Code of Justice

by Liz Johnson

  She had to bring this to a close, without injuring herself or Jeremy further.

  And she had to make sure that Kit’s killer was brought to justice.

  She didn’t even look at the screen on her phone when it vibrated on the end table. “Hello.” She sighed.

  “Heather? It’s Nora. Is everything okay?”

  What did she know? Had Nate somehow found out about the explosion?

  “Why do you ask?”

  “You just sounded tired. Have you been pushing yourself too hard? Too much physical therapy?”

  Heather kept this sigh silent. “Not at all.”

  “Oh. Well, I came by yesterday and you weren’t there.” Nora paused, sounding insecure for the first time since Heather had met her. “I mean, I know you told me not to come by, but I haven’t heard from you in a few days. I was worried about you.”

  She ran a hand through her tangled curls, then eyed the black smudges where the once white bandages on her arms had taken the soot from her clothes. The dirt had likely transferred to her face as well. She probably looked as bad as she felt.

  “I’m sorry. I was out…running errands with Jeremy.”

  “Jeremy? The sheriff’s deputy?”

  Oh, great. Now she’d done it. She’d opened up the can of worms about her personal life, and Nora was just the girl to dig into it. She didn’t even wait for Heather’s response. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with each other, haven’t you?” Her voice turned light with a teasing lilt. “Is there something going on between you? You know Nate will have to check him out, as your official older-brother-type.”

  Heather gave the obligatory chortle, but her stomach flipped. Nora may have been teasing, but Nate certainly wouldn’t be when he found out how much time she’d been spending with the deputy. And how much her feelings for him had developed in such a short amount of time.

  “I’m sure that won’t be necessary,” Heather said.

  “Of course, I’m kidding. I’m sure you and Jeremy are just friends.”

  Right. Just friends. Practically partners. And completely platonic.

  The image of their first kiss and the repeat in the grass that morning flashed across her mind, sending the butterflies in her middle into overdrive.

  Maybe not.

  “Has he been helping you run errands and get groceries and things?”

  “Who?” Heather’s cheeks flushed warm as she was dragged from a quite pleasant memory.

  Nora laughed again. “I think you need to get more sleep. You sound a little out of things.”

  “Right. I haven’t been sleeping very well.”

  Nora paused again, hesitancy returning to the tone of her voice. “Heather, I know we’ve only known each other for a couple of months, but if you ever want to talk about what you’re going through—with losing your sister and all—I’m here, and I know how to listen.”

  “Thank you.” Heather looked down at her feet. “I appreciate it. I really do. I’m just not ready to talk about it.” And she wouldn’t be until the killer was caught and shipped off for life.

  “All right. Well, I’ll let you try to get some sleep, but please do call me if you need anything. I can run errands for you or anything.”

  “Thanks, Nora. I’ll call if I think of something.”

  She hung up just as Jeremy walked back inside, a dusting of sweat lining his top lip, reflecting the overhead light. He cocked his head to the side, asking his question without speaking.

  And the traitorous butterflies returned.

  She looked away from him, hoping she’d be able to concentrate if she wasn’t watching to see when the wave of hair on his forehead would bounce or if the muscles in his neck flexed when he spoke.

  “Nora called. She stopped by yesterday, and I wasn’t here. She was worried.”

  “Did you tell her about the car bomb?”

  Heather shook her head. “It didn’t come up.”

  He put his hands on his hips and stared at the ground between his shoes. He didn’t look at her either, and with a pang in her chest, she hoped it was for the same reason she was having a hard time looking at him.

  “Heather, we have to talk about this.”

  “What did Tony say?” she asked, dodging the dreaded conversation yet again.

  “Nothing new.” Jeremy ran his hand through his hair, finally managing to look at her for more than two seconds consecutively. “No sign of Clay. And it looks like PNW has shut down. Geoff and Newt Martinson seem to have disappeared, too.”

  “Do you think they have Clay?”

  Jeremy shrugged. “It’s certainly possible.” His gaze moved and stayed right over her shoulder, and she didn’t mind not having the weight of it directly on her. “We’re still in deep.”

  “I know.” She steepled her fingers and rested the tip of her nose on them. Her insides felt like knots. As long as the killer hadn’t finished the job, her very life put Jeremy in danger. The person behind the drugs and the crash wanted her.

  But maybe he wanted her alive, if the timing of the car bomb was an indicator.

  “What if he wants me alive?” she said, breaking the silence. “What if he wants me?”

  “We’ll find him before he gets to you. I promise, Heather.” Those words seemed to cause him pain, but she pushed on.

  She toyed with an idea, rolling it over and over in her mind. Finally she said, “I could draw him out.”

  Jeremy nearly choked as a hacking cough tore from his throat.

  She looked up at him, standing on the other side of the room. This time their eyes met, their gazes locked. She tried to smile at him, but his face turned pale and he wiped his upper lip with the back of his hand.

  “You’re kidding, right?” he croaked.

  “This could work.”

  “What are you talking about? You want to set yourself out there as some kind of bait to trap this guy?”

  She nodded slowly. “The longer we wait, the more banged up we’re going to get. He’s destroying our ability to fight back, and soon we won’t have the strength to do it at all.”

  “That’s ridiculous. You’re practically still on crutches.”

  “No, I’m not. I’m walking just fine.”

  He continued, ignoring her completely. “Your arms are burned, and you haven’t had a decent night’s sleep since the crash. You couldn’t even walk around the clearing two days ago.”

  She stood, needing to pace as much as her tender knee would allow, also needing to show Jeremy just how wrong he was about her current abilities.

  “So…what? You’re just going to stand out on the street and hope he comes to find you?” A muscle in his jaw jumped, and the vein in his forehead throbbed in a rapid beat. “Good plan.”

  She rolled her eyes to keep from slugging him in the arm. “I’ll figure something out. I’ll spread the word about where I’m going to be, and then we’ll ambush him. You’ll be there to back me up.” She took a deep, steadying breath. “Right?”

  “No way. I’m not playing a part in helping you get yourself killed.” He grabbed the back of the recliner in front of him and leaned into it, like he’d fall over without it. “We need to call Nate or someone else at the Bureau.”

  “No. It’s not an option.”

  “Be reasonable, Heather. We need help, and you’re an FBI agent.”

  “An agent who’s on medical leave and was ordered to not get involved in this case. Don’t you realize that this could mean my job?”

  He jammed both hands into his hair and looked like he was going to pull it out by the roots. She felt like doing the same.

  How could someone give her butterflies one minute, and make her so angry the next?

  Jeremy seemed to have the code to all of her buttons and was ready and willing to press them to get whatever he wanted.

  “We can explain this to Nate. He’ll understand. He wants to protect you.”

  “What if the sheriff told you to stop investigating a case and to take man
datory leave? What would happen if you didn’t listen?”

  His broad shoulders hunched as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “I don’t know.” He groaned and pinched his nose. “I guess I’d be investigated for insubordination and possibly obstruction of justice.”

  “And?”

  He hung his head. “And my job would be on the line.”

  “You see, then. I can’t go to Nate.”

  “Then let me go to him, alone. He doesn’t have to know that you’re even involved in this investigation.” His eyes suddenly glowed. “This’ll work! I’ll get any information that the Bureau has, and then I can get this case wrapped up.”

  Heather sagged against the sofa as though it were a lifeline. “So you’re going to leave me out of my own investigation?”

  “No. That’s not it at all.” He stepped toward her, reaching out to touch her.

  “Don’t even think about it,” she seethed, jerking out of his reach.

  “Heather, help me understand.” He took another step toward her, closing the gap between them to less than two feet. His voice remained calm and soothing, and it grated on her raw nerves. How could he keep it together when she wanted to fly apart over this whole mess? “Please, I just want to do what’s best for us. We can solve this case without you having to put yourself at risk.”

  “But what if Nate can’t help us? What if the Bureau doesn’t have any useful information?”

  “Then we’ll be right where we are now.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Would that be so bad?”

  Her eyes burned in anger, and she rubbed them, trying to force the moisture back. “What if one wasted day is too much? What if by this time tomorrow, you’ve been seriously injured—or worse—by this lunatic? I can’t let him take anyone else away from me. He needs to be caught, so he can be held accountable for his crimes.”

  He shook his head, clearly at a loss.

  “I have to find him. I have to make sure that he’s punished for what he did to Kit. She deserves justice.”

  Jeremy nodded slowly, rubbing open palms down the sides of his jeans. “Are you sure it’s justice that you want?” He inhaled quickly, continuing before she could gather a response, “I just mean you’ve seemed pretty intent on finding this guy from the beginning. And I certainly don’t blame you. He’s taken a lot from you and tried to kill you several times, but it seems to me that maybe you’re after more than just seeing justice served.”

  Her head snapped back. “Of course justice is what I’m after. What else would I want?” Her breathing turned shallow, as she glared across the room at the man who usually sent her heart racing. Now he sent her blood boiling.

  He looked away, scratching at the back of his neck. When his gaze returned to meet hers, he said, “Are you sure you’re not after revenge?”

  “That’s—that’s ludicrous.” Her knee throbbed and she wanted to sit down, but she couldn’t give him the upper hand in this argument by taking the lower ground. “He deserves to be punished, and it’s my job to make sure that happens. That’s all.”

  “But it’s not your job. Not this time.” He held up his hand, and she bit down on the retort on the tip of her tongue. “You’re supposed to be recovering and recuperating. This isn’t your case to investigate. This time it’s not your job. It’s personal.”

  “So what if it is?”

  “You’re putting your own life on the line to capture this guy because you think you owe it to Kit. But you don’t have to. Don’t you see?”

  His eyes turned hard, and she couldn’t read anything there except a flicker of pain. What could possibly be causing him so much pain that it flashed across his face? He’d been limping earlier, but he didn’t seem to have a problem standing at the moment.

  When Heather didn’t say anything, he spoke again. “Can’t you trust that God will take care of this? Don’t you think He’ll see justice served?”

  “Are you really that naive?” she spat. “Sometimes the bad guys go free.”

  “I know that.” He sighed, his shoulders sagging. “But I’m not saying the justice system is always perfect. I am saying that God is in control. You have to turn this over to Him, instead of letting this case consume you.”

  Her eyes narrowed, and she wanted to jab back at him. She couldn’t hold back the retaliatory barb. “Oh, that’s rich coming from someone who still thinks he’s responsible for his fiancée’s death. Someone who just let her die and is now only using my sister’s death to ease his own conscience.”

  When the words were out there, hanging like laundry on the line, she clapped her hands over her mouth, her eyes suddenly filling with tears. She tried to pull them back in, but they couldn’t be taken back. And she couldn’t manage to say anything that would even begin to make up for that terrible accusation.

  Jeremy’s eyebrows pinched together, and his face lost its color. Through pinched lips, he managed, “All right. Clearly I’m not going to be able to talk you out of doing this, so go ahead and do it. But don’t expect me to watch you put your neck on the line.”

  He spun and marched toward the front door. There he turned to look at Heather, tears leaking down her cheeks. “Try to be careful, all right?”

  She nodded. Then he was gone.

  And she could only manage to sink to the floor, aching with the grief over the horrible things she’d said, the death of her sister, the uncertainty of her future.

  And the loss of the man she loved, at her own hand.

  SIXTEEN

  Heather needed a plan.

  But after a sleepless night of playing the scene with Jeremy over and over in her mind, she was no closer to figuring out how to flush the perp into the open, make an arrest and avenge Kit’s murder than she had been a week before, while lying in a hospital bed. Still, at least she was mobile now.

  Her weak knee trembled and nearly gave out completely as she fell into the counter.

  Well, mostly mobile.

  She nursed her favorite mug filled with coffee as she settled into a chair at the table. Kit’s notes on the case were strewn across the top, and she flipped two pages over, scanning for anything that might be the clue to break the case.

  Of course, it was useless.

  She’d been over these notes a hundred times in her mind, and every time she ended up in the same place. Absolutely nowhere.

  There was only the disappeared Mick Gordon. And the elusive Mr. F. Or maybe Mrs. F. Either way, Heather was no closer to figuring out who F might be.

  Mick had had a phone number, but F didn’t. Was that because Kit knew him, and didn’t need to write down his number?

  Unlikely.

  Heather plunged her fingers into her freshly washed hair and rubbed her scalp, hoping to stimulate a brilliant idea. Or maybe just forget the miserable argument she’d had with Jeremy the night before.

  Don’t think about him. Think about Kit.

  It had become her mantra to get through the night. It wasn’t working very well, but she was trying.

  “How do I draw out the person who wants me dead?” she asked the empty chair across from her. “Stand on the street corner and hope he drives by?” She heaved a loud sigh. “Nope. That’s not going to work.”

  She rolled her neck several times and pulled the lapels of her fuzzy, green robe closer to her chin.

  “Who might get word to him without it sounding like I’m trying to draw him out?”

  Nothing. Nothing. And then suddenly the seed of an idea.

  Slowly she picked up her phone and called the sheriff’s office. “May I speak with Deputy Gonzales, please?” The young deputy who’d guarded her for Jeremy was her best first step.

  “One moment, please,” said the receptionist on the other end of the line.

  While the line lay silent for several seconds, she tried not to wonder if Jeremy was there, sitting at his desk, maybe seeing a blinking light on his phone.

  “This is Gonzales.”

  “Hi.” Her throat suddenly felt full
and she cleared it loudly. “This is Heather Sloan. Do you remember me?”

  “Um, of course, Ms. Sloan,” said the younger man. He had a distinct way of making her feel old. “Is there something you need? Latham isn’t in this morning.”

  Her hand holding the phone shook slightly, so she tucked the phone between her ear and shoulder and clasped her hands on the table. “I was calling to speak with you, actually.”

  “You were?” He sounded confused, and so young.

  “Yes. Do you remember the man that Jeremy—I mean, Deputy Latham—booked, named Geoff Conner?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Could you possibly tell me who his lawyer is?”

  He didn’t speak for what felt like ages. “Latham said that I shouldn’t give you any information.”

  That rat!

  How had he known she’d go to Gonzales?

  Smiling and hoping he could hear it in her voice, she said, “Please. I just wanted to check into a few things with the lawyer. You know Geoff was outside my home when he and Latham got into that fight, right? Since he’s been released, I just want to know if he’s still in the area.”

  “I suppose that would be okay. Just a second.” He put the phone down and she heard papers rustling. When he picked it back up, he said, “The lawyer that came in and bailed him out was Lee Cooper.”

  Tempted to ask for the lawyer’s phone number, she opened her mouth, then closed it quickly. “Thank you, Deputy Gonzales. You’ve been very helpful.”

  “My pleasure, ma’am. And if you wouldn’t mind, please don’t mention to Latham that you got the name from me.”

  “Of course not,” she said before hanging up.

  Quickly looking up the number for the lawyer, Heather called his office.

  “Cooper, Cooper and Grabalski. How may I direct your call?” said a nasal voice on the other end.

  “Lee Cooper, please,” Heather said in her most authoritative tone. “This is urgent.”

  “Are you a client of Mr. Cooper?”