Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 131364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
He could still remember each and every second of the experience that had forever altered him, destroying in minutes a life he’d only just discovered. Justice Psy were called that because they were telepaths who could reach into the minds of Psy and humans, pull out memories to do with a specific incident or crime, then broadcast those memories out to humans and Psy.
Changelings were excluded because of their powerful natural shields. Too hard to get anything in or out without smashing their minds to pieces. But that hadn’t been a disadvantage in that courtroom where an arrogant Psy landholder was meant to be held to account for the murder of Adam’s parents.
His paternal grandmother was human, as was Jenesse, his mother’s closest friend and a woman who’d been an aunt in all but blood to Saoirse and Adam. The two women had allowed the broadcast to reach their minds, watching the supposed “memory” from start to finish even as the court’s designated J-Psy interpreter spoke the memory aloud for the rest of them.
J-Psy were trusted because they were meant to be unable to change the memories they retrieved. They had to be trusted—once they went in and took a memory, it could never again be retrieved by another J.
That day Adam learned that the whole “Js can’t lie” thing was a pile of fucking bullshit. The J who’d stood beside the woman in the vehicle had altered the perpetrator’s memories.
And a double murderer had walked free.
He didn’t even realize he’d moved until he found himself staring straight through the windscreen at the woman on the other side, the hard metal of the car brushing his thighs as the wild creature in him rose to the surface in a blaze of rage…and things unspoken too long contained.
• • •
Memories and nightmares aside, nothing much affected Eleri these days, the blurred glass between her and the world an all but impenetrable shield. That was why she’d told Sophie she would keep on doing this job of hunting serial murderers as long as she lived—because she could. She was in no danger of being broken or damaged in ways that might alter her life.
All of that had been the pure truth…until now.
His hair was a dark brown with reddish glints that reached his nape; it was cut in silky waves that were currently tumbled, as if he’d run his hand through it. It had been much longer the first time they’d met, the waves pulled out of it by the weight of its length.
He’d worn it open, a sleek rain down the back of his perfectly pressed suit.
His stance that day had been far from aggressive—he’d likely learned to affect languid relaxation to put others at ease. Because even then, Adam Garrett had been a tall boy who gave the impression of power and strength.
He’d grown into a big man who moved with a predator’s grace.
His neutral stance against his vehicle had altered the same instant that her heart began to race, her breath catching as her hands clenched on the steering wheel. Then she’d brought the SUV to a stop, and he’d moved with a slow and deadly intent that told her she was unlikely to make it out of this alive.
Instead of reacting to back off, drive away, she froze…as time began to unravel at furious speed, shoving her back into the very first courtroom in which she’d stood in an official capacity, no longer Reagan’s trainee but his intern. She should’ve remembered that day for that reason, looked back on it with what happiness she could feel through her numbed psyche, considered it a positive touchstone.
But as Reagan had once said, “Should-have-beens are the lament of those who failed.”
The courtroom had been one of the old ones, with dark wood paneling and the judge up in a high position behind a heavy bracket of wood, the jury to the right behind another barrier created of wood.
Her job had been to stand there, be all but invisible, to learn from her superior and not say a word. There wasn’t much she could do, in any case. Only one J could go into a mind at a time. She’d been with Reagan to learn how to behave in court, how to act in front of a judge and jury and the lawyers. Allowed into the courtroom by permission of the judge, who had, prior to the start of the proceedings, taken the time to welcome her to the world of Justice.
Js, considered neutral by their very nature, were expert witnesses in good standing with the court system. Expensive and not so numerous that they could be used for all cases, or even most cases. But for a rare few special exceptions due to people with connections pulling strings, Js were only ever brought in on the worst cases, the ones to do with violence and terrible destruction.