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

to do the late-night news. It had taken all her energy to portray the perky news reporter they wanted. She’d left the station after taping the show.

Sadie thought about changing out of her tan skirt and black knit shirt, but poured a whiskey and sat on the couch, swirling the glass before taking a sip. Her eyes spotted a piece of paper with her name scrawled on the front. She swung her legs off the couch, grabbed the note, then sat down. Two sips of whiskey later, she flipped the note open.

Sadie,

Thanks for the hospitality.

That is a great tip about the Central Library. I’ll check it out tomorrow afternoon.

Tell Annie I’m off on another adventure.

Will contact soon.

Sissy

Something had happened while she was on her jog. Did he think she told the cops he was here? Did he discover something new? No, it was something else. What was the library reference? She tossed back the whiskey, drew her black-stockinged legs under her and closed her eyes.

The ringing phone startled her. Sadie switched on the coffee table light and grabbed the phone. “Hello.”

“Hi, Sadie. It’s Annie. Sorry to call so late, but I’m worried about Sissy. Is she okay?”

“Hi, Annie.” Sadie stretched and rubbed her eyes. “I haven’t seen Sissy since early this afternoon. She left a note. She’s off on an adventure.”

“I thought she was staying at your place for a few nights. You know until she got things worked out.”

“Did her classmates meet her tonight? Did they give her the package?”

“I haven’t heard from them. That’s why I thought I’d check with you. I thought she was back there with you.”

“She’s in a difficult situation. Boy trouble and all.” Sadie swung her legs to the rug and leaned forward. She grabbed her glass, then silently cursed that it was empty.

“In unrelated news, Internal Affairs interviewed me, Zerr, Steele, and Briscoe today.”

“That must have been fun.”

“It was. I got Detective Griffin.”

“Isn’t he Brad’s partner?”

“You wouldn’t think so, the way he acted. He’s out for Brad’s hide.”

“You’re kidding.” Sadie stretched the telephone cord as far as she could and was just able to get her hand on the whiskey bottle.

“Nope.”

“You’ve got me worried.” Sadie filled the tumbler close to the brim.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

Sadie heard the tension in Annie’s voice. She was barely holding it together. She was emotionally strong, but when it came to Brad, Sadie was sure that was Annie’s Achilles’ heel.

“I’ll tell you about it later.”

Sadie gulped her whiskey. “How did the other interrogations go?”

“I’m not sure. We were told not to talk to each other. But that won’t last. I’m sure they gave as much grief as I did.” Annie sounded so tired. “We should meet tomorrow.”

“Sure,” Sadie said. “Same place at one?”

“Sadie, please call me if you hear from Sissy.”

“I will. Goodnight, Annie.”

Sadie replaced the receiver, then refilled her tumbler. She wandered to the window and gazed out at the snow-covered city. She shivered. Where are you, Brad?

Chapter Fifty

Dice paced the living room, too keyed up to sleep. The workout over the last hour, the second of the day, didn’t help.

Everything was planned so carefully, every step analyzed from all conceivable directions. Coulter’s arrest was the culmination of all the planning.

Fists pounded against Dice’s forehead. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. All the planning and one minor detail derailed it all. Coulter hadn’t been arrested. Coulter was free. Maybe the manhunt for him would solve the problem. It also allowed the killing to continue with the blame on Coulter. But Dice couldn’t count on that. Coulter needed to be pulled out of hiding. Dice needed to feed information to Coulter, crumbs for him to follow. In jail or dead—it didn’t matter. But Coulter could not be free to investigate. If he lived, the killing would have to stop, at least for a while. Future justice would have to be planned so there was no way anyone could ever link the killings.

Coulter dead was the best option, even if it meant a pause, and Dice had an idea forming. Oh, yes. Perfect. Believable and oh so sad. Dice practically cried. Ha. Not a chance. Coulter’s death would bring days of celebration. But if Coulter was still out there …

Dice stood in the shadow of a giant pine across the street from a tiny home in an older neighborhood overlooking downtown. One of the historic communities, it was home to many elderly homeowners. Urban renewal was starting with the outdated homes demolished for enormous mansions taking advantage of the view of the river below.

Light came from a table lamp and the TV. Now and then a man crossed in front of the window, changing the channel or fetching another beer. This man couldn’t wait for his mother to die a natural death. He was helping her along. The courts believed his story that his mother was frail and had balance issues. That’s why she fell a lot and it accounted for the bruises. Her mind was going and frequently she forgot to eat, which explained her thin, emaciated appearance. He cashed her support checks so he could care for her—and buy beer. Dice had watched in horror as against all probability, the judge bought his story, several times. Rather than stopping the abuse, he’d increased it. That ended tonight.

Dice, dressed in black, slipped across the street and around to the darkness of the back of the house. The door was weathered. A crowbar slipped easily between the door and doorframe. A quick turn of the wrist popped it soundlessly open with no damage to the door or frame. Dice stepped inside and followed the sound of the TV to the living room.

He was slouched on the couch with his stocking feet on the coffee table. A bowl of chips was lodged between his legs, several empty beer bottles sat on the table and a beer was in his hand. His eyes were glued to a late-night show. Don Rickles was doing a comedy routine. The man was