby took her under his arm.

  “Thanks for coming by and talking to my dad the other day. I think he appreciated it.”

  “No problem. Sorry I missed him earlier.”

  “Yeah, he wasn’t feeling well.”

  After a long pause, Bobby said, “So, what’s his deal?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, I don’t wanna stick my nose where it doesn’t belong, but I think you said he drinks a lot.”

  “Yes. He took my mom’s death hard. I think part of it was regret. He worked a lot when she was alive. We didn’t see him all that much.”

  “What did he do?”

  “He was a cop.”

  “Oh, shit. So I really shouldn’t mess up.”

  “You don’t need to be afraid of him as much as you need to be afraid of me,” she teased. “Anyway, things got bad. He started drinking a lot after she died, then eventually went off his meds. Eventually, I ran away.”

  “Oh, shit. Really?”

  “Yeah, two years ago.”

  “Where did you go?”

  “To my friend, Lisa’s. He found me within an hour.”

  “Oh, not very dramatic, then?”

  “Well, I did leave a note. And I told him how I couldn’t live like that anymore. He needed to get some help and get back on his meds.”

  “Meds for what?”

  Jordyn paused, not sure how much to share. She liked Bobby a lot, but she knew there were still things she shouldn’t share outside of her family. But she wasn’t just protecting her father. A part of Jordyn worried that he’d think she was crazy, too, since so many mental disorders were genetic.

  “Anxiety,” she said, figuring that lie was close enough to the truth. “He got some help. Got back on his meds and stopped drinking. The final step was to leave my childhood home, the house where my mother was still such a heavy presence.”