Justice Incarnate Page 13

  Chapter Ten

  After three days, searchers found the body of missing nine-year-old Michelle Patterson in a shallow grave behind Lincoln Park. At this time, police have no suspects in custody and details regarding the cause of death are being withheld. Memorial services will be held at First Presbyterian Church on Friday. Michelle is survived by her parents, John and Louise Patterson and her sister, Nicole.

  –Obituary from the Lancaster Ledger, 1952

  Chicago: 2096

  In the twilight between asleep and awake, Jaden rolled to find the solid, sexy, warmth of Brian. And swore viciously as her injured hip brought her back to reality.

  He wasn't in the bed. Hadn't been in the bed. It had all been a triple x-rated dream. Well, thank God for dreams. Especially when the live performance would derail all her goals.

  Gently, with the support of the bed, she began stretching all the tight spots from yesterday's ordeal.

  "Sleeping Beauty wakes?" Brian asked from the door. "Feeling better or worse?"

  Both! "I'm fine, thanks. I'll be ready in thirty minutes."

  "No rush. I'll go make coffee."

  "My hero."

  She would've taken hours if possible. The el all the way to Gary would be a challenge. She'd spent more time on that train these past days than all her lives put together.

  She sent a glance toward the door and carefully climbed out of bed. With a clarity only granted to the desperate, she realized her rant over the train was a poor disguise for her distress over the man who planned to accompany her.

  Last night's near miss should fall into the 'blessing' category. Instead, her traitorous body wanted to go out there and beg if necessary. She should thank Brian for his phenomenal control, rather than spend time contemplating how to undo him.

  She knew it was dangerous to even fall into a rhythm resembling partnership. By degrees, that meant friendship was out of the question. And sex–well that shouldn't even be on the galaxy map.

  No matter how broad those shoulders, how steady that heartbeat, how comforting his touch, she couldn't trust him. Not a thousand years ago. Not now.

  The bathroom mirror offered proof to the contrary. She trusted him to fuse an open wound while she lay naked on the bed. Her fingers traced his exceptional work. Any scarring would be too faint to count.

  She returned to the bedroom and quickly found a dark micro fiber tracksuit. Shadows and flexibility would help when poking around Albertson territory. She strapped her daggers into place and was pulling on the pants when she heard knuckles rapping on the open door. She turned her head and saw Brian filling the doorway, coffee in hand, mouth slack.

  "Um. Excuse me."

  She decided to be flattered. "Oh, you've seen it all before," she said, trying to laugh.

  "Really?" He shook his head. "Last night, right?"

  She tied the pants at the waist, and then met his quizzing gaze. "Starting to believe me?"

  He had the grace to look away. "I just didn't peg you for the thong type."

  The laughter felt wonderful. "Best-ever correction to women's underwear."

  "And I suppose you were on the design team."

  She zipped her jacket and took the jibe, or compliment, in stride. "Sorry to disappoint you." Though it was more disappointing when he kept dashing her fragile hope.

  Belief was the trickiest element of humanity. You couldn't force yours on anyone and you could never be certain what fired another's blood.

  She took the coffee mug and drank deeply. "You know you can't have it both ways." He frowned, so she elaborated. "You can't think I'm a loon out to harass your buddy and give my story credit at the same time."

  "I know."

  "Then what'll it be?"

  "For now," he linked her arm in his, "You're a unique and beautiful woman who's quite possibly confused. Therefore you require my guidance and protection." He led her toward the kitchen table.

  "How chivalrous."

  "Isn't it? I guess that old picture wore off on me."

  She enjoyed the light banter. Too much. Reining in her emotions, she broke the silly mood. "Did you mention a medical expert?"

  He refilled his coffee and joined her at the table. "She says she can prove all the tests about the safety of juicing were altered."

  Jaden's mug hit the table with a small thud. "By whom?"

  "Kristoff and some other key players."

  "Side effects?"

  "They knew and buried the information."

  "Control freak. Names of the others?" Watching him, she caught the barest flinch. "Albertson."

  He nodded. "He may have provided test subjects."

  "May have?"

  "I'll go as far as probably, but that's it until I see real evidence."

  The coffee turned bitter in her mouth.

  "Cheer up." His voice became a caress. "This might send him straight to a cozy cement cell."

  "Doubting Thomas." She softened the accusation with a smile. He couldn't fight the instinct to protect any more than she could. Without memories, she couldn't blame him for not getting it. Unseating the judge wouldn't cut it. Even from prison he'd run operations to exploit women. The imperative task, her ultimate purpose, was to put a final end to his relentless streak of terror.

  Brian stood and extended a hand. "Feel up to a field trip?"

  "I'm fine." She made the effort to evade his touch.

  They exited Micky's headquarters into another beautiful day. The sunshine streaming down gave even this area of town a glow of spring. As they walked, she tried blocking thoughts of being a normal woman out for the day with her lover. A useless exercise. Premature. They weren't lovers yet–and wouldn't be, she amended.

  She had a job to do and getting twisted up over a romp in the sheets with Brian wouldn't get it done.

  "How much time will we have?"

  "None, if I can't get you on the train."

  "I'll get on the train."

  He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "That was the second platform you've stomped by."

  "I'm not stomping." To prove it, she eased her stride until the next platform came into view. It took every ounce of will, but she climbed the stairs without hesitation, glaring at him as she stepped through the security scanner.

  "Nicely done."

  "Oh, save it," she snarled.

  The train settled and the doors split. She moved quickly to the nearest seat, steeling herself against the nagging worry that this would be the time it would all collapse.

  "Are you afraid of anything else?" Brian asked, dropping easily into the seat beside her, legs stretched, ankles crossed.

  She hated him for it on multiple levels. "No."

  "So why this? The magnetic upgrade to the el is state of the art."

  "The upgrade's wonderful."

  "Cut me some slack," Brian urged. He slung an arm around her shoulders and squeezed. "Just tell me already."

  "Fine." She crossed legs and arms, aware of the defensive body language, but too unnerved by the discussion to care.

  In one big breath she spilled the major points. "I watched this monstrosity go up in the 1890's. I saw the workmen on the build. I listened to the designers."

  "And you knew better."

  "It's bizarre, ugly and loud."

  "Not anymore. That's why they upgraded."

  His steady practicality irritated her. Hell, her irrational fear irritated her, but she'd tried everything and it refused to leave her psyche.

  "As far as I can recall, Chicago is the only place I've lived twice."

  "And that's significant to you."

  How swiftly he moved from comfort to condescension.

  "Drop the shrink act, Brian."

  "That transparent, huh?"

  "Put it this way: you make a better woman."

  He laughed, his arm curling her into his side as the warm sound spilled over her. Wouldn't it be nice if just once she could be a normal woman content with love and life?

  She wriggled, to es
cape the impossible, wayward thoughts.

  "What are you hoping to find?" he asked at last.

  "I could ask you the same thing." Another thought vied for brain space. She could get used to him. Correction–she could get used to a man like him. A man who, though he didn't understand all of her, accepted the more inevitable aspects. Like being wounded in a street fight. Or breaking into an abandoned steel mill owned by an evil entity posing as a judge.

  Lord, she sounded crazy to herself.

  Brian stood and offered his hand. She planned to dodge again, but somehow her fingers knit with his. When the doors swept open at the only platform in Gary, it was Brian's nudge that got her off the train.

  "Penny for your thoughts."

  She shielded her eyes from the angle of the late morning sun and looked closely at what had once been a thriving mill. "Abandonment looks sad, even on buildings. Why does the train even run here anymore?"

  "So people can appreciate their history. There's a steel museum and everything."

  She turned a full circle. There was plenty of nothing for miles. "Define 'everything'." But she loved museums of any variety. Maybe if she lived, she'd come back and check it out.

  "The building in question is this way." Brian said, taking the lead.

  He didn't have to tell her. She'd figured it out from the window patterns the moment she'd seen it. What did she hope to find? Well it would've been too much to catch the bastard in the act of terrorizing children and women. But maybe he'd gotten sloppy and left something incriminating behind. Something to give Brian a legal reason to put him away.

  A girl could dream, right?

  "Front or back?"

  He'd lost her. "Huh?"

  "Which entrance?"

  He was testy, not a good sign on a cop. "What do you know about this place?" she asked pointedly.

  "Nothing at all. Never seen it."

  "But you found it."

  His eyes hit the dirt. "I remembered a passing comment when the Judge bought it. I knew where to look."

  "And you didn't wonder why he needed an out-dated mill?"

  "Guess I forgot to quiz him in the course of living my life."

  "Lives," she corrected, insistent now. And impatient. She didn't care what he knew, researched or forgot. She just wanted to see the latest hell of Albertson's creation. And take it down with him in it.

  "Keep walking. Think tourist." Knowing both her enemy's tactics and standard security, Jaden spotted the discreet guards on the second level.

  Brian turned a full wide-eyed, out-of-towner circle and spoke a little too loudly. "Isn't this somethin' honey? Can't you just see it all in action?"

  "Sure, babe." Acting wasn't her strong suit, but she gave her best whatever the task. She figured a woman on this trek would be disinterested at best, irritable at worst. "Is there a restaurant at the museum?" she whined.

  He grinned with approval and she told the butterflies swirling in her gut to settle. Then he whispered in her ear and she grounded all further flights of fancy. But when his arms banded around her and he nuzzled her neck, she gave up and sank into the feel of him. He guided her off the path and she found herself caught between old cooling pipe and lean, sexy man. His mouth a breath from hers, he whispered, "Doing great, just hang in another minute."

  Damn. She'd gotten lost in the act. Stupid! As if he'd dared her, she leaned in, taking over the kiss he'd been about to plant on her. Who's acting now? She wondered, reveling in the tremor that shook him.

  She pressed against him, realizing he was pressed against a side door alcove. They were out of sight and for the moment, out of danger.

  Pulling back, trying to breathe, she took her fill of the view of his full mouth, the marvelous feel of his hard body under hers. His hands gripped her waist, keeping her from moving in or away, careful of the laser-healed site.

  "Another time, another place, we'll finish this."

  No other words could douse her fire so quickly. Complete memories aside, she knew better. There had never been a time or place for them.

  "In your dreams."

  He mumbled something unintelligible and her focus returned to the task. Aside from the guard, there didn't seem to be any further security. Wireless or otherwise. But the ability to simply stroll in put her senses on high alert.

  "Well sec-tech, what's the delay?"

  "This is too easy."

  "Don't look a gift horse in the mouth. Why would anyone bother with real security in a ghost town?"

  Jaden tuned out the rest of his commentary. Closing her eyes she stilled her mind and just listened with the sort of sixth sense she'd developed for Albertson.

  Behind her, Brian shuffled impatiently. "The docket's only half full today. We're either in or out. You're wrong or right."

  The man could push her buttons like no one else. Silently, she pushed through the door into the cool, vast space of the abandoned mill.

  The pain hit her like the el she despised. It wasn't the urgent bite of the young, terrorized girls. Nor was it the bone-deep ache of innocence lost. This crushing weight was the accumulation of untold suffering.

  Oh, how she'd failed each one of them.

  Then, as abruptly as it hit, the pain subsided. Jaden found herself on her knees, her palms full of hot tears. Brian's voice in her ear, his arms around her created the blessed reprieve.

  She could deny Cleveland's opinion no longer. She needed a partner. She needed Brian.

  "Can you stand?"

  She nodded, not trusting her voice.

  "What is this? What comes over you? No more delays."

  "Later." The weakness disgusted her. "I promise."

  She pushed further into the mystery of the mill, testing doors, lighting up passages with her penlight.

  The third door in the second hall held the answers. She felt it, even through the filter of Brian's touch. Opening the door, she reached and found the control panel. Lights came up and trios of long narrow windows filled with artificial sunlight and fluffy clouds. Just like she'd seen through the girl's eyes before her warehouse blew up.

  One hand in Brian's, she began flipping the next series of switches. A refitted electric chair from the early 20th century elevated from the floor. Behind it a table appeared spread with everything from feathers to a bullwhip. The silk scarf from last night was folded neatly in the middle. She ripped her gaze to the left where a wall slid away, revealing a bank of flat screen monitors.

  "The better to terrify you, my dear."

  "Jaden?" Brian's voice echoed the bewilderment she'd felt on her first encounter with this madman.

  "Little Red Riding Hood. Big bad wolf. You've gotta remember that. The better to see you with, the better to hear you with, the better to eat you with."

  "This can't be Albertson."

  She gave herself points for not caving to the temptation to strap him into the chair and make him see the truth.

  "You expected a handwritten, notarized letter of confession?"

  "Woulda been nice."

  She counted to ten. By two's. A little calmer, she tried again. "As a cop, tell me what you see."

  "First glance? A sex gym. You've got bondage, voyeurism and sadism all available at a whim."

  "And?" She jerked her chin to the windows.

  "Atmosphere?" His face fell as flat as the joke. "That might provide a false time line for a person forced to be here."

  "Might?"

  "Come on. The way Gary smells? Blindfolded, bound and gagged, a person would know where they were."

  She wanted to cross her arms, but didn't risk breaking contact with Brian. She didn't care to imagine how debilitating she might become in here without him. It rankled, but at the moment it was a fact she couldn't dispute.

  "It doesn't smell like old steel processing in here."

  He sniffed and moved toward the back wall. She stayed close, summoning her fraying patience.

  "No." His grip tightened and he groaned. "No."

  She look
ed around him, understanding immediately. "That's his mark." She refused to tremble at the sight of the infinity symbol at the end of a short branding iron resting on a cold grate. "If you live, you live without threat of a repeat. A very civilized and relatively new development."

  Brian blanched. "Albertson has a ring like this."

  "Nice of you to notice. Proof enough yet?" Maybe at last justice would be served and she'd live to see the world free of a demonic presence.

  But Brian shook his head. "The connection's weak."

  She had her own, more colorful thoughts on weak at the moment, but he held her fast.

  "Listen. It's circumstantial. Anyone could've commissioned that thing." He nodded at the branding iron. "A fraternity, a cult–"

  "Getting warmer. He's a demon."

  "Uh-huh. Does Albertson know he's possessed?

  "It's more likely he doesn't know he's human."

  "It's still not enough to single out Albertson beyond any doubt."

  "Then I'll handle it myself."

  "I thought that hadn't been working."

  The accuracy of the barb stung. "It'll be fine when I find the right weapon. If you're not able to help through legal channels, I can deal with the fallout."

  "Can you?" He raised their linked hands. "You said there's more to this than simple abuse of power and molestation."

  She nodded. The unanswered questions hadn't stopped circling through her mind. "He's escalated from simple depravity, past despicable right into deranged."

  "By all appearances he's as sane as they come."

  "Is that supposed to be acceptance of my tall tale?"

  "No. I'm cautiously exploring a theory."

  Had she honestly expected more from a man unaware of the depth and span of his life? "He knows something I don't. Or something I haven't recalled. And you're involved or he wouldn't have tried to kill you. Cleveland said I'd need a partner."

  "Is Cleveland like...you?"

  "Only as alike as a scar can make us." She peeled back the fabricated skin, exposing the old scar behind her ear. Then she reached for the branding iron. "Match it up."

  He responded with a restoring brush of his lips to her hair. "I'm believing all I can, Jaden." Setting the branding iron aside, he kissed the scar.