Damaged Hope (Street Games Book 3) Read online

  Something about the way Sadie said “head out” made fear blossom in Kyra’s stomach. “Sadie?”

  “Yeah?” Sadie disappeared into the bedroom and the abrupt drag of wood against wood followed as Sadie opened and shut the drawers of her dresser.

  “I don’t suppose I can convince you not to work for a while?”

  “Not work?” Sadie appeared again in a green sequined top with ninety percent of its sequins missing and denim shorts cut so high, she might as well have worn granny panties. “Why would I? I need money to live, Supra.”

  “You said you have a grand saved. Maybe you could live off it for a while.”

  Sadie gave her a don’t-be-stupid look as she dragged a brush through her fiery red hair. “I'd be back to zero in no time.”

  Kyra sighed and fought the urge to rub her face with her hands. Sadie knelt in front of her, concern on her face.

  “You sure you okay, Supra?”

  Kyra nodded. “I’m fine.”

  “You’re sweet to worry, but I been doing this for three years. I know how to be safe. You gotta trust I can take care of myself. I wouldn’t let anything happen to me, cause then who would take care of Annie?”

  Kyra smiled. “Okay. Why don’t you carry a weapon?”

  Sadie rolled her eyes. “Right. ‘Cause that’ll get me lots a dates? My customers don’t want their lays to be armed, Supra.”

  “You don’t have to advertise it, Sadie. Conceal it.”

  “Where? You do know what I do, right?”

  Kyra rolled her eyes. “I thought you said you usually don’t have to take off all your clothes.”

  Sadie shrugged. “Depends on the john. Most of ‘em want quickies. But what about the ones who don’t? Besides, if we got down to business and a gun fell out of my shirt or something, chances are the guy would pick it up and shoot me with it.”

  A cold pit sunk into Kyra’s stomach. She wished Sadie wouldn’t talk about such things with so much…resignation.

  Her expression must have shown her feelings because Sadie glanced at her and her face softened. “All I’m sayin' is carryin' a gun would be more dangerous than not for me.”

  “Not if this killer comes after you.”

  Sadie didn’t answer. She looked unconvinced.

  Kyra sighed. Her eyes fell on Sadie’s voluminous red hair. Course and frizzy, it reached well below her shoulders. “What about a knife? Maybe you could bundle it into your hair somehow?”

  Sadie shook her head. “A knife is too heavy.”

  “I can find you something small.”

  “You honestly think a tiny knife would save me from a killer?”

  “You never know,” Kyra said defensively. “Something—anything—to stab him in the hand with or whatever could give you the head start you need to get away. You’re right. Your johns don’t expect you to be armed. This killer is probably counting on it.”

  Sadie twisted her lips, looking doubtful. To Kyra’s surprise, she nodded.

  “I tell you what, girl. If you can find me something small enough to stay in my hair, I’ll wear it. For your peace of mind.”

  Kyra smiled. “I’ll find you something.”

  Ten minutes later they left the apartment. Sadie, holding Annie, led the way. They made it down the stairs and were about to step through the building's door to the outside when a male voice called from above.

  "Hey you! Slut! Wait, don't leave!"

  Sadie turned toward the stairs, immediately looking worried. Kyra peered upward toward the voice as well. A tall, husky, dark-haired man came down the stairs toward them, his gait unsteady. Latino, Kyra thought. Nationality was hard to pin down in the dim light.

  "I need the rent," he thundered, looking at Sadie.

  "I already gave it to you, Cam. Yesterday."

  "No, you didn't," he slurred the last word. "Give it to me. Now!" He reached the bottom stair. His head towered above Kyra and Sadie.

  Sadie sighed. "You're drunk, Cam. In the morning, you'll remember I already paid you. I have to work now."

  She turned to leave and Cam grabbed her arm, yanking her toward him. Kyra's eyes darted around the foyer of the building. The three of them were alone, aside from the unconscious hobo, still snoring away.

  "I'd be willing to take something other than money," Cam said.

  Sadie rolled her eyes and yanked her arm away. "Is that what this is about? You bein' horny? I already paid ret. If you want my services, you gotta pay."

  Cam's face darkened. Quick as lightning, his fist drew back to strike.

  Kyra bent her knees and snatched the sleeping hobo's garbage bag. In one motion, she stepped in front of Sadie, who still held Annie, and swung the bag at Cam. Its heavy weight crashed into the side of his head as his fist descended. The bag threw him off balance and his fist glanced off Kyra's jaw. Her jaw instantly felt numb.

  Cam staggered backward when the bag hit him and crashed into the staircase. He raised his head, then lowered it back down and promptly began to snore.

  "Supra, you okay?" Sadie asked. Her eyes were wide with horror.

  "Fine," Kyra said. She set the hobo's bag back down by his sleeping figure. "How often does this happen?"

  Sadie shrugged. "Not very much. He's just drunk. Looking for sex."

  "Have you paid him in sex before?"

  Sadie shrugged, looking self-conscious. "Couple of times. When I was short for rent. Hasn't happened in months though," she added defensively. "I been making enough."

  Kyra sighed. "Let's get out of here. Before he wakes up and remembers everything."

  *******

  Half an hour later, Sadie knocked on the deeply splintered door to Mrs. Rosary’s house. Baby Annie had fallen asleep and her head lolled on Sadie’s shoulder. Kyra smiled as a line of drool spilled from the baby’s mouth and down the back of Sadie’s shirt.

  The ancient woman with dark skin, snow white hair, and full cheeks answered. “Ah. Sadie. You’re early.”

  “I know, Mrs. Rosary. Can Supra and I talk to you for a few minutes before we both head out?”

  Mrs. Rosary waved them in with an ancient hand, the skin looking like dark, wrinkled paper.

  The interior of the house looked old and dingy, but well-kept for a residence in the Slip Mire. The smell of stale air, old fabric and cigarette smoke filled the air. A shoe box of a place, it looked smaller than the rattiest hotel Kyra had stayed in. One small, main room barely held a couch and a thirteen-inch cube TV. Kyra hadn’t seen one like it in at least ten years. A sink, refrigerator and stove filled the back wall of the room, none of which looked like they worked. A second room held a twin bed, which Kyra assumed belonged to Mrs. Rosary, and a play pen that had seen better days. Sadie laid Annie down in it.

  “Please, sit,” Mrs. Rosary said, patting a place beside her on the couch. Kyra did. “If Sadie wanted to talk to me,” Mrs. Rosary said, “she simply would. So I expect it’s you who wants my ear.”

  Kyra smiled. “Yes. I have a question. Sadie told me a story about a demon called Gaap who watches over the girls.”

  Mrs. Rosary nodded. “It’s become a superstition for the girls in this city.”

  “Why?” Kyra asked. “What exactly is this Gaap said to do for the girls?”

  Mrs. Rosary shrugged. “He protects them. Brings them johns. Keeps them from getting pregnant, supposedly. Just superstitions. As you can see,” she nodded toward where Annie slept, “it doesn’t always work. Why do you want to know?”

  Kyra took a moment to form her thoughts, trying to gauge the best way to approach this. “Did you know Chyna, Mrs. Rosary?”

  Mrs. Rosary’s face went still. “No one has seen Chyna for several weeks. Has her body turned up?”

  “Oh, no,” Kyra said quickly. “From what I understand, she left the city. Headed for California.”

  Mrs. Rosary nodded. “Several of the girls have told me the same thing. With so many girls turning up dead lately, I wondered if they said it to make themselves feel bett
er.”

  “As far as I know,” Kyra said, “it's true. Before Chyna left, she talked about an encounter with a john who called himself Gaap. He tried to hurt her, but she got away. She went to California because she was afraid of him.”

  Mrs. Rosary remained silent. Kyra saw her ancient, wise eyes processing the information.

  “I know many of the girls confide in you, Mrs. Rosary. I wondered if any of the other girls have talked about this same man. One who may have used the name Gaap or talked about it?”

  Mrs. Rosary frowned at Kyra, searching her face. Kyra couldn't read the expression. The woman shook her head slowly. “No. I've heard nothing like that.” She sighed. “I’m not sure I would have.”

  “Why not?” Kyra asked.

  Mrs. Rosary shrugged. “If Chyna left because she was afraid, others might have done the same. Chyna didn’t tell me this story. I wouldn't know it if not for you. Other girls who encountered him might have left without telling anyone either.”

  Kyra nodded. A good point. She felt mildly impressed with Mrs. Rosary. The woman had better critical thinking skills than most Mirelings did.

  The old woman stared her dead in the eye. “Do you believe this john is the one killing the girls?

  Kyra hesitated, but didn't see the point of denying it. Mrs. Rosary obviously already knew Kyra’s suspicions. “I think it’s a strong possibility,” she said.

  Mrs. Rosary nodded. “Chances are, few of the girls who have encountered this person were as lucky as Chyna. Didn’t escape as she did.”

  Kyra nodded.

  “Are you looking for this man?” Mrs. Rosary asked.

  “I’m…trying to find him, yes. I want to figure out who he is so we can warn the girls and make sure they stay safe.”

  Mrs. Rosary cocked her head to the side. “Why?”

  Kyra floundered for answer. She hadn’t come up with a story for why, and Sadie hadn’t asked. I’m-helping-a-cop-search-for-the-killer wouldn’t do. She glanced at Sadie, not wanting to scare her. Perhaps some version of the truth would be best here.

  “This monster is threatening many people. He may be a threat to others besides the girls. Including me. We want to stop him.”

  “Who’s we?”

  “Me and…someone I work with.”

  Mrs. Rosary studied Kyra silently. “You work for Josie McNeal. You expect me to believe he cares enough about the girls to find this killer?”

  Kyra’s eyebrows jumped, surprised Mrs. Rosary knew all that. She supposed Sadie might have furnished the information.

  Kyra forced a smile. “It’s someone I work with, not someone I work for. Right now, we’re just trying to learn more about what’s happening.”

  Mrs. Rosary continued to study her, and Kyra had the uneasy feeling Mrs. Rosary detected her lies.

  “Well,” the old woman dropped her gaze. “I’m sorry I can’t be of more help.”

  “Would you,” Kyra ventured, “be willing to ask around for me? The girls trust you. Perhaps one of them knows something, even if they don’t know it. They may have seen something they didn’t understand at the time.”

  Mrs. Rosary smiled sadly. “My dear, these girls confide in me specifically because they know they can trust me to keep their secrets.”

  Kyra sighed. “You care for these girls, don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “So do I. I may not know them nearly as well as you do, but I know Sadie. She’s my best friend.”

  Sadie stood in the doorway between the main room and the one she’d laid Annie down in, leaning against the door frame and listening to the exchange. She smiled when Kyra nodded at her, and Kyra thought she detected color in Sadie’s cheeks.

  “I want to protect these girls, the same as you. If you hear anything that might help me, and in turn the girls, Sadie can contact me. You can even tell her and she’ll relay the information to me. Okay?”

  After a long pause, and what struck Kyra as the utmost reluctance, Mrs. Rosary nodded. “If I hear anything.”

  Kyra supposed it was the best she could hope for. Something about Mrs. Rosary's hesitation made Kyra think perhaps she had more to say. It gave Kyra a dark feeling. Still, she couldn't force the old woman to talk.

  “Thank you again." Kyra rose and headed for the door, then turned back. “Mallory Butler,” she said. “Her son died in your care, right?”

  Mrs. Rosary immediately stiffened and Kyra put her hands up in a placating gesture.

  “I didn’t mean it as a critique. I wondered if you’d noticed anything out of the ordinary when it happened.”

  Mrs. Rosary frowned. “No. What’s that got to do with this? You’re not saying the killer is responsible for the baby’s death, are you? He died of crib death.”

  Kyra opened her mouth, then snapped it shut again. She’d nearly blurted out that the coroner found the baby’s death suspicious. Supra had no obvious pathway to the information, though. Mrs. Rosary might ask how she knew.

  “I think it’s weird he died the same night Mallory did. Nothing suspicious happened? The smallest detail could be helpful.”

  Mrs. Rosary looked thoughtful. “Perhaps one thing, but it had nothing to do with the death.”

  “Tell me,” Kyra said.

  “When I checked on the baby, and realized he wasn’t breathing, I picked him up. I pounded his back and rubbed his chest, tried to force the breath to come. When I turned on the lamp, I noticed something wet on his forehead.”

  “What?” Kyra asked.

  Mrs. Rosary shrugged. “Drool, I think.”

  Kyra frowned. “Drool?”

  Mrs. Rosary nodded. “It was thick and slippery. Definitely not water. I assumed the baby put his fist in his mouth and wiped it on his forehead.”

  “I don’t understand,” Kyra said.

  “His lips and fingernails were blue. He hadn’t breathed for at least a few minutes, and it was hot. The drool should have dried. I wiped it off and kept trying to get him to breathe. He never did.”

  “Hmm,” Kyra murmured. “You’re sure it was drool?”

  “Had to be. I don’t have anything thick and slippery he could have gotten into. He couldn't get out of the crib by himself anyway.” She shrugged again.

  Five minutes later, Kyra and Sadie walked side by side down the street, Kyra deep in thought. She jumped when Sadie spoke.

  “Supra?”

  "Yeah."

  Sadie stopped walking and turned to face Kyra. "Why are you so loyal to me? No one's ever been so kind, or concerned, or called me their friend like you do. Earlier, with Cam, he coulda hurt you."

  "I'm fine, Sadie."

  "I know, but he coulda. You didn't have to step in front of me."

  "You were holding Annie."

  "You still didn't have to. I wanna know why."

  Kyra frowned. "Loyalty is simple, Sadie."

  "No, it isn't. Everyone's got complex reasons for what they do. What are yours? Why was you asking Mrs. Rosary all them questions?"

  Kyra sighed. She'd never seen suspicion in Sadie's expression before. Seeing it now frightened her. "You don't have to worry about me, Sadie. You've always been kind to me, too. That's why we're friends. Trust me. Trust my friendship."

  After a moment, Sadie shrugged. "I guess everyone's got to trust someone sometimes."

  Kyra raised an eyebrow, not sure how to answer. Once again, she wondered how Sadie would react if she found out about Kyra's lies. Chances were, she'd find out eventually, even if it wasn't until both she and Kyra left the Mire for good. "Always trust with your heart, Sadie. Not your eyes. Your eyes can deceive you."

  "There you go with the smart talk again."

  Kyra glanced over to see Sadie grinning. Teasing. Kyra smiled back.

  They reached an intersection.

  "Be careful tonight, Sadie. Promise me.”

  “Always. Right back at you, girl,” Sadie answered. She gave Kyra a quick hug.

  Kyra watched her friend walk away. Something significa
nt hid in Mrs. Rosary's words. She didn't know what.

  Chapter 7

  “He has some tells,” Agent Hunt said, looking Gabe directly in the eye.

  Gabe glanced up from the file he’d been scanning. Hunt, a criminal psychologist of some kind from the FBI, perched on the corner of the wooden table. Gabe felt like Hunt’s direct gaze saw into his soul. “Like what?” he asked.

  Hunt shrugged, looking into the interrogation room next door through the one-way glass window on the wall in front of them. “I can tell you what they are, not necessarily what they mean. Sometimes he sits back in his seat, twiddles his thumbs and stares at the ceiling. I think it’s a stalling tactic. When he straightens out his thoughts, he leans forward again and answers. His answers after that stance are most likely lies. Without catching him in one, though, I can't be positive. He often scratches the same place under his jaw, as well. The left side. Chances are one or both behaviors signal a lie. Until we can corroborate some part of his story, there’s no way to tell.”

  Gabe closed Hammond's file. The air in the psych ward felt close and sterile, like everything else here. The smell of medicine hung in the air. Teeth-jarring buzzers sounded every few minutes in the background as workers were buzzed into various parts of locked wards. The roll of gurney wheels underscored everything.

  “What progress have you made?” Gabe asked.

  “Very little,” Hunt answered. “He’s told us about the ranch. Nothing else. A ranch in the desert, off the beaten path, miles from the nearest town, would be an ideal place for a pedophile to take his victims. If he took your brother anywhere, it would be there.”

  Hunt didn’t stand on ceremony or tiptoe around Gabe’s feelings. Gabe found it refreshing.

  “The problem is,” Hunt continued. “Unless we can get him to tell us where it is, it’s useless. Without proof, he might as well be making it up. We can’t search thousands of square miles of desert, praying we get lucky.”

  Gabe nodded. “Do you think he is?”

  Hunt frowned. “Is what?”

  “Making it up.”

  Hunt hesitated. “I don’t have enough information to make an assessment yet, detective.”

  “I’m only asking for a gut instinct here, Agent. One professional to another. I won’t hold you responsible if it turns out you’re wrong.”