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

criminals in Calgary. Sources say the case against Detective Coulter is overwhelming and includes ballistic evidence.” A photo of Coulter dressed casually from press conferences during the sniper crisis a month ago replaced Sadie’s face. “If you know the whereabouts of Coulter or see him, police ask that you call 911.”

The image switched back to Sadie.

“On a lighter note, the City of Calgary will host a Christmas light display at Heritage Park this evening. It promises to put everyone in a holiday mood. I know I’ll be attending myself with my friend Sissy. I hope to hear from her soon. I’m Sadie Andrus, have a wonderful day.”

The lights clicked off. Sadie headed out of the studio, giving her earpiece to a technician on her way out. She stepped into her office, closed the door and slumped in her chair. She rested her head against the back of the chair and closed her eyes.

A knock on her door startled her out of her nap. She leaned forward and rubbed her eyes. “Yes.”

Her receptionist opened the door. “Sadie, there’s a phone call for you from Sissy. I guess your friend is excited to get together.”

“What time is it?”

“Almost two.”

Sadie grabbed the receiver and punched the blinking light.

“Sadie Andrus.”

There was a moment of silence, then a squeaky voice said, “It’s Sissy.”

Sadie could barely contain her laughter. It was the furthest thing from a female voice. “Hey, great to hear from you.”

“How soon can you get away?”

“Five minutes.”

“Pick you up outside the station.” The line died.

Sadie grabbed her red parka, scarf and mitts and sprinted down the hall. As she passed the receptionist, she said, “I’ll be back for my six o’clock broadcast.”

“Where do I say you—”

Sadie was already out the front doors.

Brad hunched in his truck, the camouflage gear not providing much help. He spotted Sadie standing outside the station, her red jacket like a beacon. He swung the truck to the curb. Sadie was still sliding in when he pulled away.

“Jeez. You trying to kill me?” The momentum of the truck closed the door. “You in a hurry to get somewhere?”

“Might not be the best idea for me to hang around a TV station.”

Sadie struggled with the seatbelt. “You picked the location. I could have met you somewhere else.” She finally glanced at him and gasped. “What happened to you?”

Brad rubbed at his bruised face, not meeting her eyes. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“Black eyes, scrapes, lips split and your stupid scraggly beard.” Her eyes were wide. “My God. Do you ever win a fight?”

He turned onto Banff Coach Road and headed west.

“The city is the other way.”

Brad glared. “I’m not in the mood for your snark. I’ve got a few things weighing heavily on me. You know, jail being one of them.”

“Jeez, relax.” Sadie leaned forward to increase the heat. “You know it’s winter, right?”

Brad’s jaw was clenched, eyes straight ahead.

“Okay, I’ll dial it down,” she said. “Where are we going? Banff Springs Hotel for brunch? Romantic getaway?”

“You call that dialing it down?”

“Wait, it’s an abduction. That would be ironic.”

Brad glanced at her, eyes squinting. “Why?”

“Because, asshat, that’s the news I have for you.”

“That you’re being abducted?”

“Oh my god. Sometimes you are so dense.” She sighed. “Mayor Kearse’s nephew, Michael Trant, has been kidnapped.”

Brad’s foot slid off the accelerator, and the truck abruptly slowed.

“What?”

“Yup. Sometime last night, early hours this morning. Kearse got a ransom call.”

“How the hell do you know this?” He pulled to the side of the road.

“Jackson told me.”

He squirmed in his seat until he was facing Sadie. “Staff Sergeant Kent Jackson?”

Sadie rolled her eyes. “No, Michael Jackson.”

“Spill it.”

Sadie recited what Jackson had told her, including the kidnapper’s demands. She added the part about another murder—a man falling down the stairs drunk, with Brad’s police baton showing up under the dead guy’s couch with Brad’s fingerprints on it. The bad news seemed unending until Sadie told him Steele and Zerr located the hookers from the tattoo parlor and they admitted to lying about his car.

Brad stared out the window, then closed his eyes.

“I’m turning myself in,” Brad said. “Might not hurt to make a show of my arrest at headquarters in case someone is watching.”

“You think it’s a cop?”

“I’m not positive, but I’m sure someone in the department is the killer or is helping the killer.”

Sadie’s eyebrows furrowed. “You’re saying the killer and kidnapper are the same person?”

Brad nodded. “For sure.”

“What evidence of that do you have?”

“It’s the single theory that fits. Various methods of killing, all successful, using specific skills that required expertise. A knowledge of crime scene investigation. A knowledge of the victims—each one a criminal who went back into the public.”

“Someone like you,” Sadie said.

Brad cocked his head. “True. Or any TSU.”

“The evidence points to you,” Sadie said.

“Most of it’s bullshit.”

Sadie leaned tight against the truck door, arms across her chest. “Most of it?”

“Someone must have stolen my police baton and planted it. Anyone could find out I had a history with some victims and target them specifically to point back to me. The girls at the tattoo parlor were coached what to say by the killer.”

“You realize how ridiculous that sounds.”

Brad glared at Sadie, then stared out the front window. “The one I can’t figure out is my gun matching the bullets with the pimp downtown and at the tattoo parlor.”

“Ballistics doesn’t lie.”

“We already talked about this. I’d never use my gun if I were the murderer and then carry it at work? Over the years, I’ve had access to hundreds of guns I could have slipped in my pocket. If I didn’t do that, then I could get one off the street in about five minutes with the asshat’s fingerprints and they’d be arresting some street punk for the murders, not me.”

Sadie shifted in her seat. “Tell me about your gun.”

“What’s to say? It’s always with me.”

Sadie cocked her head. “Always?”

Brad sighed. “Jeez, Sadie. It’s on my hip ten to sixteen hours a day. Or it’s locked up at home