How could I have been such a fucking idiot? So blind? I didn’t have a clue. Not an inkling. I’ve often wondered who the man behind the mask was. I thought maybe it was ex-Olympian runner Salvatore Rossetti. I’d met him a few times in person, and he was always cordial. He was even the right height and build. The age was wrong, he’s in his late forties, but I figured he just replaced the previous Justice when that Justice retired. I wasn’t wrong on that front, I guess. J.T., Justin’s father, must have been Justice before, and his father before him. Guess old J.T. didn’t die of a heart attack. It must have been in that battle with Ache. I watched in horror with my Pop as that giant snapped Justice’s neck and tossed him off that boat. They never found the body. About ten years later he resurfaced. Same costume, same powers, claiming he was traveling the world. We all knew the truth, but went along with the lie. Is that what I’ve been doing? Living in denial?
There were signs, there had to have been signs. All those times we were hanging out and he got a call. “Business emergency,” he’d say. There were a lot of those. Or the times I’d be walking around the mansion and one second he wasn’t there, and then he was. Just appeared, chalking it up to his “stealth ninja training,” he’d say with a laugh. Or the way he’d grow uncomfortable when I’d badmouth supers. The annoying way Justice would single me out for conversation or protection. Or the countless times it seemed like he wanted to tell me something but chickened out. Or a hundred other fucking clues I chose to ignore or was too stupid to notice.
He lied to me. Lied to me for our entire friendship, about a fundamental part of his life. Himself. He didn’t trust me. He’s never trusted me. Everything I thought we had, everything I thought we meant to each other was just bullshit. All in my head. Why didn’t he tell me? Why wasn’t I smart enough to see what was right in front of my face?
“Joanna?” Harry asks, and I think for not the first time. He shakes me by the shoulders. “Jo!”
I snap out of my haze to see my confused and angry boss staring at me, looking for answers that I just don’t have. Without a word I stand, push my way past the men, and sprint out of the squad room, not even waiting for the elevator. I have the wherewithal to grab my purse, but when I get outside I realize I don’t have a fucking car. I all but body slam some bureaucrat for his cab. I have twenty minutes of driving while I try to wrap my head around twenty years of lies.
The anger and humiliation grow with each passing mile. I’m shaking again, especially when we drive over Pendergast Bridge. He appeared by my side like magic, and I thought nothing of it. You were the first person he saved… Lucy said that. I thought she was drunk. She knew. Dobbs too. And Rebecca? Did he tell her? Did she know what she died for? Of course she did. He probably told her on the second date. Twenty fucking years.
The press pounces when I get out of the cab. I ignore them, punching in the code and running through the gate before I deck one of them. Dobbs is at the front door, but I rush past him without a word. He calls after me, but I ignore him. Liar.
My destination is the living room. Justin has disappeared from in here more than any other room. I would walk in looking for him, check the empty room, and then a few seconds later he’d stroll out claiming he was on the patio or at the beach. I’m such a fucking idiot.
Back in my hero worshiping days I read every article I could on Justice. My collection of clippings rivaled Alkaline’s. One was about his command center. He wouldn’t give the location, but said it had a lab for evidence analysis, gym, and super-computer with access to every law enforcement database, CCTV in the city, and communication system hooked up to it so if he’s in the field he can access the information right away. He’s better equipped than the entire department. If it’s here, I’ll find it.
I start at the bar first, checking under every surface for a button or switch. Not on the bar, not in the cabinets, not under any painting. I’ve just started tossing the movies on the floor when Dobbs and Lucy rush in. “Joanna, what in the hell are you doing?” Lucy asks.
I keep going. “Looking.”
There’s a buzz from the front gate. Lucy gestures for Dobbs to go and he does. She steps toward me. “What are you looking for?”
I whip my head to the side, giving her the look of death. “You know.”
Her face slowly falls. I’ve seen that look a hundred times on a perp, right when they know I’ve caught them. Guilt and fear, usually so satisfying, now just sickens me. We stare at each other, and to her credit she doesn’t leave my punishing gaze. Her shoulders slump and she nods. I just watch as she walks toward the fireplace and reaches into it. A second later, the entire stone structure moves to the side. I find myself gasping and holding my hands over my mouth. Tears appear in my eyes, and I almost double over as if I was just sucker punched. “I’m so sorry, Joanna.”
I guess I didn’t believe it until this very moment. No way he’d do this to me. Not him. Not ever. He was the only person I could trust. I’d do anything for him. I thought it was a two-way street. I spin around from Lucy, not wanting her to see me like this or look at the fucking hole in the wall. I will not cry. I will not. I take a few deep breaths, pushing down sad and making room for fury. When I’m composed enough, I turn around and stalk into that hole.
It’s cold in here. Dark. The only light comes from the bulbs every few feet as I walk down a metal ramp. I must be underground in the cliff. The ramp twists around a corner where the light is brighter. Then I’m in it, Justice’s Command Center with the man himself sitting with his back to me in front of a computer monitor. It’s one of three on the bank with two rows of TVs in the wall above them, all with real-time streaming footage from around town. It’s smaller in here than I imagined, maybe the size of the library upstairs. I thought it’d be as big as the mansion for some reason. There isn’t much in here either. A big black couch, a rack with a gaggle of costumes, a whiteboard covered with papers, crime scene photos, and reports. A red light flickers above. There are two doors on the far wall, one maybe to the lab and who knows about the other. In between them is another ramp exit, with a third next to the whiteboard. Not very homey.
“I know. Dobbs called down,” Justin says but doesn’t turn around. “I’m busy.”
I start shaking again, fingernails drawing blood in my palms. I hug myself. None of this helps. He’s sitting there nonchalantly in his hidden fortress hard at work on his secret life while I’m falling apart not ten feet from him. I can’t talk. I can’t move. I’m stuck here in this fucking depressing room with the man who shattered my everything.
After five seconds of silence, his head tilts to the side. His back straightens and his neck elongates. He feels my hatred as if I’m screaming it at him. Slowly, he swivels around, face filled with shock and fear. The moment our eyes meet, it turns into sadness. Sadness for me or for him, I don’t know. Yesterday I’d say the former, but sure as hell not today. He leaps out of the chair and for some reason I take a step back.
“I’m not…I…” he says, holding up his hand to reassure me.
He’s hurt. I’ve hurt him? That’s it for me. I snap.
I bridge the gap between us at a rate even he wouldn’t be able to achieve. My hand connects hard on his gorgeous face. “You son of a bitch! You son of a bitch!” It’s like hitting a slab of granite, but that doesn’t stop me from doing it again. And again. “You motherfucker!” Small smudges of my blood smear his face. I keep hitting and hitting him wildly with my fists now on his shoulders, chest, and face. “You piece of shit! I hate you! I fucking hate you!” I shriek at the top of my lungs. He grabs my flailing arms and I try to pull away. “Don’t touch me! Don’t you fucking touch me!”
He tries to pull me into a hug. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he pleads.
“Let me go! Let me go, you bastard!”
His arms wrap me into a bear hug, so I’m pressed against his chest. “I’m sorry. Please. Please.” He hugs me even tighter.
For a moment I relent, clinging onto his
shirt and breathing in his familiar scent I used to get lost in. This is my best friend. My essential person. But he’s not. He never was. “No!” I break away, sickened by his touch. “Stay away from me!”
“Just let me ex—”
“No!” I shout, holding out a finger to stop him from coming closer as I back away. “No. We have nothing to say to each other. Ever again. You stay the hell away from me. You don’t talk to me, you don’t look for me, you don’t even think about me. You are dead to me. If you ever come near me again, I’ll turn you over to Alkaline myself, I swear to fucking God!”
“Jo, please just—”
“If you ever gave a damn about me, just stay away. Just…go to hell.”
I turn around and run out, past Lucy, Cam, and Harry who stand at the entrance all shocked by our scene. Footsteps follow me. When I climb out of that hole, I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding and take another. I’m gasping as if I’ve just run miles. Harry emerges from the darkness. “Jo—”
“Don’t. Don’t,” I say breathlessly. “Just don’t do…anything.” I take a few more ragged breaths. “I can’t do this. I can’t.” I’m close to hyperventilating. My chest hurts and I see spots. This must be a panic attack. I’m going to pass out in a minute, and I don’t even mind.
Harry rushes over to my side, hugging me. “Calm down,” he whispers as he pets my hair. “I’m here. It’s okay, I’m here. Just breathe.”
I force the air in and out and after a few seconds it’s back to normal. “Please get me out of here.”
“Of course.”
I lean on him as he walks me out of that house.
***
Harry drives me home in my car, which I was last in when I drove it over from Rebecca’s house a lifetime ago. A week hasn’t even passed and since then I’ve lost and regained a boyfriend, planned a funeral, made out with my dream man, been shot, and found out that my best friend lied about who he is. I need a vacation.
I’m lying in my own bed on my side, knees pulled into my chest. It helps with the pain. The adrenaline has worn off and now my ribs ache like hell. There’s a bruise the size of a fist every color of the damn rainbow. The Oxycodone left over from my root canal manages the worst of it and blurs the edges of my life. Maybe I’ll switch from booze to pills. Fewer calories at least.
Harry walks back in with a cup of tea as he flips his phone shut. In between long calls to the station, he’s been coming in and out to check on me, bringing food and kisses as if I had the flu. It’s sweet, nobody’s ever done this for me, but it’s driving me nuts. He sets the tea down and sits on the bed, gazing down at me. We smile at each other. “Who was on the phone this time?”
“Mirabelle. They’ve just finished at Dodd’s apartment. They found a writing sample of Jane Smith. Latent’s working on it now. And your guard friend Bryan’s been released.”
“Kowalski get anything useful from Denny Darcy?”
“Not really. He was hired by Mike Spencer, just passed notes and pills. Never met Jane, has no idea where Ryder is.”
“Of course he doesn’t,” I sigh. “Did Mirabelle mention anything about, you know?”
“We have Dodd in isolation, so so far the only people who know are you, me, Cam, and Chip. I’m going to have to tell the Commish, though. If he doesn’t know already, that is.”
“Probably not. I mean if he didn’t tell me, his so-called best friend, he sure as hell didn’t tell Craven.” I scoff. “Or he did. For all I know he’s told everyone in Galilee but me.” Harry takes my hand and I wrap my fingers in his. “Have you spoken to Cam yet?”
“When you were in the bathroom. He’s back at the station with all the evidence Justic—I mean, Justin provided. They might have a lead on the car the shooters were driving. The whole shoot out was caught on CCTV. Got a license plate, but lost the car when it went into an underground garage. We’ll see what we find there.”
“At least some good came out of this mess.” I pull my hand away with a sigh. “You should go. They need you down there. The case is breaking now.”
“I don’t want to leave you alone.”
“There’s a cruiser out front, and I’m sure my guards will track me down soon enough.”
“I’m not talking about that, and you know it.”
I look away from his well-meaning face. “I’ll be okay. I just need time to process, I think.”
“Jo, I—”
“I can’t talk about it right now, okay? I just can’t. Seriously, go. You can’t really do anything for me here. Not really. You need to fix this. There’s still a psycho out there gunning for me, and I don’t have the energy to go after him right now. You’ll have to do the job for both of us. Go. I’ll be fine.”
I’m touched by his reluctance to leave my side, but we both know he’s needed more there than here. This is my second cup of tea, and I didn’t even touch the first. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely, yes. Go.”
Reluctantly, he stands up. “I’d feel better if you’d let me take you back to my place.”
“I want to sleep in my own bed, watch my own TV, and stare out my own window. I’ll be fine.”
“I’ll post another patrol car out front until the guards arrive.”
“I feel safer already.”
He leans down and kisses me. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” We kiss again before he walks to the door, and a few seconds later I hear the front door close and lock.
Alone at last, thank the Lord. I sigh but then wince in pain. Stupid gunshot wound. I’ve never been shot before. Despite what the shows portray, very few of us ever get involved in shoot-outs. Most only draw their side arms about ten times with the intent to shoot, but never pull the trigger. Of course they also never have an acid-throwing psychopath after them because their best friend is a superhero. Or ex-best friend, I guess. Maybe Alkaline will leave me alone if I shoot the bastard myself. The enemy of my enemy and all that.
No, it’s time to flee. I have come to the decision that I need to get the fuck out of this town ASAP. I should have listened to everyone and left the moment I saw that picture on the door. I wouldn’t have been shot, humiliated, and broken hearted. I’d still have my best friend, bastard fucking liar that he is.
I’m thinking Fiji. Get a bungalow, burn in the sun, maybe rent a sailboat and go scuba diving. When Harry can join me, he can rub suntan lotion on my back. I’ll send the bill to the bastard fucking liar who made me go to ground. It’ll be the last time he hears from me.
I manage to get up and shuffle into the kitchenette to forage for food. There’s a few apples, bread, moldy tuna, and peanut butter. I go for apples and peanut butter and stumble to the couch. Nothing on TV about the shoot out or me. I settle on a vampire movie to assuage my blood lust. I keep alternating between intense anger and bottomless despair with a sprinkling of humiliation thrown in.
As the busty woman gives herself to the dead man, and I find the most expensive hotel in Fiji, there’s a knock on my front door. I damn near drop my laptop in surprise. No one buzzed to come up, but I doubt Alkaline would knock. Can’t be too careful though. Not only do I get my spare gun, but I even throw on the coat. If I had realized I was still wearing it on the ride home, I would have thrown it out the window. I’ll toss it in the trash at the airport instead.
I look out the peephole and roll my eyes. Crap. I wish it was Alkaline. I put the gun on the counter and unlock the door. “How the hell did you get in here?”
Lucy stands in the hall, as usual lips pursed with disapproval. Bryan and Geoff loom behind her, looking scary as always. “We own the building,” Lucy says. “May I come in?” She doesn’t wait for a response.
I shut the door. “Guess it’s time for me to move then.”
She glances around the living room, not liking the décor. “Are they all like this?”
“Well, the owners are kind of assholes, so yeah.” I put my hands on my hips. “What the hell do you want?”
“I’ve come as a goodwill ambassador to explain.”
“You can shove your goodwill and your explanation. All I want from you and your freak of a nephew is for you to forget you ever met me.”
“We’re your family.”
My mouth slacks open, and I begin to chuckle. “Family? Oh my God, you did not just say that. Not even you are that cruel.”
“We had our reasons, Joanna.”
“Sure you did. Everyone always has their reasons. The reason my mom drank was she had a disease. The reason some punk shot my dad was that he needed money. The reason Ryder liquefied three innocent people was he was pissed off that he lost.” I shrug. “So yeah, I’m sure you all had your reasons. But my parents are both dead. Rebecca, Daisy, and Marnie too. My so-called family, people who supposedly loved and trusted me, have been lying to me from day one. So fuck your reasons!”
“You have every right to be angry. I know you see this as a betrayal.”
“Got another word for it?”
“But we lied to protect you.”
“So you were being cruel to be kind.” I fold my arms across my chest. “Yeah, I’ve heard that one before too.”
“Do you know what you were like when we first met? A hate-spewing, prejudiced, angry girl who found a scapegoat in Justin’s dead father for her own. Not much has changed through the years. Do you have any idea how hurtful that was for him to hear? To endure from his best friend?”
She’s right on that front. My back straightens. “Ever think my opinion might have changed had I known?”
“He wanted to tell you. A thousand times. He did. I’m the one who convinced him early on not to. That you wouldn’t understand. Then the years went by and it became harder and harder to tell you for this exact reason. And if you really think about it objectively, you didn’t really need to know. It had no bearing on your life or friendship up until now.”
“Did he tell her?”
“It’s not a competition, Joanna.”
“He did. He trusted her and not me. And then…I’ve been torturing myself, thinking this whole mess was my fault. He knew that and let me go on thinking it.”
Justice (The Galilee Falls Trilogy) Page 25
