Shadows Of Justice
Shadows Of Justice
The next day, a deafening banging had awakened Peter and Sharon from sleep, the front door rattling like a siege. Chris burst into their bedroom, hair disheveled, his eyepatch slightly askew. "Who's that?" he demanded, strained voice.
"No one good," said Peter, buttoning a shirt. The three hurried to the door, the knocking steady, shaking the frame. Peter yanked it open, and a team of police officers stood before him, their badges glinting in the Jacksonville morning light, the air colder than sea salt with tension.
"Good morning," said Peter warily. "What's this about?"
"Is this the residence of Peter and Sharon Cooper, and Chris Murdock?" one brusque officer asked.
“Yes,” Peter confirmed, gesturing. “I’m Peter, this is Sharon, my wife, and Chris, my friend. Is there a problem?”
“You need to come with us to Denver’s station for questioning,” the officer said. “A shooting at the Worthington mansion last night—forensics found your biological evidence at the scene. Get in the car.”
Sharon's belly dropped, Addicus's shadow still even in death. They rode on, the drive to Denver silent, the police cruiser's radio erupting with static, a gentle Cyndi Lauper tune contributing to the tension. They were taken apart at the station and put into separate interrogation rooms, the walls freezing, hard fluorescent lighting.
Peter was confronted by a grizzled detective, his patience worn. "I've told you," Peter said, voice unyielding. "Addicus abducted my wife. I went to the rescue. His men attacked me; we protected ourselves."
"Why not call it in?" the detective pressed. "Why take things into your own hands?"
"No evidence," Peter said. "Addicus was all-powerful, corrupt—cops on his payroll. No one would've believed me."
"You use the past tense," the detective noted, arching an eyebrow. "Why?"
"He's dead," said Peter flatly. "I killed him. Self-defense."
"You and your friend fought his security, killed him, and abandoned him?" the detective jeered. "Just you two?"
"Yes," said Peter firmly.
The detective's fingers snapped into Peter's shirt, his eyes blazing with anger. "Don't lie to me!"
The door swung open, a woman striding in with authority. “Enough,” she said, her partner beside her. “I’m Detective Matilda Cuomo, this is Levine. We’re taking over. Here’s the notice.”
The other officers left, grumbling. Matilda sat across from Peter, her gaze piercing but not hostile, “You think we’re the bad guys?” Peter asked.
"Other way around," she said. "I've been investigating Lilliana Powell's murder—five years back. Evidence links Addicus to it. A janitor saw him leave the hotel when her body was found. His cover-up was sloppy."
"You believe me?" Peter asked.
"Yes," Matilda said. "My team is at the mansion. Maids and workers validate your story. We have proof Sharon was kidnapped. Case closed."
"Can we go?" Peter asked, relieved.
"First, do you know this woman?" Matilda flashed a picture of Jinx, her smile unmistakable.
"Never seen her," Peter answered without flinching, covering her.
"Okay," said Matilda, not believing but letting it slide. "You're free, but I'll be in touch."
Peter found Sharon and Chris waiting outside, their weary but relieved faces. They were cleared to return to Jacksonville, the station's neon sign humming as they left. The drive home was in silence, the weight of Addicus's legacy removed, though Sharon felt a lurking shadow—justice served, but at whose cost?
.
.
.
Two weeks passed, and a contingent of lawyers came to their house, their briefcases shining, on behalf of Addicus's estate. "Being his adopted kin," one said, "Sharon stands to inherit his fortune. You need to go to court to complete the transfer."
Sharon sat, her heart heavy. On the date of the court appearance, she gazed at the papers, the pen frosty in her hand. "What is it, Mrs. Cooper?" the lawyer inquired.
"I won't," she said, voice firm. "I want none of his. I have to move on, free of the past."
"You can transfer the assets," the lawyer suggested.
Sharon hesitated, and then decided. She transferred the company to its board and relinquished all claims to Addicus's overseas holdings—except for the Denver mansion. That she kept, a token of atonement in her mind, though an increasing unease started, as though unseen eyes watched far away, awaiting her next move.