Shattered Justice (32 page)

Today’s trouble. Yesterday’s trouble. They were more than enough. He could scarcely think straight for their weight on his soul.

Rest …

The word whispered through him, and Dan looked down at the gun.

He could do this. He really could.

He moved his thumb, flipping the safety back on.

He just wasn’t going to do it tonight.

Dan opened his eyes.

Another day. So he was still alive.

Pushing himself from bed, he went through the motions of getting ready. Shower. Shave. Take vitamins so he could live a long, healthy life.

Alone.

Always alone.

By the time he made his way to the kitchen, he was dressed and pressed and ready to clock in. He looked good on the outside. That’s what mattered. As for the inside …

“Hi there, brother.”

Dan stopped. What was his sister doing up this early? Usually Annie slept until he was gone.

“Thought I’d fix you a nice breakfast today. I mean, anything’s got to be better than the coffee and gum you usually have.”

Her smile was forced. Overly bright. He knew she was worried about him and considered telling her not to bother. He was fine. But the words wouldn’t come.

“Oh, by the way, Shelby called again last night. Just wanted to say she’s thinking of you.” She poured him a steaming cup of coffee and added a couple dollops of milk. “You know, Danny, it wouldn’t kill you to talk with her. She cares a great deal about
you. And you haven’t spent any time with her since the funeral.”

His mouth felt like it was full of sand. He shook his head when she held out the coffee cup. “I gotta go.”

Annie was out of the kitchen and in his path before he finished turning away. “
Stop
it!”

He stared at her. Such passion. Such heart.

Such a waste of energy.

“Stop what?”

She grabbed his arms. “Dan, what are you
doing
? Stop acting this way. Like you don’t feel anything. Don’t care. I know that’s not you—”

He reached down and gently but firmly pushed her hands away. “You’re wrong, Annie. This is me.” He walked to the door, pulled it open. “It’s all that’s left of me.”

With that, he walked out the door, steeling himself to face another empty day. Another day of penance for being alive.

A few more feet. Just a few more, and I’m there
.

Annie groaned, pushing herself up the driveway to Dan’s house. Her legs burned, her breathing came in ragged gasps, and sweat trailed down her face.

Now
this
was more like it. She felt great!

Or she would, if it weren’t for Kodi trotting at her side, not even winded. It just wasn’t fair. When Kodi wasn’t working or training, she spent most of her days just lying around sleeping. And still she stayed in excellent shape. All Annie had to do was miss a few days of working out and running a mile was murder.

Whoever coined the term
it’s a dog’s life
must not have had a dog. Dogs had it great.

Staggering the last few steps to the front door, she slid the key in and opened the door. She glanced down at Kodi. “Sit. Stay.”

True to her training, Kodi’s backside dropped into a sit, and
she waited, her amber gaze glued to Annie as she entered the house, dropped her keys on the counter, then filled Kodi’s water dish with fresh water.

Setting the dish on the floor, Annie waited another beat, then, “Release.”

At the magic word, the shepherd leapt to her feet, bounded inside in two huge strides, and planted her monstrous paws on Annie’s chest.

With a yelp, Annie went flying. Fortunately, she’d been standing in front of the couch. Oh well, she thought as she sprawled on the cushions, she needed a nap anyway.

Kodi went to lap up her water then sauntered back and plopped her still-dripping snout in Annie’s lap.

“Ew, ick!” Annie sat up, brushing the dog away with a laugh. “I swear, dog, you are the sloppiest drinker I’ve ever seen.”

Kodi circled twice, then plopped down with an ecstatic groan, that crazy grin on her doggie face. Annie knelt next to her, rubbing the dog’s ears. “How can anyone resist that face?”

As she pushed to her feet, Annie wished she had an answer. Because Dan resisted not only Kodi’s face, but every other face around him.

She went into the kitchen, turning on the burner under the teakettle. Opening a cupboard, she pulled out mint tea bags and the container of honey. Nothing soothed like hot tea and honey.

She should know. She’d drunk enough of it while staying with Dan. Things had been so tense. Annie thought it would be like it was after Sarah died. That Dan would struggle with emotion, breaking down at times, talking his pain through at others.

None of that happened.

Instead, in the almost five months since they’d found Shannon and Aaron dead, her brother acted like he was auditioning for a role in some zombie movie. All through the investigation into the shootings, the fruitless search for James
Brumby, and the painful days following the funeral, Dan drew more and more closed.

It was like he’d died right along with Shannon and Aaron.

To say Annie was concerned was the understatement of the century. Which was why she was still here and not back home in Medford. Fortunately, she could work from pretty much anyplace. That was one of the joys of working in stained glass.

She’d driven back to Medford after the funeral and gathered up what she needed to finish the commissioned pieces she’d been working on, loaded everything into her minivan, and drove back to Dan’s. He set up a temporary studio for her in the heated garage. Not the same, of course, as her studio at home with its perfect lighting, but it would do. So she spent her days working. And praying.

And her evenings trying to break through the armor her brother had formed around himself.

So far, she’d been a dismal failure.

Annie went back to the living room, sitting on the floor next to Kodi. With a happy pant, Kodi flopped onto her side along Annie’s thigh.

Well, at least her dog cared about her.

The only thing Dan seemed to care about anymore was his job, and he kept a professional distance even from that. Every once in a while, just to see what would happen, Annie tried to stir something in him. To make him react, even in anger.

But it just didn’t happen. From all she could see, Dan didn’t get angry, didn’t even question God. He just went … cold.

And he’d never done that before. Even with Annie. She’d always been able to get through to him. But now …

“I’ll tell you something, though.” Kodi’s ears perked up, and she tipped her head as she honed in on Annie’s voice. “I’ll bet you anything there’s a boatload of grief and anger trying to come to the surface. But you know Dan.”

Kodi’s head tipped the other way, as though to say she did,
indeed. Annie nodded. “Right. My dear brother is as stubborn as they come. If he’s decided he’s not going to feel, then by heaven, he won’t feel. Not a thing.”

The shrill whistle of the teakettle broke the air, and Kodi sat up, ears at attention. Annie jumped to her feet, but didn’t get to the kettle fast enough.

The dog tipped her head back and cut loose with a long, mournful, “Arrrroooooooo-ooooo!”

“Okay, okay, I’ll shut it off. Stop howling, you nut!” Annie snatched the kettle from the burner, but it took a few seconds for the whistle—and the howling—to die out.

Her mug of tea poured, Annie settled on the soft couch cushions. Kodi came to lie at her feet. Or, more accurately,
on
her feet.

The dog wasn’t happy if she wasn’t touching someone. That was okay, though. It kept Annie warm. And she needed that, because she was going to be sitting here awhile.

She knew better than to try and talk her brother out of his emotional desert anymore. She was here to listen, to help take care of whatever daily details she could.

And to pray. Most of all to pray.

Because only God could reach Dan now.

Cupping her hands around the mug in her lap, she bowed her head. “Father, I don’t understand any of this. Not Sarah’s death. Surely not the kids being killed. It’s crazy, Lord. Crazy and wrong. But I know You, God. I know You’re grieving just as we are. Just as Dan is. Please, Father—” she gripped the mug—“You know how much it hurts to lose a child. You know the hard, cold place where Dan is caught. Please … touch my brother. Bring him back. Somehow, show him You’re with him, that You love him.”

She wiped at her eyes. “Please, Lord. Open his heart and eyes so he can see—really see—that You haven’t abandoned him.”

Abandoned.

Dan studied the house, the yard. That’s how it all looked.

Abandoned. Like Brumby hadn’t just run but never intended to come back again.

He shouldn’t be here. Sheriff Grayson had made it clear: The investigation of the shootings was out of Dan’s hands. He wasn’t involved.

Dan’s lip curled. Not involved. Get real.

He pulled a penknife from his pocket, slicing the police tape on the front door of Brumby’s house. Pushing the old door with his shoulder, he walked inside. But what he saw didn’t make any sense.

The dogs’ food dishes were there, half full, food scattered around on the floor. His gaze came to the table in the middle of the cluttered room. It was clear now, but he’d read the police reports from that terrible day. The deputies found a plate of partially eaten eggs and toast, a cup half full of tepid coffee.

The conclusion the deputies reached was a reasonable one: Brumby had been sitting there, eating his breakfast, when he heard the kids’ voices outside. True to his threat, he’d grabbed his gun. Gone outside. Probably hadn’t even yelled a warning before he fired.

Shannon and Aaron didn’t even know what hit them.

For just a fraction of a second, the hard shell of ice that had formed around Dan’s heart cracked

“No.”

He gritted his teeth, forcing the feelings back. Embraced the numbness that kept him together.

Good thing Annie wasn’t here. She’d been watching him with those hawk eyes of hers, seeking any sign of emotion from him. She thought he needed to let his emotions out. To
feel
.

She was wrong.

He didn’t have time for feelings. He had a job to do: catch
James Brumby. That was all that mattered.

Another quick look around the room told him nothing had changed since he’d been here a week or so ago. He’d come today hoping to see signs of someone rummaging through the garbage, of things being moved.

Something—anything—that hinted Brumby was still around.

Instead, he just found further confirmation that the man was long gone. Probably for good.

Kicking trash out of his way, Dan walked to the back door. He pushed it open, walking out into the junk heap that Brumby called a backyard—a narrow strip of fenced-in grass between Brumby’s back door and the woods bordering his property. Gnawed bones from the butcher were scattered around, along with chewed-up plastic water dishes and dried piles of dog refuse. Clearly this area was the boys’ domain.

There had to be something he’d missed. Something they’d all missed.

Nothing.

He walked to the back of the yard, his steps careful, and inspected the six-foot fence. The wood was old, weather beaten, in sad need of a new coat of paint. Dan scanned the rough surface—then stopped.

What was that?

Daylight shone through a fine crack from the top of the wood to the bottom. Was a panel of the fence separated from the rest? Placing his hand against the wood, Dan pushed, and sure enough, the panel in front of him fell back onto the ground.

Apparently Brumby had made a gate in his fence. But why?

Dan stepped through, searching the tangle of brush, blackberry bushes, and woods. Blackberries were everywhere out here, so Dan wasn’t surprised to see walls of twisted vines behind the fence. The blackberry thicket was almost six feet high and probably five foot or more deep. Dan walked along
the fence, senses heightened, alert to anything out of the—

There.

A thick section of what seemed to be dried bushes and brush, piled in front of the blackberry thicket. Dan grabbed branches, pulling the brush free, muttering as vines caught and punished his bare hands. He grabbed a large pile, jerked it free—and stared.

What on earth?

It looked as though someone had been living back here. They’d hacked a little alcove out of the thicket, creating a kind of vine cave. But with vines full of thorns all around? That could
not
be comfortable.

Dan stepped closer, pulling his flashlight free and shining it into the dark indentation. This was no hideout.

It was a lab.

A meth lab. Or the remains of one.

Piles of trash littered the ground. Empty antifreeze containers. Smashed packaging from cold and allergy pills and Epsom salts, propane tanks, bottles with rubber hoses stuffed in them, pillowcases stained red. Patches of stained, dead vegetation bore mute evidence of someone dumping chemicals.

Dan stepped back and keyed his shoulder radio. “Jasmine, come in.”

She was on the air in a flash. “Yo, Chief. What’s up?”

“You’d better contact the sheriff and tell him to get on up here to James Brumby’s place.”

“You’re at ol’ man Brumby’s? But I thought the sheriff told you—”

“Jasmine. Let me worry about Sheriff Grayson. Just call him. And DHS. Tell him I need them here, too.”

“DHS?” That stopped her. Dan didn’t call them out very often, but the Department of Human Services was responsible for cleaning up meth labs.

“Call ’em, Jasmine. Now.”

“You got it, Chief. Over and out.”

“Justice, out.”

He lowered his hand then turned to study the abandoned lab again.

“Brumby, you old fool. What did you get yourself into?”

Annie jerked awake.

“What? What did you say?” But the words that had called to her, pulled her from sleep, were mere wisps of sound, vanishing in the air.

With a moan, she rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling. At first, she couldn’t figure out where she was. Then it came back … she was at her brother’s house, lying on his couch. She’d been praying. She must have drifted off into a deep slumber.