Shepherd's Fall

by W. L. Dyson

  “Why not? You hate me just like you hate Dad. You probably wish I was the one that died instead of Lisa.”

  Jessica gasped. “Krystal! What a horrible thing to say. I love you and would never wish you or Lisa dead. How could you even think such a thing? I know you miss Lisa—”

  “You don't know anything, and I don't care what you say. Lorianne is having the party of the year this Friday night, and I plan to be there.”

  Her mother opened a cabinet and took down a coffee cup and saucer. “Why don't we sit down. Talk about Lisa.”

  “No. Lisa is gone.”

  “Suit yourself, Krys. But still, you'll have to send your regrets to Lorianne because you will be spending Friday evening, and the rest of the next two weeks, in your room with your schoolbooks.”

  “You can't make me.” She turned and headed upstairs to her bedroom. “I am going out on Friday.”

  Her mother appeared at the bottom of the stairs. “Don't push me.”

  Krystal turned at the top of the stairs and stared down at her mother. “Or what, Mom? Maybe you should tell Daddy to put his foot down.” She opened her bedroom door, then slammed it so hard the window rattled.

  Dropping her backpack to the floor, she flopped down across her bed. She hated her life. Hated feeling pushed and pulled between her parents. Hated the comparisons.

  For what felt like the millionth time, Krystal cried, wondering why God hated her so much that he gave her a mom and dad who hated her and then took her best friend away. No one had ever understood Krystal the way Lisa had. If Lisa were here, being grounded wouldn't be so bad.

  Well, come Friday night, her mother was going to find out just what Krystal thought of being grounded. How could they expect her to actually accept any kind of punishment? The only time they acted like parents was when she got into trouble.

  Tuesday, 5:30 p.m.

  Lu-Kay Martial Arts Dojang, Baltimore

  The dojang was pleasantly quiet when Nick arrived. The afternoon kids’ classes were done, and the evening adult classes wouldn't start until seven. Nick changed in the locker room and then headed out to the studio. Dark blue mats covered the tile floor, and one wall had a mirror from floor to ceiling. Other than a few posters advertising upcoming competitions, the walls were bare. As soon as Nick stepped onto the mats, soft jazz floated out of the speakers. Nick smiled to himself. Luke never missed a trick.

  During his rookie year as a cop, Nick had been forced to shoot a man in self-defense. While he understood that sometimes he was going to have to use his gun, he began to look for other ways to take a man down without having to kill him in the process. He settled on hapkido, a martial arts discipline that stressed gaining advantage through footwork and body position for leverage rather than the use of strength against strength. Luke was, at that time, just the son of the owner, but when his father retired, Luke took over as the owner and master teacher. Through it all, the two men remained friends.

  Nick stood in the middle of the mat, his weight balanced on his left foot as he held his right foot straight out in front of him. He held it there—three minutes. Four. Sweat broke out across his forehead, but he held the pose. Muscles tightened and protested, but still he held it there.

  He became aware of someone standing behind him, breathing quietly. “You just going to stand there and watch or what?” he asked.

  “Forcing something to obey never works as well as quiet coercion.” Luke strolled soundlessly around to face Nick. His Asian roots were obvious in some of the facial features, but he owed his height and name to his American father. “You have been absent for nearly two weeks. It shows.”

  “I've been busy,” Nick slowly lowered his leg. When he finally had both feet back on the mat, he bowed formally.

  Luke bowed in return. “You have been missed.”

  “My apologies. I should have made time to be here.”

  Luke tilted his head. “You are stressed.”

  “To the max, old friend.”

  “Perhaps it would be best if we stretch a little first. Clear our heads. Then I will proceed to show you how badly you needed to be here.”

  Nick laughed. “Just because I haven't been here doesn't mean you can defeat me.”

  Nick could sense that Luke was about to move even though his teacher hadn't so much as flexed a muscle. Flipping back, he felt the air swoosh past his ear as Luke's foot nearly clipped him. Spinning and then bouncing up to his feet, he blocked a hand strike, then spun around for a roundhouse kick. It didn't land. Luke had ducked, spinning on the balls of his feet, and then shot out in a sweeping kick that Nick evaded by jumping up and over it.

  Their mock battle went on for nearly twenty minutes. A few punches and kicks made contact, but very few. The two men were equally matched and had practiced too many times over the years to be taken by surprise. By the time Nick bowed to Luke, sweat was pouring off both men.

  They sank down on the mat. “I can't ever let two weeks go by again. That just about killed me.”

  Luke merely grinned as he stretched. “How about dinner?”

  Nick shook his head. “I'd like to, but I really need to hit a couple of bars tonight.”

  Luke lifted one eyebrow.

  “Business, Luke. Business.”

  Tuesday, 8:00 p.m.

  Downtown Baltimore

  After sleeping most of the afternoon away, Annie woke up around six thirty. She tried to convince herself that she felt too weak and miserable to go back out looking for her sister, but common sense won out. She didn't have time to be sick.

  But common sense reared up and changed its mind when she pulled into Jiffy's. The parking lot was only half full, but it still felt like she was stepping into no man's land. It looked far worse and far more dangerous after dark than it had in the morning. Neon lights advertising four different kinds of beer flashed and flickered in the blacked-out windows. The building itself, a small brick storefront sitting in the middle of a gravel parking lot, had seen better days. She was in over her head. But she could not turn back.

  Squaring her shoulders, she tightened her grip on her shoulder bag and headed inside.

  The loud music nearly knocked her back through the doors. The bass was heavy enough to pound through her chest with every beat. Eyes turned to look at her, and then some slid away while others swept down the length of her and then back up to meet her eyes with a question she had no intention of answering. She made her way over to the bar. Sure enough, there were two bartenders on duty, and neither of them was the same one she'd talked to that morning.

  “Hey, Zeena. Where you been hiding yourself, woman? And don't you look all prim and proper.”

  Annie shook her head at the blond bartender as he set a drink down in front of her with a big smile. “I'm not Zeena.”

  “What?”

  “I'm not Zeena,” she yelled a little louder. “She's my sister. Have you seen her today?”

  The bartender squinted and leaned in close to her. “You're what?”

  “I'm her sister, Annie. I'm trying to find Zeena. Have you seen her?”

  He backed away, shaking his head. “Not in a few weeks.”

  “Any idea where I could look?”

  He shrugged and held up a hand as someone yelled for his attention. “She usually works this neighborhood, and if she ain't out there on the streets, she's usually in here or over at the Rusty Bucket. See if you can find Delilah. She's the girl with the long, long black hair. Tends to work over on Tripp Street. She sometimes hangs with Zeena. Best I can tell you.” He moved away to wait on another customer.

  Annie turned to head out and found herself slamming into the chest of a man in a torn T-shirt and a few days’ growth of beard. “Zeena, baby. I got a few bucks and an hour to kill. Let's go party somewhere.”

  “I'm not Zeena.” She tried to slide sideways to get around him, but he moved with her, keeping her blocked.

  “Ah, come on, Zeena. Don't play hard to get tonight. I ain't in the mood. I'll get
a dime bag if you want.”

  Annie shook her head. “I'm really not Zeena. You have the wrong girl. Now, please let me go.”

  He grabbed her arm. “Okay, half an hour. Let's go.”

  She tried to pull away, digging the heels of her boots into the slippery floor. “Let me go!”

  Suddenly, another hand reached out and took hold of the man's hand. She saw the look of pain that flashed across his face before he suddenly released his hold on her arm. “The lady said you made a mistake. Be nice and go away.”

  Annie looked up and nearly slumped to the floor in relief. It was that bounty hunter, Nick Sheffer or Shepherd or something. She moved closer to him.

  “I got here first, buddy,” the man growled, rubbing his hand. “You can have her when I'm done.”

  “You're not doing anything with her, buddy. She's with me. Get your hands off her.” He reached down inside his coat and pulled out his badge, flashed it, and then tucked it back inside his coat. “You really don't want to mess with me.”

  The scruffy man threw both hands up in the air and backed away. “Sorry for the mistake, Officer.”

  As soon as he left, Annie looked up at Nick. “Thanks. I appreciate the rescue.”

  “You shouldn't be here.”

  Annie ignored his comment as she moved past him and out the door. He stayed right behind her. “I know you're looking for her.”

  Spinning around, Annie dug for her car keys. “And I'm going to find her before you do.”

  “Ann.”

  “It's Annie.” She pulled out her keys and headed for her car, her boots crunching across the gravel.

  “Annie, you can't do this alone. What if I hadn't been here tonight?”

  He was right and she knew it, but she also knew that if he found Barbara first, Barbara would be in jail and Annie would have no hope. She couldn't let that happen. But tonight had been enough to scare the red right out of her hair. When that man had grabbed her and she realized that she couldn't escape, images of rape and murder had played through her head so fast she could barely catch her breath.

  She turned around to face him again and took a deep breath. If she didn't fight for her life, who would? “Help me find her.”

  “What?” He took a step back and folded his arms across his chest. “Let me explain how this works. I am hired to find fugitives and return them to jail. I am not a family-reunion specialist.”

  “But I need to find my sister.” She threw a hand up to keep him from speaking until she was finished. “I know you have a job to do, and I appreciate that. But I'm willing to cut a deal with you. We find her together, and you can take her to jail and collect your blasted bounty. But first she has to go to the hospital…and see my mom.”

  He tilted his head, staring at her. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

  “Why does she have to go see your mom?”

  Annie forced herself not to fidget, not to look away, not to do any of the little things that people do when they're lying. It was bad enough that she didn't want his pity, but to have him brand her a liar on top of it would be worse. “Because…my mother is dying and she wants to see Barbara before she goes. That's all she wants. To see Barbara. And she doesn't have much time.”

  He stood there for a long moment until Annie finally realized she was toying with her keys. She stopped. Then he unfolded his arms and shoved his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket.

  “What's wrong with your mother?”

  “I don't see the relevance.”

  “Maybe not, but I do.”

  Then a thought popped up from out of nowhere, and she grabbed at it. “Help me or I'll sue you.”

  He laughed. “You can't sue me.”

  She lifted her chin. “Wrong, Mr. Sheffer.”

  “Shepherd.”

  “Whatever. I will sue you. And I'll make sure that not only does my attorney find every charge he can possibly dig up—like assault, battery, breaking and entering.”

  “There was no assault. Or battery. Or breaking and entering. Bounty hunters have the right to enter the premises to pursue a fugitive. But it was a nice try.”

  “First of all, I wasn't a fugitive you were pursuing. I believe the law states that you may enter the premises of the fugitive, but not some innocent bystander. See? I watch Dog the Bounty Hunter. And…” She pulled up the sleeve of her jacket and held up her arm, showing a tiny little bruise around her wrist. “Bruises. I'll say it was assault.” She pushed down her sleeve. “And then I'm going to call the newspapers and tell them how you burst through my door, refused to check my identification, threw me up against a wall—”

  “You can't be serious.”

  “Oh, I'm very serious, Mr. Shebber.”

  “Shepherd…Nick.”

  “So either we work together, or all of Baltimore will see you brought up on charges that I'm sure will put your entire company in a very bad light.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You're bluffing.”

  “Nope.” She turned on her heel and headed for her car.

  He didn't move. He was calling her bluff. She had one last card to play. Frustrated, she turned around. “Okay, fine. What's your fee for finding my sister?”

  His arms were folded across his chest. “Why?

  “Whatever they're paying you”— she closed the distance between them, slowly coming to a stop a few feet in front of him — “I'll double it.”

  Silence. Then—

  “Fine. Go home. I'll find her.”

  Annie shook her head again, reaching out to place her hand on his arm. “No. I'm going with you. I don't know if I can trust you.”

  “Why not? You've just doubled my fee.”

  He had a point. “I've got information, and I'm not going to share it with you unless you agree to my terms.”

  “This is ridiculous.”

  “It's not that complicated, Mr. Shepherd. You and I team up and find my sister, and you collect two paychecks for one person. Sounds reasonable to me.”

  “We find her,” he repeated. “And I take her—handcuffed—to your mom and then straight to jail.”

  “Yes.”

  “Fine. What did the bartender tell you?”

  “We have a deal?”

  “We have a deal. What did he tell you?”

  “He said to look for a woman named Delilah. She works here in the area. And he also said that Zeena hangs out at a place called the Rusty Bucket.”

  Nick pulled out his keys. “Sorry to tell you this, but that's not new information, Annie. Seeing Delilah was my next stop after Jiffy's. She's usually a pretty good source. And my partner Rafe is at the Rusty Bucket as we speak.” Nick groaned. “Let's go.”

  Annie followed Nick over to his SUV and waited while he unlocked her door and pulled it open for her, then moved to the driver's side.

  She buckled her seat belt and wrinkled her nose. A mix of wet dog, old food, mold, and gym socks assaulted her. When was the last time he had cleaned his car? High school?

  They drove over to Tripp Street, just a few blocks away. It was lined with pawn shops, liquor stores, small used car lots, bars, and car repair shops with a few independent grocery and drugstores thrown in. Most of the shops were locked, boarded, or chained down for the night. The few people on the street were here for a reason, and it was usually illegal.

  After circling the area three times, Nick pointed to a woman getting out of a Camaro. “There she is.”

  She was a tiny little thing, Asian, wearing a short red skirt and long black leather coat. As soon as the car sped away, he pulled the SUV up to the curb and hit the button to lower Annie's window. “Hey, Li!”

  Delilah strolled over and, folding her arms on the edge of the window, leaned in and smiled at Nick. “Hey, Bounty Hunter. Who you hunting now?” Then she cut her gaze over at Annie. “Hey, Zee.”

  “Not Zeena,” Nick said. “This is her sister. But we're looking for Zeena. Have you seen her around lately?”

  Delilah shook
her head. “Haven't seen her in…maybe two weeks. Maybe longer.” She looked back at Annie. “Twins?”

  “Yes,” Annie said, feeling completely out of place.

  “Any idea where she might be?” Nick interjected.

  Delilah shook her head. “Last time I saw her, she looked bad. She was looking for a party. Said she was going to look up Danny, but I don't know if she did or not. Danny has his own troubles.”

  “Yeah? What's up with him?”

  She shrugged. “Word is he stole from some bad people and they're looking for him. That's all I know.”

  Nick opened the console, pulled out a twenty-dollar bill, and handed it to Delilah. “I appreciate the help, Li. You hear anything, let me know.”

  “Sure, Bounty Hunter.” She stuck the money down her shirt, tapped the vehicle with her hand, and then strolled away.

  “She's a prostitute?” Annie watched Delilah stroll over to another car and lean in with a big smile.

  “No, a shoe salesman.”

  “Sarcasm is not necessary. So let me get this straight. You are an officer of the law, and you're not going to arrest her?”

  Nick put the SUV in drive and pulled away from the curb. “It's not my job. If she gets arrested, bails out, and then jumps bail, it becomes my business. Until then, she's another pair of eyes on the ground for us. Plus, unless she's caught in the act, even the cops can't arrest her. We keep an eye out and, in the meantime, take advantage of the girl's street knowledge.”

  It all seemed so tawdry and miserable. How could Barbara live like this?

  Nick's cell rang. He set the phone on a hands-free holster on the dashboard.

  “Rafe. What's up?”

  Rafe's voice crackled from the speaker. “Got a tip. Don't know yet how solid it is. Guy here says he saw Zeena with Danny Sloop. Says no one has seen her since.”

  “We heard the same thing.”

  “We?”

  “Annie McNamara is with me. Long story.” He glanced over at her. She looked back, trying to mask her overwhelmed feelings. “I'll explain later. Any idea where Sloop is hiding out?”

  “Guy says he's dealing out of Green Gardens.”