A Limited Justice (#1 - The Craig Modern Thriller Series) by Catriona King Page A

half-pulled from the waistband of her dark mini-skirt. The t-shirt’s thin fabric was so incongruous in the cool October air, that Julia knew a jacket wouldn’t be far away. The C.S.I.s would find it.
    She looked up from the sadness of the body towards the vibrant, early-evening sky, and then dragged her gaze haltingly down again. Past the famous beauty of Portglenone’s Lower Bann River, through the streaks of sun lighting the green bushes, and back to the death that was her job. Then, even more slowly, she forced her eyes further down. Towards the girl’s torn knees, where a rope of tights and once-white pants was hooked awkwardly between her tangled limbs.
    An elderly Sergeant recognised the girl as Maria Burton a young constable from his station. He stood solemnly now, his eyes straight-ahead, as were everyone’s but Julia’s. As if to look at the girl’s last damaged tableau would be the final act of disrespect.
    Julia reached behind her, taking the approved cover from the C.S.I., and laid it over the girl gently, as if tucking her into bed, careful to disturb nothing. The signs of death and damage by her killer would be the only things to give her family justice, and they had to find Maria Burton’s killer. For her, and for every woman on the force.
    ***
    Jessie had already fed the children, leaving Fiona to tuck them in. She had ironed her new outfit and left it ready on the bed, before disappearing into the bathroom with the cardboard box and scissors. It wouldn’t serve any of them to have her recognised before she’d finished, so she had to look very different this time. It had all gone so well, she couldn’t fall at the last two hurdles.
    Life in Northern Ireland hadn’t always been easy for her, but as a country, it was perfect in some ways. Yes, it had its share of criminals, like anywhere else, but thankfully, like anywhere else there were more males than females. So it was no great surprise that Northern Ireland was the perfect size to have only one women’s prison. Wharf House. It made her next step very easy.
    She knew that she could get there right now, by confessing to the police. But that would leave her last target completely unreached, and there was far too much danger in it. Danger that they’d take her to hospital instead of prison. Danger that they’d identify her and find her girls before she’d tied everything up. And danger that they’d link Fiona to her. No, tonight’s plan was the best way, and their only guarantee.
    She changed, smoothing the short skirt down over her too thin thighs and smiled at the low-cut top that she’d chosen – it was perfect for what she had in mind. Her make-up was heavier than she’d ever worn but it suited her newly blonde crop. And she needed it nowadays, to cover the dark hollows and lines brought on by the pain. Suddenly her head swam, and she half-fell backwards onto the bed. Her balance was a growing problem but even that could serve a purpose now; it made her look drunk when she wasn’t and that would be doubly useful tonight.
    She pushed gently at the swinging cot beside her bed, starting a soothing rhythm, and watching two small, white hands curling in happy answer. Pia’s bright, wide eyes stared up at her and their smiles matched - her world was safe and Jessie was going to keep it that way.
    Opening the bedside drawer, she pulled out the small bottle of tablets. Three now and three in six hours’ time. And many more for the small travel bag she’d packed, for Fiona to bring to her tomorrow. She pulled herself up and looked down at her baby one last time. Then, fixing her smile and lifting the bag, she walked unsteadily into the small, bright living-room where three smiling faces greeted her: two small and one long grown-up.
    “Mammy, Mammy, you look beautiful.” Their toothy grins and chorus of praise reminded Jessie that she’d once been considered a pretty girl. Two warm, soft bodies hurled themselves at her, their just-bathed