Rowan Steele
THE DYING LIGHT
CHAPTER ONE
“And our top story today. There are reports from all around the country about new cases of the flu.”
Jackson Thorne looked at the screen but only half listened to the report. It was the same crap the news been saying for days. A flu had swept the nation and spread across the world. It had killed thousands, but the government said the worst had passed.
Jack didn’t buy it.
He knew far too well what harm came when people took anything at face value, and he never made that mistake. He stood and finished packing his duffel with the belongings he had.
No, the worst of this flu definitely wasn’t over, and if Jack had his way, he’d be on his ranch alone and away from whatever was around the corner, not stuck in Atlanta. That flu that the government said was over had killed one of the few men he’d call a friend, which was why he was here.
The trip was only supposed to be long enough to pay his respects and be on his way. Just his luck that he’d had a front-row seat to an airline stewardess losing her shit and biting off another passenger’s nose.
Jack had helped subdue the woman and earned himself a place as star witness for the prosecution at the preliminary hearing.
It had been three weeks now, and his patience had been running thin. It was only a stubborn and stupid sense of civic duty that kept him here. The stewardess had overreacted, but the asshole she’d bitten had had it coming. Jack didn’t plan on saying that in court, but as annoyed as he was, he couldn’t guarantee that he wouldn’t.
After he tucked his pants in and tied his boots, he pulled on his leather jacket and headed for the door.
Not the most presentable outfit for court, but he wasn’t here to make friends or make a good impression. If the DA wanted him there so badly, she’d take him as he came. Two minutes later, he cranked the engine of his rented SUV and headed off.
He didn’t like the noise and close quarters of any city, and to his mind, Atlanta’s booming population and unfettered sprawl was the worst of all worlds. Still, though he wasn’t especially fond of them, he’d gotten familiar with the city’s streets in the past weeks.
It didn’t escape his notice that the streets that were so often clogged were eerily empty today.
Jack was alert and aware of his surroundings like always, but he was hit with an eerie feeling. It was almost like anticipation, though that wasn’t quite the right word. Whatever name he put to it didn’t matter. What mattered was that Jack knew that feeling and knew it meant something bad was about to happen.
He wasn’t a big believer in things he couldn’t see or shoot, but he trusted that feeling. It had been with him in more dark places than he cared to remember and had never been wrong.
Jack wouldn’t count on it being wrong now.
He’d brought his duffel with him and decided that he was headed to the airport as soon as he left court. He wanted to be as far away from Atlanta as he could as soon as he could. He had half a mind to skip court. They didn’t need him, and the passenger and stewardess probably deserved each other. There was no reason for him to be here, and the sooner he left, the sooner the anvil that seemed to be sitting on his chest would be gone.
He made it to the courthouse in less than fifteen minutes, which was practically a miracle with Atlanta’s congested traffic. The courthouse steps, which were usually teeming with people waiting to get in, were almost empty with no more than ten people waiting outside when Thorne knew there was usually more than a hundred.
Even the line at the metal detectors, which sometimes added another fifteen minutes to a court visit, was short. After he passed through security, he walked through the courthouse, still taking in everything he passed, though after so many visits it was all memorized.
He noticed that the security station that usually had at least five deputy sheriffs was down to two. That the courtrooms were almost barren. Even in the traffic division, which usually overflowed with people, was nearly empty.
Maybe there was an issue at the jail.
The courthouse had a fourteen-story county jail attached to it, and Jack suspected it took a fair amount of personnel to manage.
If the courts were this sparse, it would make sense to station people at the prison. Perfectly logical, but he was still on high alert.
When he reached the courtroom, he noticed that the guard usually posted outside the door wasn’t there. There was no window in the door, so after glancing at his watch and seeing that he was a few minutes early, Jack opened the door and walked into the court. He slipped in back, trying to go unnoticed.
And for the most part he did.
The court was just as sparsely populated as all the other places he had seen thus far, and what people were there were riveted by what was taking place.
“So how do you explain that?” the woman in the center of the courtroom asked.
She stood at the lectern, tall, her posture ramrod straight, her eyes lasered on the older portly gentleman on the stand.
“I-I told her up front that was the deal. She took it,” he said.
“You told her up front?” the woman replied.
Her expression had taken on a softness and seemed almost like she was extending and olive branch. The portly man took it, something Jack knew he would regret.
“Yes,” he said, nodding emphatically.
“And you think telling her upfront supersedes federal law?” the woman asked, looking at the older man sharply.
He’d started to sweat, and Jack sensed the woman was going in for the kill.
“I— We—”
“Thank you, Mr. Smithson. You’ve said more than enough,” she said.
The man looked frustrated but also relieved as he stood and left the stand.
Jack had only seen about two minutes, but he could imagine that much of the other testimony had played out in much the same way.
In those two minutes he’d been sitting there, the woman had carved Mr. Smithson like a Christmas turkey. He looked at the woman as she faced the judge.
“Your honor—”
The court reporter’s incessant hacking cough was loud enough to distract everyone. The judge lifted his hand and looked down at the court reporter.
“You all right, Bridget?” he asked, looking concerned.
“Yes—”
The rest of the woman’s sentence was cut off by a stream of harsh, chest-racking coughs.
Great. Now we’ll all get the fucking flu.
The judge looked at the court reporter and then shook his head.
“Bridget, we’ll wrap up for the day so you can get home.”
“Your honor?”
The judge looked at the woman lawyer and then waved her away impatiently.
“This can wait, counselor. Court is adjourned.”
As the few people in the courtroom stood, the judge called out, “And I’m rescheduling my docket for the rest of the day.”
Jack could have punched the wall.
Yet another day this had been extended. He didn’t care. He’d done more than enough.
It was time to leave.
He waited until everyone had shuffled out of the courtroom, leaving just him and the lawyer.
She didn’t seem in any hurry to leave, and Thorne wondered what was wrong with her. Everyone else was rushing out, but she was sitting there, carefully arranging her files.
Jack imagined he knew her type. Competitive, dedicated, interested in nothing but the victory.
Whatever.
He filed out, but rather than going toward the main elevators, he followed a long hallway to the opposite side of the building.
The main elevators were usually crowded and smelled like piss, and they also led directly to the security desk. But since Jack had already checked in, he would take this alternate route and avoid the crowd, thin as it may be, and the stench, on his way out.