Goddess of Justice by Dwayne Clayden (mobi ebook reader TXT) 📕

Brad reached for his service pistol and saw everyone in the room tense. Griffin even slid his hand down to the butt of his gun. Jackson put a large hand on Griffin’s chest. Brad carefully pushed the release on the holster, slid his pistol out with two fingers, and set it on the table.

Sturgeon, wearing latex gloves, reached for the pistol. He cleared the chamber and caught the expelled cartridge. He released the magazine and placed it in an evidence bag. “I’ll need your spare mags, and your backup gun, as well.”

Brad slid the spare mags out and set them on the table. He slid his backup pistol, the CZ75, out of his ankle holster. Sturgeon bagged the guns and magazines, pulled some hair samples, then left the room.

Brad set his hands on the table, then into his lap, then crossed his arms again. His leg muscles tensed with the surge of adrenaline, both legs bounced on his toes, and his hands dropped loosely to his sides—ready for fight or flight. He slid his chair back another couple of inches.

Brad was the only one who glanced up when the door closed. Now the heat from the sunshine was too intense. Sweat dampened his armpits and his forehead. He licked his lips again and grabbed his coffee. It was warm but wet. He swished it around his mouth, then swallowed.

“What happens now?” Brad stared at Archer. “Am I suspended—again?”

“Griffin will escort you to an interview room while CSU tests your weapons.”

Brad’s jaw clenched, his eyes ablaze. “Hold on.” He pushed his chair back against the wall and stood.

Griffin jumped to his feet.

“Easy.” Jackson placed a hand on Griffin’s chest, then turned to Brad. His voice was calm and low.” “There’s considerable evidence that suggests you’re a person of interest. Put your self in our position. What would you do? Give us a chance to work through that.”

Brad’s eyes narrowed. “Are you charging me with something?”

“Not at this time,” Archer said.

“This is circumstantial bullshit,” Brad said. “How is this possible? You all know me.”

“We know you’re under stress,” Archer said. “What happened to Maggie would make any of us angry.”

“Sure, I’m angry,” Brad’s eyes peered around the room. His look pleading. “I’m not a vigilante.” Brad glanced at the door. “Am I under arrest?”

“I’d hoped we could clear this up this morning,” Archer said. “Hang around at least until we have ballistics back.”

“No thanks.” Brad sighed.

Archer stood and locked eyes with Brad. “I’m asking you to wait for an hour. Two, tops.”

Brad stared back. “If you’re charging me, I want a lawyer. If you’re not charging me, I’m out of here.”

“I’m advising you to stay,” Archer said.

Brad’s shoulders slumped and his bright eyes dulled. “Is that an order?”

Archer shook his head. “Griffin will stay with you.”

Brad closed his eyes. When he opened them the fire was back. “How about I keep working on finding the real killer while the rest of you wait for ballistics that isn’t going to prove shit against me.” Brad opened the door and jogged to the stairs with Griffin close behind.

Brad shoved the door open on the main floor and nodded at the desk sergeant. Griffin caught up with Brad at the back door and grabbed his arm. Brad jerked it away and glared at Griffin.

“Don’t.”

“Archer wants you to stay here.” Griffin slipped between Brad and the door.

“That’s not what Archer said. I don’t have time for bullshit. I’m going to do my job, catch the murderer and clear my name. If you have a problem with that, take it up with the deputy chief.”

“Running makes you appear guilty, you know.”

“I’m not running.” Brad rolled his eyes. “I solve homicides, and we have a lot of them to solve. Come with me.”

Griffin held his spot blocking the door.

Brad glared at him. “Do you think I’m a vigilante?”

Griffin’s jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed. “The evidence is pointing that way.”

“Circumstantial evidence. You coming or not?” Brad deked past Griffin and out the door.

He stopped halfway down the alley and leaned against the wall, shoulders limp, fists clenched at his sides. His rapid breathing hit the cold air as puffs of mist. His heart pounded against his chest wall. It was like he’d used up all his energy defending himself. From what? He was innocent. In an hour they’d all feel stupid. So why was he worried? He got his breathing calmed and his heart slowed.

He sprinted out of the alley and across the street to his car. He slid into the driver’s seat, a tight grip on the steering wheel, staring across the parking lot and grinding his teeth until his jaw ached. What had just happened? His heart raced again, and his palms grew sweaty. I’m not guilty. Yet they tried to tie him to the killings. They thought he was the killer. He had to clear his name. How long before they decided he was an outsider and blocked his access to case files or evidence. He banged the steering wheel. Shit.

He fired up the engine, headed west on Sixth Avenue, then up Centre Street. At Sixteenth Avenue he veered left, then right on Fourth Street. He swung into the Queen’s Park Cemetery and parked across from Maggie’s grave. He wandered over and stood facing the tombstone.

He wiped snow off the granite and collected his thoughts. What the hell is going on?

“Hey, Maggie. I miss you. I wish you were here. I’m in trouble. I did nothing wrong. Heck, I didn’t even come close to any line.”

He took a deep breath and stared at the sky. Wisps of clouds floated over, and giant flakes of snow fell.

“There’s been a spate of murders. At first, they didn’t seem related, but when I investigated further, I was sure the same killer was involved. Not like the sniper earlier this year. Like a vigilante is killing dangerous dudes—drug dealers, a pimp and his driver, pornographers, a rapist and a biker. That