Keller County Cops Book Seven: Code of Vengeance

by Melanie Atkins

  On to the next name: Tom Foster, a bully who worked offshore and spent most of his home time terrorizing his wife. They'd only been married for a short time, and she'd already been in the hospital twice. She'd left him during his last stint out in the Gulf working on an oil rig and had gotten a restraining order against him, but it hadn't done a damned bit of good. He'd tracked her down after he got home, and sheriff's deputies had arrested him -- only the judge let him off with only a warning. Keegan fumed. The bastard could definitely use an attitude adjustment.

  A permanent one.

  She winced. She'd feel a whole lot better slicing the throat of a murderer, but Foster might kill his wife any day now... so if Keegan took him out, she'd really just be paying it forward, right? Taking his life before he could kill the woman he supposedly loved.

  She looked him up in the computer and smiled. He hadn't been picked up since the last time he'd put his wife in the hospital, so he must either be out on a rig or at home complicating her lonely life. Keegan memorized their address and then looked it up on her map app. In town. At least they didn't live out in the boonies like Parker did, although the idea of catching a target in an isolated location did appeal to her. She'd have to follow Foster like she had Dirk and learn his favorite haunts. Might be a while before she could actually do the deed because he worked offshore, but she should go after the worst available threat first, right?

  So she'd just have to wait.

  Determined to have the upper hand this time when she did strike, she examined Foster's mug shot. One long look into his flat chocolate eyes, and a shiver ran down her spine. The picture certainly didn't flatter him. He had shaggy brown hair, those lifeless eyes, and a nose reshaped by one too many fights. The angle of the camera gave him a vicious look. According to his file, he stood just over six feet tall and weighed approximately two hundred pounds, making him a big guy like Dirk who could take her out with a single punch.

  She couldn't allow that to happen.

  "More classes," she murmured to herself. "Although how I'll find the time..."

  She jotted down his particulars, looked up his employer's address, and then turned off her computer. The day had only just begun, and yet the trial was over. So instead of calling the court clerk to see if she needed help, Keegan headed upstairs to see the woman in person. She had plenty of personal time built up and could really use the rest of the day to regroup and maybe do a little reconnaissance. She also wanted to check on Rick, since he hadn't answered her call.

  Before she reached the court clerk's office, however, her cell phone rang. She pulled it from her pocket and checked the display. Speak of the devil.

  Her heart rate picked up as she accepted the call. "Hello, Sheriff."

  "Hey, Keegan." He paused. "Just, um... returning your call."

  "I only called to see how you were doing," she said, sidling up to the wall and leaning against it. Not many people were wandering the courthouse halls, so no one should overhear her side of the conversation. She bit her lip. "Oh, and to tell you the jury acquitted Ronald Wicker."

  "Seriously?" he rasped. "Damn."

  "No worries." She couldn't stop the grin that spread over her face. "Rebecca's brother shot him right after the foreman announced the verdict. I'm surprised you haven't heard."

  "Oh, my God. Really?"

  "Yes. The courtroom was a complete madhouse." She went on to describe how Rouse had banged his gavel for order while the bailiff, the detectives, and the deputy wrestled with Dave. "I didn't know the detectives involved, but I have seen them and the deputy a time or two."

  "Did that make you feel good?"

  "What do you mean?" Her insides turned icy. "I-I don't understand."

  "I'm only curious. You seem rather vindictive toward men who've been accused of murdering their wives or girlfriends and then gotten off without serving time. I just figured you probably believe Wicker deserved to get shot."

  "Maybe I do," she said quietly. It was true, and if he hated her for it... well, so be it.

  He paused again. "Knew I had you pegged. You might find it hard to believe, but in this instance I agree with you. Not about someone playing vigilante and gunning the guy down in cold blood, but about him getting off in the first place. Never should've happened."

  "So you believe he killed his wife?"

  "Yeah, I do."

  "Then why didn't your detectives pile up more evidence against him?" Anger rose in her chest. "I'm sure you're familiar with the case, and that you followed it pretty closely. Why didn't they have anything solid to add to all the circumstantial evidence Abington submitted?"

  "Because the bastard did a damned good job of covering his tracks. We did our best, but he left no physical evidence. No fingerprints, no DNA, no extraneous hairs or fibers. Place was clean as a whistle. He also had an alibi we couldn't break."

  "His cousin. I'm willing to bet Wicker paid him off."

  "You're probably right. We couldn't get him to change his story no matter what we did. We had no leverage against him, no nothing. So don't be too hard on my guys. Just like with Woodward, they did the best they could. Smart criminals watch TV, too. With so many forensic shows on the air, plus the Internet, they know what to do to avoid getting nabbed."

  "It's not fair."

  "No, it's not." He blew out a breath. "Problem is, once the court rules, our hands are tied."

  "And you'll go after vigilantes just as hard as you did the jerk who murdered his wife."

  "We have to, if they break the law."

  "Then they do time even though the other guy might have survived." A sick feeling curdled in her stomach, and she pushed away from the wall. "Makes no sense to me."

  "It's the way the justice system works, Keegan."

  "Of course it is," she said in a mocking tone. Immediately, she regretted it. Change the subject before you get yourself into real trouble. She swallowed, and then asked the question that had been lurking in the back of her mind. "How are you? Are you still at Mercy General?"

  "No, Jonah -- Detective McKee -- broke me out a couple of hours ago."

  "I know Jonah."

  "Of course you do." He hesitated. "He dropped me off, and I unfortunately had a visitor waiting for me when I got home."

  "Who was it?" Her nerve endings thrummed. Something about the tentative pitch to his voice worried her. "Anybody I know?"

  "Yeah. Mindy Ravens." He cleared his throat. "The woman has apparently delved into your personal life, because she rattled off a list of classes you've taken over the past six months that explains how easily you handled the pistol at the coffee shop, and probably the belt at the hospital, too."

  "She had no right," Keegan said, the hairs standing up on her arms. She pushed away from the wall just as the reporter in question stepped through the outside doors, looked around, and made a beeline for the information desk. Damn. I should've gone upstairs as soon as I left my office. "Look, I need to go."

  "Keegan--"

  "Later, Rick." She hung up and dashed down the hall to the nearest stairwell. No way was she talking to Mindy Ravens today. What else had the reporter told Rick? Had she mentioned Keegan's firearms classes? Her success at the dojo? Her self-defense classes? If the sheriff thought her preparedness was suspicious, he might discover all of the knives and guns she'd purchased over the last six months, and the motorcycle license she'd gotten less than two months ago. She moaned. "Oh, God."

  Her mind going a mile a minute, she ran up the stairs and burst into the court clerk's office, scaring the woman sitting at the desk closest to the door.

  "Sorry." Keegan put up her hand and paused to catch her breath.

  The girl looked at her as if she'd lost her mind. "Keegan, are you okay?"

  "I-I'm fine," she said when she could finally breathe again. "Where's Susan?"

  "In the bathroom. She should be back soon."

  Keegan didn't have long to wait. In only seconds, Susan returned to her desk and summoned her over. Keegan explained
what she wanted, and in less than ten minutes was on her way home via one of the courthouse's side doors. She ran into Jonah McKee and Mitch Ransom on her way out, and Mitch stopped her.

  "You were in the courtroom this morning, right?"

  "Yes, why?" Eager to be on her way, she frowned.

  He jerked his thumb toward the door. "We're trying to figure out how the guy who shot Wicker got a gun inside. Am I right about this one locking automatically?"

  "I think so." She thought back to the times she'd attempted to come in this way. "You can't get in unless someone else is coming out."

  "So someone had to let the shooter in?"

  "Yes, but they were probably just being nice. I mean, the guy was clean-cut and in a suit and tie -- like a lawyer. I wouldn't have thought twice." Her face heated. "I-I know, because I've held this same door open for other folks before without thinking. One of them could've been armed, and I never would've known it."

  "No metal detector or security guards here." Jonah glanced at Keegan. "Right?"

  "That's correct. Just an open hallway."

  "Damn." Mitch put his hands on his hips and scowled. "We need to talk to Blaylock."

  "Anything else?" Keegan peered past the detectives and scanned the parking lot for Mindy Ravens. No sign of her or her cameraman, thank God.

  Jonah shook his head. "No, not today. Take it easy, Keegan."

  "Yeah," Mitch said with a grin. "Tell Rick we need to talk to him about courthouse security ASAP."

  "I'm not--" Her face flamed again. "I probably won't talk to him again today, but if I do--"

  "Good. We would appreciate it." Jonah chuckled.

  Keegan fled before either of them could say another word. Bad enough they now linked her with the sheriff, but she was starting to do it, too. Not smart. Now that Rick had learned about the numerous classes she'd taken since Jenny died, he more than likely couldn't wait to get her off his hands. He'd have to put not only Dirk's case, but also the coffee shop armed robbery to bed first, however, since she was involved with both of them.

  "My life is now officially a mess," Keegan murmured as she turned onto her street. The sooner she got home and disposed of all her guns and knives -- albeit temporarily -- the better. She debated about what to do with them, and finally decided to stuff them all in a duffle bag and hide them in her parents' garage. She needed to visit Haley anyway, and her mom and dad would never be the wiser. Keegan would also have easy access.

  Her heart pounded as she whipped into her driveway. No sign of Mindy Ravens here yet, either, but the reporter would probably show up soon when she didn't find Keegan at the courthouse.

  Keegan dashed into the house, dug her largest duffle bag out of the hall closet, and filled it with two shotguns, three pistols, four knives, some pepper spray, a Taser, a set of brass knuckles, and a thick leather sap. The latter two items were illegal in Mississippi, but she'd bought them off the Internet anyway.

  A girl should be prepared, right?

  She'd passed all of the necessary background checks to buy the guns and had also acquired a concealed carry permit, so she was within the law in that respect. The one pistol she didn't pack away was still in the top drawer of her nightstand, and she planned to leave it there. No way would she stay here alone at night without being armed.

  She hefted the duffle bag and carried it out to the car. Within less than fifteen minutes, she reached her parents' quiet brick abode on the outskirts of Hunter's Bayou. Birds flitted through the trees and the sun baked down as she exited her car and marched up to the house.

  She left the weapons locked in the trunk because she needed access to the garage before she could hide the duffle bag. Her only problem now was to distract her parents long enough to find a logical place out of Haley's reach. She had to keep her niece safe.

  "Keegan!" her mother exclaimed as she opened the door. The older woman frowned. "What are you doing here in the middle of the day? Aren't you supposed to be at work?"

  "I needed some personal time," Keegan said, surprised to find herself on the verge of tears. Today's verdict must have hit her harder than she'd realized and seeing her mom, whom Jenny had favored, brought all of her emotions to the surface. She sniffed, blinked back the moisture in her eyes, and hugged her mother. "You must not have seen the news. They... they acquitted Ronald Wicker, and I--"

  "Oh, honey," her mother murmured, the pain in her voice evident. "Well, at least they indicted that snake. That's more than they did to Dirk."

  "I know, but..." She let the words trail away, and then let go of her mom. "Just like Dirk, Wicker didn't get away with it. A man named Dave -- Rebecca's brother, I'm pretty sure -- shot him in the heart right there in the courtroom."

  "Sweet heavenly days," her mother whispered, catching her hands. "And you were there? You could've been shot?"

  "No. The guy leapt over the rail and shot Wicker point blank in the chest. Detectives are at the courthouse now, attempting to figure out how he got the gun inside."

  "What happened, Keegan?" Her dad walked into the living room with Haley on his hip. "Someone shot at you?"

  "No, Daddy. Mom will explain." She wiped away a residual tear, forced a smile, and put out her arms to Haley. "Hi, puddle duck. Are you having fun with Gram and Pop-pop?"

  "Kee-Kee." A ray of sunshine broke over Haley's face. With another squeal, she launched herself into Keegan's arms. The little girl smelled like baby powder and the outdoors.

  Keegan squeezed her tight. "Have you been playing outside with Pop-pop?"

  "Yep." The little girl said with a big yawn. "We makes a blanket fort."

  "Oh, you did?" Keegan lifted a brow at her father. He'd done that with her and Jenny, too, by draping a blanket over the backyard furniture when they were little, and they'd loved it. She would've thought he'd forgotten about that by now. "Way to go, Pop-pop. You always were the best at entertaining little ones."

  "Keeping up with one is a lot easier than chasing two," he said, pain filling his face when he realized what he'd said. "Not that... oh, God, I'm sorry."

  "It's okay, Jim." Keegan's mom put her hand on his arm. "We... we know what you meant. Never fear."

  "Let's go play, Haley," Keegan said, setting the child on the floor and taking her hand. "Will you show me the blanket fort you and Pop-pop built?"

  "Yes!" the little girl squealed. She dragged Keegan through the house and out the back door. Warm air enveloped them as they traipsed across the porch and stepped into the grass.

  Keegan's heavy heart lifted as she played with her niece. The child was too young to really remember her mother, but she would remember playing in the yard with Keegan and her grandfather. That made Keegan smile. Anything for you, Jenny.

  Haley kept yawning and finally curled up and stuck her thumb into her mouth, her signal that naptime had arrived. Keegan carried her back inside, tucked her into her new big bed, and kissed her forehead. She hadn't been out of her crib long, and the double bed dwarfed her.

  Keegan sneaked into the laundry room and surreptitiously slipped into the garage and opened the rolling door, then found her mom and dad in the kitchen preparing soup and sandwiches for lunch. She told them she'd put Haley down for her nap.

  "Thank you, dear," her mother said with a smile. "Won't you stay and eat with us?"

  "Wish I could, but I should go." Keegan gnawed her lip and pictured the duffle bag waiting inside her trunk. "I really need some down time. Hope you understand."

  "Oh, honey, of course we do." Her mom patted her arm. "You work so hard, and you also help us with Haley. It's natural for you to need some time for yourself, especially after witnessing what you did this morning. How awful for everyone involved."

  "I don't spend nearly as much time with Haley as I should. I'm going to try to come by more often." Guilt sat like a stone in Keegan's stomach.

  Her dad shook his head. "Don't worry about us, Keegan. You have a life. We know how it is. Maybe one day you'll meet that special someone and settle down
. Then you can spend more time with our little puddle duck."

  "Right." Her thoughts immediately slid to Rick, and a shiver rippled down her spine. If he learned the truth about her, he wouldn't want to be her friend, much less anything else. Not that he'd offered, but she'd gotten the idea he was attracted to her. Or was that just wishful thinking?

  Her dad saw her to the door and sent her off with a hug. She waited a few minutes after he shut the door to make sure he wasn't going to return before getting the duffle bag out of the trunk and sneaking it into the garage. She eyed the trap door in the ceiling that led to the attic crawl space. A perfect place to hide her guns and other weapons, especially since she could lock it once she'd squirreled them away inside. All she needed was a padlock, and her dad had several lying around.

  Careful to be quiet, she took a ladder down from its place on the wall and hurriedly stowed the heavy bag inside the warm, narrow space. Her shoulders ached by the time she lowered the trap door back into place and locked it. She rolled them to ease the tension in her upper body, then stepped off the ladder and slid the key into her pocket. Hopefully, her father wouldn't notice it right away. If he did, however, he wouldn't be able to open the lock.

  "Focus on Haley, Daddy, and don't look outside and see me or my car," she murmured to herself as she put the ladder back. "Just focus on Haley."

  She hoped both of her parents were out of the kitchen by now, so they shouldn't hear the garage door roll shut. Using the electronic system was out of the question, but she figured that if she disengaged the chain and closed the door the old fashioned way, she might be able to do it without making much noise. To ensure it wouldn't squeak, she sprayed the rails with a can of WD-40 she found on her dad's workbench. Then she hurriedly tugged on the cord to free the contraption, stepped to the edge of the garage, and pulled down the door as quietly as possible.

  No squeaks.

  She sent up a prayer of thanks, jumped into her car, and backed from the driveway. Didn't take her long to reach her neighborhood and turn onto her street.