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

guy, Vinnie, who beat up his girlfriend is in the hospital. Not that clearing out the rabble isn’t a splendid idea … I’m kidding.”

He pulled his parka collar up and slid on a beanie.

“I’m being framed for the murders. They have Lobo’s hair from one crime scene. But I take him to work all the time.”

Brad stamped his heavy boots on the ground, knocking off the snow. “Witnesses reported my car at a crime scene before the murders. Today they took my gun for testing, and my backup. They’re clean, but I’m worried. Since you … since Wolfe killed you, I’ve been screwed up. I’ve got a temper, and it’s gotten away from me at work. Archer believes I’m a liability. He’s still pissed off I forged my psych letter to come back to work. I need to prove I’m innocent, but I can’t do that from jail. I don’t know where to turn. I could sure use your advice.”

Jackson knocked on the door and peered into Sturgeon’s office. Jackson slid his lanky form into a chair and glanced around the cluttered room. “I like the decorating.”

Sturgeon glanced up from a report. “You sound like Coulter. And trust me, that’s not good.”

Jackson leaned back in the chair and linked his fingers behind his head. “You have something?”

“We have to find Brad.”

“I know,” Jackson said. “By four, Archer will have every cop in the city hunting Brad. IA is on the case now.”

“I’m not worried about IA. You and I have to find him first.”

“Why?”

Sturgeon slid a file folder over to Jackson. “Ballistics is a match on his service pistol. The bullets that killed the guys in the tattoo parlor, the pimp and chauffeur, are all from Brad’s gun.”

“That’s not possible,” Jackson blurted. He leaned forward and stared wide eyed at the report. “Maybe someone switched guns?”

“First, Brad would know if his gun had been switched,” Sturgeon said. “Second, we checked the serial number.”

“Oh, shit.” Jackson rubbed his hands rubbed his face. “Not possible. I know the kid. Despite his horrific luck, he didn’t do this.”

“At first I thought that.” Sturgeon pulled the report back in front of him. He glanced down and shrugged. “There is a lot of room for error in some evidence. But you can’t fake ballistics.”

“Does Archer know?”

Sturgeon shook his head. “Not yet.”

“I’ll try to find Brad.” Jackson stood. “You need to redo the ballistics.”

“We did it right, we double checked—”

Jackson stopped at the door and held up a finger. “It is my opinion as the staff sergeant for Homicide that we need to reconfirm your results. Do the ballistics again … and take your time.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

Brad slowed as he drove through the southwest neighborhood near Mount Royal College. It was well established, with older homes in decent repair, lawns cut, and large, mature trees providing shade. On the right side of the street, several apartment complexes stood out in contrast to the bungalows. Brad had chosen this four-floor building for Annie over a year ago. Twenty-four-hour security and the latest in locks. It was close to Mount Royal College, in Briscoe’s district, and less than fifteen minutes from Brad’s farmhouse.

He’d planned to talk things out with Annie. Minutes ago, on the radio news, they reported an unidentified police source had revealed Detective Brad Coulter was a person of interest by his own police department.

Brad turned right, then right again into the alley and parked behind the building. He headed to the back door and used his key, then took the back stairs to Annie’s floor. He opened the stair’s door and glanced at the four apartment doors.

He stepped to one and tapped lightly on the door. When he didn’t hear anyone moving, he tapped again. He thought shadow passed over the eyepiece. The lock clicked, and the door opened.

Brad slipped past her into the apartment and closed the door behind.

“What are you doing here?” Annie asked.

Brad peered out the peephole.

“Are you okay?”

“Something isn’t right.” Brad followed the hall to the living room, his eyes roving from right to left over the leather chair against one wall, the leather couch against the other, and the coffee table in between. Criminal Justice textbooks were open on the coffee table, with notebooks and pens scattered over the surface.

He strode over to the window and drew the shades. He swung back, his eyes darting around the room. “Anyone else here?”

“No.” Annie wrapped her arms across her blue sweatshirt. “You’re acting strange.”

“I’ve got an enormous problem.”

Annie pointed to the dark leather couch. “Sit. Tell me.”

Brad peeled off his beanie and slipped out of the parka. He glanced at his Roper boots. “Oops, sorry.”

“Not important.” Annie sat on the couch and slid her sweatpants covered legs under her.

Brad sat on the edge of the couch next to her. He told her about the meeting in Archer’s office and the radio report.

“That’s bullshit.” Annie pulled her hair back and into a ponytail. “Maybe Archer has to play this legit. But not the other guys. What are they thinking?” Annie reached for the telephone. “I’ll call Briscoe. He’ll straighten this out.”

“No.” Brad put his hand over hers and stared, inches from her face. “No one … no one can know I’m here—they’d have to turn me in. As it is, I’m putting you in danger. But someone needs to know this is bullshit. I need to clear my name.”

“Just talk to Archer.” Annie grabbed his hands and stared, pleading. “He’ll understand.”

“Listen.” Brad shook his head and gripped her hands tight. “If I’m arrested, call Maggie’s father, Judge Ethan Gray, and Jenni Blighe. But right now, I need you to do a few things.”

As Annie drove up the lane to the farmhouse, the motion light came on. Lobo bounded around the corner of the garage and jumped at the window of her car. She got out and grabbed Lobo. They wrestled as he tried to lick her face. She shivered. The sun was setting, and the temperature was