No Fear

by Nolon King

  “The girls were walking home from church, right? Is your family very religious?”

  “Very religious? No. We’re believers but not Bible thumpers, if that’s what you’re asking. If I were more religious, maybe I would have been in church instead of working on a Sunday.” Sheila started crying again.

  “You’re a single mom working to keep food on the table. Can’t beat yourself up about that. I’m sure God doesn’t mind.”

  “Why do you ask?” Sheila asked after catching her breath.

  “The religious nature of the crime. We’re exploring all possibilities. Is there anyone at church you’ve had disagreements with or who paid an inordinate amount of attention to your girls?”

  Sheila kept staring out the window, thinking. “Not that I can think of. It’s a small church. Everybody’s nice there. No problems.”

  “Is there anyone else you can think of? Neighbors? People who worked at your house? Anyone who seemed a bit off?”

  “I can’t think of anybody … I’ve already answered all of this.”

  “I’m sorry. Sometimes it helps to ask questions a few times. The mind tends to remember things later that it might not in the moment.”

  Mal kept talking to her, mining as many details as possible about the girls without adding further stress to their mother. Fifteen minutes later, she got a call on her police-issued phone then excused herself, adding distance between her and Sheila before taking the call.

  “Detective Black,” she answered.

  “Hey, it’s Deputy Travers. I’ve got a girl over at Coleman’s that got nabbed for shoplifting. I recognized her as one of your prior cases and thought I’d give you a call.”

  “Who is it?”

  “Katie Turner.”

  She swallowed and sighed. “I’ll be right there.”

  Chapter 9 - Jasper Parish

  Jasper’s head kept buzzing. He felt like someone or something kept squeezing it to send fresh waves of stabbing pain into his brain.

  He paced his cell, feeling itchy, antsy. Like his clothes were biting into his skin. He ripped off his shirt and grunted as he tossed it onto the bed.

  Get a hold of yourself, damn it. You’re fine.

  “Lenny?” Jasper called out, spinning around, searching for his old coach but finding himself still alone.

  The walls shuddered as an ear-piercing buzz sent him to his knees. He covered his ears, feeling like his head might explode, painting his brain all over the walls and floor.

  Gritting his teeth, Jasper tried to brace himself against the intensifying pain.

  The door unlocked. Time for his meds.

  “Sit on your bed,” Hernandez said.

  Jasper sat, his cheeks wet with tears. He covered his face, ashamed of the pain, thinking Hernandez would think he was faking or had lost his few remaining marbles. Maybe they’d shove him in a mental hospital, and maybe that would be better.

  Except then you’ll never see them again.

  Now his own voice instead of Lenny’s warned Jasper to keep his shit together.

  “What’s the problem?” Hernandez asked.

  “Please,” he looked up, crying. “Don’t make me take the meds.”

  Hernandez was quiet.

  A moment of hope swelled inside Jasper.

  “I looked into your case,” Hernandez said. “How did you know?”

  “I told you, I see things.”

  “Fucking psychic?”

  “Come on. I’m not a threat to anyone. I can only convince you if you give me a chance. Keep me locked in the hole as long as you need, I don’t care. Just … don’t make me take the meds.”

  “Why’d you kill Kenn?”

  “He was trying to force me to kill Wally.”

  Hernandez’s face shifted ever so slightly.

  Fuck, someone had gotten to Wally.

  “Did … something happen to him?”

  “Yeah, another prisoner got him in the mess hall.”

  “You know who did it?”

  “Nope. Nobody’s talking. It was in the middle of a ruckus. Don’t think it was the Aryans, though.”

  “They were doing a job for someone else.”

  “Who?”

  “Will you let me go a few days without making me take the pills if I tell you?”

  Hernandez shook his head and sighed. “Why’d you kill that businessman’s kid and the girl?”

  “I didn’t kill the girl. Calum did. But she facilitated my daughter’s rape, made her life a hell until she killed herself.”

  Hernandez nodded.

  The man shared his pain, Jasper could feel it. Maybe not a daughter, but he’d lost someone, and in a similar way. He considered pressing but backed off, knowing how easily it might backfire. Nobody liked having their loved ones used as pieces in a game. He could wait Hernandez out.

  “I never killed anyone who didn’t deserve it.”

  “Then why confess? You didn’t put up a fight at all, admitted to shit we didn’t even have on you. Why?”

  “Because I caused a lot of innocent people pain. I don’t deny that I need to be punished. I … I just can’t take these pills. Let me prove it. I can help you.”

  “Help me, how?”

  “You play the lottery?”

  “You can tell me the winning lotto numbers?” Hernandez laughed.

  “Guessed ’em before.”

  “Bullshit. You’ve won the lotto?”

  Jasper couldn’t tell him that he gave Mallory the winning ticket. Hernandez probably didn’t even know her, but it wouldn’t take long to tie Mallory to him and likely ruin her life.

  “I was a ghost, remember? Faked being dead. Would’ve been hard to cash in a ticket, but I’ve guessed the winning numbers too many times to be a coincidence.”

  “No.” Hernandez stared at Jasper then shook his head. “No fucking way. You guessed the winning numbers multiple times and didn’t find a way to cash in a ticket or get someone else to do it for you?”

  “I didn’t say I didn’t make any money. I found other ways — mostly bets. But I just needed enough to live off the grid and do what I was doing. It was never about the money.”

  “So, you’re gonna give me winning lotto numbers if I help you?”

  “I can’t promise that, but I guarantee I’ll find some way to help you right back. Stuff just comes to me. And if I don’t help you, then put me back on the pills. No harm, no foul. Not like I’m gonna hurt anyone from here even if I did go fully mental.”

  “Man, I don’t know. And besides, I don’t even work every night. If I do this, I’m not letting anyone else know. You’re gonna have to take the meds on nights I don’t got rounds, unless you can find a way to avoid swallowing ’em.”

  “Whatever, man. Just … please.”

  Hernandez stared for a long, quiet moment. Jasper could tell the guard clearly didn’t trust him. But he could also see belief. Something deep inside this man had been convinced by something he’d found out or that Jasper had said. Maybe he was in a desperate situation he really needed help with.

  But Hernandez had a job to do and didn’t seem in the least bit corrupt. He took pride in his work, in doing the right thing. Jasper had once been a lot like this man.

  He didn’t beg or plead anymore. He would have to battle it out in his mind.

  Hernandez stepped toward Jasper with the cup.

  Fuck. He’s gonna make me take—

  But then he kept walking, dumping the pills into the toilet.

  He raised a finger to shhh the prisoner. Our little secret.

  “Now, tell me what you know about the hit on Wally.”

  Jasper snitched and told him everything he knew.

  “You’ve got four days to prove yourself,” Hernandez said before leaving.

  Jasper closed his eyes, hoping something would come to him in time.

  If not, he’d probably never see Carissa or Jordyn again.

  Chapter 10 - Mallory Black

  Mal arrived at the de
partment store where Deputy Will Travers was waiting outside in his cruiser. He sat in the front seat on his laptop. Katie waited in the back, looking a lot different than the last time Mal had seen her. Then she’d been a scrawny, fifteen-year-old blonde, dressed only in long and modest dresses that would have been old when ordered from a Sears Catalogue decades ago.

  Now she looked like the average fifteen or sixteen-year-old girl, trying to overcome a lifetime of being forced to dress conservatively by her overly religious parents by going the other way. Too much makeup, hair dyed with pink and purple streaks. Heavy eyeliner and ravines of mascara. Mal couldn’t see what else she was wearing beyond her black leather jacket, but figured her whole outfit was probably designed to piss her foster parents right the fuck off.

  After years of oppression under an abusive and overly religious father, Katie was probably finally feeling some hyper version of her teenage rebellion.

  Mal felt bad for not having checked on the girl since her father had murdered her mother. She told herself it was best not to check directly with Katie since the girl blamed Mal for her mother’s death. Katie felt Mal should never have pressed so hard for her mother to leave.

  Fuck. First Katie then Maggie and Emma.

  Every time I try to help someone, I only make things worse and get good people killed.

  Still, Mal could have checked with Katie’s foster parents. The Andersons were good people, from what Carrie Thompson in Victim Services had told her.

  Travers got out of the car as Mal approached on foot. “How’s it going?”

  “Okay,” Mal said. “Thanks for calling. What happened?”

  “Got caught stealing a watch.”

  “A watch? For what?”

  “Wouldn’t say. Was lucky to get a name out of her. She looks tough, but you can tell she’s terrified, so I figured I’d call you.”

  “Does the store want to press charges?”

  “I think they can be persuaded not to.”

  “Can you do that while I talk to her?”

  “Sure thing. You want to bring her home and talk to her parents, or should I?”

  “I’ve got it. Thank you,” Mal said as Travers opened the door.

  Katie looked at Mal and shook her head, pursing her lips. After she climbed out of the back seat, Travers removed her cuffs.

  “Detective Black is going to take you home.”

  Katie wouldn’t even look at her and seemed a hiccup from crying.

  “Let’s go,” Mal said, walking Katie to her unmarked SUV.

  She opened the door then Katie got in, still not looking at her or saying a word.

  Mal drew a deep breath and shut the door, then she circled around to the driver’s side. “Where do the Andersons live?”

  “Oh, I don’t live with them.”

  “What?”

  “It wasn’t working out.”

  “What happened?” Mal seemed to remember Carrie saying they were at their limit already with three fosters and two of their own before Katie.

  “I guess the problem is me.” Katie looked down at her hands, at the cuts on her right wrist. When she saw Mal looking, she tugged her sleeve down to cover it.

  “Self-harm or suicide attempt?”

  “Does it matter?” Katie turned away to stare out the window.

  “You’ve been through a lot. Do you have anybody to talk to?”

  “They made me see a doctor, but it wasn’t working out. She just wanted to put me on drugs.”

  Mal had to be careful. She wanted to find out what was happening but had no relationship with Katie other than being the person who fucked up her life. She had to establish a bond.

  “Do you mind if we make a pit stop? I haven’t eaten anything, and I’m starving.”

  “Sure … I guess.”

  “You hungry?”

  “I could eat.”

  “What are you in the mood for?” Mal asked.

  “Whatever. I don’t have any money, though.”

  Mal wanted to ask what she was doing in a store without any money, but attacking the girl now would only shut her down.

  Terrazzo’s had big private booths. “Like Italian?”

  “Yeah,” Katie said.

  So, Terrazzo’s it was.

  Terrazzo’s was relatively quiet for dinnertime on a Sunday. They were sitting in a high-backed booth with the closest patrons two empty tables away. The aroma of freshly baked garlic rolls made Mal’s mouth water before she was even seated.

  Katie spoke only to order her single slice of pepperoni. Mal ordered a slice of cheese and a half-dozen garlic rolls. After several minutes of silence, Mal finally broached the obvious topic while they waited for their food to arrive.

  “So, what happened at the store?”

  Katie sipped at her Dr. Pepper and shrugged. “I put it in my jacket and forgot. It was an accident.” She looked down at her fingers, folding the straw wrapper into ever smaller and tighter squares.

  “Bullshit.”

  Katie looked up, eyes wide for just a moment before her gaze fell back on the table. She crossed her arms then looked back up at Mal. “I dunno.”

  “So, you don’t know why you stole it?”

  “It doesn’t matter. You won’t believe me, anyway.”

  “Try me.”

  Katie sighed.

  Mal took a drink of her Coke. “Seriously. You can talk to me.”

  Her jaw clenched. Katie wanted to say something but bit her tongue.

  “What is it?”

  “Last time I talked to you, my dad killed my mom.”

  “I’m sorry about that.”

  “I trusted you. I thought you were going to help. But you didn’t. You got my mom killed instead. You … should’ve just let things be.”

  “I’m sorry about what happened. I truly am, Katie. But you know as well as I do that your father was always dangerous. Whatever you’re going through, you don’t have to feel alone, I promise you can talk to me. That you can trust—”

  The server brought their food.

  Katie wiped at her eyes and looked away from the girl as she set their plates on the table.

  “Anything else I can get you? Need red pepper or garlic or anything?”

  Mal waited a moment, but Katie didn’t respond. “No. We’re good. Thank you.”

  The server left, and Mal grabbed a garlic roll. She tore it apart and watched the steam rise from it, inhaling the buttery garlic aroma. “Have you had their rolls before?”

  “Never been here.”

  “Try them.” Mal knew she ran the risk of coming off like she wasn’t taking Katie seriously enough, but she needed to settle the mood.

  Katie grabbed a roll and took a bite.

  “Good, am I right?”

  Katie nodded and offered her a half-hearted, “Yeah.”

  They ate in silence. Mal was letting the girl decide when to start talking.

  It took a while, but she eventually said, “I took the watch for a guy I like.”

  “Oh? Who is he?”

  “Just a guy. He’s nice.”

  “How’d you meet?”

  “He works at Hill of Beans. I go in there after school.”

  “You two dating?”

  “We’ve hung out a few times.” Katie looked away. Clearly, she felt some shame, but Mal couldn’t be certain if it was because the guy was a piece of shit or if Katie was feeling guilty thanks to being raised by such an overbearing religious father.

  “Did he ask you to take the watch?”

  “No. I just wanted to give him something nice for his birthday.”

  “How old is he?”

  Again, she looked away.

  Mal feared the worst. Katie had been groomed by her soccer coach when she was fourteen, lured into a sexual relationship she couldn’t legally consent to. Was another older man grooming her? Was Katie trying to fill that void in her life with another abusive man?

  “How old is he?” Mal repeated.

  “Relax.
He’s a few years older than me. I don’t have money or a way to earn any. Ben took my allowance away.”

  “That your foster father? Why’d he do that?”

  “Because my grades are bad. I … I really don’t fit in at school. The few friends I did make weren’t good enough for Ben and Sarah. They said they were ‘bad influences.’ They’re almost as controlling as my dad was.”

  “That sucks. So, you don’t have any friends?”

  “Only James.”

  “James, being the guy you like?”

  “Yeah.”

  “He go to your school?”

  “I think he dropped out.”

  Mal wasn’t buying it, but she also wasn’t about to press Katie on it now. After a few bites of pizza, she nodded at her wrists. “Is that cutting or did you try killing yourself?”

  Katie shifted in her seat. “I tried to end it. That’s why the first family kicked me out.”

  “Damn.”

  “They were afraid to have me around after that. Not sure if they were scared I’d try it again or that I’d hurt one of the other kids.”

  “Did you get along with those kids?”

  “No, not really. They weren’t mean or anything, but they didn’t like me. I’m not like most kids my age.”

  “I wasn’t, either.”

  “And how’d that work out for you?”

  “Honestly? I struggled for a long time. But, at some point, I decided to stop giving a fuck about what others thought of me. That’s how you find the right friends — people who will accept you as you are.”

  “James accepts me.”

  “Good,” Mal said.

  “I think he’s the only one.”

  Mal let that sit, using an interrogation room technique — silence — to loosen the suspect.

  “What are you going to tell my fosters?” Katie asked, after breaking the quiet.

  “What do you want me to tell them?”

  “Nothing? I’m kind of on their last nerve. If I screw up again, I’m sure they’ll kick me out. I really don’t wanna go back to the group home or get carted off to another family.”

  “If I don’t say anything, I need you to promise me two things.”

  “What’s that?”

  “No guy is worth going to jail over. That means, no stealing.”