A Ghost of Justice

by Jon Blackwood

  "What are you doing?" John gasped as they leapt through the intersection.

  One car dodged them, blowing its horn.

  "Shut up," he snapped. "I don't have time for red lights."

  "What if a cop stops us."

  Eric kept the accelerator down as he veered onto Bryan Boulevard. "They're welcome to follow, but I'm not about to stop."

  The man has gone crazy, John thought as he tightened his grip on the dash.

  57

  Emily sucked hungrily for air in quick, shallow gasps. She felt a fire in her side with every breath. The table still lay heavy on top of her. Darkness kept trying relentlessly to snag her down. She fought to stay conscious.

  With a determination only slightly greater than the dark reaching for her, Emily retained wakefulness. Dimly she was aware of Ed pacing the kitchen. Then she saw him go over to the gun and pick it up. He came and knelt over her. He drew back his gun hand to strike her.

  The action roused Emily enough to talk. At the top of his backswing, she managed to rasp, "Is this how you killed Joan?"

  Ed lowered the gun, crossed it over his knee, and smiled. It wasn't friendly. "Sort of," he said. "I used her Administrator-of-the-Year award instead. Didn't have access to a gun that time."

  Then he struck her on the jaw with a backhand upswing.

  Her vision left into something gray. But she was still aware, waiting for the next blow, trying to move her arms. He had her right wrist pinned painfully under his knee. There seemed to be no strength in her left as she tried to raise it.

  The blow didn't come.

  The pressure left her arm. Her vision returned, sort of. She turned to see him, vague and fuzzy, still kneeling over her. Just able to make out the new look he had on his face, she didn't like it. "No. there's a better way. But first, you do have to be quiet." Saying that, he swung the pistol down against the side of her head.

  This time darkness won. She blacked out.

  The next thing she was aware of was Ed's voice in conversation. There was no other voice. Slowly she realized he was on the com of his PDM.

  "Yeah, Dad. She insisted on coming to see you. I couldn't stop her… Well, she's been drinking and that worries me… I know that's not like her, but she has. And you know how she drives."

  Emily struggled to push the table off. If she could just shout to her uncle…

  The table rolled onto the floor with a dull thud. With it off and to one side, her vision finally clear, Emily had a fine view of the back of Bob's hologram swirling into nothingness. Ed had closed the connection.

  The burning in her left side had taken on an old but familiar sensation. Cousin Ed has broken my rib, she mused, surprised at her clearness of mind. Or was she getting detached? But her mind stayed a bit longer in this strange realm, bringing up the thought: For old times' sake, break one more of ole Emily's bones before killing her.

  Then she must have passed out again because she was suddenly aware of being carried. Roughly. Each bounce brought a peak in her pain level. One eye opened and she saw he was carrying her out through the garage. The eye closed on its own.

  But Ed was talking as if she were listening.

  She caught snatches. "…gotta at least be alive when you go in, cousin…can tell if you don't drown."

  An exquisitely painful dumping sensation and it took her a moment to realize she was in the passenger seat of a car. By then, the faint hissing from under the hood told her it was her own Mustang they were in.

  58

  John felt his side of the car lift off the shocks a little as Eric veered off the exit ramp onto Fleming Road, heedless of any traffic. Fortunately there was none close.

  "Can you take the corners a little slower? We can't do anything for Emily if you kill us," he said breathlessly.

  "Your request has been noted," Eric said curtly as he stared hard and unwavering at the road. He didn't slow at all through the next curve, accelerating instead as soon as they entered it. Somehow they held the road.

  John tensed in his seat as a car came toward them, just over the center line.

  Eric stayed close to the shoulder as the two cars whipped past. The only thing he did to acknowledge the near-disaster was to mutter, "Idiot."

  Another curve appeared in the beams of their headlights, yellow and black arrow signs pointing right, warning of its sharpness. John saw the speedometer creep past fifty. "Slow down," he shouted. "Please."

  Eric paid no attention. He eased over the center line himself, then turned them tightly into the inner edge of the curve. The Volvo ran through it as if the tires were on rails.

  A flood of light appeared ahead: a shopping center. Several cars were turning in and out of its lot. John had all he could handle. He closed his eyes, waiting for tire squeals or the collision or both.

  Instead, he was lunged against the shoulder strap as Eric downshifted, sharply decelerating. Then they were whipped through a ninety-degree turn to the right.

  He opened his eyes in time to see as they turned onto another road. "What are we on now? I don't know this area." He spoke as much from curiosity as with relief they hadn't crashed.

  "Lewiston Road," Eric said without emphasis, fully concentrating on his driving. "Ed's suburb is about half a mile down."

  John was about to be thankful when a sign warned of a right-angle curve to the left. He glanced again at the speedometer. It rose past forty, in spite of the sign saying twenty-five was the fastest safe speed.

  Just as they reached it, Eric down-shifted again. The sudden drag on the car held it through.

  59

  Emily felt the Mustang swing sharply to the left. She remembered that Ed had used the word 'drown.' The memory brought her to a level of alertness. That curve might be the second one in Lewiston Road. If so, then below them stretched a long downhill. At the bottom was Higgins Lake. She remembered the guardrail was gone for some reason or other, yet to be replaced.

  He was going to drive her into the water.

  She braced herself mentally to accept the pain that would come when she moved. Then she reached for the keys.

  Ed saw the motion and grabbed her wrist, but not before she managed to switch off the engine. The car lurched to a halt.

  Ed hit her a massive blow with the back of his forearm, knocking her against the door. He followed with a punch to her stomach and she doubled over. He let the clutch in to start the Mustang rolling. Turning the key, he restarted it.

  60

  Eric Sheafer brought the Volvo to a screeching halt at a crazy angle half-way up Ed's driveway. The garage door was up and they could see the Jaguar inside. They could also see the inner door to the house hanging open.

  Eric jumped out and ran into the house, John hurrying to follow.

  The inside door opened onto a utility room, which in turn led to the kitchen. Eric stood studying a curious tableau of an overturned table and its matching chairs. John was surprised to see Eric drop to his knees amid the chaos.

  "What is it?" John asked.

  Eric held his hand up while still studying the floor. John reached out and took the necklace.

  "It was my grandmother's. You're supposed to have stolen it from Kelly."

  Then John looked down at the floor too. A small pistol lay among the disturbed furniture, its handle bloody. There were tiny blood droplets in a spray pattern. "Oh, God," he moaned. "We're too late."

  Eric stood abruptly and began pacing. After only one turn, he raised his PDM up and switched it on, saying, "Maybe not. Blood's still wet."

  After a brief wait, Bob Sheafer's image came up. Eric began talking rapidly. "Listen, Bob. We're at Ed's. Hardy is with me."

  The other Sheafer tried to interrupt, his speech little better than a babble.

  Eric said, "Will you please shut up and listen! Has Ed contacted you lately? It's important."

  "Yeah. Yeah, he did. Just a minute ago. That's what I was saying. He said something about Emily being drunk, coming to see him and then leaving."
>
  "He said what?"

  "That Emmie was driving around drunk and making all kinds of stupid claims. What's this all--"

  "Listen up, Bob," Eric said forcefully. "I hate to tell you, but it's looking a lot like Ed did it. I've got proof." He took the necklace back from John and held it out for Bob to see. After a second’s puzzled look gave over to comprehension his brother covered his face with one hand. "Or, rather, Emily must have found this proof. He had the edelweiss."

  With incredible presence of mind, the younger brother lowered the hand and, with an expression of great pain, said, "He said she might be coming here."

  Eric started. Then he said a quick, "We gotta go," and shut down his PDM. He was already running to the door when he shouted, "Come on."

  Eric already had the car backed out into the street when John caught up and jumped in.

  61

  The Mustang had stopped. In too much pain to move, Emily heard Ed rummaging through the trunk briefly. Then he returned to the driver's seat. He backed the car up. A ratcheting sound came as he set the parking brake.

  Suddenly he grabbed Emily by the hair. She started screaming but was cut off when he jerked her toward him, then reversed the motion to slam her head into the passenger window. It left blood on the glass and herself badly dazed.

  The engine's hiss climbed to a roar. Peering through one eye, she saw the Mustang's tire iron jammed on the accelerator and braced against the seat. The brake was released and the car bobbed a little as Ed leaned in, placing his knee on the driver's seat.

  He grabbed her by the belt and pulled her behind the wheel. She tried to scream at the pain, but her voice sounded incredibly weak, only a whimper. Ed placed her hands all over it, smearing his fingerprints and applying hers all in a single, efficient act.

  She willed her hands to fight back, but there was no strength in them or anywhere else in her.

  With Emily in place, Ed pushed a foot on the clutch, reached across her and put the car in gear. Bracing himself to hold the light car in place, he released the brake. Then, still pressing on the clutch, he pulled himself out of the car, still bracing it. Hesitating a second, he actually said, "Sorry I've got to do this, Emmie." Then he withdrew his foot, slamming the door closed as the Mustang lurched forward.

  The car jolted, bounced, then Emily felt a sickening weightlessness for only a second as it plunged over a steep incline. Her arms worked enough to drape over the wheel and cushion her face against the expected crash. Suddenly there was a gentle splash and the motion became a softly undulating wobble. She was in the lake.

  Cold water swirled into the car, chilling her, but it began clearing her mind, too. Brought her body back into her control as well. She pushed on her door, but Ed had locked it before slamming it shut.

  She pushed on the lock button, hearing it unlatch, but it still wouldn't open. Water on the outside of the car was halfway up the window. Inside it only covered the seat. There was no response when she hit the window button, not even a clicking.

  Of course, she realized. It was electric and the water had just shorted it out.

  Ignoring the pain, screaming in frustration and anger, she started beating on the glass, but it accomplished nothing.

  Then she felt the car's tires touch bottom. It bounced softly twice then bobbled itself still. The outside water was still below the roof.

  Breathing in short, staccato gasps, she fought the panic. Soon the water pressure would equalize. There would still be air in the car and she would be able to open the door.

  In anticipation, she tilted her head back, craning her neck to keep her nose above the surface.

  Finally it quit rising. She took a deep breath, held it and ducked down to put all she had into shoving the door open.

  62

  Here we go again, John told himself. This time he didn't fear for himself. "Hurry," he urged once they were back on Lewiston Road.

  "Keep an eye out," Eric told him.

  "What am I looking for?"

  "Anything. Ed must be desperate. Maybe a bit crazy. He might be doing anything, anywhere. It can't be far, though."

  "Why?"

  "You heard Bob. Ed told him Emily had been drinking and was driving over to see him. Damn him! Em's never been drunk. And drove."

  White fence railings flashed by. Yet another sharp curve loomed ahead. How many can there be on one road? This time he simply braced himself as Eric raced through it. The road dropped ahead down a long hill. John could make out the white-painted sides of a bridge below them.

  The Volvo lifted on its shocks as Eric drove them over the crest. It settled heavily back on them.

  The bridge at the bottom raced up to meet them. A red and yellow flash to the right caught John's eye. He turned, registered on-site construction equipment and started to forget about it.

  Then he saw beyond the machines. Someone was out in the water. And a yellow car top was visible on the waves!

  "The lake!" he shouted. "Stop!"

  Eric slammed on the brakes, skidding to a stop. Momentum carried them to the other side of the bridge. He wrestled with the gears to go in reverse.

  John didn't wait. He leaped from the car. A scream hit his ears.

  "It's them!" He broke into a run.

  63

  The door took some effort, but Emily popped it open. It seemed Ed was waiting for her to try that. She had just cleared her head from the water when he splashed over and started pushing her back under.

  She kept shoving against him with one arm on the door frame. Twisting her head to the other side, she switched tactics, grabbed his arm with the other hand and bit down hard.

  Ed's turn to scream, for once. It felt really good.

  And it made him back off enough for her to pull back up for a breath.

  A car whipped by on the road. She screamed as loud as she could manage.

  Ed returned to trying to drown her and she screamed once more as the water closed over her face.

  But she kept struggling. Now and then she'd break to the air and suck some in, but Ed would reassert his strength and she would taste the lake water. She started shivering spasmodically.

  It wouldn't be long before she gave out.

  That thought drove her to bite and scratch him. There was no way she could hit or kick him hard enough to help.

  Then he drove his knuckles into her ribs.

  She felt herself blacking out, arms drifting down. Fingers touched something odd.

  64

  Eric backed past him, but John reached the water before the car stopped . He vaulted off the bank into the dark water. The cold took his breath but he kept wading out.

  They were about ten meters from water's edge. All he could tell in the dark was that they were struggling.

  A burbling shout had a familiar tone to it. Emily trying to stay above so she could breathe. John cupped his hands and paddled with them to speed himself to them.

  The slope took him down to water almost chest deep, but, when he got to them, he threw his arms around Ed's neck and pulled to bend him backwards. The effort was rewarded with the sounds of Emily coughing and sputtering.

  But Ed had him greatly outweighed. He grabbed John's arm with a twisting motion and broke his grip. Then Ed threw him back a couple of meters.

  John sank backwards under the surface but quickly had his feet under him and stood again, angry. In an instant's assessment of what he saw, Ed was berserk, still trying to kill Emily right in front of them in a fit of panicked effort. The big man suddenly reeled back with a shout, holding a hand to his face. Then he appeared to block something as he moved back against Emily.

  John jumped Ed again. This time the big man turned around with John hanging on him, whipping him like a mannequin around to his front, away from the car, and shook him like a dog with a rat.

  Ed snarled something almost incomprehensible, but it sounded like he was saying John himself was the one killing Emily. Then he shut up and stopped shaking him. He stared past John
, mouth hanging open.

  Out of the darkness, Eric Sheafer appeared in the water next to them and swung mightily against the side of his nephew's head with the butt of a large pistol.

  John was dropped by limp hands as Ed toppled sideways into the lake water.

  He landed on his feet and, while Eric made sure Ed was no longer a threat, John went to Emily, who was struggling to stand up outside her car. She was having a lot of trouble and her efforts were feeble. She swung something at him weakly.

  He dodged back, registering it as a tire iron as it blew past his face. Snatching it with his left hand, he struggled with her for only an instant. He said, "It's me, Emily. John. Come on. Let me help you." With her no longer fighting, he reached under her arms.

  "Oh!" she exclaimed in pain. But, when he shrank back, she said, "Please. Keep helping me. I…can't make it on my own."

  "Um, okay. I'll try not to hurt you."

  "Just--" She had to stop to cough, grunting from the hurt it caused. "Just get me out of this damned lake."

  As they passed Eric, she said, "Shoot the bastard."

  "I might," he answered.

  Then they were stumbling up to knee-high deep, then at the bank.

  Emily nodded and gasped out something that sounded like gratefulness as she pulled from his arms. She exclaimed loudly as she plopped on the dirt, holding an arm against her side.

  His own strength, so recently challenged by illness, was done and he dropped next to her. In a moment he put an arm carefully over her and found her to be shivering violently.

  "We need to get you warm," he said.

  "Ye-ye-yeah. Whataboud Dad?"

  John looked out and saw Eric dragging an unconscious Ed to the bank.