Justice Incarnate (4 page)

"Absolutely not."

Thomas blinked, startled by the vehement reply. "Too bad. She looked professional."

"But what sort of profession?"

Thomas fought back an instinctive defense of the thief, but Albertson's hearty belly laugh sounded first. When he caught his breath the judge said, "She can't touch me."

"If you say so," Thomas replied. His hands were back on the cool gold surrounding the fiery opal of the antique necklace. The filigreed heart-shaped setting would've drawn much attention to the cleavage of the young lady wearing it. "Anything else?"

"No. You've done well and I thank you."

The judge disconnected before Thomas could ask anything else. It seemed he'd have to wait for more answers about the threat this burglar posed. Not unusual, but still irritating.

His desktop monitor lit up with an incoming call. Then another. The primary questions of both callers filled the text fields while pictures of impatient reporters popped up above the words.

The media had found the story all right. With a reluctant touch, he slid the necklace into the lockbox in his desk, and then prepared to enter the gauntlet of question and answer.

The burly man storming into his office stopped him.

"Chuck, have a seat."

"I'll stand." He tossed his silver shield at Thomas. "I won't spend another minute in the hell-hole you've got here."

Deliberate, precise motions moved the ice pack and brought Thomas to his feet. "You'll control yourself and follow orders."

"I won't take orders from a man who'd sacrifice his own."

"You've crossed a line here, Loomis."

"That's the pot callin' the kettle black, I'd say."

Thomas shook his head and then recalled the antiquated saying. "What's set you off?"

Chuck tapped a thick index finger on the desk. "Tonight's little exercise crossed the line, Chief." He sneered at the title. "Wait'll the boys hear Larry died in the name of a lousy test run. Neither you or the city'll survive the Blue Flu."

"Test run? Flu?" Baffled, Thomas dropped back into his chair. "Start over. And use English this time."

"I saw the Michaels woman." Chuck bit out each word. "She's tested response times and codes and the like before."

And suddenly it clicked. The mystery thief was 'the Michaels woman'. Jaden Michaels, a security specialist with a tendency to favor the underdog. She had some sort of girl-power school in town and did some freelance with the police force occasionally, but they'd never met in person.

"Chuck," he applied his calm buddy tone. "We weren't running tests tonight. If you got a call–it was real."

He glared at Thomas. "So real the museum says nothin's gone."

Thomas sat up straight, ignoring the jab of pain climbing his leg when his foot hit the floor. "Nothing?"

"Nope. They just spewed nonsense about false alarms and sent me on my merry way." He swiped that beefy hand over his face and cleared his throat. Twice. "After they took away...the body...I looked around for the laser gun. It wasn't on her, but I'll be damned if I know where she ditched it. Larry'd been trying to link a call we were tracing with the museum break in. When the laser flashed I dodged but it caught the tire. Now how'd she get a hold of that except from someone skimmin' from us?"

Thomas understood every layer of Chuck's agony. "I'll look into it. Personally." Won't have to look far. "I've already seen the video. Larry bounced out of the seat. He just wasn't buttoned down when the vehicle rolled. An unfortunate accident, that's all."

"Bull." Chuck upended an evidence bag and a charred buckle and webbing clattered onto the desk. The bitter smell of burnt flesh and fried circuits hung in the air between them.

Thomas pressed his fingers to his temples in an attempt to stop the relentless pounding. He didn't need to deal with equipment failure, even if it would soothe his conscience.

"Go home. Get some rest. And keep the badge." Chuck nodded, and then just stared down at him like a lost puppy. "Take tomorrow off, Chuck. I'll handle Michaels."

"Yessir." At the door, Chuck paused. "Check the tapes. Larry's last entries should lead you right to her."

"Got it," Thomas said and dismissed the grieving officer.

What the hell was going on?

He had a judge who didn't care about a display he'd personally funded, a museum denying all trouble, a good cop dead, a security specialist posing as a thief, a chat room buzzing with reporters, a bum knee and the devil's own headache.

"Lord love a duck," he groaned and washed a couple of painkillers down with a hefty gulp of antacid.

* * *

Jaden woke a half hour before the day's first class. Her body ached from last night's scuffle at the museum and the impromptu class for Micky. She looked forward to working out the kinks in warm-up. She programmed the shower for high efficiency and tried not to remember a past life when she'd indulged in long hot soaks in a massive marble tub. Having a wealth of diverse experiences in the subconscious wasn't always a gift.

She loathed having to wait another whole day to dig into the diary and fit together the girl's account from last night, but she wouldn't put off the women who sought her instruction. The classes filled a void for her and her students. Whether simply providing fitness and a confidence boost or a life saving tool, she made sure everyone got her money's worth.

"Aren't you the picture of perfection," Cleveland said, walking through the studio door in time to join her for lunch.

She blotted her sweaty face with a towel. "Your timing's suspect."

"No way. I brought food."

She eyed the white sacks, smelled the heady aroma of marinara sauce and sighed. "We feast while some poor child goes hungry."

He laughed and began filling the plates she'd handed him. "The kid two blocks over is fine. I bought for him too."

"Who? Quinn?" She grabbed two bottles of water, tossed the towel in the direction of the workout room and sat down to the nearest full plate. "Cool. He doesn't get the first shot at a hot meal very often."

"I don't know." Cleveland pinned her with a look. "He mentioned something about two days running."

Jaden felt color creep up her neck, but refused comment. "Why're you here?" she asked around a mouthful of fettuccine.

"I worry," he said.

"Bad for your health. I'm a big girl."

"Lookin' to chew on a bigger bone."

She stopped eating. Could Cleveland be like her? Another soul reliving life until he got it right. "Just what do you think you know?"

"Enough to point you in the right direction. Last night paid off, right?"

"Financially." She weighed the risks and went for it. "Other areas, I'm not so sure. Met a girl marked up recently."

"Dead or alive?"

"Depends on your definition."

Judging by the haunted eyes and hollow voice, she'd have to say dead. But if life meant merely a beating heart and independent breathing, alive would be the verdict.

"So how you gonna take down the untouchable?"

"Excuse me?"

"I know what Judge Albertson's capable of."

"What makes you think I do?" Jaden tried to avoid his penetrating gaze, but she couldn't avoid the finger on his neck, tracing a faint scar behind his left ear she'd never noticed before.

"Let's say we have some things in common."

Her appetite gone, she pushed the plate aside and crossed her arms over her chest. "What gave me away?"

"Nothing," Cleveland admitted. "I just knew what to look for and where to look for it. My sister didn't make it. Killed herself halfway through counseling."

Jaden wasn't sure she could take any more victim stories right now. Or ever. Last night had been bad. The judge was escalating and she had to find a way to stop him.

Permanently.

"Look, Jaden, all I'm sayin' is, whatever you need–count me in."

"This is a solo gig, Cleveland."

"Maybe it shouldn't be." He stood and with a flippant salute, was out the door.

Unsettled, Jaden switched on the wall-mounted video panel. She left it tuned to her favorite of the myriad 24/7 news networks and caught the tail end of the police chief's press conference.

"We're investigating the cause of death. We suspect the officer will be cleared of any wrong doing and the criminals apprehended soon."

She studied the image, grabbed the remote and keyed the request for a closer camera angle. The image changed, zooming in on the chief's face.

"I'll be damned," she muttered to the air around her. The facial structure reminded her of last night's street rat, but the eyes were the wrong color.

No, she corrected. Today they were the right color. The unique, deceptively easy-going pewter gray. The color they'd been when she'd fallen in love with him. A millennium ago.

"So you have a lead?" a reporter called from off camera.

"We're working from surveillance material in the evidence vehicle, the surviving officer's testimony and other resources."

"Meaning informants?" another voice cried out.

"Meaning other resources." The chief gave a benign smile and stepped back from the podium. He turned and walked away with a pronounced limp.

"Other resources my butt," Jaden hissed at the image on screen. "Bet that's really hurting you today." She couldn't help her smug smile. But it faded as she tried to sort out why the police chief would be posing as a street rat.

She pushed it to the back of her mind and went to greet the next class. She demonstrated, they followed, she encouraged, they panted. And still at the end of class, her mind hadn't unraveled the mystery. The chief was surely in the judge's pocket, so why not arrest her when he had the chance?

Then, in the final pose of the cool down it hit her. Other resources. If Chuck tagged her with a tracking device, he could lead them straight to her. It was time to make a dive for the bottom of the societal pool until she planned her attack.

"Jaden?"

She turned to see her part-time assistant, Brenda Calhoun, threading her way through the departing class. "Hi there. You want to take the afternoon schedule?"

"Sure." Brenda wrung her hands, and then swung her arms back into a stretch. "Um, my court date's tomorrow. You asked me to remind you."

Jaden groaned inside. She couldn't dive when she had to appear as a witness for Brenda. "Thanks. I have it on my office calendar."

"I appreciate it. Your set of photos is all that's left of that night."

"What?" Jaden reeled from the shock like she'd been punched.

"The hospital records went missing."

"Who's presiding tomorrow?"

"Judge A."

"I see." Did she ever. The whole twisted picture.

Brenda's ex-boyfriend had been a bailiff in Judge Albertson's courtroom. He'd apparently served him well, if the Judge was pulling favors like this. "Awful small case for Judge A to be looking at."

"That's what my advocate-advisor said."

Jaden wanted to groan. A battered woman, not nearly recovered, with only the aid of an advocate-advisor. She didn't stand a chance against a false accusation judgment. And Albertson loved to hand those out like candy on Halloween.

"What do you need if you lose?"

Brenda paled. Jaden hated making her think about the worst-case scenario, but it was a likely outcome.

"I-I'm not sure."

In a display far too rare these days, Jaden's heart softened. She led Brenda away from the classroom to her apartment upstairs. In the kitchen she began brewing her personal blend of comforting tea.

When Brenda's hands were wrapped around a warm mug, Jaden tried to make it as painless as possible. "You have to think about it. Has he made any threats?"

"Not while the TRO's been in effect."

"Brenda, a temporary restraint is only temporary."

"I know, I know." She looked at Jaden with frightened blue eyes filled with tears. "But I like my job. Jobs," she smiled and glanced in the direction of the classroom. "I have real friends, a real life again."

"Any family who could keep an eye out for you?"

"Not in town."

"Where?" Jaden pushed. "You have to consider running. If the court rules you've accused falsely you won't have any legal support."

The tears fell and Brenda wiped at them, but it didn't stem the tide.

Uncomfortable, Jaden reached out, hoping the touch would calm Brenda. The girl needed to start thinking clearly again.

"You think I'll lose," she whispered.

"It's likely."

"But you have the pictures."

She had more, but wouldn't mention it yet. "Pictures or not, Brenda, it doesn't look good."

"Can you help?" Brenda whispered at last.

"I can testify." Regretfully, at the moment it was all she could do.

She'd gladly kill Judge Albertson with her bare hands in front of a thousand witnesses. But she'd been there and done that. Instead of a T-shirt, she'd been awarded a lethal bullet.