Hidden Justice

by J K Ellem

  “Well, I have to shut the library at noon and they won't take kindly to me being in here after hours with a stranger. Come by after five this afternoon. I can login to the library network from home plus I'll see what else I can find before then.”

  He remembered about the party tonight Abby wanted him to attend with her at the Hanson Estate. Meeting with Annie Haywood to do some more research on the Brenner family seemed a whole lot more appealing and productive.

  "You don't mind, really? It's Saturday night," Shaw explained. "I didn't want to impose."

  Good-looking and considerate, Annie thought. "I'll just have to cancel the three dinner dates I have tonight,” Annie said casually. "And postpone washing my hair until tomorrow night.”

  It got a laugh out of Shaw, and she liked it when he laughed.

  As Shaw walked back to the car, he couldn't help thinking that Annie Haywood seemed out of place in a place like Erin's Bay, like she was biding her time here. She was clever, smart, mature, and had a dry sense of humor. He was certainly looking forward to finding out more about her.

  15

  The town was nothing special, just like any other small coastal town that dotted the east coast from Long Island all the way up to Maine.

  Shaw did a quick circuit of the main streets of Erin’s Bay, noting the location of the bistro as he drove past before finding a parking space a few blocks away then going on foot.

  The center of town was laid out in a typical grid pattern with the main street running down the middle and side streets running off at right-angles.

  Shaw began mapping the layout as he walked, building a mental, two-dimensional rendition in his head. He started three blocks back from the main street and walked a parallel then a perpendicular course, familiarizing himself with the street names, distinctive buildings, store fronts, one-way streets and traffic light locations. As he walked, he could visualize the map in his head as it expanded, rotating back and forth as he changed direction, crossed a street or made a turn. Sometimes the map tilted on its axis as he felt the pitch of the sidewalk rise or fall, uphill or downhill.

  Slowly the mental construct took shape. Street names were added, so were store names, the police station, municipal buildings, memorial statues, while all the time a bright red marker pinged like a beacon in his virtual mind-map indicating the location of the bistro where Abby and her friends were.

  Twenty minutes later the map was complete and Shaw found his way back to the main street again. There was the usual concentration of cafes, restaurants, and gift stores offering Long Island themed T-shirts, ball caps and souvenirs all made in China. A variety of people walked at a snail’s pace along the sidewalks and the late-morning traffic was starting to build.

  He stopped at a small book store cafe that had caught his eye before. After browsing the shelves for a few minutes, he ordered a large coffee at the counter then sat outside at a sidewalk table. For twenty minutes he did nothing, just absorbed the sights, the sounds, the smells, the cars, and the people milling around.

  A few high-end SUVs and sedans slid past, gleaming and polished, slick black tires, plates from Maine, plenty from New York, week-end visitors or day trippers.

  He did note one particular large silver Range Rover Sport -- dark tinted windows, sports exhaust, fully optioned -- as it cruised slowly down the street, passing vacant parking spaces as it went., It had passed by Shaw two streets back while he was walking.

  He finished his coffee, and made his way back to where he’d parked Abby’s car.

  As Shaw rounded the street corner and the edge of a building, he saw Abby’s Mustang parked on the opposite side of the street.

  He stopped and instantly felt sick in the gut.

  Someone had keyed the entire length of one side of the car, cutting a wavy sway from the headlight to the taillight. The otherwise gleaming paintwork had been defaced by a long, ugly scar.

  Shaw turned and looked around.

  The back streets were empty, only a scatter of a few parked cars.

  Shifting his gaze further back he noticed the big silver Range Rover Sport. It was parked in front of an alleyway, hunkered down behind a large industrial bin, partially hidden, maybe a hundred yards away, engine idling, misty white vapor spiraling from its exhausts.

  Shaw was unarmed but he didn’t care.

  He balled his fists, stepped off the sidewalk into the street and towards the SUV, anger boiling inside him.

  He walked faster, resisting the urge to run.

  The SUV didn’t move. Two tons of polished aluminum, chrome and steel stood its ground like a beast watching as Shaw approached.

  He got within fifty feet before the SUV gave a guttural growl then lurched forward, did a hard turn away then sped off in the opposite direction, leaving a billowing funnel of road dust and street trash in its wake.

  For a moment Shaw did nothing, just stood in the middle of the street, looking after the SUV as it shrunk in size before vanishing altogether. He turned, then made his way back to Abby's car, wondering how he was going to break the bad news to her. It was as if someone had taken a scalpel to her own face and disfigured her looks.

  On the outskirts of town, the silver Range Rover Sport eased to the curb.

  "You should have let him get closer." Ambrose grumbled from the passenger seat. Cobb was at the wheel and Gymp was in the back bored shitless. "I would’ve liked the chance to have pummeled him into the ground.” Ambrose was itching to vent some of his pent-up restlessness.

  Cobb sighed, "I'm sure you would have. But that isn't what Teddy wanted."

  Ambrose glanced in the side mirror, almost hoping Shaw would come into view. He really wanted to confront the guy who had taken a sudden interest in Abigail Brenner. Shaw was the perfect target. Ambrose was irritable and his skin itched. He always felt like this when he was coming off a dose of the juice. It left him with a ball of fury inside that was slowly eating him from the inside out. He knew it was one of the side-effects, but he didn't care. He called it an "occupational hazard". Tonight at the party he would find someone else to take his anger out on, to release the buildup that had been growing inside him all morning.

  Gymp poked his head between the front seats. "So where to now, gentlemen? Or are we going to continue to play these childish games?” It was Gymp who had scratched Abby's car while Cobb and Ambrose kept a lookout. “Perhaps we can find some old people, set fire to their porch then run?”

  “Shut up, Gymp,” Cobb replied. “I heard you fucked some old cougar in her sixties last summer.”

  “Please kindly refer to her as a MILF not a cougar,” Gymp said in an aloof tone. “There’s a difference, you know.”

  And you’d know, Cobb thought.

  It had seemed a petty and juvenile thing to do, but they were not to question Teddy's instructions. No doubt it was just part of a grander plan Teddy had brewing in his vengeful skull.

  Cobb put the SUV in gear and checked the mirrors just to make certain they weren't being watched. While the other two weren't privy to Teddy's full intentions, Teddy had pulled Cobb aside last night and shared his plans with him, stressing that it was for his consumption only. This gave Cobb some enjoyment knowing that Teddy trusted him above the others in the crew. But Cobb was still skeptical. Teddy Hanson, who he'd known for what seemed like forever, was the kind of person who probably told that line to everyone just to make them feel special, above the rest, to get them all on board. He was a true puppet master.

  It was like a game of Survivor. But Cobb had plans of his own, and he never shared his plans with anyone else. He very much wanted to outwit, outplay and outlast them all.

  "We just have one more stop to make," Cobb replied. "And I think you're both going to like this."

  "’Bout time too!” Gymp smiled then slapped Ambrose on the shoulder. "It's been a pretty boring damn start to summer so far, hey big guy!"

  Ambrose just grunted. Abigail Brenner would be at the party tonight. They had deliberately asked a
ll her friends to come too, even the ugly unlikable ones. Abby wouldn’t be able to resist. That was the only thing Ambrose was looking forward to, getting Abby alone tonight. Teddy had promised him that everything would be in place and ready for the occasion.

  Ambrose scratched his skin again, his fingers came away smudged with blood and hoped he could last that long without exploding.

  Twenty minutes later they pulled up at a small run-down motel with six rooms and an empty swimming pool at the front that was stained with grime and looked like it hadn't seen water since the Hoover Dam was built. The motel was well off the main road. Like the motel itself, the landscape was torn and faded, and was surrounded by vacant dirt lots, and a shimmering heat-haze of flatness, broken asphalt, unruly weeds. A rusting, blue dumpster offered the only color to the depressing picture.

  The motel was frequented by cheap hookers who weren't fussy about the quality of their clientele as long as they could produce the cash.

  If Erin’s Bay had an ass-end, then this place would be its anus.

  Cobb, Ambrose and Gymp climbed out of the SUV. Cobb produced a key with a plastic tag from his pocket. He got only a few yards before realizing the others weren't following. He turned to see Gymp and Ambrose leaning against the side of the SUV, arms folded.

  "Come on, Cobb," Gymp whined. "We can do better than banging some cheap whores in this dump."

  Cobb said nothing, just smiled. He'd rented a room for a few days. The rest of the place was empty and he'd paid double the full rack-rate to the eager manager if he kept his mouth shut and asked no questions. If he didn't, Cobb would get Ambrose to pay him a visit with a baseball bat.

  "What are you playing at, Cobb?" Ambrose pushed off the side of the SUV and walked towards him. His itching skin was intolerable now. “We did this shit back in middle school." Ambrose could feel the volcano about to erupt. This was the last thing he wanted. Maybe he could just take his rage out on Cobb, smack his little candy-ass until he needed an ambulance.

  "Surely this is a joke?" Gymp now joined Ambrose's side. "We did this years ago."

  Cobb lifted the key and dangled it in front of their eyes. "Not like this you haven't."

  Ambrose and Gymp exchanged looks. If they knew anything about Dylan Cobb, it was that he was always full of surprises.

  Sixty seconds later all three men were standing inside the motel room.

  16

  Flight is a common behavior among animals when confronted with a predator.

  When gazelles drink at a watering hole in the savanna, they have an acute sense of awareness as to whether they are being watched or if a possible threat is approaching. While their heads may be bowed drinking, their eyes and ears remain attuned to the surrounding environment.

  The same could not be said of Abigail Brenner and her friends who were seated in the large outdoor section of the bistro on the main street of Erin’s Bay. Waitstaff dressed in crisp white shirts and fashionable pinstripe bib aprons glided between linen-covered tables carrying large plates of food and expensive bottles of wine. The place was bustling with the throng of lunchtime patrons. The outside tables were crowded and in high demand. The air was warm and filled with a constant chatter, the sound of renewed acquaintances and the occasional outbursts of laughter, all mixed with the clinking of cutlery and chinking of glasses.

  A long awning ran the length of the building that did provide some partial shade for Abby and her group of friends. They sat clustered together with impossibly thin cell phones poised in their hands, swapping gossip, talking about their plans for the summer and about the party tonight at the Hanson Estate. They ate, drank, and laughed together under the soft dappled light that filtered through from the trees that lined the curb, some additional camouflage.

  But not enough.

  The woman sat a few tables away, an e-reader held in one hand, the fingers of her other hand caressing an espresso that sat on the table in front of her. No sunglasses. No hat. Her face, her features in plain view for all to see.

  The woman was hidden but not hiding. The best never hid, for that would require effort and making an effort could get you noticed.

  And she was effortless.

  Hiding was for amateurs. Going unnoticed was for professionals. And to go unnoticed in bright sunshine, out in the open, on a glorious summer’s morning was vastly more difficult than easily hiding in the shadows at night.

  Shaw approached from the west, along the opposite sidewalk, milling through the lunchtime shoppers and morbidly slow tourists. His pace was not too fast, not too slow, not too obvious. There was no rush and the pang of guilt wasn’t going anywhere.

  His eyes scanned the street ahead and to the sides as he watched the passing traffic and the patrons sitting in the many cafes, bars and restaurants that spilled to the edge of the sidewalk.

  He crossed the road and made his way towards the upmarket bistro Abby had told him to meet her at.

  He didn't notice the woman at first, she blended in so well. He spotted Abby and her friends, stepped into the bistro off the sidewalk and slowly threaded his way through the outside tables. Couples, groups, faces, food, features, attention, he scanned as he went.

  He didn't know why his eyes found the woman sitting alone at the table not far from Abby. It was just a feeling Shaw got, a slight ripple in the otherwise bland periphery of the busy scenery that made his senses twitch.

  It was the tilt of her head, the angle of her neck, the way her ears were open towards the direction of Abby's group, so as to pick up on slivers of their conversation. Shaw’s eyes settled on her for a mere second, referencing the position of the table, the angle of her chair, the bag hanging over the side of the chair not around the back. She was right-handed.

  The woman was good. Very good. One of the best he’d ever seen.

  He walked right past her table. The woman didn't even flinch.

  It took every ounce of discipline for Shaw not to glance at her again.

  The woman must have arrived after Abby did. She had probably stood watching them from across the street, perhaps while looking innocently in a store window, using the reflection to observe Abby's arrival behind her.

  Then she would have crossed the street, entered the bistro before casually approaching the maitre d' and asking for an outside table, close but not too close to where Abby was sitting. A healthy tip would have been exchanged.

  Abby looked up and smiled when she spotted Shaw making his way towards her. Her companions followed her gaze and their eyes instantly fell on him. Fingers twirled hair, smiles appeared, eyes brightened, tongues subconsciously moistened lips, envious thoughts contemplated. Devilish looks hidden behind designer shades.

  “Abby, who is this?" one woman asked as her eyes did a slow reconnaissance of Shaw from head to toe, below the waist getting slightly more attention than above.

  Shaw turned slightly, ignoring Abby and her friends and looked directly at the woman again.

  He needed to test her.

  Come on, he thought. You want to look up don't you? Shaw was willing the woman to look up at him, or at least glance in his direction. But the woman’s eyes never left the e-reader she was holding, totally immersed in the story. Then the woman raised one delicate hand and pressed the screen, flipping the virtual page. She smiled as though suddenly reading a comical or witty passage in the story. It was a nice touch, Shaw thought, subtle, convincing, a true chameleon.

  Come on, look up. You can't resist.

  But the woman's willpower kept her curiosity in check.

  She lifted the small glass cup to her lips, took a sip, her eyes never leaving the E ink.

  "What's wrong?" Abby was now at Shaw's side, tucking her hand into his elbow. "Is everything okay?"

  Shaw turned away from the woman and smiled at Abby. "Nothing. It's all good."

  It was only then, with Shaw turned away, that the woman’s eyes cut a sideways glance at him. It was a split-second look, like the snap of a camera lens, capturing the side
of his face, memorizing everything about him; his body, his stance, Abby’s hand resting on his elbow.

  "You know you need to smile a bit more," Abby said. “Come and meet my friends while I get the check.”

  Shaw looked at the three women sitting with Abby, three curious faces, three sets of expressive eyes. He shook his head, “No, I’m fine. I’ll wait on the sidewalk.”

  Shaw walked off and Abby was left standing looking after him.

  Shaw didn’t wait for Abby. Instead he exited the bistro the way he had entered. Then he walked around the block only to return to the bistro but this time he entered through a side entrance, made his way to the congested bar inside. He found a spare stool and positioned it so that his line of sight was directly behind the woman at the table outside. He also had a clear view of Abby on the left.

  He ordered a coffee and while he slowly drank it with his back to the bar, his eyes never left the woman seated at the outside table.

  Abby and her friends were oblivious to the fact that they were being watched. Maybe the woman wasn’t interested in Abby, maybe it was one of her friends that she was interested in. Maybe Shaw was overreacting. He didn’t think so. The art of watching people had taught him plenty, and his gut was telling him something was not right.

  While Abby sat innocently, in the partial shade, enjoying the company of her friends, a predator, not ten feet away, was sitting in the blazing sunshine watching her.

  17

  Abby stared down at the side of her car, the paintwork ruined by the ugly gash that ran along the entire length.

  "I'm sorry, Abby." Shaw was standing behind her. "You let me borrow your car and it's my fault."

  Abby stood up. Anger flared in her eyes. "Is it your fault some steroid pumped up freak like Teddy Hanson saw my car and decided to do this to it?”

  She spoke with such venom that Shaw took a step back.

  Abby gritted her teeth and continued her tirade. "Is it your fault that I was a stupid son-of-a-bitch who agreed to go out with that prick?" She stepped closer to Shaw and poked her finger in his chest. "Is it your fault that you have shown nothing but kindness and concern for my wellbeing while other idiots in this town mock me and talk behind my back?” Abby trembled, her eyes wild with rage.