Page 38 of Shadows of Justice

Losing my mind over here. Got any news?

Another ugly sob breaks through my lips, followed by a snort. No wonder I don’t cry. It ain’t pretty when I do.

I push the green phone button on the keypad and the line connects, calling Leo. He picks up almost instantly.

“Hello?” He sounds worried when I don’t respond right away. “Are you there?”

I bite the skin of my palm as I hold the phone, trying to control my emotions with a stab of pain. It doesn’t work. My attempt at a deep breath is cut short by a pathetic sob, and I instantly cover my mouth with my other hand.

“You’re freaking me out, Viv,” Leo says. “Fucking answer me. What happened?”

“It didn’t work,” I choke out. “It’s ruined. Everything is ruined.”

“What’s ruined?” Leo asks. “Please, talk to me.”

I cry hysterically into the phone, something along the lines of I’m-getting-fired-my-father-is-an-asshole-and-Gavin-is-married-to-Gretchen, but it just comes out a jumbled, broken mess.

I hear Leo take a breath over the line. “Genevieve, tell me where you are.”

I breathe deeply—successfully this time—and try to get myself the fuck together and match his calmness.

“B-by the s-station.”

“Do you have a pen?” he asks, his smooth tone washing over me. I want to sink into it until it envelops me, letting it be the only thing I hear. No more hurtful, cutting words, no more lies. Just his voice, lulling me into sweet nothingness.

I nod into the phone, and then realize he can’t see me. “Yes.”

“Write this address down,” he orders. “Memorize it, and then destroy it.”

Leo’s home—or, one of them—is a modern monstrosity nestled amongst warehouses in an industrial district in Cypress Park, about fifteen minutes from bustling, downtown LA.

From the street, it looks like an abandoned factory. But once you’re inside, it’s three floors of pure incredible. The height of the warehouse ceiling is staggering, and the exposed piping, track lighting, and cement give it a sleek, industrial look. The steeliness of it is offset by an abundance of exotic plants, a massive floating fireplace, and an indoor waterfall fountain that tinkles pleasantly and covers the span of an entire wall.

After I got my shit together enough to drive, I went to my apartment to shower. I sat down on the floor of the tub and had another breakdown as the water flowed over me, but it was over quicker this time. In place of the sadness is now a hollowness that echoes against the walls of my heart.

My father’s words resound loudly, repeating in my memory, his threats and his sneers making my chest tight. Obviously, we’ve never been close, but I’ve never felt like we were full-blown enemies. Now, I don’t even feel the desire to claim him as mine. My only living family, my self-respect, my job—everything has been turned upside down. And most of it I can’t blame a single person for, except myself.

I feel like a lone planet, floating in outer space, not a single entity of importance reaching out with a gravitational pull to make me feel like I belong.

Nothing, that is, except Leo.

He’s the only person that knows the truth about what’s happened the last few weeks. The only person as hellbent as I am to fix problems instead of following protocol exactly. The fact that he understands gives him a draw—a siren’s song—and it pulls me across the metal and cement dwelling, eager to find him.

I know systems need organization, and I tried respecting that. In fact, I spent my life respecting it. But it’s not perfect; things fall through the cracks. Things like people. If you’d asked me months ago if this is where I’d be, I would have laughed in your face. But now, it feels clear. The system doesn’t always work. Sometimes, it fails. And when it does, innocent lives are at risk.

Like those girls—chained up in Mary-Ann’s basement.

Like my mother.

I don’t think I can live with that anymore.

I hear footsteps above me, and I look up to watch Leo shrug into a charcoal gray T-shirt and look down over a railing at me. He smiles warmly.

“Hey.”

“Hi.” My voice breaks, raspy from crying.

“I’ll be right down.”

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