A Ghost of Justice by Jon Blackwood Read Free Book Online Page B

jewelry?  And the bastard lost it all, too; even Great-granna's edelweiss pendant.  Or, at any rate, he never would say where it was.  He probably went back where he stashed it and got it before leaving.  Bought a ticket out of town with the cash, no doubt.  God, he needed to be dead .
    The elusive thought suddenly took shape and gave itself up.  Eric wanted him dead, too.  He could kill, if he needed to, anyone.  She knew that about him now.  She thought of the pistol inside his jacket.  It still clashed with her image of him.  "Dad?"
    "Hmm?"
    Looking at him, she tried to visualize her professorial father aiming the gun at another man.  "Will you kill him?  Soon as we get him?"
    Eric took a deep breath.  She heard the long sigh escape from his lips, saw the enormous cloud of vapor, and wondered if he was going to answer or ignore her.  He finally said, "I don't really know, Em."
    Emily turned back.  That was what had nagged her, all right.  Looking out at the dwindling number of taillights, she said, "I think I must be more like Mother."
    "Why is that?"
    "She was always so quick to get mad.  She seemed to enjoy it.  I could kill him right now."  That thought led to the obvious next one.  More heatedly, she said, "I'll be ready to gun him down any second.  That's the way Mom would be.  She wouldn't think about anything else until Hardy was dead."  That said, she added, a little calmer, "Or locked up forever like they used to do."
    Eric said nothing for several minutes.  Emily thought maybe he wouldn't talk about it anymore.  She was almost right.
    "Are you disappointed in me, Em?"
    The question caught her by surprise.  She hadn't meant to belittle him.  Quite the contrary.  She was trying to find a precedence or rationale for her own feelings.
    After a brief, stunned silence of her own, she hastily said, "No.  Not at all.  I… well… Steve wouldn't do it at all…if he were the one doing this.  It wouldn't be right to him.  I just…"  She sought for the words.  They wouldn't come easily, and they didn't seem adequate.  "Dad.  I've only been trying to figure out why I feel this way."
    Eric parted his lips to speak.  She expected something more, but he only said, "You just feel the way you do.  That's all."
    The silence then dragged out uncomfortably.  Eric seemed to need to fill the void.  He switched on the radio and found the North Maryland University station.  It was in the middle of the Peer Gynt Suite.
    The strains of Asa's Death were too depressing and struck too close a chord.
    Emily changed it until she had some jazz out of Jersey State.  The jazz wasn't right, either.  She turned it off.
    Eric started to protest but she cut him off.  "I'm sorry, Dad.  I didn't mean to start an argument."
"There was no argument."
    "Don't be evasive.  There was.  And I caused it."
    "No, you didn't.  Don't worry about it.  No argument."
    "Yes there was," Emily said sharply.  She caught herself before continuing, reminding herself that you didn't shout when you were apologizing.  Quietly she added, "And I didn't mean to imply that I was better, or anything, you know, for knowing what I'd do."
    "That's okay, Em.  I never thought--"
    "No," she interrupted.  "Hear me out.  It seemed like I was comparing us, saying it in a way that hurt you.  I'm sorry.  I didn't realize that was what I was doing, Dad.  But I do now.  And it's not what I meant."
    Eric held up his hand.  "I know, Em.  You said you were only trying to understand yourself.  I never once thought you were putting me down.  No apology."
    "Then why were you so quiet about it?"
    He chewed his lower lip as he thought of what to say.  "I was worried."
    "Worried?"  Again her father said the unexpected.
    "You've got it wrong, Em."  He gave her a long glance, then back to the road.
    "What?"
    "You're not like Rose.  Steve was like Rose.  She was quick to anger, true.  But there wasn't a violent bone in her.  You're