Deploy by Jamie Magee Page A

didn’t really come this way, not the brunt of it,” the Sheriff said to calm her.
    When the house did come into view, it was clear all the windows were intact. There were a few long branches on the roof and laying across the porches, but nothing compared to downtown which took the heat.
    Through the window, Justice saw her grandmother in the kitchen, on the phone, as she made a pot of coffee.
    “Thanks for the ride,” she said, quickly getting out and not inviting in company. She knew she’d fall apart the second she saw her grandmother, and didn’t need to give Murdock or his father any more reason to suspect what happened during her night.
    If Justice had a chance to rest, to breathe, she could figure out how to smooth it all over, the way she always did.
    Murdock did get out but only to get in the passenger seat and slam the door then lean against it.
    “You heard her,” his father said. “They just got there. I don’t need any trouble, son. Those Rawlings always leave. It’s not worth the hell.”
    Murdock shook his head in a pissed off way. His judicial father never got him, but then again that was more than likely because he wasn’t his son, not really. The secret was a skeleton in their family closet. Murdock was a mistake his mother made when Monty was in the service, the navy.
    Every time his parents fought they both threw daggers. Monty wanted to be commended for raising a boy that wasn’t his—giving him his name and his benefits, and she wanted to him to accept fault, saying she only stepped out because he was saddling up to any pretty thing he could find at every port.
    It’s never awesome to know that you were the result of a revenge fuck, and Murdock had lived with that truth since he was a boy. 
    His father shined his spotlight across the property, looking for damage, then pulled away the second he saw Justice make her way in.
    ***
    J ustice had done all she could to calm herself as she climbed the steps and then made her way to the kitchen.
    Bell Everly was gifted in many areas, and aging gracefully was one of them. At sixty-four, she barely looked fifty. Her fair hair had turned whiter over they years but there was still more than a hint of blond and red. She and Justice carried the same build, both relatively tall at five foot eight inches. Strong shoulders, a narrow chest, and wider hips.
    The lesson on knowing how to be patient, to plan and expect the darkest hour to end, came more so from her grandmother than anyone.
    Justice let her bag fall from her shoulder and pressed her lips together, holding back any emotion she could, but the second her grandmother carefully approached her, with concern in her gaze, Justice lost it.
    Silent tears came. She covered her face, which was twisted in agony, with her hands. The next thing she felt was her grandmother’s arms around her, swaying her as her hand ran over the back of her head, the same way she had always calmed her when life seemed to press a little too hard on her granddaughter.
    “Did you say your peace?” Bell asked, after a moment.
    Justice nodded, but her tears which remained silent, never stopped.
    “That is all you can ask for, Justice. Let life unfold as it needs. Every chapter finds its end.”
    Her words were anything but comforting, but Justice took them and held on to them.
    It was dawn before Justice went to sleep. She and her grandmother sat at the kitchen table for hours, drinking coffee. Few words were passed, more so glances that seemed to already know it all.
    Her grandmother now knew what the Sheriff saw, what Murdock saw—Justice in a crowd of Rawlings. She knew that Justice had a justifiable reason to worry.
    Keep to the story was the plan. For her to look her father in the eye and say what she had already said.
    “We’ll stay busy helping out around town, just don’t let him get you alone until this has had time to die down,” Bell had said to Justice before she went to bed.
    It burned Bell alive she had