Goddess of Justice Dwayne Clayden (i read book .TXT) 📖

that the same method of stabbing had shown up in the pornography case as the drug dealers. Maybe two killers working together?

He flipped back through the files. Except for Burke Baldwin, the others all had long criminal records, and few had served any prison time. That brought his thoughts back to Jenni. If the court system was the link, who better to have inside information than a crown prosecutor. Still, as angry as she was, and even including the terror Jeter Wolfe had caused her, he didn’t see her as a vigilante. Or did he? She was taking self-defense classes and had asked Brad to teach her to shoot. He shook his head. No. She had learned to shoot quickly, and was accurate, but he hadn’t seen the precision the murders showed.

He leaned back in his chair and linked his fingers behind his head. He peered at the wall, reviewing each murder. Right to left, left to right. No one had stood out in the footage of the crime scenes that Sadie had let him watch, just a bunch of cops and gawkers. His mind connected common factors, and just like earlier, when he thought he had a pattern, he hit a dead end. He inhaled, slowly exhaled, then rubbed his eyes. It was there, somewhere—the answer, the link, the clue.

There was a knock and the door opened. Griffin and Sturgeon stepped in and grabbed chairs. Griffin glanced at the wall. “I see you’re working on your homework collage. The teacher will love this. I see a gold star in your future.”

Brad raised his middle finger.

“While you were dreaming of whatever you dream about, they called us to an assault last night.”

Brad frowned. “They called you out for an assault?”

“It was a severe beating. Paramedics weren’t sure if the guy would live. Robson was there. He made a smart decision and had us paged just in case the guy didn’t make it.”

“Is he alive?”

“Yeah,” Griffin said. “He’s in ICU. We just came from there. He’s got multiple skull fractures. They rushed him to surgery early this morning to relieve pressure on his brain. His nose, jaw and cheeks are broken. One eye is severely damaged, and he may be blind in that eye. The list goes on. Rib fractures, both legs broken in multiple places. It’s a miracle he’s still alive.”

“He may wish he hadn’t made it,” Brad said.

Griffin glanced at Sturgeon, who nodded.

Brad glanced from one man to the other. “Is there something you’re not saying?”

“The assault victim is Vinnie Bevan,” Griffin said.

Brad’s eyebrows raised, his eyes widened. “Bevan? The asshat who beat his girlfriend. I was just in court on that. He hasn’t been sentenced yet.”

“Someone got ahead of the court,” Sturgeon said. “Bevan’s a frickin’ mess.”

“I love it when you use medical terms,” Brad said.

“Add him to your wall of shame,” Griffin said.

“I’m not sure he fits the pattern,” Brad said. “Besides, he’s not dead.”

Griffin shrugged. “I’m not sure you have a pattern other than murders are coming fast and furious. It makes sense to think we have several killers.”

Sturgeon headed to the door, then glanced back. “I need to get to the lab. A baseball bat was left on the scene, likely the weapon of choice. Might be the victim’s, but I hope the attacker left it.”

Brad slowed to a walk as they reached the lane to his house. Their run had been both invigorating and cold. Lobo was glad the pace eased and was glued to Brad’s side. The yard light shone on a gray Honda Civic parked behind Brad’s car. Annie. Two years ago, Annie’s mother and her boyfriend were killed by Jeter Wolfe, the enforcer for the Gypsy Jokers Outlaw Motorcycle gang. Wolfe took Annie as his prize. Annie’s tenacity and cunning provided the opportunity for her and another teen, Sissy, to escape. Annie’s information on the gang was pivotal in Brad and TSU locating a meeting of rival bikers.

Brad and Maggie unofficially adopted Annie and helped her deal with the horrors she’d experienced. Brad paid for her apartment and her college education. After Maggie’s death, Annie had returned the favor and cared for Brad.

As he passed Annie’s car, he saw a glint of metal in the snow. He reached down and picked it up.

“Shit.”

It was his tactical knife. It must have fallen off his belt, and then either he or Annie had driven over it. He loved that knife. It had been a gift from his partner, Curtis Young. It held a lot of sentimental value. Maybe it could be fixed.

Lobo sniffed the area, then bounded to the house. Annie opened the door and knelt. Lobo rewarded her with slobbery kisses.

“He was happy to be with me until he saw you. What brings you out on a wintery night in shitty road conditions?”

Annie tucked her blond hair behind her ear. “I was worried about you.”

Having Annie in his life was a godsend. He wasn’t sure if he’d have survived Maggie’s murder without Annie. Annie had just turned eighteen and Brad was thirty-two, but they had a father-daughter relationship. Which pissed Annie off when Brad had opinions on her choice of boyfriends.

Brad shrugged. “I’m great.”

“I left a bunch of messages.”

“I’ve been busy at work. I didn’t check the messages when I got home. We went for a jog right away.”

Annie placed her hands on her slim hips. “Hm. Not checking messages again. Sounds familiar.”

Brad held out his hands. “Whoa. I’m busy. The murders are stacking up.”

“I heard.” Annie headed to the kitchen. “On a great day, you don’t eat well. I figured you were busy, so I bought groceries and made dinner. Fried chicken and fries.”

“Not sure that counts as a healthy meal.”

“It’s homemade. Better than your fast-food, ‘I’m busy’ diet.”

Brad showered and changed into shorts and a tattered University of Calgary T-shirt, and when he stepped into the kitchen, he was overwhelmed by the aroma of fried chicken.

“That smells great.”

“It should,” Annie said. “It’s your recipe.”

Brad hadn’t realized how hungry