Page 77 of Fighting for Brielle
Ignoring Mayor Gage’s watchdog who sat at a desk outside his office, Justice burst through the double oak doors.
“Chief, you can’t go in there!”
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Gage demanded in an irritable voice. He glared at his uninvited guest. “I’m busy.”
“I’ll bet you are. I’m through playing games, Mr. Mayor. Time to lay our cards on the table. Brielle McAdams and her friend Faith Stoker have been missing for more than three weeks now, and you know exactly where they are.”
Gage crossed his arms over his chest and snorted with disdain. “You’re delusional. After barging in here and making such a ridiculous accusation, you’re finished as chief of police.”
“You think so?” Justice braced himself against the mayor’s mahogany desk and leaned forward. “I know you’re carrying arms from Nicaragua on your yacht and bringing them ashore right here in Laguna Beach. That night Brielle and I were guests? Not an accident. Brielle finagled an invite. And guess what she found? Proof.”
Mayor Gage didn’t blink. “You’re crazy. You’ve completely lost your mind, McQuaid.”
Justice pulled up the pictures Brielle had sent to him on his phone and tossed it onto Gage’s desk. “Take a look.”
Gage barely glanced at the pictures of the wooden crates inside the rectangular containers on his yacht. “Not only are you crazy, you’re just plain stupid. These pictures don’t prove a damn thing.”
Justice shoved his cell phone back into its case clipped to his waist. “You’re committing the worst kind of treason there is. Nothing would make me happier than to lock you up for the rest of your pathetic life. However, I’m willing to offer you a deal. Full immunity in exchange for the location of Axel Anderson’s compound. You have thirty seconds to make your decision.”
“Get out of my office. I’m done talking to you.”
“Suit yourself. Enjoy sitting in that chair while you still can,Mayor. The next time I see you, I’ll have a warrant for your arrest. And you can kiss this,” he waved his arm around the office, “goodbye, along with your family. Have a nice day.”
Outside City Hall Justice spoke into his shoulder mic. “Anything?”
While leaning against Gage’s desk, he’d planted a bug, sanctioned by Madam Secretary. She happily accommodated him after Brendan had confessed he’d blurted the truth about what happened in Afghanistan. Justice planned to confront her as soon as Brielle and Faith were safe and secure. He wanted the person or persons responsible for feeding him bad intel punished. Part of him wondered if his commander knew the truth. God, he hoped not. If he knew and kept quiet, that would be the ultimate betrayal.
Hutch spoke in his ear. “Not yet.”
“Keep me posted.”
“You got it, Chief. You’re covering the beach tomorrow for the Fourth of July, right?”
“Yeah. I’ll be out all day. Stop by Brielle’s house when you can, Hutch. Her mom is cooking a feast for the department.”
“I will. When are you going off duty?”
“In about an hour.”
“Copy that.”
* * *
Bright blue cloudless skies heralded the Fourth of July. By nine o’clock in the morning, hordes of people congregated on the beach. The majority of the LBPD patrolled the streets, and extra officers helped Justice cruise the beach. He kept busy checking in with the lifeguards and the food truck vendors, and maintaining order. Aside from a few minor skirmishes, everyone cooperated and enjoyed themselves. He’d become easily recognizable as the face of the LBPD, especially after Brielle disappeared, and many beach-goers spoke to him, offering their sympathy and encouragement.
His sagging spirit lifted somewhat when he caught sight of Rosie tossing a beach ball with a group of other little girls. He waved to her, and much to his relief, she smiled and waved back at him. The small gesture filled him with hope. Hope that she would trust him again.
While riding up and down the beach on his UTV, Justice kept an ear to his radio. He half expected Axel Anderson to launch his coup today for its historical significance. Staging a revolution on the most important date in American history.
He wondered what Brielle might be facing at the moment. How she endured every day. How she feared not being rescued. Had she given up? Stopped hoping? Did she hate him? He could handle her hatred as long as she was alive.
Dear God, let her be alive.
With so much to do, Justice skipped eating. At seven he took a break and parked his UTV at the base of the steps leading to Brielle’s deck. Several cops, their spouses or significant others, and their families sat on lounge chairs or hung out in the spacious living room. They held cans of beer or soda or bottles of water as they consumed plates of barbecued chicken and ribs and various side dishes and desserts prepared by Brianna.
After greeting everyone, Justice filled a plate with ribs, baked beans, and potato salad and sat in an empty place on the deck. He took a couple of bites of his meat and felt nauseous.
He pushed his plate away and muttered, “I can’t eat.”
