Damaged Hope (Street Games Book 3) Page 19

  “So why the brakes?” Cora asked.

  “For the same reasons. I might die doing this. We all know that. I nearly have a few times. It’s not fair to him. I won't. Now he has his brother’s case to deal with. Our lives are such a mess right now.” She turned to find Cora studying her. “After this is all over, when I find Manny—whether or not he’s alive, whether or not I can bring him out of the gang—then, yes. One hundred percent I can be with Gabe. But right now, it’s so complicated.”

  “Kyra, listen. I don’t have any missing siblings, so I’m not in your shoes, and can’t imagine what you or Gabe is going through. Can I give you…an opinion?”

  Kyra had a feeling Cora would share the opinion no matter what her answer. “Sure.”

  “In my experience, the messier and more complicated life is, the better idea it is to start a relationship. I know it’s not what most people tell you, but it’s true. You both need the support. The escape. It would help you both a lot in dealing with the emotional issues you're shouldering right now.”

  Kyra turned to Cora. “Maybe that’s true, but what if we did get together now? And stayed together while dealing with both our shit storms. What if they’re so messed up, we’re so messed up by the end, we can’t stand to look at one another anymore because it reminds us? These things happen, you know.”

  Cora hesitated a moment before nodding. “They do.”

  “And I wouldn’t want it to be like that for me and Gabe. I’d want it to be good. Healthy. I’m not sure we'd survive what we’re both going through right now. Emotionally, I mean. Forget physically.”

  Cora nodded. “I understand. Obviously, it’s your decision. But Kyra, you need to understand something. Given Gabe's violent reaction to your apparent death…. It doesn’t matter if you aren’t sleeping together, aren’t married, or technically aren't in a relationship. Gabe is already in love with you. If you die now, it’ll rip him apart, no matter what.”

  Kyra’s heart sank. No matter what.

  She sighed, staring at the bland, industrial carpet.

  “Do you think we can survive it?” she asked softly.

  Cora shrugged. “That’s a personal thing. It depends on what you choose.”

  “I can choose to be with him when it’s all said and done,” Kyra nodded, "but I can’t choose for him.”

  Cora frowned. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but between the two of you, I'd bet on him being the more stable, sentimental one. You honestly think he won’t want you?”

  Kyra shrugged. “I can’t help but think he'll end up resenting me.”

  “For what?”

  “Ugh.” Kyra scrubbed her face with her hands. “This is all hypothetical, and maybe that’s what scares me so much. We don’t know what will happen tomorrow or any day moving forward. If I do find Manny, and he is alive, and I do bring him out of this city…Gabe’s brother is dead.”

  A look of understanding came into Cora’s face. “I hadn’t thought of that,” she said quietly. She put a hand on Kyra’s arm. “We’ve all got baggage, Kyra. Gabe gets that. If anything, I think he’ll be happy for you if it all turns out as you want. If it doesn't, no one will understand better than he will.” She sat up straighter and shrugged, as if to throw off the heavy mood. “Besides, you know how much baggage my husband and I had when we got married? We make it work.”

  “This kind of baggage?” Kyra arched her eyebrows.

  Cora chuckled. “Serial killers and missing siblings? No. Does the phrase ‘crazy ex’ mean anything to you?”

  Kyra gave a nervous chuckled. Her stomach did a back flip when Cora said it, thinking of Chris. Gabe still didn't know. “Yeah. About that…”

  Cora’s eyebrows hiked up to her hairline. “You have crazy exes?”

  “One crazy ex,” Kyra corrected. “He’s really, really insane, Cora. That’s on top the brother issues, the Mire, the man who’s killing the prostitutes. There's baggage, there’s seriously a lot of baggage. Then there’s me.”

  Cora chuckled. “Yes, but it proves my point. We all have baggage. My husband and I are happy, but we work hard at our relationship. Everything’s a choice, Kyra.”

  Kyra nodded, turning Cora’s words over in her head.

  The silence stretched before Cora spoke again. “Let’s have a look at the key.”

  “Right.” Kyra stood and turned to face the bed. Unzipping the luggage, she pulled out the bottom flap, then popped out the two metal bars which served as backing. Sliding her fingers along the bottom, inside edge, she found the small, oblong metal object she needed, hiding in the seam of the material. Using her fingernails to grip it—because her fingers were too big—she tugged the tiny zipper along the side of the luggage, then used her fingernails to pull back the material she’d separated.

  “Impressive,” Cora said, gazing down in the luggage. “You make that yourself?”

  Kyra nodded, digging in the compartment for the thin, flat box hiding there. After a short tug of war, she extricated it and removed the lid. Inside, her real ID and credit cards slid around. A silk, draw string pouch nestled in one corner of the box. She picked it up and tugged at the drawstrings with one hand, groping for the shape of the metal key in the pouch with the other.

  She frowned.

  “What’s wrong?” Cora asked. Fear flitted across her face. “It’s in there, right?”

  “Yeah, it is. It feels . . . different.” She shook her head. What was she saying?

  The drawstrings were knotted, and Kyra picked at them with her fingernails for two minutes before they gave way, allowing her to open the bag. Sliding her thumb and forefinger in, she froze when they touched the object in the pouch.

  It couldn't be a key.

  She pulled the object slowly out of the pouch, then dropped it on the bed as though burned.

  Cora stared down at the object with abject horror, like she’d never seen such a thing before.

  Lying atop the beige comforter on Kyra’s hotel bed, a black obsidian rosary, crusted with tiny rhinestones which glittered up at them like pointy teeth.

  Kyra’s chest constricted. Fear wriggled through her veins, making her shoulders hunch and every muscle tense up. “Cora,” she whispered, “where’s my key?”

  Cora looked up at Kyra in surprise, which then turned to worry. “Kyra, you’re panicking.”

  “Of course I’m panicking,” Kyra snapped. “I don’t understand. This is impossible.”

  “It’s not impossible,” Cora said calmly. “It means Gabe's right. The key in the victim's throat is his. The killer’s been here.”

  Kyra shook her head, aware her voice sounded much higher than its normal pitch. She couldn’t make herself care. “It’s more than that. The only way he could know where I kept this key is if he stood in here when I put it in my luggage. Even knowing which room is mine wouldn’t tell him the key's location. It’s not like there’s any way to hide in here. How could he know where the key was?!”

  “Maybe he…” Cora trailed off.

  Cora looked around the room, her eyes settling with worry on the curtained window.

  “What?” Kyra yelled. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  “We may not be safe here.” She snatched Kyra’s wrist roughly in one hand and yanked her toward the door. “Morris! Call Shaun!”

  Chapter 15

  Gabe cracked open the door of the diner car and delicious smells assaulted his nose. His stomach rumbled and he realized how long it had been since he’d eaten. The 50s-style diner sat three blocks from the station, on the right side of the tracks, and he, Cora, and Tyke came here often for lunch.

  Now the place was almost entirely empty. Two young people sat in a booth at one end of the car, holding hands. In a booth on the opposite side, sat Cora. He recognized the back of Kyra’s head, sitting across from her.

  Walking quickly toward their table, he wondered again why Cora insisted on bringing Kyra here, rather than back to the station. She’d said something about Kyra not ha
ving eaten. They could always have gotten something to go.

  As soon as he reached their table and glanced at Kyra’s face, he understood better. Not the reason, but the emotion. Her face, white as a sheet, held haunted eyes. She probably didn't want the impersonal business-like atmosphere of the precinct.

  “Are you all right?” Gabe slide into the booth next to Kyra. She didn’t move back to give him room. He had enough space to sit beside her without falling out, but only if he pressed his body close to hers.

  “He got into my room, Gabe. He somehow knew where I hid the key. How would he know that?”

  Cora had explained all this to him on the phone, and Gabe dispatched a CSU unit immediately to sweep the hotel room. Perhaps the killer left prints.

  “Actually,” he said quietly. “I know how."

  “You do?” she raised an eyebrow.

  He nodded. “CSU found a lipstick cam above the TV. Have you ever turned on the TV in that room?”

  She shook her head. “Never.”

  He nodded. “He found your hotel really quickly, which is frightening enough. While you were gone, he broke in and installed the camera. That’s how he knew about the key. He probably watched where you hid it, where keep your luggage keys, everything. So he could put it all back in place.”

  “My question is, why?” Cora said. “Why put it all back? Why not trash the place? Why not steal the cards? The money?”

  Gabe shrugged. “To mess with us. This guy is a master at psychological manipulation. Watching Hunt question Hammond proved that much.”

  Cora nodded. Her eyes slide to Kyra. “Drink some of your chocolate."

  Kyra merely shook her head, looking like she might be sick.

  Gabe put an arm around her, leaning down so his face hovered above her neck. She didn’t move at first. Then she reached up and gripped his hand with hers.

  “Don’t take this the wrong way,” Cora said, sitting back. “I’m not saying this isn’t totally freaky. Why don't homicidal gangsters and strangers in the darkness freak you out, yet this does?”

  “Because I couldn’t see it,” Kyra said, sounding winded. “I can deal with anything that comes at me. Even something out of the darkness. I can turn to meet it head on. No matter how horrible, or how violent. If I can see it…at the least I won't be afraid of it. Even if it hurts me. But he watched me. And I didn’t know it.”

  Cora exchanged worried glances with Gabe. “This won’t be much consolation,” Cora said. "You’ve been in your hotel—what? A few days? He can’t have watched you for long.”

  Kyra nodded, not looking particularly comforted.

  Gabe squeezed her hand. “We’re going to put you in protective custody.”

  She glanced up at him, her face inches from his. "I have to go back into the Mire.”

  “You’re not going back into the Mire.”

  Kyra turned to fully face him. “I don’t want to get your hopes up, but I might not have to anyway.”

  She told them about her conversation with Phil before leaving Abstreuse. “If it doesn’t pan out, if he doesn’t have a contact,” she said, “then I have to go back to Josie.”

  “Kyra—”

  “Let’s,” Cora interrupted, putting her hands up, “not talk about this until later. You’re not going back into the Mire either way tonight, right Kyra?”

  Kyra shook her head. “No. I can’t go back to Josie for at least 3 days.”

  Gabe heaved a sigh. “Kyra, this killer knows where you are. The only way he could have found your hotel so quickly is by following you from the Mire. He knows who you are, and how to find you. He’ll find you again. You can’t keep staying in a random hotel room by yourself.”

  “Then stay with me.”

  Gabe hesitated, then smiled a bit. He couldn't help himself.

  Kyra’s face heated. Her glance jumped to Cora, who immediately began studying a ketchup spill on the wall by her shoulder. “I didn’t mean that,” Kyra said quietly. “I meant, post a guard or something. You’re right, this guy knows where I am. He’s making no pretense of that. But he’s not shouting it from the rooftops in the Mire either. I can still go back and forth in my disguise and while I’m at the hotel, I’ll be protected.”

  Gabe shook his head long before she finished. “No. I don’t like it. This guy is too smart. You need more protection than a guard.”

  “He’s right, Kyra," Cora said. "You never know when he might start broadcasting it. If it’s to his advantage, he’ll do it. If it’s not, we should be more afraid because it means he’s still seeing an advantage in keeping quiet.”

  “So what then?” Kyra asked.

  “We have safe houses.”

  Kyra scoffed.

  “What?” Gabe asked, irritation flaring.

  “Is Shaun gonna let me go to and from a safe house, dressed as Supra, whenever I please?”

  Gabe pursed his lips. “No.”

  “No,” Kyra said firmly. “He’ll cuff me to the dining room table and I'll lose any chance of finding my brother.”

  “What if your PI friend finds him, though?” Cora offered. “Will you still want to go into the Mire?”

  “Of course not. Believe me, I’d prefer that outcome too. It just seems too good to be true.”

  Gabe sighed. “Okay. Why don’t you come stay with me?”

  Kyra shook her head, studying her untouched cup. “It would put you in danger, Gabe.”

  “I’m already in danger,” he snapped. “Not only is this my job, but the killer’s been to my place, too. He dropped the box off on my stoop, remember? This way, I’ll know where you are. When you’re in the Mire, I’ll be working. We’ll be…relatively close to one another. We’ll both sleep days and I’ll station a plain-clothes cop outside the house. He can do circuits around the neighborhood. I can’t deal with not knowing where you are anymore, Kyra," he moderated his tone, aware that he'd been talking too loudly. "I can’t.”

  “So I’mmmmm…just gonna go pay for the drink,” Cora said, sliding awkwardly out of the booth and disappearing behind them.

  Gabe sighed. Kyra turned to face him, their faces so close he could feel the warmth of her skin. “Look,” he said. “I’ve thought for a long time we should plan to see each other daily.” She opened her mouth to object and he held up a hand. “I know it’s not always possible. But if we hashed out our nights regularly…Kyra, being in the Mire, you probably have more insight into this killer than you realize. I may have more insight into what you see in the gang as well. We can help each other. And we’ll be in constant contact.”

  She looked skeptical. “I sometimes stay in the Mire for days at a time. With Sadie, or somewhere else. You can’t freak out every time I don’t come home.”

  Gabe nodded, feeling pleased again. The idea of his home also being Kyra's made him feel all gooey inside. He cleared his throat and focused on the conversation. “I know. If that’s the case, shoot me a text saying you won’t be back and where you’re staying. I can deal with that, Kyra. It’s the best scenario—other than handcuffing you to a safe house table—I can think of.”

  Kyra sighed. When her eyes met his again, they looked more grounded. More like herself. “Help each other.”

  It sounded like more statement than question, but Gabe nodded. “Yes.”

  “Help each other find our brothers.” She turned back to her cocoa. “One alive. One dead. Us on opposite sides of the law.”

  “On the same side of sanity, at least.”

  “Yeah, but which side?”

  “Exactly.”

  She chuckled, and he smiled because she did. “Don’t we make a twisted pair?” She let the silence hang for a full minute. “What if other things happen between us, Gabe?” She gazed across her shoulder at him, and he had no doubt what kind of things she meant.

  He shrugged, though his stomach tightened at the thought. “What if they do?”

  She shrugged. “It’s not terribly appropriate, you know.”

  He grinne
d, unable to help himself.

  When she looked at him, he shrugged.

  She rolled her eyes, but smiled again. “Okay. What now?”

  “We need to go back to the station. Get a statement from both you and Cora. Morris already gave his. Then you need to get some sleep.”

  She nodded. “I do.”

  "When is Phil supposed to call you?"

  "Soon. I can call him after giving my statement to see if he's heard yet."

  Gabe put his arms around her and buried his face in her hair. He didn’t want to think about the Mire. Or the killer. Or Manny. He wanted to sit with her in the quiet of the diner for a few minutes more.

  It was the only peace he expected anytime soon.

  Chapter 16

  Kyra opened her eyes and groaned. She doubted she’d been asleep for more than a few hours, yet every muscle in her body screamed to change positions. Despite the cool darkness of Shaun’s office, she hadn’t truly expected to sleep long. The station bustled around her. The noise only reached a low hum, but she felt the activity and wasn’t used to it. It didn't help that the couch in Shaun’s office felt like the cushions were full of hard dirt clods. She rolled from one side onto her back and stretched, feeling joints pop and muscles strain in a delicious way against their stiffness.

  With a sigh, she pulled herself into a sitting position. Shaun would be away from the office all day, out on location overseeing…whatever he oversaw. Administrative cop stuff. He’d told Gabe that Kyra could sleep in his office until they had her “safe” hotel room squared away. It would take a few hours to get the details together.

  Surprisingly, Shaun preferred the hotel room, even if Kyra left it to visit the Mire, to Gabe's personal residence. He said such a thing might be misconstrued in court and if it came to putting criminals away, might lead to the worst possible outcome.

  Kyra also called Phil. The chagrin in his voice told her right away the news wouldn't be good.

  "I'm sorry, Kyra. I don't have a definitive answer for you. I've talked to my contact, but he wasn't sure about Manny. He told me he'd ask around. If he finds Manny and if Manny is in a place my contact can speak to him covertly, great. We won't know until my guy figures out where in the organization Manny is. He didn't recognize the name, so Manny must be using an alias. My contact will figure it out. It'll just take a few more days—maybe a week."