Justice Returns: A Private Investigator Mystery Series (A Jake & Annie Lincoln Thriller Book 6)

by Rayven T. Hill

  About This Book

  In this much-requested sequel to Blood and Justice, the first book in the series, private investigators, Jake and Annie Lincoln, are drawn into double jeopardy when a serial killer escapes from prison and hires them to find out who killed his parents, and why.

  The detectives' own lives are at stake when they find themselves caught in a dangerous and deadly situation, torn between their moral obligation to investigate the cold case murders of the two innocent victims, and to catch the cold-blooded killer who hired them.

  JUSTICE RETURNS

  Rayven T. Hill

  Published by

  Ray of Joy Publishing

  Toronto

  Dedication & Acknowledgements

  Thanks to Merry Jones for her hours of editing and proofreading. Many thanks to my beta readers, whose comments, suggestions, and insight, have helped streamline this story and smooth out a few bumps. And not least, thanks to my wife for her patience. (1001)

  Connect with the Author

  You can go to my Web Site to contact me, or sign up for my newsletter to get updates on future releases.

  Follow me on Facebook, Twitter or contact me by eMail at rayven@rayventhill.com.

  Even though this book has been thoroughly edited, typos or factual errors may have been missed. Please eMail me if you find any errors.

  Books by Rayven T. Hill

  Blood and Justice

  Cold Justice

  Justice for Hire

  Captive Justice

  Justice Overdue

  Justice Returns

  Personal Justice (Coming Next)

  Table of Contents

  About this Book

  Dedication

  Connect with the Author

  Books by Rayven T. Hill

  CHAPTERS

  A Note to the Reader | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40 | 41 | 42 | 43 | 44 | 45 | 46 | 47 | 48 | 49 | 50 | 51 | 52 | 53 | Epilogue

  Also by Rayven T. Hill

  Coming Next

  About the Author

  Tell Your Friends About Justice Returns

  A Note to the Reader

  Justice Returns is the sequel to the first book in the series, Blood and Justice. It’s not necessary to have read it to understand and enjoy this book, but Blood and Justice is Free on Amazon so why not read it first?

  Chapter 1

  Monday, 3:12 PM

  JEREMY SPENCER glanced over as two prisoners sitting across from him got up and scurried away. He dropped his book on the high pressure, laminate table and spun around. Hindle was headed across the day room, aiming to punish him with a world of hurt. Again.

  Hindle was an agitator who started fights with weaker prisoners just for the enjoyment his sick mind got from it. One of his usual targets was Jeremy, and today was one of those days.

  He jumped to his feet as the tyrant cruised toward him, bent forward as if on a mission, flanked by a pair of lookouts. Jeremy could make out the scar running from Hindle’s one good eye, almost to his chin. That scar hadn’t taught Hindle any sense, but had earned him a good deal of deference among the weak.

  Hindle was new meat who hadn’t called out the wrong prisoner yet. When he did, he would be forced to learn some respect, or die. Jeremy, at five feet, three inches tall, didn’t feel qualified to teach Hindle that respect, but he stood his ground and waited.

  Jeremy had learned quickly that punking out wasn’t an option. Inmates who show cowardice are marked, beaten, and abused, and though his throat restricted at the sight of Hindle, he was no coward.

  “Heard you been bad-mouthing me, Spencer.”

  Normally, Jeremy would’ve laughed at the big goon’s high-pitched voice, but right now things were too serious. He looked up at the freak towering over him by a foot and tried to control the quiver in his voice. “I never said anything about you, Hindle. No. I never said anything.”

  A deep rumble came from Hindle’s throat as he reached out with two beefy fingers and poked at Jeremy’s chest, spinning him halfway around. Jeremy wrapped his fist around the fingers, twisted them backwards, and kicked his tormentor in the groin.

  Hindle groaned, his eyes widened, and he bent over, his hands cupping the injured area. Then he howled as his clenched fist came up, catching his opponent on the side of the head.

  Jeremy wavered, his mind spun, and he connected with the concrete floor. The back of his head felt like it was hit with a battering ram and his eyesight went black for a few moments. He heard voices, sounding like nothing more than a mumble, and then his mind cleared. He blinked several times as his sight slowly returned.

  He could barely make out Hindle’s voice. “You’re a dead man, Spencer.” Then a canvas sneaker connected with his forehead. Jeremy brought his arms up to protect himself from further punishment as Hindle knelt on one knee, a fist cocked and ready to mash him into pulp.

  He rolled to one side as the massive bundle of flesh and bone descended. Hindle howled with pain as his fist hit the floor, clipping Jeremy’s ear on the way down.

  The goon cursed and a shank appeared in his hand. Jeremy lay on his back, staring up at Hindle’s ugly face, now twisted into rage. “Like I said, Spencer. You’re a dead man.”

  As the homemade weapon descended toward Jeremy’s chest, he heard a sickening crack and a huge foot connected with Hindle’s arm, driving it upwards and mashing it into his attacker’s face. The shank flew through the air and clattered on the painted concrete. Hindle hit the floor beside it, flat on his back.

  Blood poured from Hindle’s nose; it was probably broken again. His arm was twisted at a grotesque angle, almost certainly broken as well. He would be spending some time in the prison infirmary.

  Jeremy shook his head and blinked a couple of times. That was the closest call yet. “Thanks, Moe,” he said in a hoarse voice, as a hand grabbed his and pulled him roughly to his feet.

  Moe looked down at Jeremy with a grin that threatened to take over his face, his tiny eyes, tucked deep into their sockets, almost disappearing. “Hindle won’t try that again for a while.”

  The lookouts wandered away with the rest of the prisoners, the show over. Moe and Jeremy stepped away and slouched backward at the table as a pair of hacks rushed over, batons in their hand, glaring at the onlookers. They knew better than to ask who was responsible. Throwdowns took place regularly, and even in the crowded day room, nobody ever saw what happened. Snitches would be rewarded with swift, violent retribution.

  “You saved my life that time, Moe,” Jeremy said, worry in his voice. It wasn’t the first time he’d thanked his friend for being there when he needed him.

  Moe grunted. “Long as I’m around you’ll be ok.”

  “That’s what I’m worried about,” Jeremy said. “What am I gonna do after you’re gone?”

  “I got friends here who owe me.” Moe glanced around the room. “I’ll speak to them.”

  An alarm sounded. “Lock it down,” one of the hacks screamed.

  As the prisoners ambled to their cells, Jeremy glanced back at the injured man on the floor, rolling and moaning in pain. Moe had saved his butt again, but it may be just a matter of time.

  Before Jeremy met Moe he hated tier time. He’d been a house mouse, rarely wandering from his cell to the day room. But even there, his dignity, privacy, and control, were given up to hacks, and
the simplest necessities were luxuries.

  Though Jeremy knew he wasn’t psychotic, his occasional trips to the ding wing to see the prison shrink were his only reprieve from the isolation and boredom of this place. But he wasn’t crazy and he knew it. He was pretty sure they knew it too, but he played along with their little game. It was a break that got him away from the real nuts for a while.

  He didn’t mind the shrink’s idle chatter and her wild fantasies about what made him tick. Most of the time. Except when she started talking about his mother. His mother was a wonderful woman and it bothered him when the shrink mentioned her as if she’d caused some kind of problem in his life. He wasn’t the problem, they were. And he had no problems except one. He was stuck in prison and he couldn’t make them understand he didn’t belong here.

  Prison was killing him physically and psychologically—it was a living death, like being buried alive. And he had a mission.

  He had tried to fulfill his mission here but it wasn’t as easy as he’d thought. Everyone was bigger than he and if it hadn’t have been for Moe, he would’ve been mincemeat by now.

  Fate played a hand in that. He firmly believed it.

  The stupid shrink called him a serial killer at one point, and though Jeremy didn’t often get angry—except for righteous anger—he almost lost it. He tried to explain and finally gave up. She didn’t understand and he didn’t feel like wasting more time trying to convince her.

  Moe was the only one who understood him and the only person he could truly call a friend. Without Moe to watch his back, he was in danger—maybe as good as dead already.

  His cellie took care of him and Jeremy was grateful, but fearful. Moe was getting out soon and then he would be vulnerable.

  There was only one logical option. He had to get out of this place. Now.

  Chapter 2

  Monday, 5:42 PM

  ANNIE SAT ON THE back deck sipping ice-cold lemonade as she watched her boys play a game of one-on-one soccer.

  The smallest one, eight-year-old Matty, gave the ball a powerful kick sending it into the net at an impossible angle. Her other boy, her six-foot-four husband, dove for the ball, skidding across the grass in a failed attempt to stop the goal.

  A fist bump later they rested on the grass, panting for breath, their laughter reaching Annie’s ears.

  Her work for the day was finished, taking care of a few phone messages that went unanswered over the weekend, scheduling in client needs that were faxed or emailed in, and taking care of some online banking. Everything else could wait until tomorrow.

  Annie and her husband called themselves private investigators. When Jake was laid off due to cutbacks, Annie’s part-time research business was expanded into more than fact-finding, stakeouts, and background checks. The newly formed company had stumbled into many of the more frightening aspects of investigation—taking down killers, con men, and kidnappers.

  Lincoln Investigations was born, and they never looked back.

  The game now over, Jake and Matty wandered up to the deck and dropped into chairs. Annie poured a round of lemonade and the guys downed it eagerly.

  Jake looked at his watch. “Our guests will be here soon. We’d better get ready.”

  “I’ve done my part,” Annie said. “All you need to do is cook the burgers.”

  Jake glanced over at the barbecue and shrugged. “It won’t take me long to fire that up. I’ll wait until they get here.”

  As if on cue, the front doorbell rang. Matty jumped to his feet and dashed in the back door. He returned a few moments later followed by Hank and Amelia. Sixteen-year-old Jenny trailed behind.

  Jake stood and shook hands with the cop, slid some chairs over for the newcomers, and they sat down.

  Jake and Hank had been friends for as long as Annie remembered. Hank wanted to be a cop, but Jake decided to go to University of Toronto, coincidentally, as soon as Annie enrolled. Jake ended up as a construction engineer, a job he’d stayed with until he was laid off.

  Having a cop for a friend came in handy for many of their investigations. Of course, there was a limit to information the detective could share, but whenever their paths crossed during a case Hank didn’t hesitate to help out. It gave the cop a few more notches in his belt and Captain Diego didn’t argue as long as Hank got results.

  Amelia sat and leaned toward Annie. “I heard you had quite a harrowing weekend.”

  Annie took a deep breath and her mouth twisted into a grimace. “That’s an understatement. I don’t think I want to go through that again.”

  Jake spoke up. “If the law would allow us to carry weapons, I’d feel an awful lot safer.”

  “Maybe you should’ve become a cop instead,” Hank said.

  “I like being self-employed,” Jake said. “And working with Annie.”

  “I’m on Jake’s side,” Amelia said. “After Jenny was abducted, things may have worked out a lot more smoothly if you carried protection.” She smiled gently at Annie. “Nonetheless, you got my daughter back safely and I’m grateful for that.”

  Annie turned to Jenny. “We haven’t seen a lot of you since then. How’re you making out—emotionally I mean?”

  Jenny gave a small sigh. “I’m actually doing well now. Everybody has been so supportive. Sometimes I have a bad dream, but rarely.” She touched her mother’s arm and laughed. “I don’t think it’s done any permanent damage to either one of us.”

  Jake slugged Hank on the shoulder. “Time to get the barbecue heated up. Want to give me a hand?”

  Hank nodded and the guys went to the other end of the deck where the Master Chef awaited. Soon, flames licked at the grill as it heated up and the smell of charcoal filled the air.

  Matty grew bored with the talk and wandered out to the back yard. “I’m going to see Kyle,” he called.

  Kyle was the seven-year-old son of Annie’s next-door neighbor and best friend, Chrissy. Matty and Kyle had been fast friends since they were old enough to talk.

  “Come back in ten minutes. We’ll be eating soon,” Annie called, and then turned to Amelia. “So tell me, how’re things between you and Hank?”

  “Just fine,” Amelia said.

  Annie laughed. “You know what I mean. Is it getting serious?”

  “Yes, it’s getting serious,” Jenny interrupted, and giggled. “They can’t get enough of each other. You should see the two of them sometimes. All googly-eyed as if nobody else in the world exists.”

  Amelia slapped Jenny gently on the hand and said in mock indignation, “We’re not quite that bad.”

  “Oh, yes they are,” Jenny said. “Don’t let her fool you. She’s worse than a teenager around that man.”

  Amelia looked sideways at Hank, a look of admiration on her face. “He’s been good for me.”

  Jenny gave a lopsided smile and rolled her eyes. “My mother has such a way of understating things.”

  Annie laughed. “I think you’re right, Jenny. I can see it in her eyes. She’s smitten.”

  Hank called over, “What’s the joke there?”

  “You wouldn’t understand,” Annie called back.

  Hank shrugged and dropped some burgers on the sizzling grill. Flames shot up and then died.

  “I guess it’s time we got the food on the table,” Annie said. “The burgers will be done soon.”

  Chapter 3

  Monday, 6:11 PM

  JEREMY SAT ON his bunk, his back to the concrete wall, and drew his feet up. A stingy amount of early evening sun seeped through the small, plexiglass window and dissipated on the painted floor.

  He looked over at his friend slouched on the cot along the opposite wall of their eight by eight foot cell. “You took a big chance for me today,” he said.

  Moe shrugged. “It had to be, Little Buddy.”

  “If they’d caught you in the middle of the throwdown, you wouldn’t be getting out of here today. No, you surely wouldn’t.”

  Moe grinned wide. “But they didn’t catch me, and ev
en if they did I couldn’t let him take you out. He was going for you serious this time. And anyways, them hacks don’t like Hindle. They wouldn’t care so much if I killed him.”

  Jeremy sighed wearily. “They don’t seem to like me either.”

  “They don’t much like any of us. That’s the way it is. Just the way the system works. You don’t do what they say and they hate you. Even if you do what they say, they hate you still.” Moe shrugged a long shrug and sighed. “I guess life’s like that inside as well as outside, least by my experience. I can’t recall any time, until I met you, anybody really cared for me. Leastways not after my granny died, and I don’t even think she liked me much. Took care of me is all.”

  “Might be like that for everybody,” Jeremy said. “I know I always tried to do the right thing before I came here, and still—look where I am.” Jeremy paused. “I had a good mother, though, and a good father. But they both died on me, and my grandmother was probably as mean as yours. She died before my parents, but I remember her always being nasty to me.”

  “Doesn’t seem to be fair somehow,” Moe said.

  “Nope. It sure doesn’t.”

  “Only time I had a job is when somebody needed something done, like, beat a guy up and stuff like that. That’s why I always end up in here again.”

  “Because when they hired you,” Jeremy said. “They didn’t care what happened to you. They were out for what they could get and that’s all they cared about.”

  Moe nodded. “That’s for sure. Shucks, I’m leaning toward forty years old and ain’t never even had a girlfriend.” His shoulders slumped and he laughed out of self-pity. “Even the kind of girls you have to pay for, didn’t ever wanna be with me.” He forced a grin. “Guess I’m too ugly for them.”