Justice

by Faye Kellerman

  Please God, just keep them safe. 4 He saw the flash before he heard the pop. The percussive ppjfft that almost drowned out the moan. The head snapped back, lolling from side to side, then finally found a resting place slumped over the right shoulder. As blood dripped from between the eyes, he wondered if the bastard had ever felt a thing, he'd been so dead drunk.

  The thought didn't quell the shakes, his hands clay cold and stiff. For a while he heard nothing. Then he became aware of his own breathing. He crept out from his shelter and swallowed dryly. Tried to walk, but his knees buckled.

  He melted to the floor.

  Stayed that way for a long time. It could have been minutes, it could have been hours. Time was a black hole, a stupor of sleep and restlessness. Everything was shadowed and fuzzy.

  Slowly, things came back into focus. The room, the floor, the bound body, the hole between the eyes. Blood had seeped onto the carpet, pooled around his shoes.

  He stared, hoping tears would come. But they didn't. They never did.

  With great effort, he hoisted his gawky frame upward, nearly tripping over spindly legs. The curse of being tall at such a young age: He was all height, no muscle. Light-headed, sick from the smell of gunpowder, he let go with a dry heave.

  He tried to walk but again fell forward.

  He needed air clean air. 5

  He crawled on his hands and knees out the back door, pushing open the squeaky screen. Wrapping his hands around the porch column, he raised himself to his feet. His bicycle was still resting against the apple tree, leaning against the trunk because it didn't have a kickstand.

  He knew he had to tell someone. Even though she hated the jerk, Mom would still freak. That left only his uncle. Joey would take care of him. He had to get over to Joey.

  He straightened his spine and inched his way over to his transportation. He gripped the handlebars, swung his leg over the seat. Pressing down on the pedal. Propelling himself forward.

  Down the driveway and out onto the street.

  Faster and faster, harder and harder, until wind whipped through his platinum hair.

  He did a wheelie. He felt all right. 6

  Pages 7 and 8 of the paper were missing. National news section. Specifically, national crime stories. Decker laid the thin sheets down, his stomach in a tight, wet knot. "Rina, where's the rest of the paper?"

  Rina continued to scramble eggs. "It's not all there?"

  "No, it's not all there."

  "You've checked?"

  "Yes, I've checked."

  "Maybe Ginger got to it," Rina said casually. "You know how the dog loves newsprint. I think she uses it for a breath freshener "

  "Rina "

  "Peter, could you please distract Hannah from the dishwasher and get her seated so I can feed her? And take the plums out of the utensil basket while you're at it."

  Decker stared at his wife, got up, and lifted his pajama-clad two-year-old daughter. She was holding a plum in each hand.

  "You want a plummer, Daddy?"

  "Yes, Hannah Rosie, I'd love a plum."

  "You take a bite?" She stuffed the fruit in her father's mouth. As requested, Decker took a bite. Juice spewed out of the overripe plum, wetting his pumpkin-colored mustache, rills of purple running down his chin. He seated his daughter in her booster and wiped his mouth.

  "You want a bite, Daddy?"

  "No thanks, Hannah "

  "You want a bite, Daddy?" Hannah said, forcefully. 7

  "No "

  "You want a bite, Daddy?" Hannah was almost in tears.

  "Take another bite, Peter," Rina said. "Eat the whole plum."

  Decker took the plum and consumed it. Hannah offered him the second plum. "Honey, if I eat any more plums, I'll be living in the bathroom."

  Rina laughed. "I'll take the plum, Hannah."

  "No!" the baby cried out. Her face was flushed with emotion. "Daddy take the plummer."

  Decker took the second piece of fruit. "Why do you keep buying plums?"

  "Because she keeps asking for them."

  "That doesn't mean you have to buy them."

  "As if you can resist her requests? I noticed the other day she was playing with your gold cuff links "

  "She likes shiny things," Decker interrupted. "I like how you skillfully changed the subject, darlin'. What happened to the newspaper?"

  Rina set a dish of eggs in front of Hannah and poured her orange juice. She shrugged helplessly. "What can I tell you?"

  Decker felt nauseated. "Bastard struck again."

  Rina nodded.

  Decker said nothing. But Rina could see his jaw working overtime. She said, "Cindy called this morning. She asked me to hide it from you. I shouldn't have done it. But she sounded so desperate for an ally. She couldn't handle you and her mother's hysteria at the same time. Besides, there's nothing anyone can do "

  "What do you mean, 'There's nothing anyone can do'?" Decker snapped. "I can do something. I can bring her back home out of that hellhole."

  "LA's not a haven from crime "

  "It's better than New York."

  "Not all of New York is like the area around Columbia, Peter."

  "Well, that's just fine and dandy except Cindy happens to go to Columbia." Decker got up from the dining-room table and walked into the kitchen, staring out the back window at his acre's worth of ranchland. The riding corral was now a foot-deep mud pit; the stables had been battered from the recent storms. Behind his property line stood the foothills bleeding silt. His house was fine so far, the gunk at least five hundred yards away. But who knew? He had plenty of garbage to deal with here. He didn't need problems three thousand miles away. 8

  "Did you talk to her at all?" Decker asked.

  "For a few minutes," Rina answered.

  "How's she doing?"

  Rina glanced at Hannah. "You want a video, muffin?"

  The little girl nodded, licking egg-coated fingers. "Mickey Mouse."

  "You've got it." Rina slipped the tape into the VCR, then walked into the kitchen. To her husband, she whispered, "How's she doing? She's shaken up, of course."

  "Goddamn police! This is the third one and they don't seem one ounce closer to finding this maniac. What the hell are they doing!"

  "That's an odd thing for you to say."

  "I know incompetence when I see it."

  "So what do you propose to do, Peter? Go out to New York and handle the investigation yourself?' '

  "I've seriously thought about it. I was in sex crimes for over a decade "

  "Peter "

  "Maybe I'll call the principal investigator "

  "You don't have enough work at home?"

  "It's been a slow month."

  "Baruch Hashem, " Rina said, blessing God.

  "Baruch Hashem, " Decker repeated. "Besides, this is my daughter we're talking about. I want to make sure everything possible is being done."

  "I'm sure they're working overtime. Just like you'd be doing."

  "Right. Overtime on doughnuts." Decker grimaced. "I know I'm not being fair. Frankly, I don't care."

  Rina sighed. "Peter, why don't you go visit Cindy? I'm sure she'd be thrilled to see her six-foot-four detective father. She and all the other girls in the dorm. But go out as a protective father, not as a cop."

  Decker drew his hand across his face. "Son of a bitch! Preying on young girls like that. God, I swear, Rina, if I come face-to-face with that sucker, I'm gonna shoot off his you-know-whats." He looked at his wife. "Was the latest one hurt? Of course she was hurt. I mean, was she beaten or anything?"

  "No. Same MO."

  The MO. Bastard sneaked up on the girls, brought them down from behind, placed a large paper bag over their heads, and raped them from the back. The victims had described the violation as strong and painfu
l but mercifully fast. Before they could utter boo, the monster

  had been upon them. Equally quickly, he seemed to vanish into the miasma. Cindy was a big girl, almost five nine, and in good shape because she worked out. But a five-nine girl could easily be bested by a five-six man in equally good shape. Daughters. Thank God his other two teens were boys Rina's sons. Not that he didn't worry about them. At nearly fifteen, Sammy had height but he was still thin. Jake still had some growing to do, but he was just thirteen.

  Decker's head hurt. Thinking about his kids always gave him a headache. "I need to go out there, Rina."

  "I understand. I love Cindy, too. I think it's a great idea."

  "Come out with me."

  "It would probably be better if she had you all to herself."

  "So go out and visit the relatives in Borough Park. The boys haven't seen their grandparents in over a year."

  The boys' grandparents, Rina thought. Her late husband's parents. It was always a heartache to see them. But the boys meant so much to them. And then there were Peter's recently discovered half siblings. "Everyone's going to want to see you. At least to say hi."

  "Scratch the thought from your mind!" Decker paced. "You'll just have to explain why I'm not there. I can't handle Cindy and your little religious crowd at the same time."

  "They're your relatives."

  "But they were your friends before they were my relatives. Don't push me on this, Rina. Oh, just forget the whole thing. Stay home!"

  Again, he glared out the back window, hands leaning against the kitchen tile. Welcome to Decker's mud baths. He should sandbag the ground again, anything to sop up the moisture. On top of that, the sky looked threatening.

  Seven years of drought followed by two years of floods. Not to mention earthquakes, fires, and riots. Decker wondered what plague was next. City was getting too damn biblical for his taste.

  Rina walked up to her husband, slipped her arms around his waist, and rested her head on his back. "What do you want, Peter? Tell me."

  "Make it stop raining."

  "No can do. Next?"

  He turned around. "What do I want?" He took his wife's hands and kissed them. "I want you to come with me. I miss you terribly when I'm away from you and long plane rides make me depressed. So come with me to New York. But once we get there, leave me alone so I can deal with my daughter and my own anxiety."

  "So I'm to be your therapeutic escort."

  "And a damn pretty one, at that." 10

  Rina laughed. "I'll come with you."

  Decker said, "Thank you. And ... if I'm up to it... if I have the energy .. . I'll come visit the relatives."

  "You look like you just sucked lemons."

  "It's been a rather sour morning."

  Rina stroked her husband's cheek. "I'm sorry you have to go through this, that we have to go through this. I'm very concerned, also. Kids. A life sentence in terror if you think about it. I'll be happy to help you out. And yes, it has been a while since the boys have seen their grandparents. It's very considerate of you to think of them."

  "I'm just a saint."

  "I believe the appropriate response to a compliment is a simple thank you."

  Decker smiled. "The boys can miss school?"

  "Of course. How about we leave next Wednesday? I can still get discount tickets if I buy them a week in advance."

  "Fine."

  "You'll call Cindy?"

  "Yes."

  "And phone Jan, too," Rina said. "Just to let her know you're going."

  Decker looked pained. "Is that really necessary?"

  "Peter, she's Cindy's mother. She's worried sick about her."

  "I know, I know. She's very angry I haven't insisted that Cindy come home. As if she's insisted. She just wants me to be the bad guy. Well, screw that! If she wants a "

  "Peter "

  "All right, all right. I'll call Jan. I'll even be civil."

  "A big stretch for you, dear?"

  "A very big stretch for me, darlin'." 11

  The red Trans Am was following me. I'd known something was up from the look Chris had given me in orchestra. We'd been in the same class for over a year, and today's stare had been a first. Only one reason why boys like him were interested in girls like me. Guess this one didn't want to approach me in public.

  The car slowed and honked. I stopped walking. Since parked vehicles were occupying the far right lane, the Trans Am was blocking traffic. The Jeep on Chris's heel blasted its horn. He turned around, threw the impatient driver a dirty look, then sped up and pulled the car curbside a half block up. I jogged over. He rolled down the passenger window, told me to hop in.

  "I'm not going straight home," I said. "I've got to pick up my little sister."

  "Last I checked the car's not a two-seater." He waved me forward. "Come on."

  I opened the door and got inside, dumping my backpack on the floor. "Thanks."

  "You're welcome. Where are we going?"

  "Just go straight." My eyes were fixed on the front windshield.

  Cars were bumper to bumper. Since the '94 earthquake and the recent flooding by overzealous rain clouds, the West Valley had become a snarl at rush hour. Chris waited for a nonexistent opening. Headbanger music was screaming from his car stereo. It suddenly seemed to annoy him. He punched it off. 12

  A Jetta stopped and waved Chris in.

  "Thank you, sweetheart," he said to himself. To me, he said, "How far are we going?"

  " 'Bout two miles up."

  "And you walk that every day?"

  "It's good exercise."

  "What do you do when it rains?"

  "I take an umbrella. Sometimes, if it's convenient, my stepmom will let me have the car."

  Chris paused. "You live with your dad and stepmom?"

  "Yes."

  "Where's your mom?"

  I hesitated. The question was way too personal, but I answered anyway. "She died when I was born."

  Chris waited a beat, then raised his brow. "Your dad's a good Catholic, huh?"

  I looked at him, stunned. His face revealed nothing.

  "The unbaptized before the baptized." He pulled a crucifix from under his T-shirt. "Takes one to know one."

  I didn't answer. In this city of religious nothingness, it was rare to find an overt Catholic boy, let alone one who looked like Christ.

  He said, "What about you? Are you a good Catholic girl?"

  "Good enough to feel guilty about my mother's death."

  "The nuns must have had a field day with you."

  "Mostly my father."

  "What'd he say?"

  "It's what he didn't say."

  He turned quiet. I stared at my lap.

  "You still go to Mass?" he asked.

  "Sometimes."

  "I go sometimes, too. Old habits are hard to break."

  I smiled and nodded. He was determined to talk. That being the case, I steered the conversation from myself. "You live by yourself, don't you?"

  "Yep."

  "So where are your parents?" I asked.

  "They're dead."

  "Both of them?"

  "Yes, both of them."

  I felt my face go hot. "That was stupid."

  "No such thing as a stupid reaction." He tapped on the steering wheel. "My mom died of breast cancer when I was thirteen. My father 13

  was murdered when I was almost ten. A gangland thing. I was hiding in the closet when the hit went down, witnessed the whole thing "

  "Oh, my God!" I gasped. "That's dreadful!"

  "Yeah, I was pretty scared."

  The car went silent.

  "Only the upshot of the mess was I hated the son of a bitch." He scratched his head. "So after the shock wore off, I was kind of happy. My dad was a two-fisted drunk. He'd get soused and pummel anything or anyone in his way. That's why I'd been hiding in the closet. Lucky for me. Otherwise, I wouldn't have made it into double digits."

  I didn't answer. I couldn't think of anything to say.
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br />   "I don't know why I'm telling you this," he said. "Must be your confessional aura. How far is this school, Terry?"