Dead End Fix
Page 29
“The boy who was murdered? How?”
“I can’t find his killer. Every lead is nothing but a tease. Witnesses, family, those gang members. Somebody knows who killed that boy and no one’s talking. There will be no justice for Benji.”
“Like there’s no justice for Allie’s victims?”
Mort rubbed a hand over his face. “Maybe. Hell, I don’t know. I don’t know one damned thing anymore.”
“Then let me tell you something. Stop searching for justice. It’s a dead-end street.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Justice is an illusion, Mort. A cipher. Things happen. There’s no righteous scale that can ever be balanced.”
Mort grunted his disbelief. He looked around the darkening cemetery to make sure no one was within hearing distance. “That’s odd coming from you. The Fixer built her life around bringing accountability to people who’d escaped what they were due.”
Lydia shrugged off his observation. “Maybe that qualifies me to say that elusive thing I thought I was bringing is nothing but a myth. There is no justice. No balancing. No making things right.”
“I can’t believe that.”
“No? Ask Benji’s father. Ask him if catching the person who murdered his son would take away his pain. Those scales can never be balanced. Ask the mother of the little girl whose murder Allie ordered.” Lydia nodded toward Allie’s grave. “Let her know her daughter’s killer is dead. Ask her if she feels better now. Scales balanced. Debts paid.”
“That’s a cruelty I can’t accept. You’re asking me to believe what I’ve dedicated my life to—what the Fixer dedicated years to—is a lie.”
“Not a lie, just the wrong word. Justice doesn’t exist.”
“Then tell me the right word.”
Lydia paused. “I don’t know. Maybe ‘done.’ ”
“What?”
Lydia stepped close enough he could see the details of the ravages his daughter’s attack had left on her face. “I made sure the people I killed were done. There may be mayhem in the world, but it won’t be by their hand. Whoever killed Benji is done too. Be satisfied with that. However it happened, whoever did the act, the person who killed Benji is done. Same with Allie. There will never be justice for all she did. The carnage she inflicted remains. But she’s done.”
Mort looked at the beautiful woman standing in front of him. He wanted to argue with her. His brain needed to defend the notion of justice. But he couldn’t. Whether it was because he didn’t have the energy or because he knew she was right, he wasn’t sure. He decided it didn’t matter.
“Would you have done it?” he asked.
“Done what?”
“Killed her. If it really came down to it, would you have killed my daughter?”
“Would you?”
He’d thought about little else since the night Allie died. Would he have raised his gun to kill his own child in order to save Lydia? To save himself?
“Maybe I’m done too,” he said.
“What’s that mean?”
“I need some time. Away.”
Lydia’s face clouded. “Any idea how long?”
He shook his head.
“Know where you’ll go?”
He shook his head again.
“Will you be coming back?”
Mort looked up. It was full evening now. Clouds hung low in a starless sky. He strained to see the hole where his daughter lay. He stepped over to the floral spray one last time. He pulled three roses free. He kissed one and tossed it into Allie’s grave, listening for the hollow tap as it hit her casket. He tucked the second rose into the inside pocket of his parka.
Then he stepped to Lydia.
“How about you?” he asked, handing her the third. “What’s next?”
She leveled a gaze that made the frigid night even colder. “I’m going back to work.”
He was too shattered to ask for details. “I’m sorry for what my girl did to you.”
“She did it. Not you.”
His devastation kept him from arguing the point. He bowed his head, pulled his collar tight against the cold, and walked out of the garden of death.
This book is for Julie. “Will you just hurry up and finish the damn thing? I’m not going to live forever, you know.” Thank you for never being afraid to tell it like it is. For reminding us there was nothing life could throw our way that couldn’t be handled with love, laughter, and Korbel and Coke. Wednesdays aren’t the same. Just so you know, we’ve switched tables. None of us could bear to sit at “our” table without you. Catch you later, Jules. Till then, know the Smarties love you so strong not even death can crush it.
Acknowledgments
Thanks…forever and always…to the two glittering stars in my literary heaven: my agent, Victoria Skurnik, and my editor, Kate Miciak. Busy, busy, busy women who always find time to urge me on or walk me back. You are forever on my list of favorite people. Thanks to The Fictionistas for listening to my ceaseless yammer about what this character might say or how this one should die…and for pulling ideas out of me when my well was so dry it served only dust. Thanks so very much to my readers. My smile widens with every contact. I have a lot of words, but not nearly enough to tell you how much your support means to me. A special thanks to Shenetia Henderson. When she suggested “D’Loco” I stopped looking for a name for my bad guy. It was just too perfect. I’m grateful for Judy and Barbie, who cheer me on like it’s their job. And if everybody had a sister like my Micki, well, then, we’d all be living our dreams.
And then there’s Lance. Aren’t we having fun?
BY T. E. WOODS
The Fixer
The Red Hot Fix
The Unforgivable Fix
Fixed in Blood
Fixed in Fear
Dead End Fix
About the Author
T. E. WOODS is a clinical psychologist and author living in Madison, Wisconsin. For random insight into how her strange mind works, follow her at:
tewoodswrites.com
Facebook.com/TEWoodsWrites
@tewoodswrites
teriwoods2014@gmail.com
Look for the next thrilling Fixer novel
Fixed in the Shadows
by T. E. Woods
Coming soon from Alibi
Every great mystery needs an Alibi
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