by Nolon King
He merged left to pass the big rig.
And his windshield filled with a red blur coming right at him.
Jordyn yelped.
Jasper swung his car back into the right lane, heart pounding at nearly running head on into a cherry red Mustang, with several motorcycles behind it.
“What the hell, it’s not bike week yet.”
The truck slowed even more. Jasper was practically riding its ass as a growing number of bikers prevented him from passing the truck.
“Damn it!” He slammed the steering wheel with his palm, stuck behind the big truck on a long run of road.
And still the truck decelerated.
“Oh, come the fuck on!”
More motorcycles passed on the left.
Jasper tapped his fingertips anxiously on the steering wheel. “Come on, come on.”
The motorcycles finally all passed.
He merged and accelerated. Of course, the truck sped up, as if trying to keep him from passing it.
“Fuck you, buddy.” Jasper slammed his foot on the pedal to overtake the truck.
He swung back into the right lane just ahead of yet another wave of bikers.
But the white van was gone.
“What the—?”
The closest vehicle was a silver sedan about a half mile ahead. Jasper couldn’t be sure if the van had sped up to put distance between them, or if it had turned off one of the side roads.
“Fuck!” Jasper noticed a few small roads ahead that the van could have turned on to, or any number of the side roads he’d already passed.
He slowed down, glancing into the woods as he approached. He saw dust in the distance, maybe from the van. He took a sharp right, nearly missing his turn before sliding off-road. He slammed on his brakes, rocketing right for the trees.
Jasper braced for impact but the car stopped short.
The trucker brayed his horn behind them.
Jasper got back onto the dirt path then gunned the engine, eager to catch up to the trail of dust in the distance, hoping it was the van. He looked over at Jordyn. “Is it them?”
“Yes,” she said confidently.
He breathed a sigh of relief, now certain they were still on the right trail. He had to slow down, lest he kick up clouds of dirt that might draw unwanted attention.
Jasper followed the van until it turned down another sideroad.
He stopped, giving it time to get further ahead, now certain he wasn’t going to lose it.
“What the hell is out here?” Jasper pulled up the GPS on his phone.
No street view, obviously. So he looked to the satellite and saw a massive house a few hundred yards down the road. There was a gate, a large circular driveway, and a huge pool in the back — a mansion in the middle of the woods.
He went to the county appraiser’s website to pull up title info and a sketch of the property, but there was nothing listed for anything remotely close to the location.
Without proper roads or utilities, Jasper wondered how anyone got permission to build a house here. And what purpose did a house like this in the middle of the woods serve, anyway? Maybe it was a secret sex club like that one in Mexico. Or a black site.
The CIA, and other agencies working on their behalf, had black sites out of the country. Was it possible BlackBriar had one here?
Jasper slowly drove past the road where the van had turned.
He saw the van going through an open gate with a guard shack and kept going, hoping no one had seen him drive by.
“What are we going to do?” Jordyn asked.
Jasper drove a bit further before turning down another dirt road. He kept east, until he figured he was about parallel with the property, then went to the trunk.
“What you doing?” Jordyn asked, getting out of the still idling car.
Jasper pulled out the quad drone then set it on the ground.
“A drone?”
“We need to see what we’re walking into.”
Minutes later, he was staring at the drone’s cam feed. It showed several guards stationed around the property. Five on the roof, all with rifles at the ready, plus about a dozen cars and vans. The infrared camera revealed another dozen people inside the house. A large stone wall surrounded the property, with a guard stationed at the front gate.
“What is it?” Jordyn asked, seeing his expression.
“A small army.”
“How are we gonna get in there?”
“By assembling an army of our own.”
Chapter 26 - Mallory Black
When Mal stepped into the Otis R. Jenkins Boxing Gym, everyone stopped and stared.
The gym, named after Butler’s first black mayor in 1976, was the kind of place that offered local kids an escape from the rampant, crushing poverty through boxing and self-discipline. The gym was run by Eddie Jenkins, son of Otis, and a great boxing coach who’d steered a number of kids off of the streets and into the profession.
Even in his fifties, Eddie was a mountain of a man. He was in one of the rings nearest the entrance showing a scrawny teen girl how to move her feet before throwing a punch.
“No, no, no. You gotta do it like this.” He demonstrated, impressing Mal with his agility. She’d never seen Eddie fight, but he had gone pro before life got in the way and he returned to Butler to take care of his mother and the gym.
He glanced at Mal, the question evident in his eyes. What’s this cop doing here?
Eddie had never run afoul of the law, at least not that she knew of, but he had been suspected of harboring many of the young men who had and helping them get out of town. He drew the line at hiding anyone who hurt a kid. That was how Mal had first met him in person, when he’d approached her one day a few years back to tell her where to find a guy who’d killed a kid in a drive-by.
Eddie told the girl to hold on as he stepped out of the ring. He approached Mal.
“How can I help you today, Detective?”
Mal had forgotten how massive he was. While his arms were still muscular, his new gut nudged the cotton on his faded yellow Otis R. Jenkins Boxing Gym T-shirt.
“I need to talk with Logic. He asked me to meet him here.”
“He asked you?” Eddie’s thin eyebrows arched up.
“Yes.” She offered no explanation.
“All right. Follow me.”
Eddie led her past the four rings that made up most of the main room, past the exercise bikes and weights where a smattering of teens eyed her suspiciously, then toward the rear doors.
There were a few rooms in the back where kids could do homework or play games after school. Eddie’s office was way in the back. That’s where she found Logic sitting a desk, typing onto a laptop.
His enforcer, Tracy Mack, sat beside him. He was a pit bull of a man. Had tattoos all over his body, including several on his face, as if he went into a tat shop and told them, make me look as mean and ugly as possible. The man was also Logic’s cousin.
Tracy glanced at Mal with his sleepy, yet sinister, stare.
“Okay, give me a few,” Logic told his enforcer. “But first, I need you to pat her down.”
Mal had left her phone and gun in the car. She stretched out her arms, preparing for a pat down, hoping Tracy wouldn’t use it as an opportunity to feel her up.
But he didn’t. Tracy pulled the paper bag from her hoodie pocket, looked at the cash inside, then handed it back to her.
“She’s clean.” He followed Eddie out of the office then closed the door behind them.
Logic was thin and short at five-foot-six, with thick black-framed glasses. He was wearing a purple hoodie and blue jeans, probably in fashion among his crowd. He was in his early twenties, despite looking no more than sixteen. Bullied as kid for being a nerd, he teamed up with his cousin and the two combined their intellect and brawn to corner the drug business, first in Creek County, then well into Jacksonville.
He closed his laptop and met her gaze. “What can I do you for, Ms. Black?”
He laughed when she explained it.
“I’m serious,” Mal said.
“So, you want an amount that would land someone a felony for intent to distribute?”
“I’m not looking to jam you up.”
“I know.”
Logic said it so matter-of-factly, she wondered how he could be so sure.
“So, who are you trying to set up?”
“I didn’t say what I wanted it for.”
“Is for personal use? I can tell you use, but nah, I don’t think this is for you.”
“Can you help me or not?” Mal dropped the bag of cash on the center of his desk. “I’m paying double the going rate.”
Logic looked inside the bag. Expressionless, he closed it then slid it back to the center of his desk. “You wanna set someone up, why not just use something y’all already took off my guys?”
“This is personal. I’m not working now.”
“This got to do with that shit down in Mexico?”
The event had made national news, and Logic was the kind of guy who made it his business to know everything, but Mal was still surprised to hear him bring it up.
“Sort of. Listen, you know I don’t work narcotics, and I don’t ask you about your business. I need your discretion. Let’s just say I’m doing something the department can’t do, trying to protect a little kid from some heinous fucking people. If I go through legal channels, it’ll blow up. Destroy lives.”
Logic stared at her.
Mal grew ever more certain he’d tell her to get the fuck out with every second passed.
“Okay. This make us even, then?”
“You don’t owe me anything. I was just doing my job.”
“Yeah, well, I wish more of y’all would focus on the real shit and not be chasing my associates.”
“Like I said, I don’t work narcotics.”
Logic nodded. “But, are we even? You see, I don’t like owing folks, especially cops.”
“Yes, we’re even.”
“I don’t know. Something this size you want to keep on the down-low, maybe you oughta owe me now.”
“I’m paying you.”
“I’d rather have a favor than cash.”
She smiled. “I’m not a crooked cop. I’m not going to taint evidence, tell you when drug busts are coming, or help you break the law.”
“Not that kind of favor.”
“Then what?”
“I don’t know yet.” Logic smiled, though a part of her felt like he did know.
“I can’t commit to something without any details. I don’t even know if I’m going back on the job. Retirement is agreeing with me.”
“People like you, they always go back.”
“People like me? What does that mean?”
“You care too much.”
Mal laughed. “You think you know me now, that it?”
Logic smiled. “It’s my job to know people. So, we have a deal?”
“I’m not agreeing to something unless you tell me what I’m agreeing to.”
“Then I can’t help you.” Logic pushed Mal’s money to the edge of his desk.
She considered calling his bluff but needed her plan in play.
“Fine. But I’m not going to taint evidence, rat out snitches, murder anyone, tell you about drug busts, or do anything that fucks with the sheriff’s office. I’m not a crooked cop.”
“You said that.” Logic smiled again. “But you ain’t exactly straight. Wouldn’t be here if you was.”
“I told you my stipulations. As long as it’s close to the line, but doesn’t cross it, and I can do it, then I’ll help you.”
“Okay,” he said after another long moment. “I can live with that. So, we have a deal?”
She nodded.
“I’ll get you what you need.”
“Thank you.”
Logic told her where to make the pickup, at a park near the beach, way outside of Butler.
“Oh, one other thing … ”
“Yes?” She turned back at the door.
“You know anything about the shit that went down a couple nights ago? Dudes in black, looked like cops but they weren’t, rolled up and killed some of my affiliates, kidnapped a girl named Spider.”
“Saw it on the news, but beyond that, no. Why?”
“Was hoping you could maybe verify what I’m hearing. Some of my folks saying it’s a dude named Victor Forbes, runs that BlackBriar company.”
She nodded. “I heard some similar rumblings.”
“And why aren’t the police going after those people?”
“Fuck if I know.”
“What can you tell me?”
“Only that they’re bad people. And if you have a chance at helping get that girl back, you’d be doing something the cops probably can’t do.”
Logic nodded. “Yeah, we’re working on something with someone now.”
She wondered if that someone was Jasper.
He must’ve caught the look in her eye. He tilted his head ever so slightly. “You know something more about it, don’t you?”
“I need to go. Thanks again.”
Logic called out, “You’re a terrible liar, Detective.”
Mal didn’t respond. She just left to pick up her drugs.
Chapter 27 - Spider
Spider was sixteen in her dream, and still Felicia, living in the foster home with Bill and Mary Smith. Her fourth foster home since the crash killed both her parents and crippled her four years earlier. The final one, she hoped.
The parents were nice, an older couple who had taken in three kids, including Spider and twin autistic seven-year-old boys. The Smiths were incredibly patient, and with Mrs. Smith homeschooled Felicia. Everything was perfect.
Until that day at the mall.
Parents weren’t the problem this time.
It was the Smith’s birth daughter, Callie, who’d just turned seventeen.
Spider’s dream returned her to the moment when everything went to shit. The Smiths had dropped Callie and Felicia off at the mall. Callie seemed to genuinely like her. Pretty, blonde, and popular. Plus, money. The whole cliché. Everything Felicia wasn’t and never could be.
They were at the food court with Callie’s friends, Stacy and Scott, rich popular kids with nice clothes and perfect teeth like Callie.
Felicia felt out of place with her kinky hair, ugly too-dark jeans, and faded pink top, plus that wheelchair and zigzagging scar that ruined her forehead. But she eventually learned to feel at home with the group. Almost like she belonged.
They were laughing and talking about school. For the first time since the accident, she didn’t feel like a freak in a wheelchair. She sort of felt like a normal kid.
That was rare because Felicia had kinda always felt a bit like a freak. Into computers and reading unlike most girls she’d known growing up, she’d been a geek who never really fit in with anybody, except for a lone friend here or there, and that was before the accident.
But with Callie, Stacy, and Scott, they gelled like they belonged together.
I have a group of friends!
Felicia felt happy enough to cry. She would, later that night. But for an entirely different reason.
Callie and Stacy looked around the food court, trying to decide what to get before settling on Papa John’s. Scott wanted Taco Bell, and since Felicia hadn’t had tacos in forever, she went with him.
He offered to push her, but she could help herself.
The Taco Bell line was way shorter than the one at Papa John’s, so they got back to the table well before the girls. Scott started asking Felicia questions about herself.
The conversation was awkward at first. She wasn’t sure what to say and what she should probably keep to herself. It had been so long since someone cared enough to ask. Soon, they were talking like old friends. Then, to her surprise, Scott seemed to be flirting with her.
So, Felicia flirted back. It was the
first time she’d felt pretty since the accident that left her scarred and partially paralyzed. She could barely believe how well things were going. It was like she was in a dream where she hadn’t lost her family at twelve and could lead a normal teenager’s life.
She tried not to make too much of his flirting. Maybe he was only being nice. Plus, Felicia didn’t want to set herself up for disappointment by actually thinking she had a chance with a guy like Scott.
Then he shocked her by asking if she wanted to go with him to spring dance.
“Dance?” She laughed and looked down at her wheelchair. “I don’t know how to tell you, but … ” No, no self-pity. Make a joke. Think of something funny, damn it! “I’m so good on the dance floor, I’d probably embarrass you.”
She loved the sound of his laugh, so she listened to its music before she continued.
“No, seriously, people would be pointing at you, asking if you had some motor skill disorder or something.”
Scott kept laughing, and Felicia basked in her triumph.
“I’ll take my chances. Just say yes. We’ll have fun.”
And before she could even doubt herself, the yes was out of her mouth.
Her lowest valley had been the accident, now this was her Everest. Felicia couldn’t imagine being happier than she was in that moment. But the joy was short-lived.
Callie started acting different once she and Stacy came back with their pizza and Scott announced they were going to the dance together.
Felicia wondered if Callie had a thing for Scott. She hadn’t said anything. And she was always talking about boys she thought were cute.
Callie barely spoke on the way home. Just the bare minimum of words necessary not to alert her mom that something was wrong.
At dinner, she barely looked at Felicia.
Later that night, when Callie was going to bed, Felicia knocked on her door.
Callie opened it, headphones on, phone in her hand. “Yeah?”
“Can I come in?”
“Sure.” Callie walked back to her bed as Felicia closed the door.
Callie hopped into her bed, sitting cross-legged, not even looking at Felicia as she swiped at her phone.
“Are you mad at me?”
