Shattered Justice (31 page)

She felt a stab of alarm herself when Dan walked until he was right in front of Murphy, the end of his shotgun pressed into the boy’s chest.

“Dan.”

One look from him was all it took for her voice to dry up and blow away. The man was stone-cold furious.

He turned back to Murphy. “I should haul you to jail and throw away the key.”

Marlin just smirked. “On what charge, Deputy? All we were doing was talking.”

Dan’s jaw tensed. “Score one for the punk. You’re not as stupid as you look.” Marlin’s eyes narrowed at that, but Dan didn’t give him a chance to speak. “I want you to know something, son.”

“What’s that, Dad?”

For all his bravado, Shelby heard the uncertainty in Murphy’s growl.

“I’m a man of my word.”

Murphy frowned. “Okay. So?”

Dan leaned forward, so his face was right in Marlin’s. “So if you
ever
touch Miss Wilson again, if you even look her way, I will personally see to it that you don’t bother anyone. Ever. Again.” He ground the words out, emphasizing the last few by poking the shotgun into Murphy’s chest. “We clear?”

“As crystal,” Murphy hissed the words through clenched teeth.

“Now get lost.”

Unlike his buddies, Marlin didn’t run. He took a step back, turned, and walked away, vanishing into the darkness, like a wraith in the mist.

“D-Dan …”

At her broken plea, he was at her side, his arms around her, holding her tight against his chest. She gripped his uniform, trembling from head to toe. “I … was so … s-scared!”

“I know. It’s okay now. You’re safe.”

The words, his touch, were like finding a fresh spring in the middle of a desert. It had been so long since he talked to her, and now here he was. Saving her. Holding her.

She wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh or cry.

So she did a little of both.

Dan guided her to her car and eased her onto the seat. He knelt beside her, watching her face as she regained her composure.

“How …” She looked over at him. “How did you know?”

For a minute she thought he wasn’t going to answer. Then he lifted his shoulder. “If I see your office light on when I patrol at night, I stick around until you get in your car and head home. Tonight, I had a call, so I had to leave before you did. But I figured I’d come back by and make sure you got home okay.” His gaze hardened. “Good thing I did.”

Before she could agree, he reached under the dash and pulled the hood release. He went to the front of her car, then,
after a few seconds, called out, “Give it a try.”

She turned the key, and the engine sprang to life.

He closed the hood then came to shut her car door. She pressed the button to lower the window. “They messed with a couple of wires. Easy enough to do, and easy enough to fix.”

“Dan, I—”

“You shouldn’t work this late by yourself, Shelby.”

Her words of thanks stuck in her throat at the clipped, remote words. She looked up at him, and her heart sank when she saw the distant expression on his features.

So that was it? He let himself show he cared and then
poof
! It was back to Mr. I-don’t-even-know-you-exist?

“Dan, please.”

He stepped away from her car. “You’d better get going. I’ll follow you home to make sure there’s no—”

She shoved the car into gear. “Don’t bother, Deputy. You’ve done your duty.”

Stepping on the gas, she steered her car onto the road and sped away. But almost against her will, she glanced back in the rearview mirror, and what she saw haunted her.

One solitary form, standing in the darkness, head bowed in defeat.

Dan wanted to pray.

He wanted it more than he could remember wanting anything for a very long time. But here he sat, in his cruiser, staring after Shelby’s car … and nothing came.

No words. No sense of God.

Nothing.

He gripped the steering wheel, his fingers aching. Longing for the days when he could turn to God for counsel, for peace in the face of turmoil. For wisdom when he was at a loss. But somehow, over the last few months, every time he tried to pray all he found within himself was silence.

Cold, empty silence.

“Come on, Justice,” he muttered, hitting the steering wheel with the palm of his hand. “Just
do
it. Just say the words. You know God’s there.”

He tried. Gritted his teeth and tried to force the words out. “God … Jesus …”

But speaking their names felt so … vacant. Like nothing within him connected to them any longer.

Maybe that’s because there’s nothing to be connected to?

He stared out at the night from the darkness of his car. No. No matter what happened, Dan knew God was there. That He was real. That Jesus was who He said He was.

Dan just didn’t trust anymore that that made much of a difference.

Defeat pressing in on him, he started the car and headed home. Back to solitude.

To silence.

To the nothing his life had become.

Marlin didn’t do well with defeat.

That night, after his little encounter with the deputy, he hunted down his guys and taught them a lesson about bailing before he said they could. Then, with that worked off, he contacted Jayce. Just one quick phone call.

“We gotta talk.”

“What? Why?”

Marlin spat the words at him. “Just
meet
me.”

It took a couple of days, but here they were. On the outskirts of town, in a nice secluded spot. Marlin and the boob brothers. And as they watched Jayce approach, Marlin couldn’t wait to share his news.

“What’s up?”

Marlin raised a brow at Jayce’s curt question. “My, my, testy today, aren’t we?”

“What do you want, Marlin?”

He stiffened then forced himself to relax.
Take your time. Work the punk
. He looked at the brothers. “He wants to know what I want.”

They took the cue and snorted.

Marlin turned back to Jayce. “I just wanted to give you something.”

Jayce’s brow creased. “Give me something?”

“Yeah, a little present.” He reached into his pocket.

“You’re gonna like this, you little crud.”

Marlin shut Dicky up with one well-aimed glare. This was
his
show. He didn’t need backup. He pulled out Shelby Wilson’s necklace and held it out to Jayce, who studied it, eyes growing wide.

“That’s—”

His gaze came back to Marlin’s, and the alarm in his eyes almost made Marlin laugh. “Yeah. It is.”

Jayce took it from him. “How did you get it?”

“I took it. Right off her pretty little neck.” He moved to put his face right in Jayce’s. “And I could have taken a whole lot more, boy. You know I could have.”

Jayce fisted his hand around the necklace. “What do you want, Marlin?”

“I want you to remember. You do what I say, when I say it. Because if you don’t …” He shrugged, stepping back. “Well, I can get to the people you care about.” He poked a finger into Jayce’s chest.

Slipping the necklace into his pocket, Jayce turned away.

“Don’t forget, boy.”

Jayce hesitated, then his words, heavy with resignation, drifted back over his shoulder. “I won’t forget.”

“See there?” Marlin crossed his arms and grinned. “I told you boys Jayce would be reasonable. All he needed was the right motivation.”

“DADDY.”

Dan turned. “Shannon!” He knelt, opening his arms, and his little girl ran to him. He hugged her close, tears flowing
.

It had been a dream. All a terrible, terrible dream
.

“What was?”

At the sound of that voice, Dan surged to his feet. Sarah. She stood there, Aaron at her side, his hand in hers
.

“What was a dream, hon?”

Dan walked toward her, reaching out to touch her face. So afraid she’d vanish …

“Don’t be silly.” She smiled, pressing her hand over his where it lay against her soft cheek. “I’m not going to vanish. I’m always here. Always with you.”

“But you were gone.”

She took his hand in hers. “I love you, Dan.”

He pulled her and the children into his arms. “I love you, too. All of you.”

Shannon hugged him tight, and the feel of those small arms around him was heaven
.

“Daddy, you’re so silly.” She grinned up at him. “This isn’t even close to heaven. Heaven’s lots better.”

He tousled her hair. “You know that for a fact, do you?”

She didn’t answer, just looked at Sarah
.

“Dan, we need you to help us.”

He frowned. Suddenly they weren’t in his arms but standing in front of him. “What?” He shook his head. “Help you? How?”

“You have to find us, Dad.”

Aaron’s soft words pierced him. “Find you? But you’re right here.”

“No, Daddy.” Shannon’s gaze was so full of love. “Inside. You have to find us inside. But there’s too much stuff in the way.”

He tried to draw closer to them but couldn’t. Something held him fast, just out of their reach. “What is? What’s in the way?”

Sarah’s sweet smile both touched and tortured him. “You know, Dan. You’ve known all along. If you don’t clean out the barriers—” sadness filled her eyes—“you’ll lose us.”

“No!” He couldn’t stand that
. Not again. Please, God, not again.

“Don’t let us go, Dad.” Aaron took his sister’s hand. “We love you.”

“Wait. No! Don’t go!”

But nothing he said mattered. Bit by bit, they faded, pulled away from him until they were wisps in the dark air
.

Pain tore through Dan’s gut, and he screamed out his agony. But even that sound was caught and carried away. He couldn’t hold on to it. Because another sound tugged at him. A constant irritating sound that grated on his nerves, tugging him from the darkness
.

Suddenly he understood. His family wasn’t being pulled away
. He
was. Pulled away from them, toward the nagging sound outside. No matter how he cried out against it, he couldn’t stop it
.

He should be happy the storm woke him.

Instead, he was angry. That he’d lost Sarah and the children again. That he couldn’t hold on to them.

He dragged out of bed, coming to the kitchen for coffee. Or so he told himself. But he knew he wasn’t after coffee.

Dan looked down.

The gun lay there, solid, heavy in his hand.

Dan’s fingers convulsed on the weapon.
Justice
. What a laugh. There was no justice. No right. No wrong. No innocent. No guilty.

That’s just the pain talking. You don’t believe that
.

His hoarse laugh sliced through the silence. Believe? What did that matter? Did it stop evil? Save those who deserved it? Make the guilty pay?

Hardly.

Justice was a myth. A nice little fairy tale to make children feel safe so they could sleep—

Sorrow cut as deep as any shard of glass, piercing him. His gaze lowered to the cold steel in his hand.

He let the weapon settle into place. Nestle in his palm.

Escape. It was so close. So easy. Just lift the gun, point it—

No
.

Dan spun. He could have sworn the word was spoken right behind him. But no one was there. He leaned against the kitchen counter, one hand clutching the gun, the other planted on the cool tile.

He needed to do this. Needed to get away. Needed …

You need sleep
.

Dan closed his eyes. Sleep. The thought of it drew him.

Go to bed, Dan. Rest. Think about this tomorrow
.

Dan’s lips lifted. What was that Bible verse? Something something trouble …

Oh yeah. “Don’t worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will
bring its own worries. Today’s trouble is enough for today.”