Twenty-Eight Justice
TWENTY-EIGHT
Justice
We park in front of the Cinderfalls Community Home, and I cock my head. Why in the world would Ella be here? I’ve investigated her before and haven’t found any connection to this place. What if she just dropped the dog off, figuring he’d be safe at a nursing home? Damn it. I take a deep breath.
Wynd fidgets in the front seat. He doesn’t like me driving. I’m an excellent driver, but somebody already rammed a car with me in it. Twice. I suppose my being dead when Thorn gets home wouldn’t bode well for Wynd.
“This is weird,” he says.
“I know.” I drive around the front and park at the far end, looking at a long span of lawn.
He stretches his hand on his leg, and I note cuts on his knuckles from the crash earlier. We’re both still bloody. “Do you want me to go inside?” he asks.
“No.” I check my phone again. The dog is definitely here.
I had him chipped but hadn’t installed or updated the app soon enough.
It had taken too much time. Keeping my temper in check, I zero in and widen the screen.
The dog’s on the other side of the compound.
I hit reverse and follow the curved path all the way to the east side of the building, where another long lawn stretches out with trees on either side.
It’s a peaceful place, and with the leaves turning golden and red, it screams cozy autumn.
All the pumpkins and decorations lining the front don’t hurt.
“How close can you pinpoint with that thing?” he asks.
I stare at the blip on the screen. “Just this. I can get to the east side of the building, but I can’t tell you what room the dog’s in.”
“Movement.” Wynd cocks his head. “Maybe it’s that room.”
I lean forward to see an elderly woman swing her legs over a windowsill and pop out.
Before she exits, she tosses a huge duffel to the grass with a solid thud that carries across the lawn.
This is different. She’s dressed in a bright pink velour tracksuit with matching tennis shoes and a scarf over her gray hair.
She reaches in and assists another woman out, this one with gray-white hair and a blue tracksuit.
The dog leaps out after her, runs a tight circle, and then sits, panting happily. My shoulders go tight at the sight of him. Leo. All right. Now where the hell is Ella?
Another woman emerges, this one in jeans and a button-down shirt. She also looks to be in her seventies or so, and the other two women help her to the ground.
“Who are they?” Wynd asks.
“I don’t know.” I keep my hands loose on the wheel and watch the trio steady themselves, the pink tracksuit lady planting her feet near the duffel.
The dog glances back at the window, then at them, then at the trees, waiting for a cue.
I breathe in slow and let the quiet press against me until it sharpens my focus.
I lean even closer to the window, waiting for Ella to hop out. She doesn’t. Instead, the first woman, the one in neon pink, reaches up and gingerly slides the window down before hefting the duffel bag over her shoulder. She stumbles and then rights herself.
“What do you suppose is in that bag?” Wynd asks.
“I have no idea.” My voice is sharper than I intend. Where is Ella?
Wynd reaches for his door handle. “Do you want me to intercept them?”
“No. Let’s see where they’re going.”
They glance around, quick and cautious, then take off at a surprisingly fast clip across the lawn and into the tree line.
I wait until they disappear on the trail before reigniting the engine and following along the forest’s edge to the main road.
Trees crowd close on either side, shadows stretching longer with the fading light.
The quiet feels loaded, pressing in against the glass.
A clearing opens ahead, and I catch sight of the women climbing into a car.
At first glance it looks too big, too heavy, but then the details register.
Chrome fenders catch the dusk. The body is a pale seafoam green, paint polished within an inch of its life.
Whitewall tires. Wide bench seats. A Buick Electra from the sixties.
The thing shouldn’t even be running, but it purrs when they slam the doors.
Somebody’s babied it—waxed, polished, kept hidden away until now.
Lace curtains twitch in the back windows, and a sun-faded hula girl wobbles on the dash.
It’s a car out of time, but they slide in like it’s always been waiting.
Wynd whistles low. “That’s … something.”
“Yeah,” I mutter, watching the taillights flare. I keep driving, letting them ease onto the road behind us, heading the opposite way. Once they’re clear, I swing a sharp U-turn and fall in behind, far enough to stay out of their mirrors.
My hand finds the button on the dash, and I call Kaz.
“Hey, Justice,” Kaz answers, his voice cheerful. He’s been a lot nicer since Ella lit into him. He doesn’t even sound smug today.
“Hey, I need you to do a search on the Cinderfalls Community Home. Three women, all in their late seventies. They came out of the east side window. I don’t know who they are, but they’re tied to Ella.”
“Sure.” The sound of typing filters through the speaker.
We merge onto the interstate, headlights flashing past, the tires humming steady under us. “Call me back when you have something.” I click off.
The road winds through Silicon Valley, then spits us out the other side to a long stretch of property outside of the city.
“They’re going to TimeGem?” Wynd mutters.
“I don’t know.” I ease back, following discreetly. My pulse jumps when their Electra slows at the entrance to the long drive and pauses, taillights glowing red in the dusk.
I slow down at a distance, keeping my car angled toward the shoulder so they can’t catch my headlights in their mirrors.
The Electra idles at the entrance to TimeGem.
The property sprawls for acres, a sweep of manicured forest and glass walls beyond the gates.
The place is designed to look open and modern, but I know better. There are cameras everywhere.
I tap my phone to get Kaz again. “Hey, is there any way you can cut the feed to the security cameras around TimeGem?”
“Of course.” Kaz sounds affronted.
I watch the old car. “I figured it’d be difficult.”
“Eh, not that difficult.” His keys clatter fast through the line. “Well, this is interesting.”
My jaw tightens. “What?”
“They’ve already been cut. The cameras are down.”
I breathe out, low. “Can you tell when they were taken offline?”
More typing comes over the line. Silence stretches with the Electra still frozen up ahead. My pulse keeps time with the tick of my engine.
“About three hours ago,” Kaz says finally.
So, within the window of Ella disappearing. “I don’t like this.”
The Buick shifts, brake lights flashing, and then it rolls forward, away from the gate. I follow at a careful distance, tension coiled so tight my shoulders ache.
I glance at the dash. “Kaz, do you have anything yet on the elderly women?”
“Not yet. I’m not finding any connection to Ella, but I’ll keep digging.”
“Thanks.” I end the call.
The women turn off the main road and disappear under the trees.
I keep going and then swing into the first shoulder I can find and kill the engine.
The forest presses close, shadows stacked deep between the trunks.
The air is colder here, carrying the damp bite of leaves and earth.
I step out, Wynd on my heels, both of us armed and ready.
We move silently through the trees until the clearing opens ahead. The women are already at work, the duffel bag spilled open at their feet.
“Holy shit,” Wynd whispers.
I agree. Weapons. Not a couple of old revolvers or hunting rifles.
Serious hardware. An FN SCAR with a collapsible stock, matte black and immaculate.
A short-barreled Benelli M4, the tactical grip worn from use.
I catch the gleam of an HK VP9 pistol, extra mags lined up in a neat row.
Beside them sits a stubby grenade launcher that looks like it’s been oiled within the last week.
And in the middle of it all, absurd and glittering under the weak light, a tactical knife with a sparkly pink handle. Razor sharp, polished, deadly. Somebody took the time to bedazzle murder.
“Jos,” the woman in pink says, voice brisk, pointing at the woman in jeans. “You take the grenades. I dropped ’em last time.”
I stiffen.
“What I wouldn’t give for a rocket launcher,” Jos mutters. “Didn’t you have one of those, Aura?”
“Oh yeah. In the trunk,” the woman in pink replies cheerfully, walking over and popping it open.
The casual way she says it makes the hair at my neck rise.
“Should we stop them?” Wynd asks.
I don’t answer. I’m not entirely sure what we should do.
Leo turns and barks at me, sharp and happy. That’s enough.
All three women whip around, weapons already raised.
I step from the trees, Wynd trying to cover me. I shove him back. “Ladies.” My voice carries.
“Justice Beathach.” The woman in pink hardens her jaw. Papery skin, delicate lines, but confident with the Ruger trained steady on me. “What are you doing here?”
I cock my head. “You first.”
“None of your damn business,” the woman in the blue tracksuit says. Sparkles adorn her collar. She’s the only one whose name I don’t have.
Aura nods. “That’s exactly right, Mags. Beathach, you get out of here.” She waves her gun for emphasis.
“I don’t think so.” I keep my tone even. “Is Ella in TimeGem?”
The women glance at each other. I take two more steps forward, and three guns snap toward me in unison.
Leo gives a happy bark and bounds over, tail wagging.
Aura frowns, her arched brows drawing together. “Leo, don’t be nice to him. He’s the bad guy.”
The dog grins up at me anyway, tongue lolling, and my chest loosens despite myself.
I keep walking until I’m close enough that one twitch could put a bullet in me.
Wynd flanks my side. I don’t want him hurting any of these women, so I cut him a look.
He nods once, sharp. If he moves, he’ll disarm, not destroy.
“Don’t you be looking at us like that.” Mags straightens, chin up. “We could take you both instantly. We haven’t shot you on purpose.”
“I appreciate that.” My voice stays calm. “I’m going to ask again. Is Ella inside TimeGem?”
Aura’s mouth tightens. “Yes. She was kidnapped earlier, and we’ve come to get her.”
Fire rushes through me, so I go stone cold. “How do you know she was kidnapped?”
They hesitate. The silence stretches, and I let it.
Finally, Mags shrugs. “We might have cameras placed around the outskirts of Cinderfalls. We saw her get taken. This was the earliest we could get our gear together.”
“It’s been a while since we’ve broken somebody out of a facility,” Aura adds, dead serious.
I scrub a hand over my jaw. If TimeGem wants a war, they’ve got one. Right now, I need to get Ella out of there while she’s still breathing. She’d better still be alive. “Who are you?”
“I’m her godmother.” Aura straightens bony shoulders.
Okay, then. I have no record of that. For now, at least I know she’s not an obvious threat to Ella. “All right. How about this? I’ll go get her out, and you stay here.”
“Not a chance in hell.” Aura lifts her delicate chin, grip steady on the gun. “We’re going.”
I obviously don’t have a choice. Giving a small nod to Wynd, I go for the gun.