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

“Ms. Andrus got my message to Coulter,” Jackson said.

Zerr glanced at Steele, then said, “I guess. You know?”

“What did you find in the truck?” Jackson asked.

Zerr told Jackson about the registration and insurance and the scrawled note with the word, “Toscana.”

Jackson rubbed his chin. “He was leaving us a message. He didn’t have much time. There are only two reasons you pull out your registration and insurance. If you’re in a traffic accident and you are exchanging details with the guy. Or—”

“The cops stop you,” Zerr said.

Jackson nodded. “Not any cop.”

“Toscana,” Briscoe said.

“She’s all hot about tactical stuff,” Zerr said. “She’s built solid. In the TSU testing a few months ago, she bench pressed more than some guys on the team.” Zerr glanced at Steele, who gave him the finger.

“I know she’s at the range at least three times a week,” Briscoe said.

“And she’d know all about crime scene investigations,” Jackson said. “And how to plant evidence. Well, that fits with what Sturgeon and his team found.”

“What’s that?” Briscoe asked.

“You know, most of the evidence against Brad was circumstantial and easily disproved,” Jackson said. “The most damning evidence was ballistics. Sturgeon’s techs believe the killer swapped the barrel on Brad’s gun for the killer’s gun.”

“How?” Steele asked. “None of us ever let our guns out of our sight unless we lock them up. You taught us that, Sarge. Brad told us that at every meeting. Every frickin’ meeting.”

“The only way we answer that question is by finding Brad,” Jackson said.

“And Toscana,” Briscoe added.

Chapter Sixty-Eight

Brad’s camouflage parka was zipped, his collar up, and his hands were behind his back. He hunched into the wind as he headed south from the crack houses of Victoria Park. The gray day from the low clouds was fast approaching darkness.

A freezing December wind whipped through him like he didn’t have the parka at all. Ice needles peppered his body, mostly his face, which had no protection.

Minutes into the walk and Brad was chilled to the bone. He shivered, shoulders hunched, and chin tucked into the top of his parka. The crunch of snow was steady behind him. The cold steel at his neck reminded him he’d let his guard down for a second, maybe even less, and screwed up. The pain in his chest and the headache were a further reminder.

Toscana told him to stare ahead and keep walking. As he wiggled his gloveless fingers to get circulation flowing, the gun pressed harder against his neck. The voice said, “Don’t.”

His brain ripped through ideas for his escape. But a confounding variable was Kearse’s nephew. If Brad put up a fight now, chances are they’d never find Michael and not in time to save his life.

Brad continued south.

“So, where are we heading?” Brad asked.

“Shut up.”

“Trying to make conversation,” Brad said.

There was no response.

To pass the time, Brad thought about his mistakes. First, meeting Sadie had been dumb. He should have known the killer would figure that out. Second, he’d been slow to figure out who the killer was. By the time he knew, it was too late. And third, he was an idiot.

Capture was an interesting twist. He was with the killer and likely heading to wherever Michael was being held. All good. Not so good was his pistol and Maggie’s gun, his backup, were gone. No doubt taken while he was unconscious. He was weaponless. He just needed to wait for the right moment.

“I would have put money that you were taking me to Victoria Park,” Brad said. “You know, end this where you started.”

“I told you to shut up.” The gun moved away. Before he could react, the butt of the gun slammed into the side of his head. The world spun, and he staggered a few steps. A hand grabbed the collar of his parka and pulled him upright. The gun was pressing into the back of his neck again.

“Keep walking.”

Brad’s vision cleared, and he tried to figure out where they were going. He’d been sure where the murders started would also be the end. Not for the first time today, he’d been wrong. That it would stop now, he was sure. He had no intention of it being Kearse’s nephew or him. In his mind, just one person was going to die.

“Not a great way to continue a relationship.”

The gun pressed harder into his neck. “You’ve had plenty of opportunities to have a conversation.”

“Let’s cut the bullshit, Toscana.”

“You can call me Dice.” She pronounced the name dee kay.

“Are you seriously calling yourself by a nickname? Wow. What the hell? Why dee kay?” He said it in a mocking voice.

“Dice in Greek mythology means Goddess of Justice.”

That wasn’t the answer Brad expected. “Is this about revenge?” He glanced over his shoulder.

The sidewalk was slick. Brad contemplated a slip, going down on one knee. Then he could either swing his arm around and take his assailant’s legs out, or a whip kick would do the same. Then he was back to the same problem of finding out where Kearse’s nephew was being held. No, it wasn’t the time.

If he wasn’t being taken to a drug house in Victoria Park, then where? No one was on the streets, and no one paid any attention from the few houses that still had glass windows.

He stamped his feet as he hiked, willing circulation to return and warm blood to flow to his toes. The icy wind was at their backs, with Toscana absorbing most of the blast.

“I need to know Michael Trant is okay.”

Toscana smacked the back of Brad’s head. “What part of shut up are you having trouble with?”

Brad caught the hint of hesitation in the voice. “I’m having trouble with all of it. Maybe we weren’t best friends, but you came to me for advice. I was straight with you about your chances for TSU. We had pizza and beer and some laughs. I helped you with Briscoe. I don’t understand why you are doing this.”

There