Page 42 of Fighting for Brielle
Bile rose in Justice’s throat. He found it difficult to accept that they couldn’t have prevented this from happening. But the worst was yet to come. Detective Yarin led him upstairs where Arnold’s cousins lay in their blood-soaked beds. Justice nearly retched. He held on to the door frame to steady himself when he saw the last of three children?a little girl a year younger than Rosie. The thought entered his head that killing Arnold Dewitt had been too easy after the atrocities he’d committed tonight. And Rosie, sweet Rosie, would have died tonight, too, if he and River and Tawny hadn’t been there to protect her. How in God’s name was he supposed to tell that little girl who’d trusted him instinctively that her entire family was gone? Who would take her in? He wondered if she had any other family members, grandparents, perhaps. Justice’s head pounded and his stomach roiled.
Detective Yarin must have read the sick, guilt-ridden expression on Justice’s face. “Don’t beat yourself up, Chief. No one saw this coming.”
Justice didn’t find the detective’s words comforting even if they were true. He remained at the scene of the gruesome murders until the Crime Scene Unit finished processing it and the bodies had been loaded into fire rescue trucks and transported to the morgue.
Weary and heartsick, he and River rode to the station in silence. Alone in his office, Justice dreaded calling Tawny. He delayed for as long as possible, writing reports and answering questions, until he couldn’t avoid the inevitable any longer.
When Tawny answered on the third ring, he asked in a quiet voice, “Where’s Rosie?”
“Here with me at my parents’ house.”
“Is she awake?”
“Yes. Waiting for news.”
Justice heard the question in her tone. “Her parents didn’t make it. Neither did her aunt and uncle and…her three cousins.” His voice broke.
“Oh, my God,” Tawny murmured.
“I’m on my way to tell her. Rosie shouldn’t hear this from anyone but me.”
“Of course.”
“The press is expecting a statement. I’ll be right over after that.”
Flanked by River, Captain Locke, and Detectives Martinelli and Yarin, Justice made his way to the press room and took his place at the microphone. Sally, God bless her, stood off to one side. She must have heard about the mass murders and come to offer her support.
Drawing a deep breath, Justice explained how the victims met their demise at the hands of Arnold Dewitt, who’d been killed by the police when he attempted to murder his sister, too.
Grilled for an hour by the press, Justice’s head ached incessantly, and he felt tense and on the verge of exploding by the time he ended the press conference. He didn’t blame the reporters for wanting answers. Hell, he wanted them, too. He wanted to know what went wrong, why Dewitt went on a murderous rampage, why he yelled some nonsense about a New America. But the only ones who might shed some light were lying on cold slabs in the morgue.
On his way out, Justice took a call from an irate Mayor Gage.
“Just what the hell is going on in my town, Chief McQuaid? How could you let something like this happen? Ten people are dead, for God’s sake!”
Justice wasn’t in the mood to be polite or political. “Back off, Mr. Mayor. I’m not having this conversation with you right now. Unless you intend to tell Rosie Dewitt that her entire family is dead, which I’m about to do myself, then I strongly suggest you shut the hell up. I’m not in the mood to listen to your bullshit.”
When the mayor remained silent, Justice snorted in disdain. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Without another word, he ended the call.
Sally waited for him next to the Explorer. “Let me go with you to the Westfalls’ place,” she said, her voice soft with empathy.
“No, Sally. I have to do this by myself.”
“Want a hug?”
“Yeah, that’d be nice.”
She wrapped her arms around him, and he inhaled her grandmotherly scent before he dropped a kiss on the top of her head and detached himself.
“It’s going to be okay, Justice.”
“I hope so.”
* * *
Tawny’s parents lived on the beach a couple of miles north of Justice’s home. He rang the doorbell and stepped inside a wide foyer leading to a large living space. Tawny introduced him to her mother, Cynthia, and her father, Beau. Cynthia offered a comforting hug, and Beau shook his hand in a firm grip while clasping his shoulder.
“It’s good to finally meet you, Chief McQuaid,” Beau commented. “Although, I wish it were under different circumstances. Tawny raves about you all the time.”
