The Price Of Justice

Chapter Seven

I started my truck the second Ms. Miller was settled in the passenger seat. I cast a quick sideways glance at the woman. Besides the physical evidence that she had been badly mistreated, there was an unmistakable look in her eye...fear. Fear so gripping it stopped her dead in her tracks.

"So," I pulled out onto the road. "do you prefer Ms. Miller, or Miranda?"

"Miranda is fine." She replied, clutching her purse close, her eyes darting to the rearview mirror. "Where are you taking me? To an interrogation room?"

I couldn't help but laugh. "Hardly. This isn't Criminal Minds. I was thinking Starbucks, if that's all right with you."

"Starbucks? You're seriously going to ask me about my dead sister at a coffee shop?"

I shifted and bit my lip. How was I going to break the news to Miranda that I hadn't needed any more information about Cassandra without giving away the fact that I had instead been trying to get her the heck out of there before her abusive partner arrived? I had worked on enough domestic abuse cases to know that a victim wouldn't take kindly to being lied to. If I wasn't careful, Miranda might refuse to talk to me and walk right back into the situation I was trying so hard to free her from. After a moment more of thought, I replied.

"Yes, I find that situations like this are usually better handled in a everyday environment. Interrogation rooms are designed to feel uncomfortable, it makes it easier to get a suspect to talk if they can't be distracted by anything but bleak walls and a security camera. Besides," I grinned. "I've spent so much time in interrogation rooms and jail cells lately, I think a little social interaction might do me some good. Plus I'm in the mood for a strawberry smoothie."

"Okay, fine." Miranda leaned against the window and gazed out at the landscape flashing before her eyes. "I just have to be back home by three this afternoon."

Not on my life, kid. "Sure, that shouldn't be any problem."

A short time later, I pulled into Starbucks. The creamy-white building stood out in strong contrast to the brilliant blue sky above it. Only a few vehicles were parked in the lot, most of them belonging to employees. My lips curved upward into a smile.

"Perfect."

After finding a vacant parking space, Miranda and I walked through the door. The dining room was as deserted as the parking lot. The only customers to be seen were an elderly couple seated near the window. I nodded towards a isolated table on the other end of the room. "That seems like a good spot. Why don't you go wait while I order us something?"

"Sure, just let me grab my wallet." Miranda began to fumble with the purse strapped to her shoulder, but I stopped her.

"No, don't worry about it. I'll pay."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. I've got it. Just tell me what you want, I don't want to order you something you'll hate."

Miranda looked up at the menu. "Is a latte all right?"

"Of course." I drew my phone out of my pocket and opened the closed leather case. I pulled a credit card from the ID slit and smiled. "Why don't you go sit down while I order?"

"One latte and one strawberry smoothie coming right up." I announced as I set the two beverages on the table in front of Miranda.

"Thank you, Ranger Taylor." Miranda said as she stabbed a straw into her latte.

"Please, call me Justice."

"Okay, Justice."

The air filled with a comfortable silence. As I sipped the smoothie, I searched for a way to tactfully inquire about Miranda's relationship situation without flat out asking if her boyfriend was beating her. Domestic violence was a touchy subject, one that many women shied away from...especially if they were victims. I had to tread carefully here.