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Authors: Danielle Stewart

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BOOK: Chasing Justice
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“Well, I guess that’s it then,” he said awkwardly, turning on his heels. It wasn’t usually hard for Piper to watch anyone walk away from her. She normally found herself relieved to be alone. This felt different. She had to stifle a little tug at her heart as she watched this man leave, and all that did was annoy her. She didn’t need butterflies in her stomach; she needed ice in her veins.

Piper didn’t like the way he looked at her penetratingly, like he could see something that others couldn’t—the heaviness she carried. Starting right now he would be someone she’d need to avoid.

 

Chapter Two

 

“Betty.” Bobby waved her over before she could head back to the kitchen. “What’s that girl’s name, and, for that matter, what’s her story?” At that question Betty lit up like a Christmas tree and plopped herself down in his booth, his real booth, the booth he moved to the moment he came back to the diner.

“I have no idea. The girl doesn’t say a peep. Polite as pie, easily pleased, but she is closed up tight as a clam. I haven’t pried much, but you know how most people love to come in here and gush about themselves? Well she sits, reads, writes, and watches.” Betty’s hands were moving frantically, as they usually did when she gossiped. Bobby often wondered if she would know what to say if she couldn’t flail her hands around when she spoke.

“Watches what?” Bobby asked, losing more interest in the story by the minute. After Betty’s animated response he was more convinced than ever that the girl was probably only taking in the sights of a lackluster town and dreaming up some soap opera to write an English paper about. That was the problem with living so close to a college. You often found yourself dealing with entitled students.

“Everything. The girl seems like a private eye. She watches everything, and everybody. To tell you the truth, she’s got my antennas up. You know how I have that sixth sense about people? Well my radar is going off like crazy with her. She’s got something going on. I just haven’t asked the right questions.” Betty’s excitement over the whole thing had sealed the deal for Bobby. A nosy waitress hoping a boring customer will turn out to be something more than she is.

“I’ve got to get to work.” Bobby laid his money on the table for Betty and kissed her lightly on the cheek. The woman was a bit cracked but she’d been better to him than his own family at times, and something about her always made him feel good.

God knows he needed a reason to feel better. There were moments in everyone’s life that could be considered tipping points—events that became large black lines forever separating the before from the after. Bobby’s came two weeks ago, and it certainly changed his life, career, and plans.

Sam Manton. Just thinking his name put a brick in Bobby’s stomach. He’d spent four months of this year, his rookie year, building a case against this creep. Manton was pretty widely known for importing dope of all kinds into Edenville and the surrounding areas. No one in the department showed much interest, which still puzzled him.

 

Taking Manton down seemed like a no-brainer. Sure, maybe it was only water cooler chatter but the rumors of Manton’s deals had become enough to convince Bobby it was worth the department’s effort. It was at least worth investing some time into checking him out a little more.

Bobby remembered thinking that he signed on to this job to make a difference. He wasn’t interested in sitting around the donut shop on lazy afternoons with the rest of the beat cops comparing stories about the couple of times in their years of service they actually saw some action. He had heard the story of Donny Lee foiling a bank robbery so many times that he felt like he’d been there making a deposit himself that day. In reality, it was a transient guy passing through town who handed a note to the teller. She pressed the silent alarm, and Donny peeled himself off his diner stool, crossed the street, and strolled down to the bank when he heard it go over the radio. The guy was walking out with the money when Donny was walking in. He drew his gun, said, “Freeze,” and that was that. But now whenever the opportunity arose he told the story like a scene out of Point Break.

So one day Bobby decided he would spend his free time watching Sam Manton. He would do a little freelance P.I. work and see if the story would start to come together. The problem was it didn’t take much work on his end to see what was happening. Manton had been running guns into town and then selling them to drug dealers in nearby cities. His drug trades were fairly easy to spot as well but didn’t seem to be his main focus. The guns must have been where the money was because that’s what he was moving and moving them fast. It took some snooping, some eavesdropping, and some patience, but nailing him was not quite the insurmountable task Bobby feared it would be. There were moments Manton seemed to parade his deals down Main Street.

Bobby considered himself lucky. He would be the rookie who would make a name for himself through the takedown of a sloppy arms and drug dealer who had become too cocky. Bobby detailed reports and had documented everything he gathered in hopes of bringing the information to his captain. He assumed Captain Baines would congratulate him and form a task force to take down Manton with the information Bobby collected.

 

Baines was a brash, overweight, stocky man with a short temper. He didn’t tolerate anything that resulted in having to listen to static from the mayor. If a cop in his department did something to draw negative attention or acted a fool, he’d be in for a quick and fierce punishment from the captain. Bobby had tried to stay out of his way until this point. He had ignored the smell of whiskey on Baines’s breath as well as the bags under his tired eyes. There was a chain of command for a reason. It was Bobby’s job to take orders, not ask questions.

Much to Bobby’s surprise, Baines assigned Officer Rylie to assist him on the bust. He was told that the fewer people who knew about something this important, the better. Aaron Rylie was an old school cop who had been on the job for over twenty years. He kept himself fit, unlike many of the other cops his age, and Bobby appreciated that about him. He seemed to take his job seriously and didn’t let his many years of service become an excuse for taking a more lax approach to his duties. Bobby knew Officer Rylie was from the Irish crew of cops that had been part of some really impressive busts over the years. His reddish-brown hair had started to grey, and his skin was leathery from so many days out walking the beat. He was a man of few words but seemed very interested in what Bobby had been able to find out about Manton.

Bobby’s information suggested that the guns would be following the delivery schedule of a fake transport business Manton had created. This deal was especially important because it involved Manton being present to receive the shipment and meet a person who Bobby deduced was the supplier. He hadn’t managed to pinpoint who that was exactly.

The morning came and Bobby readied himself for what he assumed would be a career-changing moment. Little did he know how right he was. It certainly changed the trajectory of his life, but not for the better. Going in with only two cops seemed light when dealing with a serious case like this, but he ignored his gut and trusted his superiors as he had been taught to do in the academy. After all, they knew best.

Bobby and Officer Rylie arrived on the scene and the rest was a blur. The delivery had already been made. The new supplier, who Bobby assumed would be collateral damage and turn into another historical collar for him, had left. Perhaps they had been tipped off, or maybe Bobby had gotten his information wrong.

Officer Rylie nodded for Bobby to climb the chain link fence that separated them from Manton and two of his cronies who were hastily moving the crates into a truck for transport. Bobby landed and steadied himself after hopping the fence. He drew his weapon, announced himself and told them to put their hands up where he could see them. One man reached for what Bobby’s training had taught him to assume was a weapon tucked into the back of the man’s belt. When the perp saw Officer Rylie, he relaxed and moved his hands back to his sides. Bobby assumed the presence of another officer led the man to believe he was surrounded or outnumbered and it would be unwise to pull a weapon.

Manton gave a curious look over Bobby’s shoulder to Officer Rylie. He seemed puzzled rather than scared. It wasn’t the reaction Bobby anticipated, but hell, it was his first real action as a cop. Who was he to assume how anyone would act in this type of situation?

Bobby approached the man who had reached for a weapon first and pulled the gun from behind his back, tucking it into his own belt and reaching for his cuffs. Officer Rylie was cuffing Manton and seemed to be speaking to him more than one would think necessary for a collar like this. Manton never spoke. Bobby was out of earshot, but whatever Rylie said had Manton nodding his head in agreement.

The process was going smoothly and Bobby’s confidence was growing with each passing minute. Bobby approached the third man, his service weapon now holstered, and read the scene as contained. He reached for his zip ties since his other cuffs were being used, and in that moment felt a wall of pain hit his face. He fell backward to the ground, stunned and unaware of what exactly had happened. There was a kick to his stomach and chest, then a stomp on his back as he attempted to roll away. He reached for his weapon and wondered for a brief second what Officer Rylie was doing. Finally Rylie was there, gun drawn and pointed directly at the man, telling him to back the hell up before he blew his head off.

Bobby lay there, gathering himself while Rylie cuffed the third man and called for backup.

When other squad cars began to arrive Bobby managed to stand and knock most of the dust off his uniform. But the skin over his cheekbone had split where the man’s gaudy gold ring had made contact. An ambulance pulled up and, as much as he had attempted to wave them off, Rylie had insisted Bobby go in and get checked out.

Ten hours later, when he had expected to be collecting the accolades for a job well done, Bobby was being suspended and gun dealers were being released back onto the street. The explanation he was given was that since this was Bobby’s bust he was the point person, even though Rylie had tenure. Rylie had mentioned this to him that morning, but Bobby was too insecure to ask him to elaborate on exactly what their roles would be. He didn’t want to sound green, so he clammed up and nodded his head in agreement. Because he was distracted by the boxing match he was having with assailant number three, none of the men had been read their rights. The officers who came to the scene to transport had assumed Bobby had done so, and proceeded to book them. Their lawyers, who were obviously the kings of technicalities, had been made aware of the minor detail and had their clients walking free in no time.

Bobby shook off the memory as he pulled up at the station. He wasn’t sure what his first day back would involve. Would his fellow officers slap him on the back and tell him not to sweat it, or would his locker be plastered with printed copies of the Miranda rights? He pulled his duffle bag from the trunk of his car and drew in a deep breath. No matter what was in store for him, the first day back would be a long one.

 

Chapter Three

 

The following day Piper walked hesitantly into the diner. Yesterday’s commotion had done more than just piss her off; it reminded her that she wasn’t invisible. A scene like that could be enough to draw the attention of the judge, attention she was trying to avoid.

Sitting on the opposite side of the diner wasn’t an option considering she needed to be outside the direct view of the judge in order to watch and listen to him. During the last couple weeks she had managed to overhear a few interesting conversations that the arrogant judge assumed were spoken in a code that no common person could decipher. She didn’t want her run-in with this guy Bobby to undermine her real goal. With that in mind she chose the booth adjacent to the one in which she had previously perched.

Betty sauntered up with her pad in hand and a smile across her wrinkled face. Something about her expression gave Piper a glimmer of joy. Betty’s bliss was as contagious as the flu. It was impossible to keep from smiling when she was shining her bright eyes at you.

“I’m so glad Bobby didn’t run you out of here. I was afraid he scared you off before I had a chance to find out more about you.” Betty’s heavy southern drawl was sweet delight, and the tone of her voice was as warm and welcoming as fresh-baked cookies. Piper had grown fond of her unique turn of phrase over the last couple of weeks.

“It takes more than a little fuss to keep me away,” Piper smirked wryly. She glanced over the menu, though she and Betty both knew that she’d be ordering the same thing she had for the last two weeks—a bowl of oatmeal with strawberries and syrup. It was the closest thing on the menu to the pouches of instant oatmeal she had grown accustomed to making herself as a child. Piper’s eating habits were so full of prepackaged food that she now found it hard to eat meals that didn’t come from a box.

“He isn’t a bad guy really. He’s a nice guy having some bad luck and taking it out on anyone who has the misfortune to get in his path.” Betty, to Piper’s surprise, sat down across from her in the booth. Apparently, the occasional unannounced break wasn’t frowned upon in this particular diner.

“In my experience when someone says, ‘I’m not a jerk once you get to know me’ what he really means is, ‘I’m a real ass but you’ll get used to it after a while,’” Piper said, thinking back to all the people she knew who fell into this category.

Betty let out a howl of a laugh and slapped her knee. “Isn’t that the truth? Well usually, but I can tell you that don’t apply to Bobby. You got my word.” Betty drew a cross over her heart with her finger as she continued, “So, I’ve been dying to know more about you. What’s your name? I’ve been meaning to ask you for some time but you always seem so focused.” Betty tucked her pencil behind her ear in true diner-waitress fashion. She dropped her pad on the table as if to indicate she had no plans for writing down any orders until she heard some answers.

 

Piper hesitated, separating in her head her old life from this new one. Remember the right name, remember the right details, she told herself before speaking. No matter how much time passed, when you were told never to speak your real name again, it always felt like it was dancing at the back of your throat, about to jump out.

“Piper Anderson,” she said, stumbling a little. She was convinced it didn’t sound natural, and she felt her face flush slightly.

“Oh my word, what a sweet name that is,” Betty said in her singsong voice and Piper felt her shoulders relax. “Are you a student? You look like a student.”

“I was in school, but I quit. And I know how dumb that sounds, but I can assure you it wasn't because I drank too much or slept through my classes or anything.” Piper had begun anticipating people’s disappointment upon hearing her status as a college dropout, and she felt it easier to head-off that conversation early.

“Oh you won’t get any lecture out of me, that’s for sure. If I had a nickel for everything I’ve ever quit I wouldn’t be serving eggs to assholes every morning at five a.m.” Piper appreciated the way Betty didn’t clean up her language for her sake. A few good curse words were pretty refreshing. “What were you going to school for anyway?” She tucked her hand inquisitively under her chin and glanced at Piper over the rim of her eyeglasses sitting low on her nose.

“I was going to school for criminal justice,” Piper said, waiting for her to respond. But Betty’s strategically placed silence worked perfectly, making Piper feel obligated to continue. “The first year was all about the idea of justice and how lucky we were to live in a society like ours. The second year was reality, which is how lucky
criminals
are to live in a society like ours. Once I saw a handful of really repulsive people rejoin the general population because of one loophole or another, I realized I’d better save my time and money.” Piper let the words flow from her mouth easily rather than catching them at the back of her throat and scanning them for any slip-up or misstep as she usually did when speaking to people. Betty seemed to put her at ease. She made her want to talk, which was not an easy task.

“Well that’s not something you need to explain to me, especially not in this shady town. My husband was a cop for sixteen years, the entire length of our marriage. He started two weeks after our wedding day.” She pursed her lips in what Piper read as anger.

“Are you divorced?” The question was forward but Betty didn’t seem to mind a direct question. She certainly didn’t mind asking them.

“Widowed, he died on the job.” Betty swallowed hard. “That’s why I started working here. I couldn’t stay in the house anymore and carry all that grief. All my mind did was work through the conspiracy theories.”

“Conspiracy theories? What do you mean?” Piper thought Betty to be eccentric but not an alien-chasing kind of crazy.

“Nothing they ever told me about his death made any sense. He was meticulous about how he did his job, how he took care of his weapons. It’ll be eleven years this fall and I swear there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t wonder what really happened to my husband. My Stan was a good cop and a smart man. He wouldn’t have walked into a situation without proper backup or with a dirty weapon that would jam. I should have known by the way he had been acting the few months leading up to it that something wasn’t right, but I tried to mind my own business. I don’t trust a single cop in this town besides Bobby, and especially the ones Stan thought were his friends. Not one of them came by the house to see how Julie and I were doing. I mean, she was only fifteen years old and burying her father. If it weren’t for Bobby I’m not sure how she would have made it through.” Betty seemed lost in thought as she trailed off.

“Are you and Bobby related?” Piper asked, genuinely interested in the answer. Piper had overheard enough of Betty’s conversations to realize there was always something worth hearing.

“He grew up next door to us, which in these parts practically makes you kin. His father is a businessman and wasn’t around too much, a cat’s-in-the-cradle type thing. So Stan took to spending time with him. He coached his baseball team and such. Bobby took it real hard when Stan died, but even at fifteen he was a great support to my Julie. They were thick as thieves since they were about ten years old. They rode out all their growing pains together, and if you’d have asked me a couple years ago I’d’ve told you they’d be married by now.” Betty was lost in a sweet memory for a moment.

“But as Bobby got older it became clear he was determined to join the force. It was all he talked about. Julie couldn’t deal with it. She wasn’t willing to put herself through the risk of losing someone she loved again, and they’ve never been the same since. She went off and married this moron. I don’t use the term moron lightly either. The boy doesn't know whether to check his ass or scratch his watch. She and Scott met one week after Bobby left for the academy. For the life of me, I could not see what she found appealing in this lump of a man. They dated for about six weeks and Jules was acting like a lovestruck puppy. I finally called her out on it and she told me that Scott was all she ever wanted. He was simple, which I thought to be the understatement of the century. He had a good safe job and wanted a normal life. What I started to realize was that my daughter was trying to be with someone she didn’t love who had a very low-risk job. She was looking for the complete opposite of Bobby, and I give her credit. If nothing else Scott was certainly that. I told myself I’d let her get this out of her system and when Bobby came back from the academy, he’d help me set all this right. But then that spiteful little hothead went and eloped the night before Bobby was set to come home. It was a nightmare. I didn’t like Bobby joining the force either, but I never expected Jules to go out and do something so impulsive and frankly dumb. To be honest, I couldn’t forgive Bobby myself for a while until I realized how proud Stan would’ve been of him for becoming a cop. That made it all a little easier. But listen to me ramble on about my old, dusty history. I just wanted you to know that I got it when you said the system wasn’t all it’s cracked up to be. I think I’ll go to my grave not knowing what happened to Stan.” Betty’s voice was barely above a whisper and she frequently looked over her shoulder, checking to see who might be listening.

“I’m sorry to hear all that, Betty, and I hope you do find out someday.” Empathy didn’t come easily to Piper, but she had watched enough television in her day to be able to fake it.

“And now?” Betty let the words drag out, saying them slowly and inquisitively. The question seemed to strike Piper unexpectedly, as though the air leaving her lungs was being pulled by a vacuum. Filling the void in conversation, Betty thought she should frame up that vague question a little. “Do you have a job or are you independently wealthy or something?” She leaned in closely and whispered slyly, “Old family money?” She winked as if to say, your secret is safe with me. Which Piper doubted it would be.

 

“No, don't I wish. I’m looking for a job. I haven’t found anything that suits me quite yet.” Piper tucked the loose hair that had fallen toward her face behind her ears. She always thought it made her look mousy and studious with it pulled back but she couldn’t stand to have it in her eyes.

“We’re always looking for some help on the graveyard shift here. It pays crap and is boring as hell but you can’t screw it up.” Betty leaned back and raised an eyebrow at Piper, goading her to take her up on the offer.

“That sounds like a challenge, because, trust me, I could certainly screw it up. I’d be a terrible waitress. Frankly, I don’t like people all that much, and I have the patience of a two year old. I appreciate the offer, but it’s not something I would be any good at.” The thought of working in a diner, wearing that hideous getup and pulling her hair into a bun was enough to make Piper queasy. She’d rather rob a bank and live on the run than come home with a pocket full of loose change and smelling like bacon.

“Is there anything you’re good at?” Betty asked, seemingly disappointed to not have Piper signed on as the newest addition at the diner.

“Not particularly. I’ve always liked computers. I’m pretty savvy with technology I guess. But without a degree I’m sure there isn’t much work out there for me,” Piper said, shrugging it off.

“Well, not so fast. My moron of a son-in-law happens to work for the cable company. Since no one seems to be able to live without cable now I know his place is always hiring. That’s all that computer and technology junk right? You could get a job there.” Betty’s face was lit again with the spark of excitement. It was clear the thought of being a part of something, being a help to someone made joy rise within her.

As Piper began to decline, Betty cut in with something interesting. This could be something that would again open a door, quite literally, for Piper and her greater plan. “You know everyone lets the cable company in their house. Think of how many dirty little secrets you’ll be finding out, and you can come back here and gossip until we’re blue in the face about it. Who’s ordering dirty movies, whose house is a disaster? You know, all that good stuff.”

Dirty little secrets?
Piper thought. Betty was right; everyone lets the cable company in. It would be easy access to someone’s home. She might be on to something.

“Betty, that sounds like a really nice offer, but I couldn’t put you out like that.” Betty cut into Piper’s words with the waving of her hands.

 

“That boy owes me so many favors I can’t even dream up enough ways to collect on them. The biggest of all is the fact that I let the idiot live after he married my daughter. I’m telling you, he's usually as useful as a screen door on a submarine so trust me, if there is something he can actually do to help, then he should.”

“But you don’t owe me anything, so why would you help me?” Piper furrowed her brow, for the first time letting her skeptical nature shine through.

“I consider myself a pretty sharp judge of character, and you, my girl, seem like a good kid. I haven’t quite gotten you all figured out, but I’ve seen enough to know I like what I see. Now come on over to my house tomorrow for dinner, and I’ll have my daughter and my son-in-law over. We can talk details. I have to get back to work, so I’ll just see you tomorrow.” Betty patted Piper’s hand and stood. She pulled her pencil from behind her ear and jotted an address on her order pad, ripped it skillfully, and handed it to Piper.

“That sounds good but…” Piper said sheepishly.

“Oh Piper, it’s no trouble. I guess you’re one of those people who don't like to take help from anyone… but, it’s nothing.” Her hands were perched on her hips and had a “not taking no for an answer” kind of look.

BOOK: Chasing Justice
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