Page 12 of Justice Denied

When he unfolded it, he frowned. At first, the words made no sense, then their meaning became clearer.

He fumbled for his phone and snapped several photos. Not his best work, but despite the crumbled paper, the words printed in block letters in a thick, red marker couldn’t have been clearer. Gripping the paper by an edge, he returned to his house and slipped it inside a plastic zipper-top bag.

“I thought you’d gone to work.” Wade Frazier strolled into the kitchen, coffee mug in hand.

Before Seth could reply, his roommate pointed to the bag on the kitchen counter. “What’s that?”

“It’s a note I found on the front porch of the Ainsley house.”

Wade raised his eyebrows. “Stalking her now, are you?”

Seth resisted the urge to rub the back of his neck as heat climbed up and into his cheeks. “No, I was checking close to the house to make sure nothing would harm her dog.” He quickly recounted what had happened to Bingley yesterday evening and what he’d found this morning.

“Wow, that’s terrible.” Wade nodded toward the table. “You think this means the poisoning was deliberate?”

“What else could it be?” Seth hadn’t wanted it to be true, but finding the ground beef plus the note meant someone had targeted the Ainsleys.

“Have you told Jetta yet?”

Seth shook his head. “She’s gone to visit her mom, then she’ll swing by to get the dog. I wasn’t sure this was something I should text. But I need to get cleaned up and to work, so I can’t wait until she returns to show her in person.”

His roommate put his mug into the dishwasher. “Seems to me like sending a text is the next best thing.” He checked his phone. “Gotta run. See you at Bible study tonight?”

“I should be able to make it, unless something comes up at work.” Seth sighed, then composed a text to Jetta describing how the note had been found. He selected the best picture of it and attached it to the message. His thumb hovered over the send arrow, re-reading the stark words on the page once more.

Consider this a warning. Next time, it won’t be an animal that gets hurt.

* * *

Mae Stanhope reread the email,her heart rate rising with each word. No, no, no! This couldn’t be happening again. She’d put this all behind her years ago, repaid the debt with interest, and still it hadn’t been enough. She slumped in the chair, tears pressing at the backs of her eyelids. Why couldn’t they leave her alone? She’d had to live with the guilt of what she’d done to cover her own tracks, but it had been worth it to ease the end of her father’s life. Instead of his last days in a state-run nursing home with indifferent staff, he’d had a private room and round-the-clock nurses to care for him as the cancer enjoyed its last meal on his frail body.

“Honey? It’s nearly eight.”

She exited out of the email program on her phone as Anderson, her husband of thirty-eight years, entered their bedroom. “I thought you said you needed to be in the office by eight-thirty for some big meeting.”

Mae raised the phone. “Got caught up in checking email and lost track of time.” She rose. “I’m off. I might be late coming home because of the emergency board meeting.”

The disappointment that drew down his features usually made her reassure him that she would soon join him in retirement. Then the two of them would start traveling like they’d always planned. Instead, she planted a quick kiss on his cheek and hustled down the stairs, her mind whirring with how to respond to the email.

During the drive to Topher Robotics, the words her anonymous tormenter had written replayed in her mind like the banner under a news program. This time, it wasn’t a coverup they requested but spying. Who did they think she was? A female James Bond? No, she wasn’t cut out for espionage. She might have taken some money, but she hadn’t hurt anyone. And she’d been paying it back with interest when the first email had landed in her personal inbox eighteen years ago.

At the gate, she used her employee ID card to gain access, then proceeded to the employee parking lot. Before going into the building where she’d worked for more than twenty years, she opened the email again. The sender had demanded she respond by text to an included number. Mae keyed it in, then typed her reply.

Impossible. I’m no spy and would get caught immediately.

Her phone dinged as soon as she’d closed her car door.

You’re perfect. No one notices middle-aged women.

The words slapped her across the face with their poignant truth. The sender was right—no one noticed her and hadn’t for years. That’s why she’d gotten away with the original crime. She’d flown so low under the radar, no one could imagine her guilty of taking so much as a paperclip without permission. While she had only siphoned off enough to help her father’s last days be more comfortable, someone had found out and used her to redirect millions. Framing Jay Ainsley hadn’t been part of the bargain. She’d done nothing to implicate him, but her contact had ensured he took the fall for all of it—the money Mae had taken on her own plus the extra dough she’d been roped into stealing.

Her phone buzzed.

I want to know what was said in the board meeting as soon as it’s over.

“Hi, Mae.”

She waved at a colleague as she went into the building, her mind whirring like the windup toy monkey banging cymbals she’d played with as a child.

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