Page 76 of Shadow Justice

No answer.

Hopper’s voice rose from the landing below, speaking fast to emergency dispatch. Reid heard only pieces—Sanctuary Coffee, upstairs apartment, hurry—before he drove his shoulder into the door a third time. The frame split with a sharp report. The lock tore through the strike plate, and the door slammed inward so hard it bounced off the wall.

Blue shot past him.

Reid entered with his hands up and his body ready to move, then saw Holly on the couch. The world narrowed to the worst possibility he’d ever faced.

She lay on her side, half curled against the cushions, hair spilling across her face. Blood marked her temple, dark against her skin. A Sanctuary cup sat on the coffee table, a napkin lay beside it. The scene had been arranged like in the photos Claire had of the first victim.

For one terrible heartbeat, Reid couldn’t tell if Holly was breathing.

Blue raced to her. Allen was behind the couch with a gun in his right hand. “Stay where you are, Fleming. Control the dog or it gets a bullet.”

Every muscle in Reid’s body wanted to launch across the room. Training held him back when rage would have gotten Holly killed. The gun was angled toward him now, but Allen stood too close to the couch, close enough that if Reid misjudged distance or timing, Holly would pay for it.

Blue didn’t care about anything but her. He shoved his nose against her cheek, whining, licking her face, his body quivering as he tried to wake her. Holly didn’t respond. Reid kept his attention on Allen because if he looked at her too long, he’d stop thinking like a man who could save her and start acting like one who had already lost her.

“Put the gun down,” Reid said. “Don’t threaten Holly and Blue won’t attack.”

Allen looked almost disappointed. “You sound like your grandfather.”

“I take that as a compliment.”

Allen’s mouth tightened. “Lincoln Fleming mistook procedure for justice. I expected you to do the same, but I hoped Holly might be different.” His gaze flicked to her, and the contempt in that glance nearly broke Reid’s restraint. “She built a place called Sanctuary and filled it with people who never understood what the word costs.”

Blue lifted his head from Holly and turned toward Allen, a low snarl rolling from him.

Allen pointed the gun at the dog.

Reid’s voice came out flat and hard. “Don’t. Blue, come!”

The dog held his ground, shoulders stiff, lips curled, every inch of him aimed at the man who’d hurt Holly. Allen’s finger stayed outside the trigger guard, but the barrel remained angled toward Blue.

“Hurt him, and this ends badly for you,” Reid said.

“It already ends badly for me.” Allen’s attention slid back to Reid. “That’s the trouble with justice. Someone always has to be willing to pay the cost.”

“Allen?”

Hopper’s voice came from the doorway. Reid glanced at him. His face had gone slack beneath the beard, shock cutting through all the grief and suspicion Reid had seen there earlier. He looked past Reid to Allen, the gun, to Holly, to the cup and napkin on the table.

“What are you doing?” Hopper asked.

Allen’s irritation flared. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Neither should you. What are you doing?”

“You of all people should understand.”

Hopper took one slow step inside. “Understand what?”

“That I did what the court refused to do.” Allen’s voice rose, not loud exactly, but charged with conviction. “Calvin killed Emma. Your sister died, and twelve people let him walk because Lincoln Fleming kept the truth from them. They went back to their lives. Coffee, errands, card games, libraries, development deals. They took sanctuary in the same world that denied it to her.”

Hopper stared at him as if each sentence had to travel a long distance before it made sense. “You killed them?”

“I balanced the record. It’s called justice.”

“No.” Hopper’s voice cracked. “You used Emma as an excuse to exact revenge because you didn’t get your way.”