Dead Justice by Jon Griffin

Author:Jon Griffin
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Mayuli Press

7

“This isn’t Dagestan, goddamnit.” It took a great effort of will not to throw his phone against the dashboard.

“Hey, I don’t like this any more than you do.”

He didn’t want to admit it, but Parker’s voice sounded genuinely concerned.

“That’s what they want, and you have to follow orders. Solve the murder and get it all under wraps—now!”

“How the fuck am I supposed to do that?”

“Kill the killer when you find him.”

“Yeah, I can do that. I get that. How the hell am I supposed to keep this fucking thing under wraps?”

Parker sighed. “Look, Steadm—I mean—Hal, I know it’s fucked up. There’s a gun to my head too. Look, if you make this happen, Dagestan will go away. You stay out there long enough for us to give a good reason for you leaving and we’ll put up in some office job spying on diplomats in Monaco.”

“Yeah, right. I’ll end up in Colombia convincing drug lords to buy weapons from us.”

“Seriously, man. We’re both in this shit. Just get us out and I’ll take care of you.”

“I’m here,” Steadman said and hung up.

He was pulling up in front of another innocent looking home. It was small and built in a ranch style, in what appeared to be a quiet neighborhood. The damned thing had red brick and white trim. It even had shutters. The only thing missing was a man with a pipe and a boy with a stick and hoop, and the damned thing would be a perfect Norman Rockwell painting.

There was nothing Norman Rockwell about what he’d find in there. He pulled behind Carol’s car and got out. She saw him and walked over quickly. Her face was white, ashen, and she looked like she’d been crying. He started to say something comforting to her, but before he could, she had her arms around him and began to weep softly against his chest. He felt an impulse of desire and then an equally powerful surge of guilt.

God, I wish we were meeting under different circumstances.

They weren’t though, and Steadman held her before softly disengaging and saying, “I need to go in there, Carol.”

She didn’t want to let go, and he reminded himself that trauma and death, while common to him, were still new to her. She wasn’t holding onto him out of lust. She was holding onto him for some sense of authority, for a feeling of hope even. He stroked her back softly and then lifted his hands to her head. He pulled her face back from his chest and leaned down as if he were going to kiss her. He waited until she made eye contact and said, “Carol. I have to go in there. You wait here and I’ll be right back, okay?”

It took a moment, but she finally nodded slightly, more with her eyes than with her face. He gently reached down, pulled her arms from around him, and guided her toward the side of his car. He made sure she wasn’t going to faint and left her leaning against the car as he headed toward the house.

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