Flawed Justice

First published in 2023www.emmanicholsauthor.comCopyright © 2023 by Emma NicholsThe moral right of Emma Nichols to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.All rights reserved.This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. Except as permitted under current legislation, no part of this work may be photocopied, stored in a retrieval system, published, performed in public, adapted, broadcast, transmitted, recorded or reproduced in any form or by any means, without the prior permission of the copyright owners.This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, livingor dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.Also available in paperback format. Other books by this authorWriting as Emma Nichols…Finding YouRemember UsThe HangoverSummer FateBlind FaithChristmas BizarreForbiddenThis Is MeArianaMadeleineCosa NostraCosa Nostra IIElodieRock My HeartDon’t Tell Me Who to LoveThe PoliticianTo keep in touch with the latest news from Emma K Nichols and her writing please visit:www.emmanicholsauthor.comwww.facebook.com/EmmaNicholsAuthorhttps://twitter.com/ENichols_Author CONTENTSOther books by this authorThanksDedication1.2.3.4.5.6.7.8.9.10.11.12.13.14.15.16.17.18.19.20.21.22.23.24.25.26.27.28.29.30.31.32.33.About Emma K Nichols ThanksWithout the assistance, advice, support and love of the following people, this book would not have been possible.Bev. Thank you for sharing your detailed knowledge and expertise having worked in major crime and child abuse for more than 30 years. Thank you for working studiously chapter by chapter, throughout the course of writing this book, ensuring technical accuracy.Claire. Thank you for sharing your policing expertise having operated as an SIO in major crime for more than 20 years. Your insights and perspective were invaluable.Thank you to my editor Victoria Goldman. It was a pleasure working with you on my first project writing crime fiction.To my wonderful readers and avid followers. Thank you for continuing to read the stories I write.I hope you enjoy this diversion into crime fiction.If you enjoy my stories, please do me the honour of leaving a review on Amazon or Goodreads as this helps with visibility so that other readers may discover my stories too. You can also subscribe to my website at www.emmanicholsauthor.com for updates on my book releases.With love, Emma x DedicationTo Amelie & Christian.With all my heart.xx 1.Friday 14th JanuaryThey always take.I am not a monster, though there are people classified as such: people with no emotion, no remorse, and driven by a strong inner voice or need. I’m not like them. I’m not like that. I have feelings, powerful feelings that guide me. I do what any law-abiding citizen would if they had the skills and desire to protect the innocent. The people I represent can’t fight for justice, but their relatives can glean some comfort from knowing the person who brought such deep enduring pain into their lives will never harm another person again. I know the relief that brings.Days like these are my favourite. It’s dark before five. The cool rain is perfect. People are less alert, more focused on rushing to get out of the cold and wet than to take note of what’s going on around them. In their self-indulgence lies opportunity. The damp, chilled air fills my lungs with hope and unimaginable belief. My sense of optimism in justice prevailing is heightened in these moments. I am the key that locks the door behind grief and loss and delivers salvation.Moral debate occupies the grey space between opposing judgements. What is right and what is wrong? Therein lies the real problem. The truth isn’t complex. Guilt can’t be measured by the way a person feels because for some inhumane beings, that emotion is as alien as the idea that they will ever be caught. I’m under no illusion as to the consequences of my actions or that I must pay my dues. My bad deeds aren’t these deeds. Call this justice. Call this revenge. I don’t care for words to describe something so blindingly obvious.Turning the other cheek doesn’t stop people doing bad things.Killing them does.Thirty-eight-year-old Ollie Brown is next. He conceals scruffy mousy brown hair under the cheap baseball cap he wears beneath the hood of his coat. He’s approaching the fair-haired guy on the corner, Connor Harris – now he’s a man who knows a deal when he’s offered one – where South Street meets Longton Road, where the streetlamp is conveniently broken and there’s a blind spot in the CCTV coverage. Ollie skulks along with a limp and looks like he isn’t comfortable in his skin. I’ve often wondered if that sense of inadequacy is a genetic trait, a significant factor that differentiates the likes of him and me. Ollie’s shoulders curve forwards, and his head is bowed as he stops next to Connor.Soon, Ollie won’t have to hide from his own shadow or run from the guilt, and he won’t be a financial drain on a society that would be better off without his destructive influence. This meet-up of theirs serves one purpose only, of course. They both have a Thrifty carrier bag, and the familiar exchange is completed within seconds. It’s that simple, blasé almost because no one cares, until it affects them directly. At that point, it’s too late, though the irreconcilable damage that awakens them cannot be undone.Ollie nods his head and scuttles off into the darkness, the rat heading to the burrow that is the centre of his pathetic existence. The pitiful space he calls home is number thirty-five on the third floor of the filthy block of council-managed flats on Longton Court within a scheme designed to provide shelter and false hope for the unemployable. He’s an Army veteran who was medically discharged, abandoned by the family he served for nine years. He’s found his new family here, and it pays him well enough. Why work hard for a living if you don’t have to?“Ollie. Ollie. Ollie.” Whispering his name brings a satisfactory smile that sets in motion a steady flow of adrenaline.The drizzle