Deploy, Part One (Rawlings #1)(38)

Her fears were all but confirmed when Monty Souter did come in the room and asked if she had seen her father before the accident, if he was upset about anyone or anything that he might have brought to her attention—which was how he asked in his own round about way if her father had figured out she was under the school a week before with a host of Rawlings’.

In one way, the human way, Monty was trying to understand what really went down. He had feared all week Brent Rose would hear the real story of where his daughter was and with who, and had expected a call like this he’d have to deal with. So he wasn’t surprised at all when the call did come in, but he was surprised at the result.

In another way, as a Sheriff, as someone who had ties to this family, he needed a good story. A back way out of whatever drama this could spur.

If it did come out that this was not an accident, or even it was an accident but one spurred by Brent’s temper and drinking, the blame could land anywhere but near the Souters.

He could hear his rebuttal now: Brent Rose was furious the Rawlings’ trapped his daughter. As he discussed it with her, he slipped, a spark started a fire. Justice could not move through the flames to help her father—Murdock couldn’t either—we are all heroes here today, damn those Rawlings’ and their womanizing ways. If they had not cornered that poor girl during a horrifying storm, none of this would have happened. We lost a pillar of our community because of them. Damn shame.

Justice shook her head no to the Sheriff and repeated Murdock’s story almost in a robotic fashion.

When she did make it home, the smell of smoke was thick in the air, and it was nauseating, which made her feel all the dizzier. It made her remember the night before all the more vividly.

Her grandmother had come into the bath and across the cover of the water, Justice told the truth.

“He fell...”





Eleven


If Justice had any doubt about how this town saw her father, the next days slaughtered said doubt. Her home was full. There was enough food to feed the town and then some. A ‘fund me’ account was launched for Brent Rose’s ‘poor, young, daughter.’

Soul after soul told her what a great man he was, how blessed they felt to know him and how sorry they were for her loss. Those comments were often, if not always coupled with comments about how lucky she was to have Murdock, a strong protective boyfriend to help her through this tragedy.

For the first hundred times she had said, “He’s a good friend.” But then Murdock pulled her into a closet at the memorial and told her his father was looking at her like she was crazy—for her to stick to the story. They were together, snuck away in the shadows that night.

When they emerged in the parlor after his talk, Monty Stouter was indeed looking right at Justice, and beside him was the mayor, the councilmen...the list went on.

Not long after then, she was hiding out in the gardens at the memorial grounds trying to find one breath...but failing and ended up crying. That was when she felt someone tap her shoulder with a napkin in hand.

It was a familiar gesture she had been broached with over the last few days, and one she had to be careful with, each tear made lines in her foundation that was covering the very telling marks on her face, wiping them away only made them more revealing, a mistake she was sure she had made one too many times.

When she glanced to her side and saw Chasen Rawlings behind the kind gesture, she gasped and stepped back a bit.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” Chasen said as his concerned gazed moved over her tear soaked visage.

She knew what he was looking for. Atticus was the last person to see her with her foundation wiped away.

“Are you all right?” Atticus had asked.

“Yeah, just a lot,” she said, holding her head down.

“I read you were a brave one, chasing Murdock in a burning building, slipping and getting hurt—barely making it out with your life and all.”

Justice had refused to look him in the eye, to look any Rawlings that had stopped by in the eye. They hadn’t come by to pay their respects to Brent Rose—at least as far as she knew they hadn’t—but they had come by for Bell and Justice. More than a few used to be in her grandfather’s congregation and were family friend’s generations deep.

She was sure it was impossible to look an honest to their core person in the eye and lie; at least it was for her. Looking at any of Declan’s brothers, much less his father, in the eyes was not easy on any day of the week. It made her miss him all the more, it made her realize she had listened to the last thing he told her and landed where she was.

For better or worse, she had no idea, it was all too new, a haze. She knew, under it all...she had left one set of shackles for another. She wasn’t out of hell, just in a different zip code of it.

When Atticus had said his spiel to Justice, he reached forward and lifted her chin, turned her head to the side. “Looks like the ground had a hell of a back swing.”

Justice remained silent.

“Are you safe now? You need my help? Our help?”

The only Rawlings she had ever truly been herself around was Nolan. Yeah, she had been more than real with Declan, but that was all emotion, felt not seen or said. Nolan, though— she didn’t have to say much but he got it, and he made her feel better. He was a breath of fresh air.

Wanting to tell Nolan she never found his letters, and to hear a true friend’s voice, she’d tried calling him. He didn’t answer. But she wasn’t surprised. The first leg of his adventure was some kind of hiking trip.