McAllister Justice Series Box Set Read online

  McAllister Justice Series

  Volume Three

  Shattered Reflections

  Remnants of Evil

  by

  Reily Garrett

  Acknowledgments

  This book is dedicated to Darius, Leyna, and Raptor, my incredible trio of furballs, loyal, kind, and energetic. Three incredible beings who have never understood the words “give up.” To Faith, whose love and compassion changed my life.

  To my friends and beta readers, this is becoming quite an interesting journey, and I have you all to thank in helping me along the way. Your lives are very busy, yet you take the time to read and make suggestions about my work. Time is the greatest gift of all.

  To Thomas Knox, Esq. Thank you for the insights into your world. Though it is a diverse realm, the details are very specific. And always remember, the pen is blue.

  To Dr. Chris Terrell and Jean Coldwell, your insights into character development and plot points helped the story run smoothly. I appreciate your time and effort.

  To Laurie Sickles for also helping to shape my characters and pointing out things I haven’t seen, thank you.

  To Siobhan Caughey, for reading through my rough drafts and not laughing. Your perceptions are spot on and always appreciated in delving into a character’s mind.

  To my readers, each one of you who selects and reads one of my books, thank you for the opportunity to share my work. Thank you for picking up your copy of this book. If you’ve enjoyed it, please consider leaving a review. They are the best way to help your author spread the word.

  In every book, I try to incorporate something new, outside of my experience and comfort zone, which requires a certain amount of research. The following story includes information from various sources.

  To Ella Cafatsakis from Zorb.com, located in Rotorua, New Zealand.

  Thank you for an inside look into the world of zorbing. Videos of rolling downhill inside a clear plastic ball at a good clip should make every adventurer’s to-do list. Kudos for having a beautiful facility and countryside to share such escapades.

  To Aaron at OhioCaverns.com

  Thank you for responding to endless questions concerning details of the world underground. The sheer beauty of the unique formations coupled with a guided tour makes it an incredible attraction for all ages.

  Thank you for grabbing your copy of the McAllister Justice Series!

  If you enjoy the book, please consider leaving a review. They are the best way to help your author spread the word.

  If you love romantic thrillers, paranormal romance, or erotic romance, sign up for my newsletter at reilygarrett.com.

  I only send emails for new releases and sales.

  Copyright

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, and where permitted by law. Reviewers may quote brief passages in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Shattered Reflections

  Remnants of Evil

  Copyright © 2018 Reily Garrett

  Cover Art by Rylan Killian

  Table of contents

  Acknowledgments

  Copyright

  Shattered Reflections

  Remnants of Evil

  About Reily

  Reily’s Books

  Shattered Reflections

  McAllister Justice Series

  Book Five

  Prologue

  Indistinct shadows slithered along the ground to capture Denny’s attention, their fluid movements chipping away at his prospects for survival. The long-abandoned playground had inspired a certain insipid blandness during daylight, so contrary to the invisible fingers now tapping out death’s toll along his vertebrae. Its steady beat echoed the blood roaring in his ears. The few minutes of procrastination at the building’s corner permitted observation of the men waiting to greet him.

  “About time you showed up. We’ve been standing here with our thumbs up our asses. Damned ironic you’d select this abandoned school… a nerd to the last thread.” Condescension entwined with impatience forced a new sentiment to infiltrate the atmosphere. One not associated with that voice in prior years.

  “Larry? The past decade has been kind to you. Didn’t know you were bringing Mitch...” Denny swallowed hard and stepped farther from the building’s dubious concealment. Fragmented swaths of moonlight playing hide-and-seek with the clouds illuminated his liaison’s eyes, narrow and calculating.

  “Wouldn’t miss this for the world, D. Didn’t want you spooked by the desolate setting and the two of us.” Mitch’s attire matched his counterpart with the exception of the long trench coat. Leather wings flapped about his calves in the strengthening breeze. The larger shadow glided on the extension of arrogance to stand abreast of Larry.

  Years of disuse and neglect splintered paint on the once colorful roundabout separating Denny from whatever fate awaited. The thick metal disk had warped over time, its handles covered with rust and bird droppings. Decades ago, he’d played on this very structure with these men who’d shared his childhood dreams. His girlfriend had suggested the location to rekindle old feelings.

  A long leather jacket in late August indicated the possibility of concealed weapons. “Why would I feel spooked among friends?” Swelling anxiety more accurately described the gnarled, twisting apprehension snaking through his gut.

  “Hmm.” Larry latched onto the u-shaped bar and gave the carousel a spin, the kaleidoscope of tainted colors blurring, distracting. “You’re not exactly the corporate spy type. Do you have the finished formulas? My contacts are anxious to measure the devastation and parameters of your weapon.”

  “It’s not on me. You were supposed to bring cash, and yet I see no duffle bag.” Denny back-stepped, his intuition warning him to placate the predators while assembling a plan B. The hunters knew his nerdy brain compartmentalized data in neat little boxes, so might anticipate his moves.

  “Cash is in the van. Shall we? I’m ready for a vacay on some sunny, remote island in the South Pacific.” Larry extended his right arm to indicate the lone vehicle along the deserted road behind him. “After you’ve inspected the payment and give us what we came for, we part ways.”

  They intend to kill me. “Sounds good. I’m ready to leave these shores and never look back.”

  Larry nodded his agreement.

  Mitch’s flehmen reaction mimicked a horse’s curling upper lip exposing straight white teeth, the difference being a slight whistle instead of a deep inhalation. The swath of black hair escaping its elastic and drifting across his face couldn’t conceal the innate evil dwelling within his gaze. Decades of hard living had molded the bygone acquaintance into a formidable brick wall. They’d grown up brutal and remorseless.

  “Now, you’ll be a rich man able to go anywhere and do anything you want. I should’ve known you’d find a way to weaponize the generation of liquid solar fuel.” Mitch scanned the perimeter, his restless gaze taking in everything, dissecting, qualifying, evaluating.

  “It wasn’t my intention from the beginning.” His audible gulp boomed in his ears.

  Caught in the shadows like a mouse awaiting the falcon to swoop low and spear him with sharp talons, Denny expected the hounds of hell to descend when the grind-squeak of the carousel pitched lower then fell silent. The toy
of old coming to rest signaled the time for loitering over. He should have purchased a gun.

  All remained quiet.

  Hesitant steps carried no sound in circumventing the obstacle. He stopped outside of Larry’s reach.

  “Let’s go.” Mitch’s sly murmur crackled in the silent night.

  Frigid chunks of icy fear formed a barrier between thought and action. It wasn’t until falling into step behind Larry that a defensive strategy began to form. Like the squid skirting the jaws of a hungry shark, he’d propel himself just out of reach.

  Mitch paced him from behind, staying outside of striking distance. Neither predator would expect the mollusk to grow such sharp teeth.

  Unlike modern jungle gyms constructed from sturdy resins, PVC, and rope—metal pipes and plank wood shaped the old fortress which had filled his life with adventure so long ago. Decay and termites weakened the castle to the point several rotten stakes lay strewn in grass long overdue a trim.

  A vestige of innate self-preservation forced Denny to dive for a wooden picket once part of the balcony’s railing as a whoosh sounded overhead.

  Mitch’s hands closed on thin air.

  The hyperextension of two fingers didn’t alter Denny’s focus despite pain shooting into his hand. Gymnastics had never been the nerd’s strong suit, but his southpaw grip on the crude weapon held tight through his tumble. Timeworn and jagged, it made the perfect lightweight weapon, a spear.

  Fear focused his attention on the final outcome. Survival. He could feel it now, the hate that flowed from old friends. It tasted foul on the back of his tongue and coiled low in his belly.

  A snort of disbelief escaped Mitch after the clumsy evasive maneuver. “Death doesn’t have to be slow and painful, but I can make it that way.” Moonlight gleamed off the blade extending from his hand, slicing the atmosphere in a figure-eight motion. “You were never one to buck fate. Why start now?”

  A subdued guffaw from Larry preceded the admonition, “Not until we get the details, Mitch.” Cold, clipped words, so foreign to his previous demeanor.

  “Not in this lifetime, you shits.” A snap kick to Mitch’s knee yielded a satisfying crunch and gasp along with his blade dropping to the ground.

  “Ahhh...” As the leg buckled, Mitch windmilled his arms for counterbalance. Shock mingled with anguish hardened his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut.

  In a daring move belying lack of fitness, Denny jammed the jagged edge of wood at Mitch’s stomach, both relieved and horrified with the bit of blood spilled. Crimson rivulets defined gravity’s path, following a line of least resistance over shaking hands as Denny stifled dry heaves. The sour taste of vomit filled his mouth. He was a chemist, not a contract killer.

  Mitch grabbed the picket, preventing more than superficial insertion, his face a mask of hatred, rage, and promise of revenge. Like sociopaths, he viewed laws as basic guidelines.

  Larry started forward but crashed to the ground with a forceful leg sweep. The horrific scene solidified into a future nightmare even as Denny reached for the discarded blade and stood. It flitted through his slippery fingers twice before he locked it tight in his grasp.

  “Pricks. I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you. Now, you’ll get nothing. I have another buyer lined up.”

  Larry jumped to his feet and circled to approach his partner who balanced on one leg and yanked at the crude spike. More blood seeped between the fingers clenched over the wound. “Fool. You’ll never live to spend a cent. We have the backing to track you anywhere, through any country.”

  “No.” A soft, frightened sound filled the space between them. It took several heartbeats to realize the small-animal note came from Denny’s own throat.

  The click of a switchblade heralded Larry’s determination to see his threat complete.

  “Your backing won’t like it if you leave a bloody trail linking to them.” Denny stepped back, his fingers slipping on the wet knife. He nodded toward the groaning partner. “How long do you think it would take them to find you if he dies? Won’t they eliminate any threat to their motives and actions coming to light?” Being a nerd had its strongpoints.

  A small seed of doubt flourished in Larry’s eyes as he reached to steady his bleeding partner. The gravely snarl torn from his chest silenced when Mitch started to crumble.

  “Not now, Larry. We can track him later. I need help.”

  A calculated gleam crossed Larry’s expression, fleeting but indicative of a mind weighing options.

  Denny backed away, knife at the ready. After ten steps and seeing his path clear without pursuit, he turned and raced for the copse of trees where he’d hidden his car. The night hadn’t turned out as planned, but he could work out another strategy.

  Flashbacks of the predators’ shock bolstered Denny’s spirit despite fate forcing him to huddle in his car behind a deserted gas station. Daylight couldn’t come soon enough. The possibility of killing Mitch added another sin for which he’d one day atone, but until then, he’d collect his due and live like a king. Maybe infection would end one of his old friends if Mitch couldn’t seek medical help.

  Changing his routine to avoid detection meant stepping outside his comfort zone until he fled the country. He hadn’t gone home or to his fiancée’s bungalow; his new enemies would soon have both under surveillance. If Molly refused to leave her shift early as he’d asked, they would find her, use her, and kill her.

  In preparation for any eventuality, he’d obtained burner phones—one to contact Larry, another for his fiancée, Molly, and another for future contacts in case of trouble along the way. A clever tech could no doubt find a way to track him, but it was the best he could do.

  The bloody handkerchief weighed more on his mind than in his pocket. Paranoia suggested he burn the cloth, but he couldn’t destroy the sentimental scrap Molly had taken the time to embroider. Their initials twined together in a red heart symbolized his hope for their future.

  Things changed in the blink of an eye or the flip of a switchblade. Peace would come if he could delete the memory of blood staining the wood. Ridges of his fingers and around his nails itched from the damning evidence.

  After washing up at the edge of a nearby stream, he settled for drying them on the inside of his suit jacket, torn in his tumble. The slimy residue from algae build-up in shallow waters carried a wealth of bacteria, but if he had to stop for ointment to negate a rash, he’d no doubt step into someone’s video surveillance footage.

  He should have vetted his old friends better or anticipated the effects of life over time. Having to defend his life had never entered his mind, though the shock of Larry’s betrayal stung more than the splinters from his makeshift weapon.

  In the reflection of his rearview mirror, dark smudges and deeper lines carved a different picture of recent events but added weight to the well-rehearsed story. If his old friend poised Mitch’s body in such a way to incriminate Denny, a contingency plan was in order.

  It took an hour of scouring the internet on his tablet before finding what sounded like the perfect dupe. With a little subterfuge, he could trick a local investigator into helping him form a substantial case for self-defense.

  Simple and direct compensated for what the ad lacked in color and finesse. Deficiency of flare tagged the proprietor as either new in the career path or her gender hindering employment with a large firm. The investigator sounded young on the phone, which pricked his conscience, but not for long.

  Closing down his device, he adjusted his position before cranking the engine. There was just enough time to make it to the diner. Depending on how astute the PI proved to be, he’d have to throw her some legitimate information amid the tendered distractions. On the off chance she was savvy enough to survive, he might even pay her in full.

  He’d thought about burying Mitch’s switchblade but decided it might come in handy. Until he obtained a gun, the knife wedged securely under the driver’s seat provided a small measure of security.

  Chapter Oner />
  Katt stared through the windshield at the horizontal line of windows fronting the diner and watched the staff bring to life her favorite memories. Bright light streaming through each pane reflected off chrome pendant fixtures hanging from the ceiling and formed cylindrical belts marching up the walls.

  Each casement opened with a squeaky groan, and the shifting breeze ruffled colorful lacy curtains. Her car’s open windows would soon allow treasured scents to drift in and settle her nerves.

  Her mom once referred to the place as Dive Diner. The food was outstanding, reasonably priced, and served on old-fashioned, non-breakable plates with clunky-handled glass cups. A grumble from her stomach reminded her of the coffee and bacon grease aromas she associated with the old-time stools and swiveling at the counter until dizzy.

  Waking up at the crack of dawn to her phone ringing had shaved the smile off her good mood until hearing the services requested. Morning rituals grounded her thoughts and fine-tuned her intuition. She usually felt more in sync with nature and those around her after ten minutes of coffee time on her back patio. Missing it this morning had left her out of sorts.

  “What do you think, Gila? Should we send Matt a wake-up call? He ought to be up by now, anyway.” It took a minute to settle the ferret in her lap before selecting the appropriate app on her phone. Between her hacker friend’s tutoring and learning Morse code, she enjoyed a ready supply of mischievous pranks involving the detective’s home security system.

  Conjuring a spectacular light show at the crack of dawn and the grouch’s cursing response amused her to no end. Before sending the rude if abrupt message, she set his thermostat to forty degrees, and then made his alarm blare a shrieking warning.

  Regardless of how many times he changed his codes, Katt pried her way in. She could almost hear him howl in frustration and wondered how he explained the phenomenon to overnight guests.