Justice Hunter. Jennifer Morey
the street, he took in the classy sign jutting out from an old, two-story brick building. Quaint. Understated. No one would guess what grisly crimes this agency took on. A row of shops lined Main Street, Christmas lights off on this cringe-worthy, overcast day. Some cars crept along the sleepy, snow-swept road. A few hearty geriatrics walked the sidewalks. A couple hurried into a coffee shop. Other than that, only the snow looked busy and bustling.
He stepped up to the charming storefront, which had been renovated with tinted, bulletproof windows. His salvation. His ticket to revenge.
Excitement surged forth again, as it always did with the prospect of taking charge of his sister’s murder investigation. He wouldn’t rest until he avenged her, until he cornered and caged her killer—whoever thought he’d gotten away with the crime. Lucas couldn’t wait to look into his eyes the very moment realization struck that Lucas had caught him.
Charming or not, Dark Alley was his weapon. Above the hanging sign, a second story promised warmth, clean white blinds and gossamer scarves, hinting at a feminine touch. Kadin Tandy lived there—with a woman. No wonder the place looked so deceiving.
Opening the door to the jingle of a bell he would more expect in a bookstore or gift shop, Lucas stepped inside. Kadin Tandy had opened this godsend to those who’d given up on more traditional methods, and he intended to take full advantage of all its resources.
“Can I help you?” a woman behind a desk across the entrance asked. A little on the heavy side, but a real beauty.
The door swung closed with another jingle, shutting out the biting wind and snow. Pictures of cities hung on the walls, and a freshly painted bookshelf to the right had more than books artfully arranged on its shelves. More feminine touches. A Christmas tree dead-center in front of the window had wrapped presents beneath its pine-smelling branches. So cozy. So welcoming...for a hard-core violent crimes special ops unit. He wouldn’t put a mere private investigations label on this agency. Not with a man like Kadin in charge, not with his past and experience, and not with his thirst for bringing ruthless justice down upon the destroyers of innocence.
He walked forward, his black leather combat boots thudding on the refurbished wood floor. “I have an appointment.”
“Lucas?” she asked with a friendly smile. That congenial trait must have helped her land this job. Dealing with grieving, scared families had to be akin to dealing with death in a funeral home.
“Yes.”
“Come on back,” Kadin called from his office, the door left open.
The woman stood up, and when Lucas went inside the office to see Kadin getting up from his chair, she closed the door. All very sensitive to the nature of the business.
Lucas shook Kadin’s hand.
“Welcome aboard,” Kadin said.
He’d contracted him earlier this week and asked him to come in for what he called orientation. All of his operatives were contracted, not hired directly. To allow more freedom, Kadin had explained. Freedom to take risks. Freedom to use force. All without any liability to the company.
“Thanks. I’m happy to be part of the team.”
“Have a seat.”
Lucas sat on a black, real leather chair separated by a table. Kadin took an identical one on the opposite side. Reaching for one of two envelopes on the table, Kadin then handed it to him.
Lucas took it and parted the opening to slide out the pages within. Kadin opened his file on the table and leaned over to read the first page.
“These first few pages summarize what’s in your contract.”
“I read my contract.”
“This is just to make sure you didn’t miss the most important parts.”
“I didn’t miss anything.”
Kadin’s eyes lifted to look at him. “I’m not going to tell you how to carry out an investigation. You should already know that. If you screw up, that’s your responsibility.”
Ah, the price of freedom. Lucas didn’t mind. He’d rather have freedom than let others do the doing for him. And he wouldn’t screw up.
“That wasn’t in the contract.”
“I have three rules that can never be broken,” Kadin said, gaze unflinching. “If you break any of them, I reserve the right to terminate your contract and possibly turn you over to the feds.”
“Rule number one,” Lucas said before Kadin could. “Make sure the evidence can stand up in court.” No cheating when it came to evidence. No lawbreaking. “Rule number two—no vigilante kills.”
“And the third?”
“Always put the victim first.”
That seemed and sounded like a no-brainer to Lucas, but in Kadin’s terms and conditions, he referred—in coded language—to lawbreaking as opposite from evidence gathering. The law could be broken to save victims. Freely broken. Protect the innocent, no matter the cost. If saving a victim meant losing key evidence, then justice took on a different set of rules, an unwritten set of rules. Meaning, there were none. Unfortunately, people came to Dark Alley long after the victims had died. Kadin referred to the danger of chasing killers as the collateral damage.
“Do you think you’ll have any trouble with any of those?” Kadin asked.
“No.” Not when Lucas didn’t see it as a vigilante kill.
“Not even rule number two?” Kadin probed, as though predicting his thoughts.
He’d worried over Lucas’s motive when he’d first met him.
“Especially rule number two.” He had an unquenchable thirst for the freedom Kadin offered, and he couldn’t promise he wouldn’t kill his sister’s murderer, but he could promise he’d do it justly. Kadin may not agree with his brand of justice, however.
Kadin stared long and hard at him. He didn’t quite believe Lucas had come to Dark Alley out of a deep sense of nobility. But instead of calling him on it, he said, “Good. Now let’s talk about your sister’s case.”
On some level, Kadin must understand how Lucas felt. Four years had passed since his sister’s murder. Police had little to go on and no witnesses. An innocent life had been taken, and a guilty one still lived on.
“The last person to see her alive was her husband, Jared Palmer,” Kadin said. “He looks like a suspect.”
Lucas gripped the arm of the chair, squeezing his fingers to stave off the wave of anger just the mere mention of Jared’s name stirred. “She was alive when he left for work the morning of her murder.”
Kadin’s eyes rolled up from the page in the open file for another hard stare.
Lucas continued. “When he came home that evening, she left dinner ready for him before she went out for her monthly outing with friends at the country club. That’s all been verified. Her club friends said she left at ten. Jared claims she arrived home at ten twenty and came to bed.”
Kadin sat back, elbow on the arm of his chair, rubbing his chin before dropping his hand. “And he claims he saw, heard or noticed nothing else the rest of the night.”
“Correct.” That had always infuriated Lucas. He’d always felt Jared had lied, although his story had never changed, not one detail. That made him either a really good liar or innocent.
“I can see why you’d think he did it,” Kadin said.
“I still think he could have done it.”
“Were it not for the affair,” Kadin said.
That was the newest piece of information that had developed in the case. Jared had recently called a woman named Rachel Delany. Police hadn’t known about her, but the conversation clearly indicated the