Desolate Mantle Page 19

  She gazed at him another ten seconds, looking undecided, before turning away.

  “It’s okay,” he said. “I don’t mind talking about it. Just be warned, it’s not a pleasant story.”

  She turned back to him and shrugged. “You’ve heard my unpleasant story.”

  “I had a brother, Dillon, who was three years older than me. When we were kids, we lived in a small town some sixty miles from Abstreuse. Walla Desert, it’s called. One night, a weekend during the summer, we decided to ride our bikes down to the local market and rent some video tapes. VHS back then, you know?”

  Kyra grinned. “I remember those.”

  Gabe smiled back, though it was fleeting. He studied the ground in front of him while he spoke. “We rode down there all the time. It’s a small town. Everyone knows everyone. As long as we kept our curfew and let our Mom know where we were, she didn’t much care where we went. I was only six, so it was Dillon’s job to keep an eye on me. To keep me safe. That night, we rode down to the store, rented some videos, bought some junk food, and started home with it all in our baskets. A small river runs through Walla. There’s a bridge big enough for a two-lane highway and with sidewalks on both sides. We’d almost reached that bridge. I’ve always thought if we had, we would have made it the rest of the way home.”

  “But you didn’t?” Kyra asked quietly.

  Gabe shook his head. His voice took on a mechanical quality, and he spoke quickly, as he always did when telling the story. It was easier than taking it slow. “A stranger in a trench coat stepped out and stopped us. We didn’t know him, and we’d been taught to always respect our elders, so we stopped.

  “I remember being annoyed; thinking he wanted us to help him do something, and it would be that much longer before we could watch our movies. He told us to get off our bikes and lay down on our bellies in the grass. I was scared by then, but Dillon did it, so I did too. After a time, the man yanked me onto my feet and told me to unbuckle my belt. I tried, but I got afraid, and my hands wouldn’t work. I started to cry. When I didn’t move fast enough, the man hit me. He had a string of wooden rosary beads wrapped around his hand, with a wooden cross attached. It stung when it struck me.

  “Dillon got up and put himself between me and the stranger, yelling at the man to leave me alone. The man told me to lay down in the grass again. Then he took Dillon and put him in an unmarked, blue Astrovan parked nearby. They drove away. I never saw my brother again.”

  He took a deep breath, swallowed, and looked over at Kyra. Her mouth hung open in a perfect O.

  He cleared his throat. “Sorry. I guess I should have warned you…better.”

  She closed her mouth slowly and swallowed. “No, it’s just…wow. That’s terrible. I’m so sorry, Gabe. Has…was…” She shook her head, obviously trying to gather her thoughts.

  “They never found him,” Gabe said. “Ten years ago, my parents had him declared dead so we could bury him and move on. Chances are Dillon was already gone within twenty-four hours of that. Given what that prick tried to do to me, he was obviously a pedophile. Kids don’t last long in the hands of monsters like that.” His voice dropped to whisper with the last sentence, and he couldn’t have made it stronger if he’d wanted to. He took a deep breath before looking up at Kyra.

  Emotions played over her face. A wrinkle like an upside-down triangle appeared between her eyes. She turned away from him.

  “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I’ve upset you.”

  Her head whipped back around to look at him. She scooted up beside him and leaned in so she could gaze directly into his face. Tears swam in her eyes. “It’s not about me, Gabe. I just…I know how I’d feel if I had to accept my brother’s….” Her voice broke. She surprised him further by wrapping her arms around his neck.

  He put a hand on her back and, after a moment, let his face rest against her shoulder.

  “I’m so sorry.” Her breath came warm against his ear. After only a moment, she pulled back. “I guess I owe you an apology. For what I said about you not understanding.”

  Gabe shook his head. “You didn’t know. Look,” he swung his crossed legs around to face her fully and took her hands. “Kyra, I want you to know I get it. I don’t particularly like what you’re doing, and my understanding,” he pointed an index finger at her nose, “does not give you license to throw yourself into harm’s way. At least, not without calling me first.” The corners of her mouth turned up at that. “But I really do get it. If I could go back—or maybe not even that. If now I found out there was something, anything I could do, no matter how hard or how dangerous, that might save my brother, that might bring him back, I’d do it. No worries. No hesitations. So I understand what drives you. My brother is beyond saving. Yours isn’t.”

  She gave him a sad smile, her gaze dropping down to where his hands still held hers. “Strange,” she murmured.

  He raised an eyebrow. “What is?”

  She heaved a deep breath and raised her eyes to his. “That in this city, after all my planning and all my discipline, I’d somehow manage to cross paths with perhaps the only person on earth who truly understands.”

  He stared down into her electric blue eyes, mesmerized by their depth.

  Looking self-conscious, she dropped her gaze and shrugged. “Maybe this is an insensitive question, but any idea why the man only took him and not you?”

  Gabe gave her a sad smile. “That question has been on my mind for twenty-five years.”

  “Is that why you became a cop?”

  “Partly, yes, but probably not for the reasons you think. I didn’t go into law enforcement to solve my brother’s case. When my parents had him declared dead, I was angry at them. For a long time. Now I realize they needed the closure. Just couldn’t stand the grief anymore. I accepted a long time ago that Dillon is dead. I became a cop to try and keep such things from happening to others. Unfortunately, in Abstreuse—” he glanced toward the woman’s corpse “—I can’t always keep bad things from happening. But I can solve some of the cases. Bring some closure. And some justice.”

  Kyra gazed at him with an expression of awe.

  Static burst from his phone, followed by Tyke’s voice, making both of them jump.

  “Gabe, you there?”

  Gabe hefted his phone and spoke into it. “Yeah. What’s going on?”

  More static. “The foreman’s here. He doesn’t know what’s up with the door, but he’s got some tools and he’s working on it now.”

  Gabe glanced out the window. Even he could tell the sky was lightening, now. Kyra noticed it, too. She reached for her bag and dug into it. “I’m going to take off my makeup.”

  Gabe nodded and pushed the button on his phone again. “Did you get the coat and hat for her?”

  “Yeah.” Tyke’s voice came through broken, but Gabe managed to piece together the words. “Bailey found some stuff that should fit her.”

  “Okay. Bring it with you when you come in.”

  “Ten-four.”

  Gabe watched with interest as Kyra pulled some kind of disposable wipe from her bag. Her makeup was so well applied, it appeared she truly had a pale complexion, but when she wiped the soap-scented cloths over her skin, flesh-colored skin appeared like magic as the white disappeared. She dug her fingers up under the spiky black hair in a way that looked painful. The sound of something un-clipping was quickly followed by her lifting the wig away. Her real, sandy-blond hair lay in a flattened bun against the back of her head. She removed what must have been two dozen tiny pins and shook it out. She started to push up the sleeves of her black sweat shirt, but then changed tactics, yanking the entire top over her head. Underneath she wore a ribbed black tank top. Gabe stole a few quick glances at her figure before pretending to study the warehouse’s interior some more. Once her arms were bare, she used the wipes to scrape away thicker makeup used to construct the track marks, flicking away flakes of fake skin, and scrubbing until all the paint disappeared and her forearms turn
ed pink.

  Meanwhile, clinks and thuds interspersed with louder pounding came from the other side of the door. Kyra stuffed all her things into her bag and slung it over her shoulder, looking antsy. She gave Gabe a tight smile, then swept her eyes around the room for the hundredth time.

  “Stand back from the door,” Tyke’s voice came through the phone. We’ll be through in another minute or two.”

  Gabe and Kyra got to their feet. They backed up until they stood directly under the edge of the overhead loft, and waited. More than two minutes passed. Unseen hands jimmied the door back and forth from the outside. It still didn’t open.

  Kyra sighed and turned in a circle sweeping the room with her eyes. Gabe watched her out of the corner of his. She raised her chin toward the loft, and froze. Her face went from passive to worried to terrified. She sucked in her breath and dug her fingers into his bicep. He whirled to look up at the loft, gun in hand.

  There was nothing. Only the emptiness that had been there since he arrived. He frowned down questioningly at Kyra. She still gaped up in abject horror. He searched again, scanning everything he could see above them, every inch of ceiling and wall, thinking she saw something he didn’t.

  Gun still in hand, he turned back to her. “What?” he whispered. “What are you looking at?”

  “It’s gone,” she whispered. “Something was up there. Earlier. When I came in. Before I called you. Now it’s gone.” She grimaced at the ground, making an obvious effort to get pull herself together. She stared up at him, eyes full of urgency and chest heaving rapidly. “Is there any chance one of your guys moved something up there?”

  Frowning, Gabe dug his phone from his pocket and pressed the button. “Tyke?”

  “Hold your horses, Gabe. We’re almost in.”

  “You know the loft that’s in here? Above us?”

  “Yeah. What of it?”

  “Did the first unies on the scene secure it? Have they been up there?”

  “I already told you. They didn’t go up. They tried, but the door to the staircase was locked. They called the owners—that’s who sent this foreman over—and the owner said he’d locked the place up tight before leaving work yesterday.”

  Gabe eyed Kyra expectantly.

  “So they haven’t been up there?” she said.

  “No. But what they did is enough. If they have confirmation from the owner, and they didn’t see or hear anything to give them reason to enter, that’s considered good enough. They haven’t done anything wrong.”

  Kyra dropped her voice to a whisper. “I’m not accusing them of anything, Gabe. I’m telling you, there was something—a black bag of some kind—up there when I first came in here. Now it’s gone. If they didn’t move it…”

  Her eyes slid up to the loft. Gabe followed her gaze. A chill, like icy water, washed over him. He wrapped an arm around her waist and dragged her backward, under the loft. He didn’t stop until the two of them stood against the far wall, as far from the loft overhang as he could get without leaving the room. If anyone hiding up there decided to look down, they would only see the corpse. The corpse. The hairs on the back of Gabe’s neck tried to stand up.

  “Everything okay in there?” Tyke’s voice came through the phone.

  Gabe lowered his voice, as Kyra had done, though if anyone was up there, they’d heard the entire conversation thus far. “Does the foreman have the key to that door? The one leading to the loft?”

  Another short pause. “Yeah, he does. Give me a minute.”

  “Be careful, Tyke,” Gabe said softly into his phone. “We don’t know if anyone could be hiding up there.”

  “Roger.”

  It couldn’t have been more than two minutes before the sound of feet clomping up stairs somewhere above and behind them reached Gabe’s ears, though it seemed like longer. Then came more squeaks and creaks as a door opened, and the heavy footsteps thudded directly overhead.

  “Detective Nichols?”

  Gabe put a conciliatory hand on Kyra’s arm before moving back toward the loft overhang. He emerged from beneath it and found Officer Morris looking down from twenty feet above, holding a small flashlight.

  “Everything okay in here?” Morris asked.

  “Hey, Morris. Find anyone up there?”

  Morris merely shook his head. “No. It’s empty.”

  Kyra came to join Gabe, looking up at Morris. Gabe glanced down at her, standing so close, he could feel her breath on his arm. “What else is up there?” Gabe asked. “Equipment? Any bags?”

  “Naw,” Morris said, twisting at the waist to run his flashlight over the space. He moved to one side of the loft and nudged something with his toe, producing a soft metallic clang. “There’s some rebar over here. A couple of cinder blocks stacked by the door. Nothing else but lots of dust.”

  Another cop Gabe didn’t recognize came up behind Morris, also holding a flashlight. Gabe glanced down at Kyra again.

  Clearing her throat, she addressed Morris. “I saw a bag, earlier. It was black. A duffel bag, or maybe something to hold equipment. It hung out over the edge, so I couldn’t tell how big it was.”

  Morris shook his head. “No, nothing like that up here now.”

  “Any place to hide up there?” Gabe asked.

  “No,” Morris said. “None. I can see this entire space. Staircase is carved from the building itself. No space underneath it.”

  Gabe nodded. “Okay. Thanks for checking it for us. Lock up when you go back down and make sure the foreman gets his keys back.”

  “Okay.” Morris and his rookie moved out of sight.

  Gabe turned to Kyra, who looked shaken. “There’s no way anyone has been up there since we got here, Kyra. Listen to that.” He motioned toward where the sounds of the two cops trudging down the staircase came through the wall. “If anyone had gone up or down those stairs, we would have heard it.”

  With a final ripping sound, the warehouse door was yanked outward. Tyke entered first. followed by Shaun. Kyra took two steps back into the shadows of the overhang again, looking toward the door like it was a pariah. Her eyes had a wild, haunted look to them.

  Gabe took a step toward her, but she stepped back again. She was definitely freaking out.

  A lanky man with thin hair gathered in a ponytail at the nape of his neck frowned and studied the now-splintered door frame. By his paint-spattered coveralls, Gabe could only assume he was the foreman.

  Tyke came over to where Gabe stood. “Everything okay?” He glanced toward the loft. “Morris find anything?”

  “No. It’s empty,” Gabe said.

  “Even so,” Kyra said, addressing Gabe and ignoring everyone who’d just walked into the warehouse. “How do you explain the bag? I’m telling you it was there. I stood here and stared at it for two minutes, trying to figure out what it was.”

  “I believe you,” Gabe said quietly, “but even if someone was up there, that doesn’t mean it was the killer.” He glanced involuntarily toward the corpse and Tyke’s eyes widened. “It may be as simple as a homeless Mireling who picked the lock up there to have somewhere to sleep, but then saw the body and realized it wasn’t the smartest place to be. Took off when the coast was clear.”

  Tyke gave him a skeptical look. Gabe knew it was a stretch, but he had more interest in keeping Kyra calm at the moment than being realistic. Kyra gave him a nod. She didn’t look convinced. Tyke handed her a jacket that said ‘POLICE’ on the back, which she shrugged into, giving him a grateful smile. She also donned the baseball-style cap he held out to her.

  “What is it, Mr. Brogan?” Shaun asked the foreman. Tyke turned toward them and Gabe’s ears perked up.

  The foreman scratched at something on the inside of the door frame with his fingernail. He leaned forward to put his nose closer to the frame. “Rubber cement, I think. But mixed with something else. Damn strong adhesive.”

  “Someone made the door stick on purpose?” Gabe asked. “Maybe we should get out of here. This room may n
ot be safe.”

  Shaun shook his head. “The unies that secured the scene checked the building thoroughly. They didn’t find anything unsafe. Besides, if something was going to happen, it’s been long enough. We had to force that door open.”

  “So why lock us in then?” Gabe said, more to himself than anyone else.

  “The door was open when I first got here,” Kyra said. “Before I called you. That’s what drew me to the building: the door standing open.”

  “A lure?” Tyke suggested. “Maybe someone wanted the body found.”

  “Or it’s an arrogance thing,” Shaun said. “Flaunting the kill.”

  Gabe ran over everything in his head again, and something occurred to him. He spun on his toe to look up at the loft again, thinking.

  “What?” Kyra asked. All of them eyed him questioningly.

  Gabe sighed. Telling Kyra his theory would wash away all his earlier claims about whoever was in the loft not being the killer, but she hadn’t taken much comfort from that anyway. “Maybe…maybe you surprised the killer. Maybe he was planning to stick the door shut…I don’t know, to keep the body from being found for longer? I don’t know what he would have been doing up in the loft, but maybe he was still up there when you came in and found the body.”

  Tyke nodded, understanding in his face. “And just took off, not bothering to shut the door because she’d already seen the body.”

  Frowning, Shaun raised his voice. “Bailey!”

  “Right behind you, Cap.”

  Shaun jumped to find her at his elbow. Gabe hadn’t seen her come in either. “Oh,” Shaun said. “Sorry. Go ahead and start in here with the body, and anything else you need to do in this room. Then we need you to pay attention to the loft.” He nodded toward it with his chin.

  Bailey’s eyes shifted up to it. “The loft?”

  “You can reach it from outside. A locked door. I’ll make sure your people get the keys. Check the door for any signs of forced entry, and print whatever you can up there.”

  “I don’t know if there’s a railing on the staircase,” Gabe added, “If there is, print that too. Someone’s been up there very recently, and we need to figure out who.”