Justice for Aleta

by Deanndra Hall

  “No. No hat. But it was weird. His voice didn’t match his hair and face, or his clothes.”

  “Meaning?”

  “If he was trying to act like a cowboy, it wasn’t working. When he talked to Joshua, he sounded like … I went to New York once on a school trip, and he sounded like the people there.”

  Jack let out a snort. “Yankee.”

  “Yes! Very! It was very odd. Very, very odd.” She poured herself a glass and sat down in the chair near Jack’s. “Joshua kept telling him, ‘I can jump your car if your battery’s down. I’m sorry I hit it.’”

  “You remember hitting it?”

  “Yeah. I didn’t until just now.”

  “How did that happen?”

  “It was barely sticking out in the road. I think that’s why Joshua clipped him. We just kind of glanced off him and came to rest sort of beside him.”

  “So he was between you and the guardrail?” She nodded. “Big car? Little car?”

  She shrugged. “I’m sorry. I don’t really remember that part. I was too busy grabbing Jorie up because Joshua was scolding me, telling me to get out of the van and get away from it.”

  Jack sighed. “Normally, that would’ve been good advice.” He hated to push her, but he had to. “So, you stopped for the car. When did you see the red car?”

  “The split second before it hit the van. It was so foggy that I couldn’t see.” She stopped for a second and tipped her head, obviously thinking. “I remember Joshua saying, ‘What are those? Why are you doing that? Oh, Aleta, he’s got a gun!’”

  “‘What are those?’ What did he mean by that?”

  “I have no idea. By that time I couldn’t see the man anymore, but I could see through the van windows and see the gun. I looked up as Joshua said that and saw it. Then there was a gunshot, and the next thing I knew, the red car was crashing and the van was sliding, and it hit me and knocked me down. And I don’t remember a lot after that.”

  “So you didn’t see anybody get out of the red car?”

  “No. Was there somebody who got out? I heard the driver died.”

  “He did.”

  She frowned. “Was he drunk?”

  “No, ma’am. He was not. Problem is, the way he hit your van, he didn’t just hit it because it was kinda in the lane. He slammed into it full speed and T-boned it. I’d say that bullet we found embedded in the wheel flattened that tire and he lost control.”

  Her eyes went wide. “How in the world did that man shoot that car in that fog?”

  “I have no idea.” That was a lie. Jack had a suspicion about how the man had done it, but he’d have to run it past some of their techs first to see if he was on track. “But we’re working on that.”

  “Good. This has changed my whole life. Everything I thought I knew about myself, everything I was, is gone. I don’t want anybody to blame, Jack. I just want to understand.”

  His heart broke for her, but there was something he’d been itching to ask her, and that seemed like a great segue to do so. “Your people aren’t here. I know you said you wanted to be close to the spot, but why are you still here? You could come back up here to visit it, but wouldn’t it be better to be with your family now?”

  She shook her head with a resolve that startled him. “No. I’m not going back there. My parents raised me to be a minister’s wife. That’s what they drummed into me my whole life. ‘Be a godly woman, Aleta. Don’t do anything you’ll regret that will make you unattractive as a minster’s wife, Aleta. No, you can’t go to the dance, Aleta. No, you can’t go to prom, Aleta. No, you can’t wear that swimsuit, Aleta. No, you’re not going to college, Aleta, because it would be a waste of money. Ministers’ wives don’t work outside the home.’” There was a level of disgust on her face that was self-explanatory by the things she was telling him. “As soon as my dad heard what had happened, he said he’d be up to collect me after the funerals in Mount Sterling. But I couldn’t go back there. They wanted me to go back with them, play the grieving widow, sit around and wait for another minister to wander by. Nope. Not doing it.”

  “But it would be a lot easier, don’t you think?” Jack asked, immediately realizing he’d probably stepped in it big time.

  “Oh, sure. Easier. But they’ve treated me like an empty-headed fashion doll my entire life. Jack, Joshua had a very large insurance policy. I’ve got money in the bank. But I can’t use it. I need to prove to myself and them that I can take care of myself.”

  “Is that what Joshua would want?”

  Her eyes reddened. “Our marriage had been over a long time, but we couldn’t divorce because he couldn’t be a minister in our denomination anymore. It was like we were best friends living in a house together, but there was no chemistry. Never had been.” She sat back in her chair and sighed, a heavy sigh, the sigh of a woman at the end of her rope. “Jack, Joshua was gay. Nobody could know. The only people who knew were his parents and mine. They kind of arranged the whole marriage when he was in seminary. It was his parents’ chance to give him legitimacy and mine’s chance to marry me off to a minister. We didn’t have sex for the first year we were married, and that was only because we were expected to have a baby. When it didn’t happen right off, I knew I was in for a rocky road, people asking constantly, us having to lie. Faking infertility so they wouldn’t wonder.”

  Jack was dumbfounded. “You’re kidding, right?” She shook her head. “How did you stay in that mess?”

  “I had nothing else. I didn’t want anything to happen to Joshua, and I loved Jorie with all my heart. There’s a hole there that’ll never be filled. But this is it―my chance to start over and have something that looks like a normal life, at least to me.” Behind the sadness in her eyes at the mention of her baby was a determination Jack hadn’t seen in too many women. She didn’t have to work at the pancake house, take the abuse from those people, be on her feet all day, but she wanted to be like everybody else. That was the moment the thought hit him, and it almost knocked him out of his chair.

  I want this woman.

  He hoped he hadn’t gasped audibly, but when he looked at Aleta, nothing of the sort registered on her face, so he guessed he hadn’t. There was a burning behind his sternum that was almost smoking, and he knew what it was. Desire. It had been so long since he’d felt it that it was foreign, but it was wonderful at the same time. “Well, it looks to me like you’re off to a good start. And I should probably go.” I can’t stay here another minute, he told himself, or I’m going to do something I’ll regret.

  “But you haven’t finished your tea!” She hopped up and scurried around the kitchen. “I’ve got the chili going. It’s actually ready right now, if you’d like some.”

  “That sounds nice, but I really should go.”

  “Please?” The pleading in her voice cut right through him. “I don’t have any friends here, and I don’t really know anybody. It would be nice to have somebody to sit across the table from. It’ll only take me a minute to spoon it out, and I won’t keep you. Just let me at least feed you for your kindness.” He started to protest, but she added, “I’ve blathered on and on and you haven’t told me anything about yourself. And I’m interested―really, I am.”

  What will it hurt? that whiny little voice in Jack’s head asked, and he felt his resolve slipping. “Well, okay, I suppose a bowl of chili won’t hurt me.”

  “Great! Let me get some crackers. Do you want a big bowl or a little one? More tea? Should I make some cornbread?”

  “Don’t go to any trouble,” he cautioned, but internally he was a little amused at the excitement he could hear in her voice and see in her face. She was smiling, and he loved that. He was making her smile and for reasons he couldn’t explain, that was important to him.

  “Oh, no trouble! I love having somebody to fuss over,” she answered, pulling a bowl from the cabinet and a carton of buttermilk from the refrigerator.

  “I have to ask …”

  “Yeah?”

  “Do
you put sugar in your cornbread?”

  Aleta laughed loudly. “Well, no!”

  His mom didn’t put sugar in hers either. He’d never met another woman who didn’t put sugar in their cornbread. And she used buttermilk. What were the chances? Don’t take that as a sign, Jack, his brain whispered, but he couldn’t help it. Was the universe speaking to him? Was he fighting it? Go for it, it murmured. “That’s good. I hate sugary cornbread.”

  “Well, look at that! Then you should enjoy this. Cornmeal, buttermilk, and an egg. Fresh griddle cakes coming up!”

  “What can I do to help?” he asked without even thinking.

  “You can get a couple of bowls out and ladle some chili out for us so it’ll be cooling or it’ll be too hot to eat.”

  Jack grabbed two bowls, then lifted the lid from the chili’s pot. It smelled amazing, and he filled both bowls to the brim and set them on the table.

  In ten minutes, he was telling her about his basketball victories in high school and the time he spent at the academy, and she was listening intently, paying more attention to what he was saying than any other woman ever had. He ate a second bowl of chili and cursed the clank of the spoon in the bottom when it was empty. His excuses to stay were gone, and try as he might, he couldn’t think of another one. “I suppose I really should go now,” he said, rising from the table. “But thank you, Aleta. This was … It was a great way to spend my day off.”

  “Oh my gosh! I forgot―you were supposed to be picking up a shotgun! I’m so sorry! I’m so stupid sometimes, stupid and needy and―”

  He knew he’d hate himself later, but he reached out, grabbed her waist with both hands, yanked her up against his chest, and kissed her. Oh, you’ve fucked up now, Fletcher, that voice in his head screamed, but she didn’t squirm or move away. Matter of fact, as soon as his tongue slipped between her barely-parted teeth, she met it with her own.

  Her husband and son had only been dead for four months. What the hell was he thinking? He pulled back abruptly and stared down at her, but her face was smooth, the corners of her lips upturned in a tiny smile. “Shit! Aleta, I’m so sorry! I don’t know―”

  The smile turned to a frown. “You’re sorry? I … I thought it was a really good kiss. What was wrong with it?” Jack started to laugh. It began as a tiny chuckle and in a few seconds, he was outright laughing. “Was it that terrible?” Aleta cried out in such a way that he felt bad for his outburst.

  “No, it wasn’t bad at all! It was great! But I shouldn’t have done that,” he answered, trying to calm his laughter. “That was totally inappropriate.”

  “And totally hot,” Aleta said and gave him a wink.

  That did it. He grabbed her and kissed her again. This woman … Everything about her tripped his trigger and made him tremble with anticipation. He thought about Heather for a split second and remembered something she’d said: “Jack, don’t die a martyr for me. Find someone to love you and hang onto her just like you would’ve hung onto me. I love you so much. If you stay alone and sad, our love will have meant nothing.”

  Is this her? Is she the one? His mind reeled and his heart slammed out of control. As he kissed her, he thought about the first time he’d seen her, coated in quarts of blood, and how far she’d come. That was something to honor, that resiliency and spirit.

  And he’d give her what? A man who worked impossible hours, confronted all kinds of dangers, was shot at, had knives slashed toward him, and was always on patrol on holidays? Then he realized something important.

  Aleta had never had a say. There wasn’t one thing about her life that she’d gotten to choose. If she wanted to be with him, to take all that on, that was her decision, not his. She should finally get to choose. That time when he pulled back, he kept his arms wrapped around her waist and looked down into her eyes.

  Bliss―pure, unadulterated bliss was painted on her face. She was calm, happy, and smiling. “Aleta, I … Come over here and sit down.” Taking her hand, he led her to the sofa and sat down, then patted the cushion beside him.

  “This is where you tell me you made a horrible mistake and you’re not interested in me,” she said, her lower lip quivering.

  “No. That’s not at all what I was going to say.” He brushed a crooked index finger down her cheek to soothe her. “You need to know that I’m all about my job. I get shot at, people try to stab me, I’m involved in high-speed chases, and drunks puke and piss on me. I come in sometimes with black eyes and goose eggs on my cheekbones. I’ve dislocated my shoulder trying to take a meth addict down, and I’ve pulled a hamstring chasing a robbery suspect. My life isn’t easy, and it’s fairly dangerous. And you need to know all that so you can make an informed decision.”

  “About what?”

  “About whether or not you’d ever want to get involved with me.”

  He was pretty sure the smile she gave him was the sweetest smile he’d ever seen. “Jack, you’re my angel. If there’s anybody who can help me put my life back together and learn how to be an independent woman, it’s you. For once I’d like to be with somebody because I want to, not because I have to. And I don’t have to be with you.” Then she grinned. “But if you’re going to kiss me like that every time, I want to.”

  Jack turned sideways on the sofa to face her and took both of her small, fine hands in his big ones. “Okay then. I’ll take you to dinner Friday night, if you want to go, and we’ll go from there.”

  “A date? I’m going on a date? Whoo-boy! Where are we going? What should I wear? Will it be very far? Will there be walking, so should I wear sturdy shoes? Are we going to―”

  “Whoa, whoa! Slow down! I’ll be thinking about where I’m going to take you, and I’ll let you know where and what to wear, okay?” Then a thought passed through his head. “On second thought, you pick where we’re going and tell me what I should wear.”

  “But I―”

  “Independent woman, Aleta. Make some decisions here. The night will go exactly as you want it to. I’m not making any decisions regarding the date. It’s all yours to decide.”

  Her grin went wider, almost splitting her face in half. “Oh my gosh. Okay. I can do that. And you’ll do whatever I want to do?” Jack laughed and nodded. “You’re sure about that?”

  “As long as we’re not robbing a convenience store for cigarettes, I think it’ll be doable.”

  “No! Don’t think we want to get arrested on our first date! That wouldn’t be a very good start,” she answered, laughing.

  “Okay then. Here.” He handed her his cell. “Call your phone.” He watched as she punched in numbers and he heard a phone ringing elsewhere in the apartment. “Now you have my number and I have yours.” He snickered just a bit―he already had her number on the scrap of paper the manager of the pancake house had given him. “Haven’t you wondered how I knew where you live?”

  She shrugged and laughed. “I just figured it was part of your super-duper crack-pot cop skills!”

  After what she’d been through, Jack couldn’t believe how easily she smiled and laughed, but he loved it. She seemed happy and content because he was there, and that was something he didn’t see often. Most of the women he saw were begging him not to arrest their boyfriends or husbands. For once, he was somewhere he wanted to be with a woman who wanted to be with him. That was beyond great.

  It was awesome.

  Chapter 3

  “Trooper Fletcher! In my office!” Jack wasn’t surprised that Cappy was barking at him, but he was a little concerned that he might not like why.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “So I understand you found something that forensics missed?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And how did you come about the information that sent you to follow up on their work?”

  “Actually, sir, I stopped at the original accident scene to tell the driver of a car that it wasn’t safe to be stopped there. It turned out to be the widow of the deceased van driver, and she told me she saw a gun and heard a g
unshot.”

  “Uh-huh.” Captain Seitzer stared at the report on his desk. “Says you basically came in and took over the lab.”

  “Captain, that sounds like something Dexter said. He was pissed that I was there, and he was even more pissed when I found that slug they’d missed.” Had Dexter lodged a complaint against him? That was pretty nervy of the bastard.

  The captain tossed the folder down on his desk. “Truth is, I was reading a memo from Steve Hayes. He was commending you for finding something his guys missed. I think they’re in a lot of trouble right now. For the record, their DNA testing turned up DNA of about two dozen different people. I mean, it’s a rental car, for Christ’s sake, so that’s not surprising. But I suppose you’d like the results of their ballistics testing?” Cappy pointed to the chair in front of his desk and Jack took a seat. “Looks like the slug came from a very, very large revolver.”

  “I knew it!” Jack almost sang out. “Dexter pointed out that there was no brass, and I told him it might’ve been a revolver.”

  “Based on what they’re seeing, they think it might be―”

  “A Ruger?” Jack asked, and Cappy nodded. “Redhawk or Blackhawk?”

  “Super Redhawk or Blackhawk. That slug was a .454 Casull.”

  Jack couldn’t even check himself when he mumbled, “Holy shit.”

  “Yeah. Whoever fired that thing knew exactly what they were doing. Those revolvers were intended for hunting large game, and so was that cartridge.”

  “I interviewed the witness again,” Jack said, thinking back to what Aleta had said. “She said her husband asked the shooter something like, ‘What are those? Why are you wearing them?’”

  Cappy leaned back in his chair. “Are you thinking infrared device?”

  “How else could he see that car in that fog? But the other question is, how could he know if he had the right car?”

  “Unless there was a tracking device on it and he was monitoring it.” Cappy sat up straight with those words and handed Jack the folder. “Looks like this investigation is far from over. Pull it all together. You’re presenting tomorrow during the morning briefing. Be ready.”