Justice (The Galilee Falls Trilogy) Read online

  “What the hell is all this?” I ask as Kowalski shuts the door. The inane chattering outside is cut in half.

  “Messages from the press, city hall, supers offering their help,” Kowalski answers as he falls into Harry’s chair. “I haven’t done jack-shit since last night but answer telephone calls and fill out requisition forms. At least now you’re here.”

  I start gathering up all the pink slips, but raise an eyebrow. “Do I look like a secretary?”

  “I need rack time Fallon or I’ll pass out right on the floor,” he pleads.

  I sigh. “Fine. Go. I’m sure Harry will get here soon anyway.”

  He smiles. “Thanks. I have a uni handling the calls now, so it should be a little quieter. Get me if you need me.” He rushes out before I can change my mind.

  First things first, clean up this mess. As I am a trained multi-tasker, I gather up the notes, files, and forms while calling Justin. He picks up on the fifth ring.

  “Pendergast,” he says, out of breath.

  “It’s Jo. Bad time?”

  “No. No, I was just…working out.”

  “Well, I’m alive. Exhausted, but alive.” There is no way in hell I’m telling him I got into a car chase with a psychopath last night. I’d never hear the end of it.

  “You’re on the Alkaline case, aren’t you?” he asks, not at all thrilled by the prospect.

  “Yep. Cam and I are the leads.”

  Justin’s end remains silent for a moment. “And there’s no way I can talk you into taking an extended vacation starting today, is there?”

  I roll my eyes. “You know, most best friends would be happy and supportive that I’m heading up the biggest manhunt this city has ever seen.”

  “The man shoots acid, Jo. He’s a cold-blooded psychopath. Forgive me if the prospect of my best friend attempting to bring him into custody doesn’t inspire enthusiasm.”

  “Whatever. Killjoy. You’ll be eating those words when you’re at my commendation ceremony.”

  “Joanna, I’m serious. I know I can come off as overprotective, and I know you hate that.”

  “Both true.”

  “But in this case…I’m scared for you. I’m begging you, please, ask to be taken off this one. Please.”

  The fear and desperation in his voice gives me pause. He’s never sounded like this before, not even on the bridge. I hate to admit it, but my body temperature rises and a huge grin forms. He cares. He really cares. I quickly quash it. “I promise I’ll be careful. And I’ll be surrounded by half the force and God knows how many supers.”

  “You’re not going to do it, are you?” he asks.

  “This surprises you?”

  “No. You’ve always been too stubborn to listen to reason,” he says harshly.

  I scoff. “Gee, thanks. I think the world of you too,” I say. “Look, I gotta go. Don’t be surprised if you don’t hear from me for a couple of days, okay? I’ll make sure someone calls you if my stubbornness gets me killed. You can say ‘I told you so’ at the funeral.” I slam the phone down. Okay, that was uncalled for and I know it the second I do it, but he got my Irish up. After two decades of friendship, he should know better.

  There’s a knock on the door before it opens. Cam and the honorable Mayor Samuel Miracle step in. “I have no idea when he’ll be in,” Cam finishes saying. Both men notice me and smile. “Oh,” Cam says. “There you are.”

  “Just getting things organized,” I say. “Mayor Miracle.”

  “Det. Fallon,” the mayor says.

  Our illustrious mayor. For some reason, I’ve never liked him. Our last mayor, Harlan Flores, helped clean up the parks in the Ward, so Miracle had some big shoes to fill. The man isn’t fit to collect Flores’ trash. I don’t know if it’s his beady eyes, ferret face, or the fact he hit on me at a Pendergast gala with his wife not five feet away. The feeling is mutual after I told him that if he didn’t stop touching me, I’d break the champagne glass and shove the shards into his fingers. Diplomatic I am not. I think he’s been afraid of me ever since.

  “I guess the Lieutenant isn’t here,” Cam says.

  “Not yet.”

  “Any idea when he will be?” Miracle asks.

  “How would I know? I’m not his keeper.”

  “I’m sure he’s on his way, Mr. Mayor,” Cam says. “We stayed at the prison very late.”

  “I appreciate all your hard work and dedication,” Miracle says, “but as my campaign slogan said, ‘As long as crime doesn’t sleep, neither should your mayor.’”

  “Oh, so you were up at two in the morning with us interviewing the prisoners and collecting evidence? Strange, I didn’t see you there,” I say.

  Miracle glares at me, and Cam shoots me a look, but I just cock an eyebrow. “There is a crazed madman on the loose,” Miracle says, “and—”

  “And I’m sure even he needs to sleep before doing all his crazy madman stuff.”

  “I don’t appreciate your attitude, Det. Fallon.”

  “Yeah? Well, Cam has the sign-up sheet for the club if you want to join.”

  “We have about fifty members,” Cam says, voice dead-pan.

  The mayor is not amused. “I heard you both were there last night. Bang-up job, guys.”

  “Well, we are city employees. Just following the example of our fearless leader,” I say with a shit-eating grin.

  He stalks out of the office, scowl affixed to his face. “Cops.”

  Cam chuckles and shakes his head. “You are a piece of work.”

  “That guy is such a douche bag.”

  “He’s the mayor.”

  “I didn’t vote for him,” I mutter.

  “Did someone wake up on the wrong side of the couch? Because if you’re going to be this snotty all day, I’m partnering with Mirabelle.”

  “And have to hear about his gout all day? Are you that desperate to get away from me?”

  “If you’re in full on bitch mode? Hell, yeah. My blood pressure is high enough without your shit raising it.”

  I sigh. “Fine. I’ll do my pretty pretty princess routine today just for you,” I say, batting my eyelashes. “Can I get you some coffee, Det. Cameron? Your slippers?”

  Cam sits in the chair across from me, folding his hands in his lap. “That lasted all of a second. Want to talk about it?”

  “Not really.”

  “Come on, save me from gout. Talk.” God, I want to tell him. I trust him with my life, I really do, just not my love life in this instance. He’s an amazing detective, so I’ll bet he suspects, but to his credit hasn’t said a word. Another reason for me to feel like a shitty friend.

  “I just—”

  Our conversation is cut short. Harry rushes in and Cam and I stand up as if caught being naughty. Usually it’s me and Harry who act like this. I step aside to let Harry get behind his desk. “Morning,” I mumble.

  “Moring, sir,” Cam says as he passes.

  Harry tosses his coat on the rack behind him. “Morning, Detectives.”

  “The mayor is waiting for you,” Cam says.

  “I know. I spoke to him. Told him to give me five minutes so I can get my bearings. What is this mess?” he says, looking at his desk. He sighs and sits before milling through the paperwork. “Okay, talk fast.”

  “We’ve had over a hundred tips on the hotline,” Cam says. “Jimenez in robbery and about seven unis are going through them. The lab is rushing all evidence from last night, and should have the majority of it done by the afternoon, including everything from the Spencer bombing.”

  “What about the injured guard?” Harry asks.

  “Made it out of surgery, but is still unconscious. They’ll call when he wakes up. Lost his hand.”

  “Poor guy,” I say.

  “So, basically, we’re still stuck at square one,” Harry says.

  “Yeah, and the press is sniffing at our crotch like a dog,” Cam says.

  Harry picks up a few of the message slips. “Yeah, I can see that.”r />
  “Someone even called me at home this morning,” Cam says.

  “Hope you gave them a piece of your mind,” I say.

  “About seventy pieces, yes. I would have made you proud.”

  “So, I’m up to date on the bad news. Any good?” Harry asks.

  “It looks like we have our own private army out there,” I point out.

  “Good. We’re going to need them. Have the files from the prison arrived?”

  “I don’t know,” Cam says. “Kowalski would.”

  “And where is he?”

  “The nursery.”

  “Get him in here, now,” Harry says.

  Cam and I exchange a look. With a sigh, Cam stands. “I’ll wake him.” He walks out, shutting the door behind himself.

  “You okay?” I ask.

  Harry drops the messages on his desk. “Overwhelmed. It’ll take me a day just to get through all this crap, let alone all the other crap that will no doubt be shoveled in as the day progresses.”

  “That’s why you have minions,” I remind him. “Let some of the bright, eager young things out there do your scut work. You just boss them around, do the fun stuff, and take all the credit. Why do you think supervillains have them?”

  “You’re very cute when you’re diabolical,” Harry says with a smile.

  The door opens again before I can retort. Cam and Kowalski step in, Kowalski obviously not getting a wink of sleep. “Hey, Captain,” Kowalski says with a yawn. They shut the door.

  “Did the prison files arrive yet?” Harry asks, all business again.

  “No, boss. They’re holding them for us there.”

  “Fine,” he says. “What about the list of Ryder’s known accomplices?”

  “The preliminary should be on your desk…somewhere.”

  Harry shuffles the papers around. “Where, Kowalski?” Harry snaps.

  Kowalski rushes over and helps in the search. Harry’s frustration grows with each passing second until it’s found. “Here,” Kowalski says, triumphant.

  “Okay, go make twenty copies and divide the names into groups of three. Then go home. But I want you back here by two.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Get some sleep,” Harry says as Kowalski leaves.

  We all watch the lucky one go. “We’re going to need more detectives,” Cam says.

  Harry finds another file and smirks. “I know. We’ll get them.” Harry stands up, as do I. “I’ll try and get Pritchard and Wu from homicide to cover the Mike Spencer angle. Cam, I want you to head up the accomplice interviews. You and Mirabelle can take the real troublemakers. Fallon, you take point at the prison. I’ll give you an officer to assist.”

  “I want Conover. He’s had some psych training.”

  “You got it. Help me rally the troops first. Both of you.”

  He adjusts his tie and smoothes his hair. We follow him out into the bullpen, where the men and women continue their conversations, oblivious to us and the mission. Ever the narcissist, the mayor poses for a picture with a female officer. I wonder if he’ll try to grab her ass too.

  Harry, with us in tow, walks around the group to the huge whiteboard on the far wall. He stops, and Cam takes his position on his left and me on his right, flanking him like sentinels. We put on our best scowls.

  “A-ttent-ion!” Cam bellows in his deepest, best drill sergeant voice. The chatter wanes and all eyes turn to us, even the mayor’s.

  “Good morning,” Harry begins. “For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Lt. Harold O’Hara, commanding officer of Priority Homicide, and for the foreseeable future I am the man who runs your lives.” His voice sends tingles to my girl parts. “You sleep when I tell you, you piss when I tell you, and you see your families when I allow it. If I am not here, then Det. Terrance Cameron to my left is in charge. He is the lead investigator on this case. Any information you get goes directly to him or his partner on my right, Det. Joanna Fallon.” I nod at the group who size me up then look back to Harry. “Now, for the reason we are all here.”

  Harry opens the file in his hand and slaps the mug shot of Alkaline on the whiteboard. “James Malvern Ryder, AKA Alkaline. Age forty-two. Height, six foot even. Hair dark brown, eyes brown. Arrested three years ago for ten counts of kidnapping, twenty for assault, one count rape, and thirty-five for murder or manslaughter. Was a resident of Xavier prison until last night when he escaped by killing two people and maiming one. We believe he is still in the city, possibly preparing for his next wave of crimes. It doesn’t get worse than this man people, and it is up to each and every one of us to find him before he strikes again.

  “This is no time for egos, or misplaced heroics. If you are in this room right now, that means you have either had some tie to this man, or your superiors think you are fit for this task force. No doubt you know what this man is capable of, but in case you don’t, we’re dealing with a super who has two reserves of highly concentrated sulfuric acid in either arm that can melt you down to your spine. Add to that the ability to heal five times faster than normal, super-strength, and a keen intellect. He is smarter than every one of us in this room. What this mean is no going off half-cocked. You get a lead, you tell us. We have SWAT on stand-by at all times. No heroics. I will not lose any of you to this man, is that understood?”

  The collective all mutter and nod.

  “Then we understand each other. Now, those of you pulled from patrol duty this morning, we will be handing out lists of Ryder’s known accomplices and associates. You will locate them, pick them up, and bring them here where detectives will interview them. Detectives, while you’re waiting, I want you to go through the crime reports of Ryder’s past offenses. Make note of anything, no matter how minute, you think is useful. If you don’t fall into either category, then you’re running down tips from the hotline. I will be pulling some of you for other jobs on the basis of need. Are we all on the same page people?”

  Once again we all nod.

  “We have to find this man. We will find this man. Get to work.”

  The group, now energized so much you can feel it, immediately springs into action. Cam proudly smiles and pats Harry’s shoulder before walking off. I lean in and whisper, “I swear to Christ, if there weren’t so many people here, I’d rip all your clothes off and ride you like the sexy, hot stallion you are until we both passed out.”

  His mouth drops open, but the idiot mayor saddles up to us before he can respond. “Impressive speech, O’Hara.”

  “It certainly was,” I say cheerfully. “Maybe later, huh?”

  “I certainly hope so,” he says with a sly smile.

  “Well, I’m off to prison now. Excuse me gentleman. Mayor.” I turn on my toes and walk away.

  I have the coolest boyfriend.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Incarceration

  I get my own office down the hall from the warden, a windowless cell not unlike the ones the prisoners inhabit. Just a table, desk, chair, and enough files to keep Speeder, fastest man alive, in this office for two years. Psych reports, physicals, fan letters, guard reports, even websites all about Alkaline. I start on the letters.

  It makes me embarrassed to be a woman after reading just five of these things. My luck with men isn’t the best. Once I’ve even gone a year without sex, but I’ve never been so delusional or desperate to write a convicted rapist and murderer pledging my undying love. What the hell are these chicks thinking? Most border on or just plain are pornographic. At least Ryder had something to do in his cell all day. I am so wearing gloves when I touch anything in there.

  I just don’t get it. There are letters from hundreds of women, and some men, to this butcher and rapist. Sure he’s a handsome man, and there is the danger aspect, but he shoots acid out of his body. Acid. How the hell is that sexy?

  These letters go in the pile of possible accomplices. Sadly, the pile is really fucking big. At least fifty women and men have pledged their devotion and love to Ryder. We’ll have to interview
all of them to get their alibis, not that I think the accomplice is any of them. A smart man, and Alkaline is that without doubt, would either destroy or keep the letters from his accomplice, but he might have made a mistake and forgotten, so these fans will be getting a knock on their doors today. This would be a hell of a lot easier if I could figure out how he communicated with them.

  After two more pornographic tales of longing, I close the file. I’m not going to find anything here. I’ll have a rookie sort through the rest. Time to move onto the light reading: psychological profile. Ryder had monthly meetings with Dr. John Qwan, prison psychiatrist who is now having his guts weighed by our medical examiner. It’s mostly information I already know. Anti-social personality with extreme narcissistic tendencies. Feelings of persecution. Genius IQ. God complex. A basic psychopath.

  Ryder was born to two loving parents in Galilee, where he lived five blocks from me. I probably passed him on the street a million times. We even went to the same high school, though at different times. Creepy. He had one sister who, along with the parents, died in a fire when Ryder was fourteen. The same year his power manifested. The fire marshal declared it accidental due to a gas leak. Yeah, right. Ryder was stuck in foster care, three different families, but ran away from each within days. Started his first gang then, building a small empire by age twenty. He was arrested twice, but released both times for lack or loss of evidence. He went pretty much unchecked until Justice resurfaced and made him a priority. Then Ryder got mad and became Alkaline.

  Diablo’s Ward wasn’t enough for him, especially when he lost control of the piers. He went from mob boss to uber-villain, chasing Justice all over the city. He kidnapped and killed the police commissioner, robbed banks, and tried to release a stolen virus at the library. All of this just to get Justice’s attention. It worked. Their war resulted in almost a billion dollars in property damage, multiple deaths, and worldwide interest. Now he’s back out there, more pissed off than before.