Shattered Justice Page 9

  How was he going to handle his little girl becoming a woman without Sarah?

  Shannon yawned. “I want a unicorn. You know, a horse with a horn and wings?”

  “Unicorns don’t have wings, dummy.”

  Ah, the perfectly honed sarcasm brothers reserved for sisters.

  Shannon spun and glared at her big brother, but Dan jumped in, preempting his daughter’s answering volley. “Don’t call your sister a dummy.”

  Aaron grabbed a piece of bacon off the plate, munching it as he glanced up at his father. When the kid turned fourteen last year, he took on the mantle of teenager with a vengeance. Still, for all his teenager ways, Aaron knew how to turn on the innocence and sincerity.” But Dad, what if she is one?”

  “Aaron.”

  “You’re always telling us to say the truth. So if she is a dummy, then—”

  “I am not a dummy!” Shannon’s foot stomped the floor, accentuating her denial.

  So much for stopping the battle before it began. Fortunately, Dan held the big guns. As his offspring squared off, lobbing verbal volleys, Dan turned without a word and unplugged the griddle. Then, his motions slow and methodical, he picked up the bowl of batter he’d been stirring and set it in one side of the double sink. Then he picked up the batter-dipped fork and held it suspended above the dishwater in the second sink.

  The bickering voices faltered, then fell silent.

  “Hey …”

  Brows arched, Dan glanced over his shoulder at his son. “Yes?”

  Aaron bit his lip. “Um, what are you doing, Dad?”

  “Yeah—” Shannon leaned over her brother’s shoulder—“why’d you unplug the griddle?”

  Dan let his eyes go wide. Aaron wasn’t the only one who could muster innocence when it suited. “The griddle?”

  “And what’s the bowl of batter doing in the sink?” Aaron’s forehead creased. “I thought we were getting pancakes for breakfast?”

  Shannon crossed her arms, accusation shooting from her brown eyes. Eyes so like her mother’s that Dan still found his breath catching when his little girl looked at him. “Yeah. Shape pancakes. You promised!”

  Dan’s gaze drifted from his children to the dripping fork. “Oh … you mean you still want pancakes? You guys didn’t exactly jump out of bed when I called you this morning, so I figured you weren’t all that excited about it.”

  They opened their mouths to reply, but he cut them off with a pointed look. “Besides, you seemed way too busy chewing on each other for pancakes.”

  Those opened mouths snapped shut. Shannon and Aaron looked at each other, then at the floor.

  “Aw, Dad—”

  Shannon gave her brother a silencing shot with her elbow. Before he could protest, she slid her arm around his waist. “We’re sorry, Daddy.”

  Dan’s lips twitched, but he didn’t give in. Not yet.

  Aaron tried to pull away from his sister, but she tightened her grip on his waist and popped him with her hip.

  “Hey!”

  “Aren’t we sorry, Aaron?”

  He frowned, took in her exasperated glare, then looked from his father to Shannon. Understanding dawned on his features like sunrise over the mountains.

  “Ohhhh …” Aaron nodded, slipping his arm around his sister’s shoulders. “Oh, yeah, Dad, we’re sorry.” Another nod. “Really.”

  “And truly.”

  Shannon’s added emphasis almost undid him. Dan cleared his throat, stopping the snort of laughter from escaping, and lowered the fork. “So, the war’s over then?”

  A pair of nods. A shared hug. Shannon rested her cheek on her brother’s arm. “All done.”

  “Well, then—” Dan lifted the bowl from the sink—“what are you waiting for? Someone plug in the griddle. Time’s a-wastin’, and I have to get to work.”

  Shannon complied, then climbed up on a stool, resting her elbows on the kitchen island. “I don’t like it when you work on the weekends.”

  Dan held back the sigh. “Honey, we’ve talked about this. I have to work my shift, and sometimes that means I work on Saturdays. Trouble—”

  “—doesn’t take the weekends off, so people need you.” She plopped her chin in her hands. “Yeah, I know. But we need you, too.”

  He stopped, a deep ache tearing at him. Such simple words, but oh, what a punch they packed.

  Sarah, this is so hard without you …“I know, baby. And I need you guys, too. A lot.”

  She nodded. “But you gotta work.”

  “I gotta work.”

  Shannon peered at the griddle. “I still want a unicorn.”

  Did all kids change moods in the blink of an eye? “Yeah, I seem to remember you saying that.”

  “Can you make one, Daddy?”

  Aaron leaned on the counter beside his sister. “ ’Course he can. He can make anything you want.” Aaron’s nod was pure confidence. “He even made me an armadillo once, when I was little.”

  “Really? Cool!”

  “That I did. Even gave it a real Texas cowboy hat.” Of course, it had looked more like a squashed turtle than an armadillo. But hey, it made Aaron happy. Dan dipped up some batter and drizzled it onto the griddle, forming the unicorn’s horn with care.

  And even if this unicorn came out looking like some kind of mutant horse from Mars, Shannon wouldn’t mind. She’d love it because he made it special, just for her.

  He finished the unicorn’s body and legs then used a large tablespoon to swoop a tail. Shannon watched, enrapt.

  “See?” Aaron poked his sister with an elbow. “What’d I tell you? It looks real!”

  Dan studied the unicorn, then smiled. Aaron was right. He’d done an especially good job on this one. It didn’t look the least bit like a turtle.

  Shannon clapped her hands then hopped down from the stool to hug Dan tight. “Thank you, Daddy.”

  He returned his daughter’s hug, then lifted the perfectly cooked unicorn pancake onto a plate and handed it to Shannon. She stared down at it then back up at Dan. Dismay tugged at him when he saw her lip trembling.

  “What is it, honey?”

  Big tears slid from her eyes. “I can’t eat him!”

  “Oh, brother.”

  Dan shot Aaron a warning glance, then turned the heat down on the griddle and crouched to talk with Shannon. If he’d learned anything in the past few months, it was that Shannon’s emotions were all over the map. And some days twelve was a whole lot younger than others. “It’s just a pancake.”

  “No, it’s not! You made him so real, Dad. Look at him!”

  She stuck the plate under his nose, and he obliged her by looking, then eased the plate from her hands. “Tell you what. How about if I take care of him—”

  “Eat him, you mean.”

  Dan could have swatted Aaron, especially when alarm widened Shannon’s eyes. “Daddy!”

  “No, honey. I won’t eat him. I’ll … I’ll …” What on earth would he do with a pancake that wouldn’t dismay his daughter? “Tell you what. I’ll drive to a nice field somewhere and leave him there—”

  “A field with lots of flowers,” she said on a sniff. “Unicorns like flowers.”

  “Right.” He stood, set the plate on the counter, and turned the griddle back up. “A field with flowers.” He smoothed Shannon’s sleep-tumbled hair. “He can live there.”

  Shannon’s chocolate eyes fixed on him. “Don’t be silly, Daddy. He’s a pancake. He won’t live there. But it’s nice to think he’ll be food for deer and squirrels and other animals.”

  “Right.” Could you get whiplash from another person’s mood swings? “So, think you could eat a pancake that looks like a flower?”

  Her smile was pure sunshine. “A daisy?”

  “You got it.”

  She leaned against his side as he poured the batter into the griddle. Dan glanced down at her and smiled.

  For all the posters and boy-talk, there was still plenty of tenderhearted little girl in Shannon. Maybe, jus
t maybe, he had more time than he’d thought to prepare for the changes coming.

  Thank heaven.

  The cheery sound of chimes from the clock in the living room pierced him. He looked down at his watch to verify the time.

  Okay, he wasn’t late.

  He was really late.

  Turning back to the griddle, he fought off the sense of defeat. It was so much easier when Sarah was alive. She’d made all the difference, not just in making things go more smoothly, but in helping him deal with the stress of being all things to all people: deputy, employer, father … and now mother.

  Can it, Justice. It’s not like you’re the only single parent in the world.

  Duly self-chastised, he flipped the daisy pancake one last time, slid it onto a plate, and delivered it to his daughter’s waiting hands. Then he turned to Aaron.

  “Okay, son, what’s your pleasure?”

  Aaron’s grin was utter mischief. “An armadillo.”

  Dan groaned. “You can’t be serious.”

  His son nodded. “With a real Texas cowboy hat.”

  “Sure you wouldn’t rather have a turtle?” Aaron’s expression answered him far better than any words could have. Dan sighed, lifted the bowl of batter, and dipped a spoonful. “Okay. One armadillo, Texas-style, coming up.”

  Almost there.

  And there was even a parking place left for Dan in front of his office. Imagine that.

  The blare of a horn jerked Dan from his thoughts, and he whipped the car to the left, barely avoiding a white Blazer as it screamed past him.

  The guy had to be doing seventy in a thirty-five zone.

  Dan flicked on the siren and shoved the accelerator to the floor, praying no one got in the Blazer’s way. Or his, for that matter.

  The Blazer raced through town, screeched around the curve in the road, and didn’t even pause at the intersection with Highway 62. It just fishtailed its way around the corner, then hauled north. He didn’t have much time to catch the vehicle before it hit Union Creek—and the curvy roads beyond.

  One hand firmly on the steering wheel, Dan grabbed the radio, telling the dispatcher to radio for any other deputies or state troopers in the area. “We’re just south of Union Creek.”

  “I’ll put out the call,” Jasmine said. “Just be careful.”

  Gunning his engine, Dan watched the speedometer climb. Eighty. Eighty-five. Ninety.

  Lord, keep the road clear!

  Finally he gained on the Blazer until he was close enough to see two people were in it. Kids, from the size of them. He was just about to try passing the speeding Blazer when he caught the glimmer of flashing lights up ahead.

  Two state trooper cars sat on the highway, forming a roadblock.

  “Let’s hear it for the good guys! Thank you, Jasmine!”

  He slowed, watching the Blazer, alert to any signs that the vehicle was going to stop. Suddenly, as though the driver just woke up and realized what was happening, the Blazer’s tires froze up, laying rubber and sending smoke curling into the air. It screeched to a halt, just feet from the patrol cars. Dan hit the brakes, spinning his steering wheel so that his cruiser ended up sideways, blocking the highway to the south.

  Jumping out of the car, his gun drawn, Dan advanced on the Blazer, watching the state troopers do the same from the other side. No one stepped out of the vehicle. They didn’t even roll the windows down.

  When Dan was beside the driver’s window, he looked inside. A young kid—no more than seventeen or eighteen—sat there, staring at the steering wheel, picking at the leather wrap around the wheel. He was muttering to himself, talking about as fast as he’d been driving.

  The passenger, who looked to be a little younger, sagged back against the seat. Asleep. Either that, or unconscious.

  Dan looked at the trooper standing near the hood. The man shook his head. “Meth. I’d bet my pension on it.”

  Dan tapped the window. “Open up, son.”

  The boy jerked away from the window but turned his head, and though the kid was blinking over and over, Dan could see his pupils were dilated. Not a good sign.

  “Open the door. Now.”

  The kid kept muttering but fiddled with the window button, as though that would open the door. He leaned against the door, jabbing his fingers at the button.

  Dan grabbed the door handle and opened the door.

  “Hey!” The kid’s yelp warned Dan, and he got his hands down just in time to catch the kid before he took a header onto the asphalt. Dan pulled the still-chattering boy from the vehicle, steadying him as he tried to stand.

  “I told him you couldn’t catch us. Told him we were too fast. Too fast for you. For everyone.” The kid jabbered on, looking from Dan to the troopers. “You guys after a criminal? A bank robber or something?”

  Dan fought the urge to shake the boy. “No, no bank robber. Just an idiot.”

  “This one’s unconscious.” A trooper stood with his fingers pressed to the passenger’s throat, seeking a pulse. Better call an ambulance.”

  Dan turned the driver around, pulling his hands behind his back and slipping the cuffs in place. Then he turned the kid back to face him. “What did you take, son? Same thing as your buddy?”

  The boy didn’t answer. Just kept looking all around them, ducking his head as though trying to hide.

  “Forget it, Deputy.”

  Dan looked over his shoulder at the trooper.

  “He’s gone. It’s gonna be a while until he can even hear you, let alone answer you.” He fastened his gun back in his holster. “You’d think kids in an area like this would have better things to do than meth, wouldn’t you?”

  “Nah.” This from a second trooper. “It’s everywhere. City, rural, doesn’t make a difference. You can’t get away from it.”

  Maybe not, Dan thought as he led the boy to his cruiser, but he was going to do what he could to keep it out of Sanctuary.

  He only hoped it wasn’t already too late.

  The sun was just about overhead by the time Dan made it into the office.

  “Mornin’, Chief. Or afternoon, I guess.”

  He glanced over his shoulder as he hung his hat on the wall peg and fell into his almost daily mantra. “Jasmine, I’m not a chief.”

  She leaned her elbows on her desk, snapped her gum, and nodded. “Oh yeah. Right. I forgot.”

  Dan sighed. That should be Jasmine’s middle name: I forgot.

  She eyed him, brow crinkling. “So how come you carry that hat with you when you never wear it?”

  “It’s part of the uniform.”

  “But you never wear it.”

  “But I always have it with me.”

  “But—”

  “Jasmine!”

  Her ceaseless gum chomping actually ceased as she clamped her mouth shut for a moment, then shrugged. “Whatever.”

  Dan sighed and went into his office. He was glad Jasmine was here. He never could have handled this job alone. Besides, the two of them made a good team, for the most part. She’d actually become his right-hand man. Er … woman.

  Whatever.

  He was even getting to the point of accepting her constant gum chewing and snapping. And that her memory was worse than his mother’s used to be.

  “Anyways, Chief—”

  Make that his grandmother’s. But that was a small obstacle to overcome to have an employee who was responsible, eager to learn, and as reliable as a prize coon dog.

  He stood in the doorway of his office. “Not chief, Jasmine. Not sheriff, or boss, or grand high poobah of law and order. Just deputy. Or Dan. But not chief, okay?”

  Pop! Snap! “Sure. Anyways, I’m glad you’re here.”

  “Oh? Why is that?”

  She twisted a strand of purple hair around her finger. “We just got two calls in a row.”

  Dan’s brow lifted. “Two, huh?” Figured. The one day he was late, trouble put in extra time.

  “The first was another break-in.” She handed him a
slip of paper with the details. “One of those nice homes just up offa Highway 62. The lady who called in said they got a bunch of stuff: laptop computers, CD players, TVs—”

  “All things you can grab in a hurry. And sell almost as fast.”

  “Right.” This affirmation was accompanied by a loud pop of her gum.

  Dan eyed her. How did she do that? Talk and pop at the same time?

  “Second call came right after. It was a crazy kind of call from ol’ man Brumby. Sheesh. That guy’s a total grump. Did you know Ruby said her sister told her that—?”

  “The call?”

  “Hmm?”

  Dan closed his eyes. One of these days, he was going to get her to focus. “The call. From Mister Brumby.” Stress on the Mister. A subtle hint she should be a bit more respectful.

  “Oh, yeah. Right. Well, once he got done bein’ mad that you weren’t here to answer the phone, and then telling me how I was too young to work in the sheriff’s office and how I dressed like some kind of freak—”

  “Jasmine.”

  “Oh. Right. Sorry, Chief.”

  He didn’t even correct her. No point putting another distraction in her path.

  “Okay, so anyway, ol’ man Brumby—”

  Dan sighed and leaned against the doorjamb. So much for respectful.

  “—says someone blew up his outhouse this morning. Blew it to ‘heckamy and back,’ he said.” The pop of her gum echoed off the walls like a gunshot. “He talks funny, you know? Real colorful.”

  “Yes, I know.” Dan straightened. “Okay, I’ll check out the break-in.”

  “And the outhouse, right? ol’ man—”

  He gave her an exasperated stare.

  “Okay, okay, Mister Brumby wants you to stop by and investigate, see if you can catch the—get this—hoodlums who did it.”

  Dan held out his hands. “Hey, I live to serve.” He headed for the door, grabbing his hat on the way. “Break-in first, then I’ll take a run out there. Let me know if you get any other calls, okay?”

  “Will do, Chief.”

  Dan paused then pulled open the door.

  So he was wrong. Even his grandmother’s memory wasn’t that bad.

  Shelby Wilson hadn’t planned to end up in Deputy Justice’s arms. She especially hadn’t planned for it to happen in broad daylight, in the middle of town. It was simply a twist of fate—and some pretty phenomenal timing.