by Gail Barrett
“I had two other friends, two girls I hung around with,” she continued. “They’d run away, too. Haley got pregnant, and her family disowned her. Nadine was a little older, seventeen, I think. Her family was Middle Eastern. They were trying to force her into an arranged marriage. They threatened to kill her if she didn’t obey.” A threat they intended to carry out, even now, if they ever caught up to her.
“We stayed together for protection at first. It’s not easy to survive on the streets without a pimp.” And Brynn would have killed herself before she’d let a man touch her again.
“None of us knew how hard it would be. The hunger, the violence... We weren’t prepared for that. So we stuck together to survive.”
She slid Parker a glance. He sat immobile, tension rippling from his steel-hard frame. “Tommy watched out for us, too. He kept the men away, made sure they knew we weren’t alone. He was kind to us.” She paused. “You have no idea how rare that is on the streets.”
Parker looked away, his Adam’s apple working in his whiskered throat. Her heart rolled, knowing how painful this had to be for him to hear.
“We tried to help him, too,” she said, her own chest tight. “We made sure he had blankets and food. We took him to the needle exchange. He...he wasn’t alone, Parker. We’d formed a family of sorts.”
Parker set his glass on the coffee table, then pressed his fingertips to his eyes. The slump of his broad shoulders, the anguish seeping from his powerful body made her yearn to console him, to wrap her arms around him and hold him close. But she had to tell him the rest before she lost her nerve.
Even if he despised her when she did.
“I had a camera, an old thirty-five-millimeter Yashica. It belonged to my father—my real father. He was an amateur photographer. He mostly took nature shots. We used to go on long hikes through the woods... He taught me how to see things differently, to look at the colors and light. He made everything seem beautiful, magical.” She’d only been five or six, but she still remembered those days vividly—the enchantment, the wonder, the joy. They’d been the best days of her life.
“That camera...it meant the world to me.” It was her prized possession, her only link to her beloved father, and the only thing that had kept her sane. “Anyhow, I got it in my head to photograph an abandoned warehouse near Orleans Street. It had the most amazing historic details. And it...affected me somehow, how sad and ruined it was. I wanted to capture it on film.
“It was dumb. The C.D. gang owned the streets around there. The City of the Dead. They ran the heroin trade back then. Tommy tried to convince me not to do it. So did Haley and Nadine. But I wouldn’t listen. I thought I’d be safe if I went early enough in the day.
“I went the next afternoon. Nadine and Haley insisted on coming with me, even though they didn’t approve. But we’d gotten a late start. Haley had found a stray cat.” Even then Haley had been a nurturer, trying to rescue everyone in sight.
“And Tommy?” Parker asked, his voice unsteady.
“He wasn’t around when we woke up. I didn’t know where he’d gone. When we got to the warehouse, Haley and Nadine refused to go inside. They were smart.” Brynn stared, unseeing, at her glass, a cold pit forming around her heart. How many times had she wished she could relive that moment and listen to them this time? “I thought I’d be okay.”
She’d never been more wrong.
She drained her glass of vodka, set it on the coffee table and pushed it aside. Then she pulled the blanket closer around her in a useless attempt to warm up. “I started taking pictures. It was a big place, the walls all covered with gang tags.” Another warning she’d ignored. “I kept going in deeper, where there wasn’t much light. The shadows brought out the textures in the walls, little fissures and defects that the sunlight hid....”
Just like with people. Their real nature emerged in the dark.
Shivering, she pulled her mind back on track. “Then I heard voices. I thought it was just a drug deal. I should have turned around.” Another fatal mistake.
“The next room had a big window along one wall, the glass all busted out. It looked out at an inner courtyard. The voices were coming from there, so I went to see. A man was kneeling on the ground. He had his back to me, and I could see that his hands were tied. He was crying.”
She closed her eyes, trying to block out the memory of that horrific, high-pitched sound. A man reduced to his most primitive instinct, whimpering and pleading for his life.
“I couldn’t see his face, but he looked older, middle-aged. He had a bald spot, and he was wearing a blue plaid shirt and slacks. Not the kind of clothes someone younger would wear.”
“He was forty-five.” Parker sounded numb. “His name was Allen Chambers. He was a heroin addict from Dumfries, Virginia. His hands weren’t bound when they found him, but there were bruises on his wrists.”
Brynn nodded. Of course Parker would know the details. The dead man had been found near his brother’s body. “There were a couple of gang members with him. Two, for sure, but I only saw one man’s face. He was facing in my direction. He was Caucasian, with tattoos on his cheeks and neck. Crosses. He was in his early twenties, I’d guess. I couldn’t see the other person from where I stood, just his weapon. There was a pillar blocking my view. But they both had guns.”
She clasped her hands and curled forward, the terror of it flooding back. “I was so scared. I couldn’t move. I was just...frozen. I don’t know how long I stood there, probably only seconds, but it felt like hours. The kneeling man kept sobbing and begging for them to let him live.
“And then...they shot him. I’m not sure who fired the gun. I thought it was the other man, the one I couldn’t see, but it happened so fast I couldn’t tell. There was this enormous bang and the man flew back.”
She hugged her arms and rocked, trying to block out the images. The blood. The dead man’s vacant eyes. The dreadful silence of a life abruptly gone.
“They realized I was there. I don’t know how. Maybe I cried out, or I moved and it caught their eyes. But the guy with the tattoos looked up. He raised his gun. That’s when I turned and ran.”
Her palms turned slick with sweat, her heart thudding against her rib cage as she relived that frantic flight, the wild hysteria fueling her steps. “They chased me. I knew they wouldn’t give up, that they’d never let me live. I’d just seen them murder that man. And they were fast. I could hear their footsteps pounding behind me. All I could think was that I had to warn Haley and Nadine.
“And then, out of nowhere, Tommy leaped out. He must have been coming to find me.”
She dragged her gaze to Parker, meeting his tormented eyes. “He saved my life. He got in their way on purpose, stopping them so I could escape. I heard the shots....”
Parker closed his eyes. The stark pain on his face twisted inside her, like a knife cleaving her heart, bringing a sting of tears to her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Parker. It was all my fault. If I’d only listened to him and not gone there...”
For a long moment, he didn’t answer. He hung his head, anguish radiating from him in waves. And then he scrubbed his face with his hands, the tension in his shoulders giving way to a weary slump. Acceptance. Resignation. Despair.
“It wasn’t your fault,” he said, his voice raw. “You didn’t pull that trigger.”
“I might as well have. He never would have been there if it weren’t for me. And I was a coward. I kept running. I didn’t even go back to help.” To her everlasting shame.
Parker shook his head. “You were how old? Eleven? Twelve?”
“Thirteen by then.” She’d just been small for her age.
“You were a child.”
Not in the ways that counted. She’d lost her innocence long before that. “Still...”
“What good would it have done? He probably died instantly. And if you’d gone back they would have shot you, too.”
But at least she would have deserved it. And leaving Tommy alone like that aft
er all he’d done for her... “I should have been there for him. He was my friend.” A friend she’d left lying dead in an abandoned warehouse after he’d sacrificed his life to save hers.
“So what did you do?” Parker asked, emotions roughening his voice.
“I caught up with Haley and Nadine, and we ran for blocks.” Racing through the streets in abject panic, frantic to save their lives. “We finally found a drainage pipe and hid. We huddled there for hours. Later, when it was dark enough and we were sure they’d left, we came back out.”
“Why didn’t you call the police?”
“The police?” She shot him a look of disbelief. “We were minors. Runaways. The cops were our enemies. They would have hauled us in for questioning and sent us home.”
“And that would have been so bad?”
“Weren’t you listening? Nadine’s father had vowed to kill her. We couldn’t let her identity come out.”
His gaze narrowed. “And you?”
Her stomach tensed. She chose her words, knowing she had to tread carefully now. “My stepfather was a cop. He had...things he needed to hide. He would have made sure I didn’t talk.”
Not that the police would have believed her. They never had before. Still, he couldn’t take the chance that she’d finally get through to someone and expose him for the monster he was, blowing his facade of respectability to shreds.
Parker cocked his head, his eyes narrowed on hers. “You’re saying he would have hurt you?”
“I know he would have.”
“And that’s why you didn’t want me to call for backup today? Because he’s still around?”
“Yes.” She picked up her empty glass, then set it down, scrambling over what to say. “It’s...complicated. I can’t tell you the details right now.” And she prayed he wouldn’t press her yet. “But even if I’d talked to the police back then, it wouldn’t have done any good. I only saw the one man, the one in the photo. Haley and Nadine didn’t see anything, either, so they couldn’t help. But I’m sure that the shooter saw us. And he knew I’d caught the execution on film. That’s why we had to hide.”
Parker’s head came up. “Whoa. Back up. You’re saying you took pictures?”
She frowned. “Didn’t you see them?”
“How could I do that?”
It was her turn to be confused. “I mailed them to the police.”
He shot to his feet. “What?”
“I didn’t mean to take them. It was a reflex. That’s why they ended up blurred and underexposed. But I wanted to help the police catch the killer, so I made prints.”
“You took photos,” Parker repeated, sounding incredulous. “And you mailed them to the police?”
“Right. I’d been doing odd jobs at a photography store on Charles Street for a while part-time. I’d figured out the code for their alarm system, so I snuck inside that night and developed the film. I wrote Tommy’s name on the back of the pictures and sent them to the police. I figured someone would know what to do with them and get them to the right place.”
Parker still looked thunderstruck. “They weren’t in Tommy’s file.”
“Maybe they were in the other guy’s file—Allen Chambers, the one they executed.”
He shook his head. “I followed that case. His body was found near Tommy’s, so they assumed the deaths were linked. I would have known if they had evidence like that.”
“But...that doesn’t make sense. I thought for sure they’d get there.” It was the only thing that had assuaged her guilt, believing she’d provided the police with evidence—imperfect though it was.
“So if you never saw them, where did they go?” she asked.
“Good question.”
“They were out of focus and dark. You could sort of see that one guy, but that was it. Maybe the police figured they were worthless and threw them out.”
“Not a chance. They would have run them for prints, probably sent them to forensics to see if they could clean them up. They’d never toss evidence like that out.”
“So what are you saying? That someone kept them out of the file on purpose?”
Parker’s mouth turned grim. “It’s a possibility.”
“But that means...” If a cop had destroyed those photos... Her heart beat faster. A chill snaked through her blood, sending prickles slithering over her spine. All this time, she’d believed she had two dangerous enemies, two men who wanted her dead—her stepfather and Tommy’s killer. But what if she didn’t? What if the two men were the same?
Parker’s gaze connected with hers, the stunned realization in his eyes mirroring hers. There was only one reason the police would have destroyed that evidence. A cop must have been involved in his brother’s killing.
And her stepfather had worked in Homicide at the time....
Chapter 9
Parker stared out his condo window at the gathering night.
A cop might have killed his brother. Someone he’d worked with. Someone he respected and trusted. Someone he might even work with now. A coldhearted murderer could be masquerading on the police force, a man who’d violated his vow to protect and defend the innocent, sullying the integrity and responsibility of the badge. A man who defied everything Parker believed in—honor, justice, truth.
And he might have worked in the homicide unit at the time of Tommy’s death, destroying evidence, compromising his brother’s investigation, committing any number of other crimes.
Still not willing to believe it, Parker braced his forearm on the glass and struggled to marshal his thoughts. He knew better than to rush to conclusions; he had to stay objective and let the evidence build his case. There might be a logical explanation why those photos had disappeared, one that didn’t implicate a cop.
But what the hell it was, he didn’t know.
He turned his head toward Brynn. “You’re sure you sent those photos to the police?”
Her eyes troubled, she gave him a nod. “I looked up the address in a phone book—the Baltimore Police Department on East Fayette Street. Then I went to the post office and bought a bunch of stamps from the machine. I’m sure it was enough.”
So those photos must have reached the department. And someone had either mislaid or destroyed them. The queasy feeling inside him grew. “Did you keep a copy?”
“No, but I hid the negatives. I wanted Haley and Nadine to be able to find them if something happened to me.”
His pulse began to race. “So they still exist?”
“Hopefully.”
“Where did you hide them?”
She hesitated a beat. Her distrust stung, but he understood her reluctance to speak. Someone could be trying to kill her to keep that evidence from coming to light. And it appeared to be a cop.
“In the Central Library,” she finally said. “The Enoch Pratt Library on Cathedral Street. I used to go there a lot to study their photography books.”
He glanced at his watch. “They’ll be closed by now. We’ll have to look for them tomorrow.”
“They might not be there,” she cautioned. “It has been fifteen years.”
But if those negatives still existed, he intended to find them. Because if they could provide a clue to Tommy’s death...
Suddenly needing another drink, he walked over and retrieved his glass. “More vodka?”
When she shook her head, he returned to the kitchen and poured himself a refill, still mulling over the case. He’d been a patrol cop when Tommy had died. He hadn’t known many people in the homicide unit back then, aside from Hoffman and Vernon Collins, the lead investigator on his brother’s case. It wouldn’t hurt to check his background for a possible connection to that gang.
Parker knocked back a slug of vodka and swore. Complicated didn’t begin to describe this case. Implicating Hoffman in Erin Walker’s death was risky enough. If Parker tried to tie him to his brother’s crime scene, he’d ignite a firestorm, thrusting the entire Baltimore police department into an uproar, causing repercussions that
could last for years.
And what if he was wrong? What if a cop wasn’t involved in Tommy’s death? All Parker had were random incidents he couldn’t connect—two dead girls, missing photos from his brother’s crime scene, a mysterious, hand-engraved necklace and a gang who wanted them dead. And he couldn’t accuse anyone without proof.
Brynn strolled through the kitchen doorway and set her glass in the sink. She leaned against the counter beside him and crossed her arms. “So what do you want to do next?”
“I’ll make some calls, find out who worked in Homicide when Tommy died. We can see if anyone had connections to the C.D. gang.”
A frown creased her brow. “What I don’t get is why the Ridgewood gang is after me. They weren’t even around back then. Why would they care what I’d seen?”
“Good point.” And a disturbing one. “I doubt many City of the Dead members are still alive. Fifteen years is a lifetime on the streets.” So how were the two gangs linked? And if they weren’t connected, why was the Ridgewood gang after Brynn? Unless they wanted Jamie’s necklace... But that made even less sense.
“My supervisor transferred over from the gang unit,” he told her. “I’ll ask him what he knows.”
Brynn tilted her head, her eyes curious. “Where do you work? You never said what unit you’re in.”
Realizing what he’d let slip, he took a swallow of vodka to buy some time. “Homicide,” he said, deciding to stick close to the truth. “But I didn’t join the unit until years after Tommy died, and there’d been a lot of turnover by then. The burnout rate is pretty high.”
It wasn’t a total lie. He had worked in Homicide until Hoffman had decided to prioritize the cold case squad and invited Parker on board. Still, deceiving Brynn felt wrong.
But he couldn’t tell her the truth. She’d never trust him if he did. And she was keeping secrets, too. She hadn’t revealed that Hoffman was her stepfather. She hadn’t told him why she’d run away from home—even if he’d guessed the reason behind her flight.
