Tattered Justice

by John Foxjohn

  He glanced at them for a minute. “McCrery’s desk where she sat when someone murdered her.”

  “Look at what’s on the desk.”

  He shrugged. “Computer equipment.”

  She held up a finger and turned to her laptop, powered up Google and searched for Michelle McCrery. Marvin rose and hurried around her desk to look over her shoulder. “What are you looking for?”

  “I read a magazine article with an interview with Michelle McCrery not long before her death. Here it is.” She clicked on the article and when it popped up, she clicked on edit, and find, and typed in laptop and hit enter.

  The cursor took her to the bottom of the page. Kayla scanned the article and looked up. “McCrery said in this interview that she likes to take her laptop to a coffee house in the mornings and write.”

  Marvin returned to the front of the desk. “Okay. Is this important?”

  Kayla grabbed up the pictures again. “What you see on that desk is a metal computer stand, a wireless keyboard, and a wireless mouse. All these are used predominantly with laptops.”

  Marvin frowned. “Okay. Is this important?”

  “Marvin, what you don’t see there is a laptop.” She held up the inventory list. “There’s no laptop listed in this inventory report. The police statement says they had the husband look through the crime scene, but he couldn’t find anything missing.”

  She hesitated for a moment. “I think the killer took her laptop. If that is true, the question is, why?”

  His eyes widened and he pushed his glasses up. “I see your point. Must be something incriminating on that computer.”

  She tapped the desk for a long minute with the end of her pen. “We need to find that computer.”

  FOURTEEN

  At ten-thirty, Kayla dragged out of the office to the parking garage. Exiting the elevator at level four, she stopped. Her heart raced. At this time of night, little light illuminated the area, giving the place a surreal appearance.

  The security guard had asked her if she wanted him to walk her to her car, and she regretted thanking him, but saying no. If someone intended to harm her, she could think of no better place than this. No witnesses around, and only a few parked cars—might be no one through here for a while.

  Without moving, she rummaged through her small purse for anything to use as a weapon. She found a tube of lip-gloss, her wallet, and her key chain with three keys on it. If someone attacked her, she could try to gloss him to death.

  Hair bristled on her neck as if someone watched her. Moments passed as her gaze swept back and forth across the dark lot. She found shadows she didn’t know existed—none of them resembled a person, but in her mind, bad guys lurked everywhere. She shook her head and muttered, “I’m letting shadows scare me.”

  She removed her keys with the automatic door opener, took a deep breath and hurried to her car, heels clicking on the concrete. Before she reached her Mazda, she punched the door opener, jumped in, and slammed her hand on the lock.

  Panting, she closed her eyes, and lay her head back to catch her breath.

  Her eyes snapped open. She’d made it to her car, but it still sat in the lot. As she backed out, a shadow moved in the rearview mirror. She could’ve sworn it was a man. She accelerated, feeling silly as she burned rubber. She breathed a relieved sigh when she turned onto the street. She had to be more careful from now on.

  Opening her front door, she placed her keys on the antique oak washstand by her door. She turned, waiting for Princess to run to her as she always did, but remembered that Princess would never do that again. She’d spent many hours talking to Princess, holding her when she had no one else to hold.

  At this moment, she needed someone to hold her, talk to her, stroke her hair, and she hated to admit it, protect her.

  She groaned. Yes, and make love to her. She needed the intimacy, but more than that, the release of her deep desire. She leaned back against the door, eyes closed. She imagined Darren before her, bending, their lips meeting, and breathing in the aroma of his cologne. She pictured the large bulge in his pants.

  When her chest tightened, she had trouble breathing. She stomped her foot. “Stop that.” She shook her head trying to rid the images from her mind. After several deep breaths to slow her pulse, she inspected the doors and windows downstairs. In the kitchen, she placed three slices of old pizza in the microwave and heated it.

  With the pizza, she trudged up to her bedroom. She finished the food and lay back on the bed. She needed to work, but didn’t have the energy.

  She lay for a while thinking about the case. Things didn’t make sense. Loren professed her innocence—whether true or not, Kayla didn’t know. After the preliminary evidence and witness statements given to her in discovery, she had to doubt her client. If she’d been in Proctor’s place, she might have filed charges, too.

  Although she didn’t think she’d have filed this soon. On appearance alone, they had enough to convict Loren. However, there appeared to be holes in the evidence. Her father said that the one thing a prosecutor couldn’t do is file a case against someone, but leave people that the defense could make look guilty.

  Proctor did just that. They’d only begun this investigation, but Kayla already had two people who looked as guilty as Loren did. Motive in murder didn’t play a part in the investigation or trial, but she could convince a jury educated by all the CSI shows that it did, and she could show motive on other people’s part, too.

  The phone broke through her thoughts. She picked it up and said, “Hello,” but no one said anything. Before she could hang up, the voice came through. “This is your last chance. I don’t want to hurt you, but I will.”

  Her eyes narrowed and she gritted her teeth. “You sorry bastard. You killed my cat.”

  The same muffled voice as before that struck cords in the back of her mind. “Next time it will be you.”

  The phone clicked in her ear. He meant it and she’d need to do something to protect herself. But that voice. She clenched her fists trying to bring the voice forward from the recesses of her mind—not the voice, though—the way the person formed words struck a familiar chord in her mind.

  Thirty minutes later, the phone startled her. She started not to answer, but took a deep breath. Maybe hearing the words would help her remember. John’s voice on the other end surprised her.

  “John, is something the matter? I didn’t expect you to call this late.”

  “I don’t usually, but since you’re up I decided to.”

  “Huh, how do you know that I’m awake?”

  “I’m sitting a block from your condo.”

  She jumped up and hurried to the window. Standing beside it, she drew the drapes back, but couldn’t see much in the dark. “Why in the world are you by watching my home?”

  “Kayla, we followed you here. Or I should say, we followed Duval, who followed you here.”

  She rolled her eyes. Estes’ detective following her, her detective following Estes’, and they all end up at her house. Why couldn’t things be simple?

  She thought of something and her lips trembled. “John, he called me a few minutes ago and threatened me. What’s he doing?”

  “He followed you here and waited. When the lights came on upstairs, he walked around the outside of your condo. Looks like he checked the windows and doors to see if you locked them.”

  “Oh my God. Should I call the police? He might get in.”

  “Before you do anything, listen to me for a moment please. First, I don’t think he tried to get in. If he wanted in, he’d be in. Second, he did not call you. I have watched him every second since he arrived. I can see him well and he hasn’t used a cell phone.”

  She couldn’t speak. She needed it to be him, wanted it to be him. That way she wouldn’t need to worry about the feelings she had trouble controlling. Tears welled in her eyes. “Why is he following me?”

  A deep breath on the other end. “I don’t know.”

  “But what�
��s your opinion?”

  “I’d be glad to go ask him. Find out for you, but I think he’s trying to protect you.”

  She blinked and flopped back on the bed. “Protect me.”

  “I can’t be sure unless I confront him, but it appeared to me like he checked your windows and doors to make sure no one could get in. Not as if he wanted to get in. Do you want me to confront him?”

  “No, no, please don’t. To do that, he’d know about you and I’m still not satisfied.”

  When they hung up, she knew she could at least sleep well. She had two private detectives outside her house watching. Deep down, she’d believed all along that it wasn’t Darren who threatened her, or killed Princess.

  But who had?

  * * * *

  All day, Darren had a strange sensation, and he couldn’t explain it. Sitting in the dark outside Kayla’s condo, the feeling wouldn’t leave him. Earlier in the day, he thought someone followed him, but if they did, they were good—the best he’d ever seen. He considered himself an expert at tailing and spotting tails. He couldn’t spot one, but the feelings didn’t go away.

  Once again, his eyes swept the area where he parked. No one outside their homes. No vehicles that appeared out of place. He checked windows on the parked cars but none of them had inside fog like they would if someone sat with the windows up. He had his windows down listening for voices or music. At this time of night, in this neighborhood, no cars came through, no noise, and only a few lights on in houses. A block away, a dim flickering light emitted from one of the houses but it came from a TV.

  He didn’t want to, but his mind would not leave the woman he watched. Tall, slim, attractive—she evoked things in him he couldn’t explain. Kayla Nugent attracted all parts of him, including emotions, and that is what could doom him.

  He had to stay away from her—no two ways about that, but he couldn’t help think about her elegant grace, the way she moved, the parting of her lips before she smiled. How the hell did she twirl that pen the way she did?

  What attracted him the most was the way she treated people around her. She drew others to her because of the way she cared about their feelings, thoughts, and all the small details of their lives. She took the time to listen, not pretend to.

  He nodded off, but his head snapped up. He couldn’t afford to go to sleep. He could nap in the morning while she worked, but he’d had a long day.

  He frowned when her window curtain parted. He could make out her shape beside the window. Why did she look out? No way she could see him or know he sat out there.

  Did she look because she felt threatened? His heart went out to her. He wanted to march up to her door, take her in his arms, kiss her, and love her. But that was the problem. He couldn’t do any of that. He couldn’t allow her to distract him.

  His cell phone, set on vibrate, startled him. His pulse quickened when he read Kevin’s name on the caller ID. Why was his son calling him at this time of night?

  He snatched it open. “Kevin, are you okay?”

  “Yes, dad.” The boy hesitated. “I just needed to talk to you.”

  Darren closed his eyes. “Is everything okay there?”

  “Dad, I know mom is keeping you from seeing me.”

  He didn’t know what to say. He took a deep breath. “Mmm, did she tell you that?”

  He figured the question would get him out of saying something the boy could construe as derogatory against his mother.

  “No, she didn’t have to. I overheard her talking to James. Why does she not want you to see me?”

  God. How could he answer that? He didn’t know himself except she’d do anything including using Kevin to hurt him. He had never understood this, either. She’d gotten everything she wanted in the divorce. She had filed for it, wanted it, but she also wanted to punish him for reasons he didn’t understand. He could only assume her hatred developed because he wouldn’t change into the person she wanted him to be. “Actually, son, you need to ask your mother that question. I don’t know the answer.”

  The boy’s voice trembled. “Why did you and mom get a divorce? Was it because of me?”

  Darren had always feared this question. He tried to make his voice as easy as he could. “Son, your mother and I just wanted different things. She wanted things I couldn’t afford to give her. The divorce had nothing to do with you. Please don’t think that.”

  Kevin’s next words filled him with joy and sorrow at the same time. “Dad, I want to live with you.”

  He closed his eyes tight. He wanted that, too, but Paulette would never let it happen. Besides, a judge wouldn’t go against the decree and because of Kevin’s age, he couldn’t make that decision. He wondered why Kevin had decided this.

  His gaze shifted, taking in the shadows, trees, and shrubbery around Kayla’s house as he and Kevin talked. He worried about his son because of the boy’s innate shyness.

  Kevin couldn’t open up, let his feelings out. He didn’t do it with his mother, and definitely not with Darren. As quiet and introverted as he acted with his parents, around strangers the boy withdrew even more.

  It appeared that no one could break through the shell that the boy created around himself, and that included his father. The fact that Kevin talked to him as long as he did indicated to Darren how bothered his son had become.

  He attempted to get Kevin to tell him what bothered him, and it frustrated him that he couldn’t break through. Some how, some way, when he returned to Chicago, he and his son needed to establish a relationship. If he handled everything in this investigation, and the other assignment, he’d have enough money to hire a lawyer and force Paulette to abide by the divorce decree and his visitation rights.

  FIFTEEN

  After a full day of meetings and strategy sessions with Marvin, Kayla spent several hours going over briefs she needed to get to the court as well as her preliminary discovery list to Proctor.

  She’d need to add to it later, but for now, it would have to do.

  Loren and her father had visited her and they didn’t make the day better. She didn’t like old man Estes, but would take him any day over his daughter.

  When she drove home, she tried to spot the people who followed her. She’d thought she could do it, but never got a glimpse of anyone suspicious. She didn’t know about Darren, but John tagged along somewhere to her rear and this comforted her.

  After fixing a sandwich and pouring a glass of milk, she reclined in her chair in front of the TV.

  She settled on an Andy Griffith show, not paying a bit of attention. Her mind went to Darren. She needed to get him out of her head. Her only problem, she didn’t know how to do it. She tried to convince herself he’d made the threatening calls and killed Princess, but she knew he didn’t.

  Her belief centered around the voice on the phone. She recognized the speech pattern, and it didn’t come from Darren.

  She wasn’t surprised when John called and told her that Duval had showed up like the other time.

  She leaned toward the wall, placing her palms flat against it. She brought her right leg forward, and keeping her left foot back and flat on the floor, she pulled her butt toward the wall, stretching her calf.

  What was Darren doing watching her house? She stretched the other calf, then her back. She had a long day tomorrow and planned to get some sleep. If he wanted to sit in his car outside her house, let him.

  Halfway up the stairs, she whirled around and hurried out the front door to his car. As she marched up, he straightened in his seat and rolled his window down. At least he didn’t try to pretend he had the wrong address or anything.

  She indicated a come here with her finger, said, “Follow me,” and spun away.

  She didn’t look back, but a sarcastic, “Uh-huh, yes ma’am,” preceded a slamming car door.

  Inside, they both flopped on the sofa, near but far away.

  Tension as thick as buttermilk hung in the air. She had many things she wanted to say to him, know about him, share,
but didn’t know where or how to start.

  When she’d stormed outside, she’d intended to confront him on the reasons he’d followed her and lurked around her house at night. However, all of her determination failed with him sitting near.

  She fidgeted as he sat, his arms crossed, jaw firm.

  She might have gone too far with her command. Sucking in a calming breath, Kayla said, “I apologize. That might not have come across the way I intended it to.”

  He nodded but his body language didn’t change. She needed to find out what he was up to, but she didn’t want to make an enemy doing it. Especially didn’t want this man as an enemy.

  She laid her hand on his arm. The touch of his bare skin shot erotic sensations through her. She bit on her lip to keep it from trembling with excitement.

  His tight shirt expanded and relaxed as his chest heaved, showing sprigs of dark hair.

  She closed her eyes as heat surged through her stomach. She almost groaned realizing that her hand remained on his arm. If she didn’t move it, she’d attack him right then and there.

  Like a kid caught doing something she shouldn’t, she snapped her eyes open and jerked her hand away.

  She’d hoped the lack of touch would remove the desire that attempted to capture her sensibilities, but it didn’t.

  “Would you like some coffee, tea, something to drink?” She’d tried to think of something to break the spell, but that was all she could come up with. Fortunately for her, he helped her out and asked if she had Miller Lite.

  “No, but I have some white wine, coke, and some lemonade.”

  He smiled. “Actually, I’ll take a Coke.”

  She hurried to the kitchen—needing to get away, calm down, and figure out why she changed on the inside with Darren around. Men didn’t have this effect on her. She wouldn’t allow it.