Shattered Justice (30 page)

Yeah, he’d let himself start calling Mr. Justice
Dan
. Never out loud. Just in his head. Like they were friends. Close.

Like
Deputy
Justice cared about him.

He should have known it was all just a cop keeping a kid out of trouble. Nothing but talk.

Was Shannon just talk?

Pain knifed through him, and he staggered, stumbling to a stop. Legs aching, lungs screaming for air, he doubled over, one hand fisted around the Aslan pendant.

No. Shannon wasn’t just talk. Neither was Aaron. They only said what was true. What they meant. Their eyes showed that as clear as their words. And their actions.

But Deputy Justice?

Jayce gulped in air, pushed himself straight, and started walking.

What Jayce saw in his eyes today was a question. One simple question. A question Jayce had asked himself every day since the terrible news about Shannon shattered his world.

A question he couldn’t answer.

Why wasn’t it you?

Dan just reached his car when he heard someone call him. “Deputy Justice, a moment, please.”

He hesitated, hand on the car door. The last thing he wanted right now was to talk with Agatha Hunter. Or Doris Kleffer, who was bound to be at her side.

Just go. Pretend you didn’t hear her. Pull the car door open, get inside, and go!

He tensed, fingers gripping the door handle, ready to bolt—and stopped.

He hesitated one second too long. A tremulous hand dropped onto his arm. Dan lowered his head to look into those ancient, ageless eyes. An odd question rambled through his fogged mind.

How old was Agatha?

He had no idea. Had never thought to ask her or anyone who knew her. But he could see a life well lived in the eyes trained on him.

Dan laid his hand over hers where it rested on his sleeve. For all that he’d considered running from her, he was glad she caught him. If anyone could speak comfort in the face of this insanity, it would be Agatha.

“Deputy Justice, I only have one thing to say.”

He waited, ready for the balm on his raw, aching wounds.

“I’m disappointed in you.”

His mouth fell open. His eyes creased into a stupid stare. “I … wh-what?”

She delivered a sharp pat to his arm. “You heard me, young man. Disappointed.”

Dan took a step back, but she gripped his sleeve, not letting go.

“That boy needed you, Deputy. A word, a touch, anything to tell him he still mattered. And you let him down.”

“Boy?” He looked around them. “What—Jayce? You mean Jayce?”

Her head bobbed. “I do, indeed. Young Jayce Dalton, who was doing so well. I heard it all, Deputy. All the boy said.” She eyed him. “All you
didn’t
say.”

“Maybe you didn’t hear what you thought.”

It was a low blow, and Agatha didn’t let him get away with it. “Do you think for a minute I would take a chance on not hearing what’s being said about that precious little girl and boy, Dan?”

He couldn’t hold her steady gaze. He looked down at the ground. “I’m sorry. Of course you wouldn’t.”

“As much I detest this hearing aid, it does its job when I let it. Although today, I almost wish it hadn’t. I almost wish I’d missed what you did to that boy.”

Dan had had about as much as he could take. “Look, Agatha—”

“No, Dan Justice,
you
look. Look deep inside yourself. More than once I’ve listened to you talk about God. About His goodness and mercy. About His place in your life.”

Dan gritted his teeth. “I just lost my children!”

“I
know
that, boy.” The raw pain in her words hit him like a stinging slap.

“Don’t you see, Dan? We
all
lost them. Those children of yours … we loved them. They were part of this town, part of each of us who lived here. Shannon …”

She drew in a ragged breath. “That little girl brought more joy to my days than I could ever express. And that sweet boy. Those children were a gift.” Her fingers gripped his arm. “A gift right from heaven. For all of us.”

Pain wrapped its spiny fingers around his neck. Squeezing. Squeezing …

“But Dan, your little girl—she was God’s gift for
that young boy
. Don’t think we didn’t see, didn’t know how she loved him. Why, she talked about him near as much as she talked about you.”

“I can’t—I can’t talk about this now. Don’t you understand?”

“Don’t
you
understand? That’s the question.” She let go of his sleeve but didn’t back away. “I know you’re in pain. Of
course I know that! Nothing makes sense, nothing is right. Will ever be right again.”

She did understand. Then why was she being so—?

“But feeling pain is no good reason for causing pain, and well you know it.”

Dan wanted to run. From the woman. From her relentless words.
God, please, make her stop …

“Your little girl saw that boy the way God saw him. He knew it, even if he didn’t understand it. And it changed him, opened him up.”

“How do you know all this?”

She folded her hands in front of her. “Just because I’m old, boy, and have trouble hearing at times, don’t think I’m blind. I saw the way his face changed. The way his
life
changed. Your daughter did that because she loved with a pure, godly love.”

Images flooded Dan’s mind. Shannon smiling, reaching up to hug him. Shannon laughing, singing. Shannon holding the Aslan necklace out to Jayce. “That’s all Sarah and I ever wanted … for Shannon and Aaron to know God. To know His love.”

“And show it. And so they did. You taught them well. Until now.”

The last two words brought his head snapping back to face her. “What does that mean?”

Those eyes studied him, so full of sadness that he almost couldn’t bear it. “You know what it means, Dan Justice. God brought Shannon into Jayce Dalton’s life. But He brought others as well. Aaron … and you.”

“I don’t have anything left to give him!”

“You didn’t have anything to give him in the first place.” She said it quietly, gently. “Not of your own. All you’ve ever had to offer that boy—or anyone—is what God gives you. What He does and says through you.” She tugged her shawl closer around her lean frame. “Same as any of us.”

He rubbed trembling fingers over his eyes. “What do you want from me, Agatha?”

“Nothing.”

His hand dropped, and he stared at her.

She sniffed, her chin raised another fraction. “Don’t look at me like that, boy. It’s the truth.
I’m
not the one who wants something from you.”

Dan bit his lip, holding back the angry tirade burning his tongue. “Fine. What does Jayce want from me?”

Her steady gaze bored into him.

“Well?”

Her lips thinned. “If I didn’t know better, I’d call you a fool. That or plain stupid. But you’re neither, and well I know it.” She lowered her head, shaking it. “Go on, then. Run. For all the good it will do you.”

She sighed, so much sorrow in that low sound. Then her back stiffened, her shoulders came back, and she lifted her gaze to his. “I can’t stay out here any longer. I have to say good-bye to two precious angels.” She turned, making her way back toward the church.

Dan followed her painstaking progress, then realized two people stood on the outside steps, waiting for her. As he expected, one was Doris. The other—

Dan’s heart lurched.

Shelby. Even at this distance, he could see her face. See the hurt in her pinched features.

Hurt he had put there.

He jerked the car door open and slid onto the seat. Gunning the engine, he pushed the accelerator to the floor, but not fast enough to escape the echo of Agatha’s words.

“Go on, then. Run.”

“For all the good it will do you.”

EXHAUSTION. UTTER, COMPLETE EXHAUSTION
.

That’s what sat on Shelby’s shoulders as she pulled the doors of the center shut at the end of an especially long, tiring day.

She walked to her car, pressed the button on her keychain to open the door.
God bless whoever invented remote access
. It was a woman’s best friend, especially late at night like this. What was it about darkness that made things seem so much more sinister?

Sliding inside, she pulled the door closed, hitting the lock. She leaned her head back against the seat for a moment, resting. Why did everything seem so much harder these days? Why couldn’t she seem to rejuvenate?

The answer floated through her mind in an image. A face. A man’s face, with a strong chin and killer blue eyes.

“Go away, Dan.” She brushed at her eyes. It was just fatigue. Those weren’t tears. “Please, just for one night, leave me alone.”

Slipping the key in the ignition, she turned it.

Nothing.

Shelby frowned and turned the key again.

Zilch. Zippo. No joy in engineville.

Great. Just great. Now what was she supposed to—

A knock on her car window just about sent her through the car roof. She turned and in the darkness made out a young man’s face. Of course, she couldn’t lower the window at all. Not without power. So she yelled through the glass. “Yes?”

“Do you need help?”

The words were muffled, but Shelby heard them. Weary relief flooded her.
Thanks, Lord. I appreciate the angel
.

She unlocked the door and pushed it open—then realized, too late, what a mistake she’d made.

The young man reached inside and hauled her out of the car. She screamed, trying to pull away from him, but he was far stronger than she. And suddenly, he wasn’t alone. Two forms came toward them out of the dark. One Shelby didn’t recognize. The other …

O God … help me
.

The other was Marlin Murphy.

“What’s this? The fair Miss Wilson has car trouble?” Marlin’s lips twisted in what she supposed he considered a smile. “Now that’s a pity, isn’t it, boys?”

As his goons echoed their “sympathy,” Shelby backed up against her car, fighting the panic creeping through her.
Jesus, help me. Please, help me
. She felt her keys in her hand and eased them so that the keys slid between her fingers in a kind of pseudo brass knuckles. It wasn’t much of a defense, but it was something. They’d do some damage if she could just hold on to them.

Murphy’s goons stood on either side of her, not touching her, but close enough that she felt their breath fanning her cheeks. Murphy stood in front of her. Again, he didn’t touch her. But he didn’t need to to make her skin crawl.

“So what do you say, pretty lady?” He crossed his arms. “How ’bout we give you a ride home?”

“Sure,” goon number one said with a chortle. “We could do that.”

“We’d only take one or two detours.” This from goon number two, who apparently was feeling left out.

“Oh—” Murphy’s voice dropped, the throaty sound pure threat—“they wouldn’t be detours, boys. They’d be the main attraction.” He reached out then, let his fingers just brush her cheek. “Or, to be more accurate,
you’d
be the main attraction.”

The feel of his touch was almost her undoing. She willed strength to her trembling limbs. He might overcome her, but not before she made him pay.

“Whatsa matter, babe? Struck dumb with gratitude?” He fingered her necklace, a cross the kids had given her for her birthday a few months ago, where it lay against her skin. “Hmm, pretty.” He held her gaze as he slid his fingers behind the delicate chain, then yanked. The chain broke, and he held the necklace in front of her. “Think I’ll keep this to remember you by.”

Shelby glared at him but held her silence. She wouldn’t play his game. Wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of hearing the tremor in her voice.

“Aww—” he leaned closer, and she closed her eyes, fighting back a whimper—“don’t be like that—”

“Back off.”

Murphy and his pals spun, eyes narrowed, hands fisted—and froze when they found themselves facing Deputy Dan Justice, his shotgun at his side.

If Shelby’s knees weren’t shaking so bad, she would have flung herself into Dan’s arms. But she could only sag back
against her car, swept by a relief so forceful it brought tears to her eyes.

As for Murphy, well, Shelby had to give it to the kid. He recovered quickly. He straightened, then held out his hands. “Hey, Deputy, relax. We’re all friends here.”

“I said, back off from the lady.”

Even Murphy seemed to realize Dan’s tone brooked no resistance. He took several steps away from Shelby, his goons at his side. With one smooth movement, Dan jerked the shotgun, cocking it as he lifted it.

“Whoa! What are you
doing
?”

Dan ignored Murphy. Instead, he eyed his two pals. “Beat it.” They stared at him, gape-mouthed.

“Now!”

Their legs scrambled, and they disappeared into the night. Keeping the shotgun trained on Murphy, Dan walked toward him. The kid stood his ground, though Shelby could see beads of sweat on his brow.