Damaged Hope (Street Games Book 3) Read online

  “Tyke isn’t here,” Cora said.

  “He left again?” Gabe didn't mean to sound critical, but he needed his partner on this one.

  Cora nodded. “I’m worried about him, Shaun. It’s happening too often. I wonder if something's wrong at home and he doesn’t want to tell us.”

  Shaun frowned, looking perplexed. “I’ll have a talk with him.”

  “What’s going on, Gabe?” Cora asked. “I didn’t know you were in here.”

  “That’s the idea,” Gabe said. “If you didn’t, no one else did either.”

  Cora eyes widened with mild alarm. “Is this about what happened with Kyra?”

  Shaun arched an eyebrow. “Something happened with Kyra?”

  “Yeah. She was sleeping in here. When I came in, she looked like she’d seen a ghost and ran out of here like the killer from the Mire was chasing her.”

  They both turned expectantly toward Gabe.

  “She saw Blagden.” He let the sentence hang in the air, hoping to infuse it with importance.

  A wrinkle formed between Cora’s brows. “I don’t much like his ugly mug either, but after everything Kyra’s been through, why would that scare her?”

  “Because she recognized him. Blagden isn't his real name.”

  The air in the office immediately charged with tension. Shaun picked up the box he’d set on the seat and dropped it onto the floor with a thud. Several of the files laying on top slid off, fanning their contents across the floor. Shaun either didn’t notice or didn’t care. He fell heavily into the seat. “Tell me.”

  Cora took the other chair as Gabe turned his gaze back to the computer monitor. Sixteen windows filled the screen, each with pertinent information about Blagden’s true identity: Chris Dunnworthy.

  “He’s not a cop, Shaun. Only posing as one. I have no idea how he did it so seamlessly. Must have friends in extremely high places. If we’d looked him up—address, phone number, badge number, it would have all come up as Blagden. Even his social security number is fake and trails back to this Blagden identity.

  "I looked him up," Shaun said carefully. "He's a decorated cop."

  Gabe shook his head. "Blagden is a decorated cop. He's from Philly and died in the line of duty three years ago. Somehow, this guy has assumed Blagden's identity, but updated everything so it looks like he's simply still alive." Gabe sighed in frustration. "His real name is Chris Dunnworthy, and he’s a felon.”

  “What?” Cora practically shrieked.

  Shaun rubbed the stubble on his jaw, looking as disturbed as he ever did. “What’s on his rap sheet?”

  “It’s all white-collar. Nothing violent. At least, not that they’ve been able to charge him with." Gabe sighed and leaned back in Shaun’s chair, rubbing his eyes. He’d stared at the monitor in the dark far too long.

  “A few years ago,” he launched into the explanation, “he kept books for a crime organization. Sex ring. As far as they could tell, he only cooked the books. Didn't participate in any other way. The amounts were high enough to charge him with a felony.”

  “How’d they catch him?” Shaun asked.

  “With the help of his family. He was living a double life. Engaged to a nice, middle-classed woman. She knew nothing of his criminal activities. Thought he was an average CPA.”

  “Poor girl,” Cora murmured.

  Gabe nodded. “One night, she got on his computer to check her email, and stumbled onto a video.”

  Cora groaned. “Ugh. Like a kiddle porn video?”

  Gabe nodded again. “Officially, yes. She testified in court to seeing something more like grown men raping children. It traumatized her.”

  “Well, yeah.” Cora stood and began pacing a line behind the two chairs, a sure sign of her distress. By contrast, Shaun went utterly still. Frown lines creased his face.

  He glanced up to see Gabe watching him. “So his fiancée turned him in?”

  Gabe nodded. “She was a smart woman. The video wasn’t all she found. She dug into his files and found documents, receipts, lots of stuff. She had a stick drive in her purse and copied it all, then hid it in an inner pocket. Sometime later, he came home and found her on the computer. Proceeded to beat the hell out of her for two hours.”

  Cora stopped pacing and rested her hands on the backs of the two chairs. “If she testified, she survived, right?”

  Gabe nodded. “At some point, he left the room. To take a piss or something. Despite a face so swollen she could barely see and seven different broken bones, she dragged herself up, out to her car, and drove away.”

  “Did she make it to a hospital? Shaun asked. “Or police station?”

  Gabe shook his head. “No, but not because of her injuries. When Dunnworthy realized she'd gone, he got into his truck, which was much bigger than her little car, chased her, and ran her off the road. Her car rolled down an embankment. He left her for dead. Took her all night to climb back up to the road. A good Samaritan on his way to work in the early morning picked her up and took her to the hospital. She’d left her purse at Dunnworthy’s. He hurried home and erased his own hard drive, but didn’t bother to look in the purse. The cops went to his house, arrested him, found the stick drive.”

  “And had everything they needed to convinct him,” Cora finished. “And why doesn’t he have any violence on his rap sheet?”

  “Iron clad alibi. He got several of his sex ring buddies, who don’t have records and therefore look like standup citizens, to say they played poker with him all night. The defense argued the fiancée found out about his double life and wanted to frame him out of anger. Either someone just happened to beat the tar out of her, or she arranged it.

  “And the jury bought it?” Cora had become shrill again. She immediately took a deep, calming breath. “Sorry,” she muttered.

  “Don’t be,” Gabe said firmly. “I’d love to shoot this guy between the eyes.”

  Cora cast a worried look his way, and Shaun stared at him. Cora went back to pacing. “Dunnworthy did time, right?”

  “You know how it is,” Gabe sighed. “White collar, good behavior, friends in high places. He served eighteen months of a ten-year sentence.”

  Both Cora and Shaun cursed under their breath.

  Shaun ran a hand through his hair, leaned forward to rest his forearms on his knees. “How does Kyra know all of this? I know you said she had friends in law enforcement, even before,” he waved his hand in a vague circle, “all this. She must have been connected to the case somehow, right?”

  Gabe gazed at the monitor, not truly seeing it. He clenched his teeth and tried to swallow past the lump in his throat. “She was his fiancée.”

  Cora stopped dead and turned, mouth forming into a perfect O. Shaun’s head rose slowly to look at Gabe.

  “She said he found her a few nights ago. Showed up at her hotel room, wanting her to do something illegal. When she refused, he gave her some bruises, and a few days to think about it. She figured she’d switch hotels again. Hide from him, like with everyone else. She woke up and saw him walking around here…”

  “Ugh.” Cora came around and fell into the seat beside Shaun again. “And after this scare with the killer having watched her in the hotel room, her nerves were already raw. Because you’re here—we all are—this is probably the one place she felt safe. To see him here….” Cora’s voice dropped so low, Gabe barely caught the next words. “She said something about crazy exes, but holy shit.”

  Gabe did his best to ignore the comment.

  Cora glanced up at him, looking self-conscious. “What she said about no one being able to protect her suddenly makes more sense.”

  “A lot of things make more sense,” Gabe said quietly. He supposed it should have occurred to him that Kyra would have something like this in her past. The kind of crazy bravery she displayed so often in the Mire wasn't exactly normal. “What do you want to do, Shaun?"

  “Pound his face into the carpet,” Shaun said darkly.

  Cora glanced at
him in surprise. Shaun rarely said such things, even about criminals. Gabe sympathized whole-heartedly.

  Shaun glanced between them and shrugged. “Arrest him. Now.” He stood with a sigh. “This is going to be ugly. Is Blag—Dunnworthy still here?”

  “He was a while ago,” Cora said. “I saw him in the breakroom…maybe twenty minutes ago?”

  Shaun nodded. “Good. Wait five minutes before coming out. I’m going to get Doug and a couple of unies involved. Dunnworthy has a side arm. We don’t know if he’ll be willing to use it. We may have to surround him and take him down.”

  “Building full of cops,” Gabe said quietly. “Best place for it.”

  “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to open fire.” Shaun disappeared through the door.

  Gabe rubbed the bridge of his nose, feeling exhausted. Cora sat back in her chair, watching him. “Is he the one who carved that horrible word into her stomach?”

  Gabe met her gaze. “Yes.”

  “Heaven save us,” she whispered, shaking her head with disgust. She rose and walked toward the door.

  “It hasn’t been five minutes, yet.”

  “Don’t care. Kyra has saved our bacon more than once. Let’s take this asshole down.”

  Gabe lunged to his feet and followed her out.

  *******

  Gabe arrived at the safe room nearly three hours after talking with Shaun and Cora. The hotel was on the cheap side, but nice enough. The room they’d secured for Kyra sat in a corner where two hallways intersected. One led directly to an outside door. Several chairs lining it faced fluorescent vending machines. A plain-clothed cop sat in the chair playing on his phone and casting periodic, inconspicuous glances at her door.

  A knot of dread filled his middle as Gabe came through the side door. He wished he had better news to tell Kyra. The plain-clothed man rose. “Detective,” he said. Shaun called ahead so the unie would expect him. The man had reddish hair and white, freckled skin. His muscled physique out-shone Gabe’s.

  Gabe nodded at him. “Officer?”

  “Watson.”

  “Watson. Anything to report?”

  “No sir. All quiet.”

  Gabe nodded and walked past him. He rapped quietly on Kyra’s door, and the dread intensified. He wished he could tell her something other than the truth. Anything other than it. Seconds later, she opened the door. She’d showered and looked clean and fresh. Mixed scents of soap, lavender and coconut wafted into the hallway. Dark bruises still decorated her face. Her natural hair hung loosely around her shoulders. Gabe wanted to lunge out and hug her. That would probably frighten her.

  Her expression looked relaxed. Not smiling, but soft. She stepped back and swung the door open wider. “Come in.”

  He did and she shut the door behind him. The room had a typical hotel layout. Two queen-sized beds with a drawer-less end table in the middle. Though both beds were made, one looked rumpled, as though she’d sat or lay atop the coverlet. Gabe hoped it meant she’d slept some. Given that her computer and several notebooks littered the bed, he doubted it.

  She indicated the second bed for him, and he sat on the corner. She sat across from him on the rumpled one, tossing a notebook out of the way.

  “So,” she said quietly, not meeting his eyes.

  “So.” He didn’t know how to begin. He studied his hands. When he glanced up, he caught her eye. “Kyra, I'm so sorry.”

  Her gaze turned self-conscious and dropped to the carpet. She shrugged. “It happened a long time ago.”

  “You said he wanted you to do something illegal. What?”

  “Recant my testimony. Perjure myself, basically. Even though he’s out, he has friends, previous associates that aren't.”

  Gabe frowned. It seemed relatively straight-forward. “Why would he need to impersonate a cop for that?”

  Kyra’s expression turned to worry, and she swallowed. “I’ve wondered that myself. To be honest, the more I've thought about it, the more it frightens me.”

  Gabe leaned forward. “Why?”

  She met his gaze. Her eyes looked strained, somewhat bloodshot. “I wrote it off as his typical douche-baggery. He does this sort of thing. Strong-arms people into giving him what he wants. But you’re right. There’s no reason for him to be in your precinct over this. If he went to all the trouble to secure a fake badge…” she rubbed the bridge of her nose, looking worried. “It must be more complicated than what he came to see me for. He has something up his sleeve.”

  She met his gaze directly again, and his guts twisted into knots. “Do you have him in custody?”

  Gabe swallowed, then slowly shook his head.

  A flash of apprehension crossed her face. It settled into a relaxed yet stony non-expression. “He’s gone." It wasn’t a question.

  “I filled in Cora and Shaun. We were moving quietly to apprehend him. We thought we were discreet. No reason anyone should suspect me, Shaun and Cora having a meeting in Shaun’s office. We do it all the time."

  Kyra blinked warily at him.

  Gabe sighed and studied his hands as we went on. "Doug said Dunnworthy watched the office with a weird look on his face. He asked Doug if he knew what we were meeting about. Doug didn't. Dunnworthy suddenly said he had business to attend to and practically fled the precinct. Doug figured the guy thought of someone else to harass. Everyone’s pretty relieved when he finally leaves each day.” Gabe looked up at Kyra.

  The same stony expression remained on her face, but resignation now resided there too.

  “I’m sorry, Kyra. We’ll find him. We have an APB out on him. Everyone—unies, CIs, UCs— are all looking for him.”

  She nodded woodenly. “It’s not your fault.” Her voice sounded hollow. “He’s slippery that way.”

  "Maybe not. We went to his hotel. A piece of paper in the trash had the imprint of an address on it. Shaun and Cora are headed there now. It's on the outskirts of the Slip Mire. We're hoping he went there when he left his hotel."

  She eyed him morosely. "Why didn't you go with them?"

  Gabe kept his eyes steady on her. "I wanted to make sure you were okay. The other option is that he left his hotel to come here. I doubted it—it would be a dumbass move on his part—but I wanted to be sure. Besides," he barked a laugh. "Cora's being as much of a pit bull about this as you could ask for. If she finds him first, he may never see the inside of a cell." He didn't bother keeping the hopeful satisfaction out of his voice at the possibility, even if it was an exaggeration. "Anyway, Shaun's gonna call me as soon as he knows something."

  She rose from the bed and walked to a table against the opposite wall. Atop it sat a denim handbag Gabe had never seen before. Not something Supra would carry, certainly. Only Kyra. She unzipped it and pulled out a small handgun. Pushing a button on the side, she ejected the magazine. After examining it, she slammed it back into the butt of the gun and switched off the safety.

  Gabe lunged to his feet and went to stand behind her. Placing his hands gently on her shoulders, he immediately felt their subtle trembling. Not something visible. Dropping his face closer to the back of her neck, he whispered, “Kyra. You’ll be safe here.”

  She turned her head to the side without moving her body. “You’ll have to forgive me, Gabe,” her voice came quietly, “but I doubt that’s true.”

  Gabe squeezed her shoulders, gently. “Kyra—”

  She turned to face him then, setting the gun down on the table. Her watery eyes searched his face from inches below. “I don’t think I should be here anymore.”

  He entertained a moment of relief with the thought that perhaps she finally meant to give up her search for Manny and leave Abstreuse. He knew better, though. “Be where?”

  “Here. In a safe hotel.”

  Gabe dropped his head back in frustration. She wanted to pull this now? “Kyra—”

  “No, Gabe listen to me.” Her voice took on a desperate quality. “He'll do something. Find out where I am. He could kill the guard out there.”


  Gabe frowned. “You talked about his run-of-the-mill douche-baggery. You think that will translate into murdering police guards?”

  She sighed and studied the carpet between her feet, hands going to her hips. A wrinkle formed between her eyebrows as she obviously warred with what to say. “Chris is…complicated.”

  When she said nothing else, Gabe gently took her by the elbow and led her back to the bed, sitting her on the corner again and kneeling in front of her. She gazed down at him, a haunted look in her eyes he’d never seen before. “Explain him to me,” Gabe said quietly.

  She took a deep breath before continuing. “I learned a lot about him after he attacked me. The trial felt like it lasted forever. You know the court system. Gave me plenty of time to figure out who Chris truly is. It’s not that he’s not smart enough to concoct some diabolical scheme,” her voice took on a brief note of sarcasm. “And it’s not that he’s not capable of evil. Believe me.”

  Gabe sat back on his heels, keeping a tight hold on the despair expanding in his chest, making him want to punch something.

  “He’s too lazy most of the time,” she continued. “He’d rather take small payouts, live the,” she did air quotes, “high life, and have things done for him than put the energy into building an empire. Even a criminal one. He usually works for someone who pays him well. He doesn’t want to be the boss. Too much work.” She sighed. “But when he really wants something, is heavily invested in something…”

  “Like keeping you from telling people what you found on his computer?”

  “Yes, exactly. When that’s the case, he’s capable of anything. When he,” she studied her hands self-consciously, "beat me, I felt something. More than an asshole beating on his girlfriend. More than a guy who keeps books and looks the other way from what his employer is doing. Worse than that. Not something I could prove in court or convey to a lawyer, but it felt…I don't know…evil.”

  Gabe frowned, his mind whirling through a thousand details he’d read that day. “Do you think he participated. In the videos you saw on the computer?”

  She met his eyes. “Yes,” she whispered. “No one could prove it. They couldn't ID faces or voices on the file. But I know he did. I felt it. I still do.”