No Stopping

by Nolon King

  “Why not just pull the fucker over? We can bring him back here, make him talk.”

  “If it was just him, then sure. That would’ve been my first suggestion. But he’s got bosses that probably have no problem letting him die and killing Spider just to cover their secrets. This is the best chance to get him without getting her getting killed.”

  “Fuckers.”

  Jasper stared at the overhead shot. The house was enormous. That might have dimmed the odds of someone being in the front of the place and looking out on the driveway when he arrived, but there was zero chance a property that size, on a spot of land so remote, didn’t have surveillance cameras.

  “We need a distraction.” Jasper looked at his phone to check the time. “Too early for pizza.”

  “You want food? I’ve got some candy and chips and shit in the kitchen.”

  “No, I was thinking we could order pizza somewhere, then you, or someone you know, could deliver it to Kozack’s house. I’d be in the car, just get me close enough to put the tracker on. Whoever is home will probably think it’s a wrong address delivery. Wouldn’t alert anyone.”

  “No pizza places are open now.” Then her eyes lit up, “But … I’ve got a friend who delivers groceries.”

  “Yes! You trust ’em?”

  Kim looked at Jasper with mock indignation. “What kinda’ friends you think I keep?”

  Jasper kept quiet.

  She laughed. “I’m just fuckin’ with you. But, yeah, he’s reliable.”

  Jasper rode in the back of the delivery van, hoping Victor Forbes drove one of the cars registered to him according to the DMV database. Any other vehicle and his plan went to shit.

  The van slowed down.

  Kim’s friend, JT, a baby-faced young black man with a thick beard and large afro, said, “I hear these people out here on the west side are in the KKK.”

  “Wouldn’t surprise me,” Jasper said.

  “Great. Man, you should’a hired a white dude, or better yet, a white girl, to do this shit.”

  “Relax, it’ll be fine.”

  “If you say so,” JT said as the van slowed to a crawl. “Where should I park?”

  Jasper looked through the front windows and saw the black SUV, its plate matching Victor’s registered vehicle.

  “Pull up in front of the van, and park at an angle so I have a clear shot to the passenger side rear wheel well.”

  “Gotchya.”

  “And take your time.”

  “Yes, sir,” JT said, parking then getting out of the van and walking around to open the rear doors.

  He grabbed two large bags with the delivery services logo that matched his green apron. “Here’s hoping I don’t get lynched or sent to the Sunken Place.”

  Jasper laughed.

  As JT headed to the house, Jasper climbed up to the front passenger side seat then popped out of the van. He wore a green apron and pretended to be lighting a cigarette like he was on a smoke break as he walked to the passenger side rear wheel well.

  Jasper dropped his cigarette, then placed the tracker as he bent to grab it. He put the cigarette into his mouth, then returned to the rear of the van, acting casual, just in case someone happened to be watching from one of the upper story windows or from a camera he couldn’t see.

  He got back into the van, glancing through the windshield as he did. JT was still on the porch talking to a dark-haired woman Jasper recognized from photos as Mrs. Kozack.

  A shiver went through him as he eyed the front door. It felt weird being on the property of the parents of the young man he killed. On one hand, that young man was a monster responsible for his daughter’s suicide. On the other, Jasper was the man who had murdered their son. For the first time, a wave of guilt washed over him.

  This woman at the front door didn’t even know her child was dead, let alone that his killer was on her property. The only person in the world who knew the answer to the question that kept her up at night — Is my son alive? — was right here under her nose.

  Jasper looked down.

  Jordyn appeared in the back of the van. “I told you not to kill them.”

  It was always weird to see her when he remembered she was dead. It made no logical sense, and Jasper had to reconcile the fact that he was fucking crazy or he saw ghosts. He wasn’t sure which was worse.

  JT headed to the van holding the bags of groceries, stifling a smirk.

  As he loaded the bags in back, Jasper glanced at the front door to see it still open, and Calum Kozack’s mother stood there, looking right at him. If she stared long enough, she might see the murder on his face.

  Then she’d come running out, screaming, clawing at him, asking what he did to her baby.

  Fuck, hurry up, JT.

  JT closed the rear doors, got in the driver’s seat, then waved at Mrs. Kozack as he backed out.

  “Fucking bitch,” he said under his breath through a smile, pulling out of the driveway.

  “What happened?” Jasper asked.

  “Ah, nothing. Just givin’ me that dirty look rich people give when they’re tired of your shit.”

  “So, she didn’t suspect anything.”

  “Bitch is clueless.”

  Jasper sure as hell hoped so.

  Chapter 18 - Mallory Black

  Mal woke up from another nightmare by way of haunting from her past, shaking, migraine on its way, and starving for pills.

  She barely resisted. Didn’t know what her day looked like yet. Maybe Jasper had called with info or needing help with the Spider situation. Maybe Gloria wanted to show up and surprise her again. No need to ruin a day of sobriety.

  One at a time.

  She swallowed some ibuprofen with water then grabbed her phone to check for messages.

  Three from Maggie. The first two, within minutes of each other, late last night, were hang-ups. The last one, at 7:05 this morning began with a long pause.

  “It’s Maggie. Um, I’m not doing so hot.” Mal could tell she’d been crying. And was high. “Tommy … he got a bit rough last night. A bit too hard. I was in a lot of pain, and … he gave me some … ” she broke off into sniffles. “Well, I used. And, God I feel like such a fuck-up. Please, don’t call me back. Tommy sometimes takes my phone and … well, I don’t want him to answer if you call back. I’ll try again tomorrow.” Another long pause and crying. “Sorry.”

  Mal clenched her fist and curled her toes.

  She wanted to call Maggie back, tell her to get her kid and get the fuck out of there immediately. They could stay with Mal. It wasn’t like she was planning to go back there anytime soon. But if she called and the asshole answered, it’d probably trigger him again.

  It was hard to be patient while waiting on others to find their senses, but she had no better option.

  Mal paced her hotel room, helpless as she replayed Maggie’s message. She sounded so hopeless. Was Maggie okay? What if she’d overdosed? What if Tommy had beaten her into paralysis, temporary or worse?

  Fuck!

  For a long time, Mal had used the pills to chase her sadness away. But now she needed them to battle the rage that had clawed its way into her life and lived like a bird in its nest.

  Anger at the horrors Dodd had waged upon her daughter, on her, on Jessi Price, and on who knew how many other children. Anger at the predatory system allowing a place like Paraíso to exist yet alone thrive. Anger at the men who preyed on women and got away with it. Anger at herself for fucking up her attempt to get justice against Amber’s rapist. Anger at the corrupt system that sought to give power back to Claude Barry while leaving the professional corpse of Gloria Bell behind it. And now, anger at yet another abusive husband destroying the lives of his wife and daughter.

  All of this fury inside her, and the only ways she had to cope were sneaking out and mutilating rapists or taking drugs. One or both would get her killed.

  She flashed back on Dodd’s perverted, craven gaze as he stared down at her when she had no hope of stopping
him. Tommy’s look wasn’t perverted, but he wore that same disgusting sneer as Dodd and the rest, letting her know he wasn’t afraid. An expression that dared her to do something.

  Mal couldn’t sit by and do nothing.

  She refused to sit by and do nothing.

  So, she showered, got dressed, then took a ride.

  Mal didn’t want to drive by Maggie’s place in her car, so she rented a Camry for a little trip to Jacksonville.

  She drove slowly, studying Tommy and Maggie’s house, a cozy white-and-blue bungalow tucked into a quiet suburban neighborhood. She’d expected something more rundown in a worse neighborhood. But the house had a white picket fence, a recently planted plum tree, and a tire swing in the yard.

  But that didn’t change a thing. A polished exterior could mask the rot inside fine.

  Tommy’s car was outside.

  She growled as she passed it.

  Then she saw the Camaro backing out of the driveway.

  She hung a right onto a side street, slowing down and watching her rearview as it passed. Tommy appeared to be alone.

  Mal threw her car into reverse then drove back to Maggie’s.

  She pulled up in the driveway, got out of her car, and knocked on the door.

  No answer.

  She knocked again, staring at the peephole and wondering if Maggie was looking through it.

  Moments later, she heard Maggie’s voice on the other side.

  “Mallory?” She opened the door. “What … how do you know where I live?”

  She had a huge black eye and a swollen left cheek.

  “What the fuck? Did Tommy do that?”

  “Why are you here?”

  “You left a message on my voicemail. It scared me. So, I looked you up.”

  “You looked me up? What?” Slurred speech, pupils large and dilated. High.

  “Get your daughter. I’m getting you two out of here.”

  “What?”

  “You can’t stay here with him. He’s beating you.” Mal lightly grasped her arm. “Come on. I’ve got a place for you both to stay.”

  “No! I can’t leave. He has Emma.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah, he took her to the store because I was sleeping.”

  “Damn it. You can’t stay here. What happened last night?”

  “It doesn’t matter. And where am I going to go?”

  “I have a place you can stay.”

  “I can’t just hide away. It’s not like he’d stop looking for us.”

  “We can file an order of protection against him, initiate divorce proceedings. We can go to the cops right now and they can get photos of what happened.”

  She started shaking her head, slow at first, then fast. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “This is … this is going too fast. I need time to think about it.”

  If Mal pushed Maggie too hard, she risked losing her. Women in abusive relationships were stuck until they wanted to leave. Force them and they’re likely to drop the charges against the guy or even turn on you. A sick cycle and hard to see yourself in it.

  Mal would have to be patient. Or find a way to get Tommy out of the picture so the choice would be made for Maggie and she could think clearly.

  “You said he gave you pills?”

  “Yeah. He felt bad after he hit me. Told me to take them, that it wasn’t a relapse if I needed them.”

  “He made you need them. He’s been trying to get you relapse for a while, right?”

  “That’s not why he hit me,” she said, defensively.

  “Where does he get his drugs? Is he a dealer?”

  She looked at Mal suspiciously. “Oh, my God. Are you a cop?” Maggie covered her mouth, suddenly afraid she’d said too much.

  “No. Well, not in Jacksonville. I’m not on the job. I had to leave following my own relapse and an abusive situation.”

  She didn’t want Maggie making the connection. Oh, you’re that Mallory Black, the one who got kidnapped by the man that raped and killed your kid! And it was easier for Maggie to connect if she thought their situations were similar — not many people could relate to a kidnapping.

  Maggie stared at her, biting her nails, chin down. “What would the cops do, anyway?”

  “You can get an order of protection that keeps him away while you file for divorce. The cops document your situation. Maybe they come and find drugs on him at home and arrest him.”

  “I don’t want him arrested.”

  “I’m just saying, it’s one way to get the time and space you need. Maybe he can get help. Go to rehab then put his life back together, then you can consider being together again. But he’s a fucking threat to you right now … to you and Emma. Do it for her if you won’t do it for yourself. It’s only a matter of time before he hurts her, too.”

  “He wouldn’t touch her.”

  “Drugs make people assholes. Some of them violent assholes. You said it yourself — you don’t want Emma seeing him treat you like this. There’s no way that doesn’t harm her, right?”

  Maggie nodded.

  “When can you leave? There’s got to be a time when he leaves you both alone.”

  She nodded. “He’s in a pool league. Plays tonight with his boys. We’ll be here from, like, eight to one or two, whenever he runs out of cash for beer or gets kicked out.”

  “Good. Get whatever you need to take, sentimental stuff, medicines, the absolute necessities. I can get you new shit, whatever you need. And I’ll pick you up tonight. Call me when it’s safe to come. Okay?”

  Maggie didn’t respond.

  “I’m giving you a chance to get out of this life. I can help you.”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “Let’s just say I’ve seen enough bad shit. And I’m in a position to help, so why not?”

  “You really seem to have your shit together for an addict.”

  “On some things, yeah. Others, not so much. But if you let me help you, I swear I won’t let you down.”

  Maggie burst into tears and pulled Mal into a hug. “Thank you.”

  Mal hugged her back, softly crying. This felt a hell of a lot better than hunting down predators, and almost as good as the pills. Maybe she could do more good like this.

  She’d flush the rest of her pills down the toilet the moment she got home.

  Cold turkey. Mal would have to quit if she wanted to help others.

  Chapter 19 - Jasper Parish

  Jasper sat in his car across the street from BlackBriar’s corporate headquarters, its massive gate almost disappearing under the twenty-five stories of glass and steel, all of them lit and gleaming onto the St. John’s River beyond.

  Jordyn sat beside him holding his phone with the tracker app. The dot on the GPS map hadn’t moved since Victor had come here after leaving Kozack’s ranch.

  Jasper followed at an extreme distance until they hit I-95 and he could keep Victor’s black SUV in his line of sight. Followed him to BlackBriar where he’d been waiting ever since, minus a fast bathroom and food break.

  “Maybe he’s not leaving,” Jordyn suggested.

  He wished they could have followed Victor’s car in, but the place was more secure than anything he’d ever broken into before or would feel comfortable attempting to breach. Plus, all the armed people working for him. Walking in would be a death sentence.

  “Or maybe he took another car out. Maybe he found the tracker. Maybe they did a sweep as a security check and he took it off the car and left through another exit?”

  “What if he has her in there?”

  Jasper hadn’t considered that. BlackBriar was a legit business, not some black site where they could stow a kidnap victim — could they?

  “Do you think she’s in there? You getting anything?”

  Jasper handed her Spider’s unicorn.

  Jordyn closed her eyes, concentrated, then shook her head. “I see some past memories, but I’m not getting anything happening right now.”

  Jasper follow
ed the SUV.

  Its red tail lights were about five cars ahead in the left lane. He stayed in the center, allowing cars to weave in and out of traffic in front of him, laying back and avoiding detection.

  “What are we going to do when we catch up to him?” Jordyn asked.

  “Depends where they are. I’ll get her myself if I can. If not, we call Kim’s crew to storm the castle with us.”

  “Then what? Will you please stop this?”

  “Stop what?”

  “Your war on everything. Stand down. Retire. You’re getting too old for this.”

  “Me? Too old?”

  “Yeah. You almost died in Mexico. And don’t even tell me you were fine.”

  “I was fine.”

  Jordyn didn’t respond.

  “What? You don’t need to worry about me. I can take care of myself.”

  “Well, sorry for not wanting my father to be killed by the damned Mexican mob, cartel, or whatever the hell they were.”

  “Didn’t you want to join me? Remember, back when you found out what I was doing? You were so excited! It was like Take Your Daughter to Work Day or something.”

  “That’s before I saw what your ‘work’ was really like.”

  “What do you mean?” He turned on the wipers as drops of rain kissed the glass.

  “Until I saw how much this changed you. A part of you enjoys this way too much. It’s scary. And a bit sadistic.”

  “Sadistic? I’m killing bad people.”

  “Yeah, but you shouldn’t enjoy it so much.”

  “I’m sorry if I enjoy stopping bad guys.”

  “But they’re not all bad.”

  “Sure they are. I never killed someone who didn’t deserve to be behind bars. We’ve studied each of them before—”

  “Why not let the law handle it?”

  “You know why! We’ve been over this. I handle the people the law allows to slip through the system. Or the ones who have somehow evaded capture. I only kill horrible people — murderers, rapists, child predators. How can that be bad? Why shouldn’t I take enjoy making the world a safer place?”

  “A safer place? That’s why you do it? Not as punishment?”