Justice Delayed

by Patricia Bradley

  He glanced around the room. What he was looking for could be anywhere. He tapped the fireplace mantel to see if it had a false board, but no, it was solid. He was batting zero for the night. First he hadn’t found anything at the studio, and now nothing at Andi’s apartment.

  He clenched his jaw and flipped open a pocketknife, slashing the cushions and chairs. They had to be here somewhere. He stormed into the bathroom and grabbed a lipstick container. He jerked the shower curtain back and left her a message.

  He wanted those diamonds.

  See, God, I don’t need you to help me. I can do it myself. And just watch me. I’m going to save Chloe.

  The blaring of a car horn jerked her out of her thoughts.

  Disoriented, Andi looked through the windshield. Red light! She slammed the brakes, skidding the car sideways into the intersection. The other car whizzed past on the wrong side of the road, the driver bearing down on the horn.

  The car had almost creamed her. Shaking, Andi moved her Corolla out of the intersection and pulled into a vacant lot.

  Where was she? She shook her head to clear it, and her focus sharpened. The clock on the dashboard read 11:45. She was in her car, gripping the steering wheel. She opened the door and tried to get out, but the seat belt held her tight. She bent over, fumbling with the catch, and sweat dripped off her forehead onto her hand. Finally the seat belt came loose and she stumbled out of the car.

  The night air hit her clammy skin, and she shivered. Not because she was cold but because she had no idea where she was or how she got here. Unless it was the Lortabs. How many had she taken? She couldn’t remember. Her hands shook, and she wrapped her arms across her body, tucking her fingers under her arms. She was so thirsty.

  Andi reached back in the car for a bottle of water to wet her dry mouth. The other car had missed her, which was a miracle. She scanned the area. Which way was home?

  She felt in her pocket and almost cried when her fingers closed around her phone. Andi climbed back into the car. She pushed the center button on her phone, and a message popped up. What can I help you with?

  “Directions home.” Thank goodness she’d programmed her home address in the phone.

  When she pulled into the driveway, she was a total emotional wreck, and by the time she climbed the stairs to her apartment, she was a physical one. Without turning on a light, she set the alarm and went straight to bed.

  She’d deal with this in the morning.

  26

  AT FIVE THE NEXT MORNING, Will’s alarm went off, and he crawled out of bed. He’d fought the bed all night, at times dreaming about diamonds.

  Will had a hunch that the four flight attendants were involved in smuggling. Jillian had disappeared, Stephanie and Lacey were dead, and Laura refused to help with the stay of execution. If this were true, it would blow the case wide open. But he had to find evidence linking the diamonds to the deaths.

  His first stop of the day was Stephanie’s studio. There hadn’t been enough time yesterday to really go over it, and it made sense that if there was any evidence still lying around, it would be there.

  More than likely no one would be home, but unless things had changed, a key to the house was under a planter on the back porch. He could retrieve the key to the studio from the keys hanging on a peg in the washroom off the kitchen and not bother anyone.

  At seven, Will pulled into the Hollister drive. What was Brad’s car doing here? Maybe he was staying with his mom. Will wouldn’t blame him with everything that was going on. He looked for the Hollisters’ sedan. Not here, which meant Mrs. Hollister had already left for the hospital, or it was in the garage. He hoped she wasn’t here. Other than Andi, Barbara Hollister was the last person he wanted to see after last night.

  He’d always had a close relationship with her, mostly because she was so involved in her children’s lives, and he was always with Brad. Will didn’t remember her ever missing a ball game or an award ceremony when they were in school. She’d even come to a couple of his games when Brad wasn’t playing.

  Why hadn’t Cass loved him? The question caught him off guard, before he could block it or the pain it brought. He steeled his heart against more pain, but it was too late. The floodgates had opened.

  What was wrong with him that his own mother hadn’t loved him? And if she couldn’t love him, no one else would. Probably not even God. No. He knew that was a lie. Will’s problem was with people on earth.

  He had to get out of the car and away from these thoughts. But they followed him as he went to get the morning paper in the drive, only now his thoughts were focused on Andi. Before her father’s outburst, he’d actually harbored a hope that she might care about him, and not like a brother.

  Last night when she walked into her mother’s kitchen and smiled at him, she lit up his world. For the first time, he fully realized he wanted her in his life.

  His cell dinged a text, and he checked his phone. His mother.

  I need to see you today.

  He texted her back.

  Can’t today. Going to Nashville.

  She’d be disappointed, but how many times had she disappointed him? Why couldn’t she have been more like Barbara Hollister?

  Can you give me five minutes on the phone?

  I’m sorry, but I’m really busy.

  His finger hovered over send. When he was a kid and so angry with Cass, he’d dreamed of this day. Her wanting to spend time with him and him getting even for all the times she’d been too busy for him.

  Her gaunt frame flashed in his mind’s eye, and his body stilled. Getting even. Was that what he was doing? He lifted his gaze. Light, hazy clouds streaked the morning sky, and the sun warmed his face. Maybe he could meet her halfway. He deleted the text.

  Can I call you in about an hour when I’m on the road? Shouldn’t have any distractions then.

  He hit send.

  A second later, a smiley face popped up.

  He picked up the paper and started to the back door when Barbara rounded the corner from the back of the house.

  Her hand flew to her chest. “Oh my goodness!”

  “I’m sorry. Here’s your paper.” Once he handed it to her, his hands seemed to be in the way, and he stuck them in his pockets. “Is Mr. Hollister all right?”

  “Yes. We were blessed to discover the blockage. The doctor called it a widow maker. I think Tom’ll come home later today. Where did you go last night? Tom wanted to talk to you.”

  “Home,” he said, not looking at her.

  “I see. Have you had breakfast?”

  “Just coffee, but I’m not hungry.” He stared at the tops of his shoes, wanting to ask if Andi was here. “I just stopped by to check out something.”

  “Here?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Well, whatever it is, I think you need to have breakfast first. You can eat with Brad, and it’ll be like old times.”

  She didn’t leave him much choice, and he followed her.

  At the corner of the house, she stopped. “Will, about last night. I—”

  “Let’s just forget it ever happened,” Will said, ducking his head.

  “I just wanted to say, I’d be proud if you wanted to date Andi.”

  He wasn’t sure he heard her right and he looked up, catching her smile. “Thank you, but I don’t think Andi—”

  “Nonsense. I’ve seen the way she looks at you.”

  He didn’t know what to say and followed her inside through the back door to the kitchen. He nodded to Brad, who sat at the table with a mug in his hand.

  “Andi’s not here,” Barbara said, slipping her hand into a red oven mitt. “She went home last night and Brad stayed here with me, even though I told him he didn’t have to. Biscuits are coming out in one minute.”

  When his mother turned to the stove, Brad shot Will a look he knew well. His friend had something he wanted to talk about but not in front of his mother.

  She slid a cookie sheet from the oven and placed
it on a trivet then set plates with scrambled eggs and bacon in front of the men. “You never said what you wanted to check on.”

  “It’s something Brad can help me with.” Will buttered a biscuit and bit into it. “Mmm. This is so good. You should open a restaurant, Mrs. Hollister.”

  “Thank you, but you wouldn’t be changing the subject, would you?” she said, lifting her eyebrows.

  “No, ma’am.” He focused on his plate and noticed Brad did the same.

  Barbara disappeared down the hall. A few minutes later, she returned and set her purse on the counter while she hooked an earring in her earlobe. “Have either of you heard from Andi?”

  “I haven’t,” Brad said, and Will echoed him.

  “That’s strange. She usually calls by now,” she said. “I’ll phone her from the hospital.”

  Will swallowed down the dread that rose in his throat.

  Brad shook his head. “She’s probably just sleeping in. Last night was pretty hard on all of us.” He pushed back from the table. “Should I go with you?”

  “No, just come by this afternoon. Otherwise . . . well, you know your dad as well as I do. His feelings will be hurt. Set your dirty dishes in the sink.”

  As soon as the door closed, Brad turned to Will. “Do you have time to help me search the pottery studio again?”

  “That’s why I’m here. Yesterday was so rushed we could have overlooked something.”

  “I still have the key.”

  Will followed Brad to the studio and almost bumped into him when he stopped abruptly.

  “Someone’s been here,” Brad said, pointing toward the door.

  The hinge that held the padlock dangled against the door. Will balled his hands. Whatever they missed yesterday, it was probably gone now. “When do you think this happened?”

  “Either when we went to the funeral or while we were at the hospital. I’ll call Mom and see if she noticed anything yesterday afternoon.”

  “I’ll get the crime scene unit here.” Will took out his phone and put in the call. He’d never noticed how easy it would be to break in to the studio. The building was off to itself, and it would be easy for someone to slip behind the garage and jimmy the hinge off.

  “The break-in had to have happened while we were at the hospital,” Brad said, hitting the disconnect button. “Mom said she walked past the studio late yesterday afternoon to put out scraps for the feral cats around here, and it was padlocked then.”

  “You stay here and wait for them,” Will said. “I’m going to check on Andi.”

  Sunlight filtered through the open blinds, waking Andi. Her insides quivered like Jell-O. She turned over to go back to sleep, and the events of last night slammed her.

  The hospital. Her dad. She sat up in bed and looked at the clock. Eight! She never slept that late. She looked down. Why did she still have on the clothes she wore last night?

  The image of a red light came crashing back. She’d almost had a wreck.

  Andi tried to swallow, but her mouth was so dry she couldn’t even wet her lips. She stumbled to the bathroom and swished tepid water in her mouth. Her fingers shook as she reached for the bottle of Lortabs in the cabinet. It was the only place she could keep it where no one would see it.

  Empty. When did that happen? Her purse. She had another bottle in her purse. She shut the medicine cabinet and caught sight of herself in the mirror. She leaned closer, her heart slamming against her ribs. Red-rimmed eyes stared back at her, and her hair was a tangled mess. She touched her hollow cheeks. When was the last time she’d eaten?

  Andi shifted her gaze back to her eyes. They stared back, dull, unblinking. What had she become?

  A junkie.

  She blinked, and the reflection blinked.

  No. She couldn’t be. Other people became addicted. Not her. She was only taking what the doctor prescribed. Andi read the label on the empty bottle. One to two tablets every six hours as needed for pain. She did the math in her head. Eight tablets maximum.

  She was pretty sure she hadn’t taken more than that and turned on the hot water tap, then groped for her hairbrush on the counter, dropping it. Her hands shook as she picked it up and then brushed through her hair.

  When the water warmed, she wet a cloth and bathed her face before brushing her teeth. Making herself presentable would make her okay again. Except the quivering inside her begged for a pink tablet.

  Andi stumbled to her bed and reached for the ibuprofen bottle in her purse. Just one. To get her through the day. Then no more. Wait, those were gone. She searched for the prescription bottle she’d switched to.

  She shook the bottle, and two pills spilled out, scattering on the floor. Her cell phone dinged as she dropped to her hands and knees and corralled the pills. There had to be more than two. The phone dinged again.

  Something’s happened to Dad. She snatched the phone, and after she read the text, she sagged against the bed. Only her mom texting she’d found Jillian’s address. Where in the world was Doskie, Tennessee?

  Andi examined the two pills in her hand. How many had she taken yesterday? She’d have to think back to how many pills she’d started with, and her brain couldn’t do the math.

  Treece’s warning about addiction flashed in her mind, and she brushed it aside. She was not addicted. She thought back over the last three months. In the beginning, she’d only taken two a day. So how had she gotten to this point—taking who knew how many a day? And what was she going to do about it?

  She wasn’t even sure she knew where to start. Or if she could. She needed help. Her phone rang, and she looked at the ID. “Morning, Mom,” she croaked.

  “You sound terrible. What’s wrong?”

  “Didn’t get a lot of sleep.”

  “I’m sorry, honey. Did you get my text with Jillian’s latest address? I can’t believe how that girl moves around.”

  “I got it. How’s Dad?”

  “Doing great. I’m here at the hospital with him. But . . .” Hesitation crept into her mother’s voice. “They want to run a few tests before they send him home.”

  “What kind of tests?” Cold chills ran over Andi’s body, and she didn’t know if it was from her mother’s words or the pills her body craved.

  “His heart rhythm is a little out of whack.”

  “Mom, that’s not a medical term. What did the doctor call it?”

  “A-something. I can’t remember the exact name.”

  “Atrial fibrillation?”

  “I think that’s what he said.”

  Andi wiped sweat from her forehead. She needed to check on her dad. She searched her closet for something to change into. “I’ll be there as soon as I can get dressed.”

  “There’s no need to come this morning. It’s nothing serious. Go see Jillian like you planned. Or stay at home and get some rest. You looked terrible last night. I’m worried about you. You’re much too skinny.”

  “After I get through working on this story, I’ll let you fatten me up,” she said. So much to do today . . . But she couldn’t go anywhere until she showered.

  Andi shuffled into the bathroom and pulled back the shower curtain to run the water. And froze. Blood drained from her face, leaving it as cold as the message on the white tile in her shower.

  Last warning. Give me what I want.

  “I’ll call you back, Mom.” Black dots swam before Andi’s eyes. She grabbed for the shower curtain as her knees buckled.

  She came to on the cold tile floor, unsure of how long she’d been out. Will. She needed Will. With shaking hands, she dialed his number. He answered on the first ring.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t answer last night.”

  “I . . .” She swallowed. She hadn’t thought this through. If she told him about the message, she’d have to tell him about leaving her apartment last night . . . and that she’d been stoned. “Uh . . . Dad wants to see you.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “He wants to apologize.”
She’d never been so thirsty in her life. Andi rose to her knees, then stood. Nothing seemed to be broken, and the dizziness had passed. Don’t look at the message.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah, just tired and worried. Go see him. Please.”

  “Maybe later. Someone broke in to the studio last night,” he said.

  “What?” Even though Andi heard what he said the first time, she couldn’t process it. She believed she’d die if she didn’t get a cold glass of water.

  “I wanted to go over the studio again before I went to Nashville, so I went by there, and someone had broken the lock. Brad is waiting for the crime scene unit now. Are you and Maggie still going to see Jillian?”

  She rounded the corner to the living room and gasped.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “My apartment . . .” Her knees buckled, and she sank to the floor. “It’s been trashed.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  27

  WILL CALLED BRAD AS HE SPED ACROSS TOWN. “Someone trashed Andi’s apartment. How far away are you?”

  “I’m still at Mom and Dad’s waiting on the crime scene techs.”

  “Stay with that. I’ll take care of Andi.” Will took the last corner almost on two wheels. “I’m almost there.”

  He wheeled into the driveway, slammed on the brakes, and jumped out. Andi sat on the deck, rocking back and forth. It barely registered that she had on the same clothes from last night.

  “I couldn’t stay in there,” she said when he topped the steps. “Steph’s horse is gone, and it’s my fault.”

  He knelt beside her. “It’s not your fault. I’m so sorry this is happening.”

  “Yes, it is my fault.” She buried her face in her hands.

  He turned as Treece opened her back door.

  “What’s going on?” she asked, tightening the belt on her robe.

  He waved her over. “Can you help her? I need to check inside.”

  “Of course.” Treece hurried to Andi’s side. “What happened?”