Justice (7 page)

“There she is,” he said, and grinned. “You’re coming back, beautiful. Fight for that, okay? You are amazing.”

She bit back a sob. “Stop it, Brock.”

He smiled again. “Okay. Love you, Mase.”

“Love you, too, Brock.”

“Come on, I’ll take you back to Payton. She’s gonna need a hug. I’ll tell Dallas to call you later.”

She nodded and followed him back into the building and up to her apartment.

* * *

Six months later…

Dallas dragged his ass into the office, having stayed up most of the night making notes on Macey’s file. He’d figured out pretty quickly that Brock hadn’t provided him with all the details, which didn’t surprise him, but still pissed him off. With no option other than to weed through the “redacted” file, he ended up with more questions than answers.

“You look like shit,” Bill, one of the older agents, said.

“Yeah, thanks Bill. Appreciate that.”

Bill chuckled. “Long night?”

Dallas sat at his desk and pulled open one of his drawers. “Yeah. Finally went to bed around four.”

“Hot date?”

Dallas snorted, biting back a yawn. “Paperwork.”

“Damn. Hate paperwork.”

“Don’t we all.”

“Bill! We gotta go,” Marvin, Bill’s partner called from the front door.

“Take it easy,” Bill said, and left.

“If only I could,” Dallas muttered to himself.

Once he found the file he was looking for, he headed straight to the evidence room, which just happened to be adjacent to the file room. Nita Long, a stunning black woman of just over thirty, who Dallas classified as one of the “good ones,” ruled over all things paper as she liked to tell people. With Brock and Jaxon both out on assignment, Dallas knew he had a few precious hours to get the information he needed before his partners came back and redirected him to keep him from the truth.

Dallas bit back another yawn and sidled down the hall to where Nita sat at a large desk, fingers tapping away at her keyboard and her face strained in concentration. She glanced up at him and smiled. “No.”

“What? You don’t even know why I’m here,” he said.

“Why are you here?”

“I want to see the file on—”

“No,” Nita said, and focused back on her computer.

“Nita, come on. Help me out here.”

“I was given strict instructions not to let you anywhere near that file, Dallas Stone.”

“Nita.” He leaned across the counter and sighed. “My girl was hurt. She was almost killed. I am the best… no, the
only
person who can pick apart that file.”

“Gorgeous man, I hear you, but the answer is no.”

“She won’t let me in.”

Nita glanced up at him with a frown. “Come again?”

“Macey. She won’t let me in. I am banned from her life. Her heart. She won’t talk to me and she sure as hell won’t see me.” Dallas pinched the bridge of his nose. “I need this, Neet. I need to do
something
to help.”

“She won’t talk to you?”

He shook his head.

“Poor thing.”

“Yeah,” Dallas agreed. “You know what she means to me. Please give me something here. I’m goin’ nuts.”

Nita pushed back in her chair and pulled open a drawer to her right. She set a manila folder on her desk and crossed her arms. “I really need a cup of coffee. I’m going to get said cup of coffee and I’ll be back in less than ten minutes with that cup of coffee. I sure hope that nothing is disturbed while I’m away.”

She moved from behind the desk and Dallas hugged her. “Thanks. I owe you.”

“Mmm-hmm. Yes, you do.”

Dallas watched her leave and then grabbed the file, stepping into the copy room. He had the copies he needed and the file back on Nita’s desk before she returned, but he hung around and waited for her.

“I see nothing was moved,” Nita said, and slipped the file back into her drawer.

“Thanks, babe.”

“Figure it out, Dallas, okay?”

He cocked his head. “You’ve read the file?”

She nodded. “It’s not right,” she whispered. “Brock insisted on keeping a paper file of everything and between you and me, he was right. Someone changed the electronic one. And it wasn’t Brock or Jaxon to keep you out of it.”

“What the hell?”

“Hold up,” she said, and grabbed her notepad, slipping into the copy room and returning with three pages of handwritten notes. “These are the changes. No one knows about them yet. I was going to tell Brock, but hadn’t gotten around to it.”

“Make another set of copies and then put the originals somewhere they can’t be found, Nita,” he said. “But definitely show Brock and Jaxon, yeah? Just don’t tell them you and I talked.”

She nodded.

“You’re a rock star, lady.”

Nita smiled. “And don’t you forget it.”

“Okay, I’ve got some work to do. Thanks again.” He headed to his desk and his phone buzzed in his pocket, so he pulled it out. “Hey, Brock.”

“Hey. Can’t meet tonight. Gotta help Dad with something.”

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, he bought a sofa off Craigslist and needs help moving it from the truck into the basement before the rain starts.”

“No worries,” Dallas said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Sounds good.”

Brock hung up and Dallas walked out of the office and to his car, managing to avoid his boss. He headed back to his home and sat down to delve into the paperwork.

* * *

Three hours later, Dallas was working on controlling his emotions… unsuccessfully. His heart constricted with a pain he’d never experienced before while looking through the crime-scene photos. He’d seen images like this before, but never ones that involved someone he loved, and sure as hell none that involved Macey.

He flipped over another photo. Blood. Macey's blood covered the carpet. Torn pieces of her clothes were everywhere. The photos of her beaten and bloody body were also in the pile, but after seeing one, bile rose in the back of his throat and he dropped the photo and ran for the sink
. A near empty whiskey bottle sat on the counter, and he grabbed it and chucked it against the wall. He had no idea the extent of the damage through the haze of tears, but the sound of shattering glass was surprisingly satisfying. After washing the sick out of his mouth and taking a minute to breathe, he went back to his task.

The autopsy report and photos on the perp didn’t gain him anything, as he didn’t seem to exist. He was labeled “John Doe,” and Dallas wondered how a ghost could have committed such a violent crime. He had a hard time believing that this “John Doe” hadn’t done it before, so why hadn’t his DNA gotten a hit in CODIS? Nita was right. None of this made sense.

Dallas decided looking at the photos was too much, so he put them aside and focused on Nita’s notes. Most of the changes could easily be dismissed as typos, but two discrepancies stuck out, and Dallas realized quickly there were only a handful of people who would have had the authority to alter those details.

“Damn it,” he whispered, and grabbed his cell phone to dial Jaxon.

“Hey, Dal.”

“Hey, Jax. You alone?”

“Hold on,” Jaxon said, and Dallas heard the click of a door in the background. “I’m good now. What’s up?”

“I need this to stay between us.”

“Okay,” Jaxon said carefully.

“Not over the phone.”

“I can be at your place in fifteen minutes.”

“That would be great,” Dallas said, and hung up.

As promised, Jaxon arrived fifteen minutes later and Dallas let him in. “The file isn’t right.”

“The file,” Jaxon said. “What file?”

“Macey’s file,” Dallas said. “Not the one you and Brock gave me.”

“Damn it, Dallas.”

“Take a second to get it out, Jax, and then we’ll talk.”

“Who the hell gave you the file?”

“That’s not really important.”

“Okay, so Nita gave you the file.”

Dallas sighed without confirmation. “There are a shit ton of discrepancies between your notes and what the computer said.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, the paper trail wasn’t shredded, and the electronic file’s been altered.”

“Shit,” he muttered. “What do you need me to do?”

“Not sure yet. There aren’t a whole lot of people who have access to change the records without notice.”

“Yeah. Okay, I’ll swing by tomorrow and we can go through it. I won’t tell Brock.”

“Thanks.”

“No promises, Dallas. Set your expectations low. As far as everyone’s concerned, this case is closed. The guy was caught due to the fact Brock killed him. If we go sniffin’ around, it’ll draw focus. So we have to be careful.”

“I get it.”

“No, I don’t think you do,” Jaxon countered. “This isn’t going to be solved in a week, Dal. It could take a while.”

Dallas squeezed his eyes shut. “Yeah, brother. I get it.”

“See you tomorrow.”

“’Bye.” Dallas hung up and threw the file in the safe hidden in his closet.

He pulled out his cell phone again and dialed Macey. She didn’t answer. She never did, but he didn’t care. Every day it was the same. He called her at least twice, morning and night, but today, he needed to hear her voice again, even if it was in the form of her voicemail message.

“
You’ve reached Macey. I’m obviously doing something incredibly important like saving a life or washing my hair, so leave a message and I’ll call you back… and if this is Dallas, well, you know what to do
.”

Dallas loved this. Loved that she hadn’t changed it. He chose to take it as a sign that she might still love him just a little.

“Hey, baby. Just wanted to hear your voice. I love you. I’ll call you before I go to bed. ’Bye.” He hung up and headed to the shower.

* * *

Macey stared at her phone. She was surprised Dallas had called her again. She lived for his calls, but it was rare that he called in the middle of the day. She bit her lip. She hoped he was okay.

She waited until the voicemail dinged, and then dialed in.

“
Hey, baby. Just wanted to hear your voice. I love you. I’ll call you before I go to bed. ’Bye.
”