Shattered Justice (18 page)

His tone skittered over her like spiders in the darkness. She firmed her grip on the bat. “Back off, Marlin.”

He spread his hands in front of him. “You got it all wrong, baby. Your boy here started it. All I did was finish it.”

“So it’s finished.” She didn’t blink. Didn’t flinch. Just kept her gaze pinned to his, ignoring the instincts screaming at her to run—as fast as her feet would carry her. “So take off. You’ve made your point, whatever it was.”

Marlin’s gaze roamed from the bat to Shelby herself. His sneer shifted, morphed into something uglier. More threatening.

More frightening.

“I haven’t even
started
to make my point.”

“Well, that’s too bad. Because you’re done.”

Both Shelby and Marlin jumped, turning to look at the source of the firm command. Dan Justice stood there, hand resting on his sidearm, glare firmly fixed on Marlin. He looked all business. Totally serious.

And utterly, knee-weakeningly wonderful.

“Dan …” She breathed his name out on a sigh that held equal parts relief and joy.

He smiled, but his gaze stayed glued to Marlin as he approached. “I believe the lady told you to leave, Murphy. So unless you want to be charged with trespassing—”

“Hey, no problem.” Marlin nudged the unmoving Jayce with his foot. “I’m done here anyway.” Those cold eyes came back to Shelby. “For now.”

With that he walked toward Dan. Shelby bit her lip when she realized the bully’s intention—to make Dan step aside. But if he thought the deputy would give way, he was sadly mistaken.

Marlin paused in front of Dan, their gazes locked in a silent wrestling match of wills, until, with a muttered curse, Marlin sidestepped the granite that was Dan Justice and stalked off the basketball court, through the fence, and across the street.

Shelby knelt at Jayce’s side, then looked up when she felt a tug. Dan had hold of the bat and was pulling it with gentle pressure.

“Don’t think you need this now.”

She managed a smile—though she couldn’t keep it from trembling. “Thank God.” She put her hand over his where it rested on the end of the bat, squeezed it, then let go. “I’ve never been so glad to see someone in my life, Dan. How’d you know?”

He knelt on the other side of Jayce. “One of your kids called me. Said something was going on out here, and it wasn’t good.” He looked down at Jayce. “I’d say that was an understateme—”

“Aahh!”

The scream sent Shelby and Dan pulling back as Jayce exploded to life. He jerked into a sitting position, fists ready, shaking his head, as if to clear it from the remnants of the fog that had held him unconscious all this time.

“It’s okay, Jayce.”

At Dan’s voice—a voice so calm and confident that she felt herself relax—Jayce relaxed, too, let his hands lower.

“Mar—” He grimaced. “Mar … lin?” The word came out slow. No wonder. From the looks of the bruises already forming on his jaw, talking was not going to be Jayce’s favorite pastime for a while.

She laid a hand on his shoulder. “Marlin’s gone.”

Jayce sagged back to the ground. “Good.” He closed his eyes, forced his wounded lips into a slight smile. “Didn’t … want to haf … t’ teach him …’noth’r less’n.”

Dan’s gaze met Shelby’s, and they smiled. He slid a supporting arm under Jayce. “C’mon, Rocky, let’s get you inside.”

Jayce snorted, then groaned as if the action cost him. “Rocky’s … a wuss.”

But for all his bravado, he didn’t argue when Dan lifted him to his feet and supported him as they walked back toward the center.

Shelby followed, tears and laughter playing an internal tug-of-war with her heart. But one emotion stood out as clear as any she’d ever felt.

Gratitude. That God had been watching. And that He’d sent a protecting angel.

In the form of Deputy Dan Justice.

JAYCE DALTON WAS A TROUBLEMAKER
.

Oh, not on purpose. In fact, Dan figured the boy didn’t even know the trouble he was causing Dan at home. And if he was really honest, it wasn’t Jayce causing him trouble.

It was Dan himself.

When he’d first told Shannon and Aaron he was going to start doing volunteer work with Master’s Touch, they asked him why. He sat them down and told them the story they’d heard over and over, but one he knew they loved. About his mom and how she’d chosen his name with such care and prayer.

“Avidan, right, Daddy? That means
justice
.”

“That’s right, Shannon. Your grandmother and grandfather raised me and your aunts to live up to our names, to let God show Himself through our words and actions. And one way they did that was by encouraging us to get out and help others.”

“That’s why you and mom used to work with underprivileged kids when we lived in the valley.”

Dan nodded to Aaron. “Right.”

“But you quit when Mom died.”

He leaned forward, taking Shannon’s hand. “I did. When your mom died, I needed some time just to be with you two. And by myself.”

“You needed to let your heart heal, huh, Daddy?”

Before he could answer his daughter’s insightful question, Aaron perched on the arm of the couch. “Is your heart healed now, Dad?”

The husky tone in the boy’s voice almost undid Dan’s composure. “Not entirely, son.”

Aaron looked away. “Mine either.”

Shannon slid onto Dan’s knee, snuggling against him. “Mine still hurts when I think of her. I miss her, Daddy. Lots.”

He held his daughter close. “I know, guys. It’s hard. And I don’t think the hurt will ever completely go away. But I also think one way we help it to heal more is to listen when God calls us to help others who are hurting, too. Maybe even more than we are.”

Shannon considered that. “Like who?”

“Well—” Dan leaned back in his chair—“there’s a boy at Miss Wilson’s organization, Master’s Touch. His mom abandoned him when he was just a baby, and his dad’s in prison for stealing things. He lives with his grandmother, but he’s been having a hard time. And Miss Wilson thinks I can help him.”

Of course, Shannon’s tender heart was won right away. So much so that when Dan came to her room for prayers and tuck-in time every evening, Jayce was on her prayer list.

Aaron was less enthusiastic.

When Dan came into his room that first night after telling them about Jayce, Aaron lay in bed, hands folded on his quilt—a queen-size quilt Sarah made for him when he started school—staring at the ceiling.

Dan sat on the edge of the bed. “Something bothering you?”

Aaron didn’t answer right away. Dan waited, giving the boy time. Finally, Aaron pushed himself to a sitting position, but he still didn’t look at Dan. Just stared down at the quilt, fingering the tiny stitches.

“This must have taken her a long time.”

Dan looked down at the patches, each one stitched with a Scripture reference, verses Sarah chose just for Aaron. He knew almost all of them by heart. “Yes.” Dan traced
Proverbs 5:1
.

“ ‘My son, pay attention to my wisdom, listen well to my words of insight.’ ”

His son’s words were so full of sorrow, of longing, that Dan almost couldn’t stand it. He forced down a swallow, touching another square:
Psalm 28:7
.

Aaron didn’t hesitate. “ ‘The L
ORD
is my strength and my shield.’ ”

Dan’s finger touched the square closest to his son’s hands. The one Sarah had placed at the top, where Aaron would hold on to the quilt as he pulled it over him.
Proverbs 10:1
.

“ ‘A wise son—’ ” Aaron halted, then after a moment he went on. “ ‘A wise son brings joy to his father.’ ”

“And to his mother. You were, you know. A real joy to her.”

Aaron nodded. If he’d been a little younger, Dan was sure he would have let his sorrow flow. But Aaron was at that awkward place. Too old to act like a child; too young to take on the role of an adult.

“I miss her.” Though the admission was soft, it held volumes of pain.

“Me, too. I miss her every day.”

“I wish … I wish she was here. I wish she didn’t have to die.”

Dan wanted to be strong for Aaron. To be the kind of man he knew Aaron was becoming. A man who took the good and bad of life, standing tall on the sure knowledge of God’s presence. His truth.

Instead, he felt weak. And lost.

“I’m sorry, Aaron. I’m so sorry.”
I’m sorry I couldn’t save her
.

Dan wasn’t sure how long they sat there, engulfed in the heavy silence of shared pain. But after a while Aaron slid back down under the quilt.

“You think you’ll be able to sleep?”

Aaron pulled a hand out from the quilt and held it out to his dad. “After we pray.”

Dan took his son’s hand in his, and they bowed their heads. “God, this is really hard. Harder than anything we’ve ever done. So we just ask You to be with us. To help us. Amen.”

“Amen.” Aaron let go of his hand and lay back against the pillows.

Dan squeezed Aaron’s shoulder, then kissed his son’s forehead. “Good night, son.”

“Dad?”

Dan paused.

“Do you have to do the thing with that kid?”

For a moment, Dan didn’t follow. “You mean Jayce?”

Aaron rolled onto his side. “Yeah. Jayce.”

“No, I don’t have to. Why?”

“I dunno.” Aaron yawned. “I just … I like it better when you spend time with us than with someone else.”

Dan didn’t argue with Aaron. Didn’t point out that Aaron had a father and Jayce didn’t. That Aaron got to see him every day, and Jayce would only see him once a week at the most.

No, he learned a long time ago to let the boy work through things for himself.

“Well, I’ve already told him I’ll see him for a little while this weekend. I don’t think it would be fair to back out, do you?”

“I s’pose not.”

“Tell you what, how about if you think about it? Pray about it? And we can talk it over when you’re ready. Okay?”

Aaron’s eyes drifted shut. “Okay, Daddy …”

Daddy
. Usually, Aaron was too busy being a teenager to call
him that. Dan smiled, touching his now-sleeping son’s cheek.

Nice to know the little boy was still there, inside the teen.

The next day, Shannon came up with the answer to Aaron’s objection without even knowing it. She asked Dan for a picture of Jayce.

So a few days later, when he met with the boy, Dan asked Jayce if he could take some shots of him for his daughter.

“What, she doesn’t have enough posters of movie stars for her walls?”

Dan snorted. “Nah, she’s just fond of stray animals, that’s all.”

“Ha ha.”

“Seriously, she wanted a picture of you because …” He wasn’t quite sure what Jayce would think of this next part.

“Because?”

Well, here goes nothing. “Because she prays for you every night.”

Jayce stared at him, disbelief etched in his young features. “She what?”

“Prays for you. Every night.”

Confusion creased the edges of his eyes. “She doesn’t even know me.”

“Doesn’t matter. She’s heard me talk about you, and she’s decided she likes you. So she’s praying for you.”

Dan had seen Jayce silent before but never speechless. The boy opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, then just shook his head. Dan held the camera up, eyebrows raised, and Jayce shrugged.

“Go for it.”

So Dan did. When he printed out the pictures, he left them on the kitchen table with a note for Shannon to take a look and pick one out. He came into the kitchen a little later and found not Shannon but Aaron sitting there, the pictures spread out in front of him.

“This is Jayce?”

“This is Jayce.” He looked over his son’s shoulder at the shots. Jayce was photogenic, no denying that. If he could just get the kid to smile.

Aaron picked up one of the pictures, studying it, then laid it back down. He pushed his chair back and looked up at his dad. “I thought he was my age.”

“He’s close. You’ll be fifteen in a week or so. Jayce will be fourteen next July. So you’re about nine months older than he is.”

Lines puckered Aaron’s forehead, as though his thoughts were especially weighty. “He looks … old. Sad.”

Dan’s heart warmed at the concern on his son’s face. “He is, Aaron. His spirit is old and worn out because of all he’s been through. And his heart is sad. He tries not to let it show, of course—”

“But you can see it. In his face. His eyes.”

Dan looked at the pictures. “Yes, you can.”

Aaron stood and started out of the kitchen then hesitated. He turned back to Dan. “I’m glad you’re spending time with him.”

His heart swelled with pride in his son. “You sure?”

“Yeah. I mean, I’ve been thinking about it. If it’s hard not having you around once in a while, it’s gotta be the pits not having a dad around at all.” He went to pull the fridge open, and his voice came to Dan from behind the door. “So I think you should do it.” He shut the door, as though to add emphasis to his words, and popped open the soda he’d found. “Okay?”