Shepherd's Fall

by W. L. Dyson

  He followed Richie and his goon out to a dark blue panel van. There was a man in the passenger seat, but since Richie was ignoring him and climbing into the back, Cutter followed suit and sat down on the narrow bench next to Richie.

  Richie reached over and lightly punched Cutter on the arm. “It'll be great, you'll see. Mi casa is your casa, pal.”

  Cutter nodded as he leaned back and kept an eye on Scott. Even though the man was driving and unlikely to try anything during the ride, he wasn't going to trust the man beyond his sight. He didn't appreciate being humiliated in front of someone he didn't trust.

  Well, get over it, Scott. With any luck, I'll have your job in a matter of days. Then we'll talk humiliation.

  It wasn't that Cutter particularly needed or wanted the job, but the man had ticked him off, and that was enough reason for him to get rid of the guy.

  Wednesday, 10:38 p.m.

  1428 Larkspur Drive

  Marti crept through the backyard, checking for open windows and keeping an eye out for nosy neighbors. Breaking into a house was almost never easy, but breaking into one before the neighborhood was asleep was almost stupid. With any luck, most of the neighbors were too busy watching television or checking their e-mail to care what was outside.

  She was cold and hungry and couldn't afford to be choosy. She should have asked Steven for more money. With less than four dollars in her pocket, she couldn't even head over to McDonald's. Her only hope was to find something in this house's kitchen that she could eat quickly.

  Bingo!

  A small window—probably the bathroom—wasn't locked. Grateful it wasn't on a second floor, she pried the screen out, pushed the window up, and, standing on a lawn mower stowed under the deck, climbed up and through.

  She closed the window behind her and took stock of her surroundings. A blue powder room. No bath. Hand towels on the rack, folded neatly.

  From there she entered the hall and took a second to get her bearings. To the right were bedrooms. To the left, the living area. And the kitchen. She headed there first.

  She hit the jackpot with some leftover baked chicken, a container of cole slaw, and a bottle of soda in the fridge. It would be her first decent meal in weeks. Maybe months. She wolfed it down, standing at the counter, barely taking time to breathe between bites.

  When she finished eating, she walked through the house carrying her soda. She sipped and explored.

  The living room was small, meticulously neat, but still maintained enough to have a lived-in feel that made her welcome even though she'd broken in and wasn't exactly a guest. She eyed the small enamel box on the fireplace mantel. Could bring a few bucks at a decent pawn shop. A laptop on a small desk in the corner of the room. A vase on the coffee table that turned out to be glass, not crystal, and was dismissed.

  In the master bedroom, the bed was made, no clothes tossed around, no dust on the dresser. A gold chain draped over the mirror. A gold and onyx ring in a silver tray on the dresser. A couple hundred dollars in tens and twenties tucked in the nightstand.

  She walked over to the bed and sat down. There was a Bible next to the alarm clock. How long had it been since she'd read one of these? The red ribbon marked a section in Psalms. “Hear my prayer, O LORD, and let my cry come unto thee.… For my days are consumed like smoke, and my bones are burned as an hearth. My heart is smitten, and withered like grass; so that I forget to eat my bread.”

  Or didn't have any money for bread. She closed the Bible and set it down. Too much had happened in the years between the young girl who had skipped to church with a little white leather Bible in her hands and the woman she was now. Far too much.

  She checked out the two spare bedrooms. One was little more than storage for a pair of skis, some free weights, a couple of boxes, an old computer, and small television that probably didn't even work, all neatly stacked in a corner. The other room held a twin bed, a single dresser, and nothing hanging in the closet. A guest room, obviously.

  She pulled open the dresser drawers anyway. You never knew what treasures could be found in a guest room.

  “I suggest that you get your hands up and keep them up. I have a gun, and I will use it.”

  Marti slowly raised her hands.

  “Now who are you, and what are you doing in my house?”

  Wednesday, 11:40 p.m.

  Six blocks from the old tire factory complex near Jiffy's Bar,

  Garrison Blvd., Baltimore

  Grateful that most of the streetlights had been broken out, Zeena slipped through the shadows in the alley. She was probably an idiot to go out looking for a fix, but she was desperate. Some of the dealers usually hung out within a block or two of the Stark Lily. Another block or two and she should come across one of them.

  She had trusted her sister, and look what it had brought down on her head. Carver's men and bounty hunters to boot. Why would Annie have done that? If there was one person in the world who she would have bet her life she could trust, it was Annie. Now that was pretty much blown to smithereens.

  “Hey, Zee!”

  Zeena stifled a scream and turned around. When she saw a street girl she knew, she heaved a sigh of relief. “Hey, Iris. You scared me. What you doing way over here tonight?”

  “Had a good night and was looking to party.” Iris was a tall, statuesque brunette. Zeena liked her because she was never selfish with her drugs. If she had some, Zeena had some. Iris pulled her faux leopard coat tighter around her neck. “You know someplace we can go? It's cold out here.”

  “Sure.” Zeena waved for her to follow. She couldn't believe her luck. “We can party at the old tire factory.”

  When they reached Charlie's nest in the factory, Zeena curled up on the mattress and scooted over, making room for Iris. “Charlie's out on patrol.”

  Iris laughed as she dug through her purse and pulled out her little glass pipe and a baggie. “I expected to see you on the streets tonight, but it's a good thing you weren't. Carver has his men wandering around looking for you.”

  “Let's hope he doesn't find me.” Zeena waited impatiently for Iris to fire up the pipe and do her hit before passing it over.

  “I saw that Jerry guy tonight,” Iris inhaled, holding it deep in her lungs while she talked through her teeth, passing the pipe to Zeena. “The one that likes you so much? He was looking for you.”

  “Ugh. Did you take care of him?” She put the pipe to her mouth and took a long inhale.

  “Yeah. Told him not to get used to the special treatment, you'd be back soon enough.”

  Zeena smiled as she gave Iris the pipe to refill. “In your dreams.”

  Wednesday, 11:40 p.m.

  1428 Larkspur Drive

  “Don't shoot.” Marti held her hands out and slowly turned around. “I'm no threat.”

  Steven gaped at her. “Well, that's a matter of opinion, isn't it, Mart?” He holstered his gun.

  Before she could say anything else, Steven swept her up in a bear hug and held on. She had lost a great deal of weight and looked a little worse for the absence. Her brown hair had lost some of its curl and was cut in a straight edge along her shoulders. There was a time when she'd rather be caught dead than be seen without makeup, but he couldn't see a trace of primping on his sister. But it was great to see her. “How did you get in my house?”

  “Bathroom window. You should be more careful.”

  “And Killer didn't bother you?”

  Marti stepped back out of his arms and looked him over. “You look wonderful. Who's Killer?”

  “My dog.”

  “Haven't seen any dog.”

  “Figures. Probably hiding under the bed. I really didn't expect you to come back. I'm so glad you did. Come on. I'll make us some dinner.”

  Marti shot him a quick grin. “I hope it wasn't the chicken and cole slaw. I pretty much devoured that.” Then she frowned. “How's Nick?”

  “He's good. The bullet gouged him good, but he's okay.”

  “Does Mom know?
”

  Shaking his head, he dropped an arm over her shoulder as they walked back into the kitchen area. “I thought about telling her, but decided that it was doubtful she'd even understand. And if she did, she'd just get upset. No point in going there. Come on, I'll order us some pizza. But first I have to find out how badly you scared my poor dog.”

  “Some dog. Never even barked.”

  “Yeah, well, he has some confidence issues.”

  “You think?” Marti laughed as she pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down at the table. “I like your place, by the way. I was snooping.”

  “You haven't changed a bit.” He opened a cabinet under the sink and pulled out a small bag of dog kibble. “So what did you find?”

  “You're still a neat freak. Mom would be proud. You always leave a couple hundred bucks in a nightstand where it can be found so easily?”

  “Guilty. Then again, I wasn't expecting someone to break into my house.”

  “You never know when someone is going to break in. And you left a window unlocked. Bad, Steven.”

  He picked up a bowl from behind the trash can. “Killer!” he yelled. “Dinner!”

  A quick succession of yips came in response to Steven's command. “Where is he?”

  Marti shrugged and stood up. “Sounds like the rear of the house.”

  They searched each room, Steven calling out to the dog and following the sound. They finally found him in Steven's master bathroom. In the bathtub. Somehow, he'd hopped in and couldn't get himself back out. Steven picked him up. “Oh, that was brilliant, Killer. You realize, though, that while you were playing in the bathtub, this woman invaded the house and could have made off with your kibble.”

  The dog merely licked Steven's face, wagging his tail.

  Marti laughed. “Oh, tough canine. I can see why you leave him here to protect unlocked windows.”

  “I didn't realize the window was unlocked.” Steven handed her the dog. “Here. Go feed him. I'm going to change clothes.”

  When Steven rejoined her, she was sitting on the living room floor, playing tug of war with Killer. He stood there for a moment and studied his little sister. She had changed and yet only in ways that made him wonder what had gone so wrong in her life. The spark was missing, as if something inside her had died. She was thin almost to the point of emaciation, and dark circles ringed her eyes.

  “Where have you been, Marti?” he asked without realizing he was going to.

  She shrugged and wiggled the string toy to provoke Killer a little more. “Here, there, and everywhere. Memphis, Nashville, New Orleans, Vegas, San Francisco, Chicago.”

  Steven walked over and sat down on the coffee table, sliding the glass vase out of his way. “I don't want to pry.”

  “Then please don't. I don't want to talk about any of it, okay? Maybe someday. But not tonight. You wanted me to come back, and I did. Just don't tell anyone that I'm here. Okay?”

  “What about Nick?”

  She shook her head. “Not yet. I'm not quite ready to see him.”

  “Why?”

  “I'm really not ready to go into it. Just order the pizza. Oh, and some buffalo wings. I'm really tired and will probably just go straight to bed as soon as we eat.”

  “Do you still keep your promises?”

  Laughing, she let go of the toy and, placing both hands behind her, locked her elbows and leaned back. “Heaven forbid a Shepherd not keep a promise. What do you want?”

  “Don't just sneak out without saying good-bye.”

  She stared at him a moment and then nodded. “Okay. I won't leave without letting you know.”

  “Face to face.”

  The laugh that slipped out of her almost made her look and sound like the Marti he remembered. “You're still the smartest one in the family. Okay. Face to face.”

  They talked as they ate, and after the meal, Steven took the dishes into the kitchen. Loading the dishwasher, Steven said, “One question.”

  “Okay. One. Make it count.”

  Thursday, 12:07 a.m.

  Downtown Baltimore

  Annie tried reading but gave up when she read the same page four times and still didn't know what was happening. She set the book down on the bedside table and wandered into the living room, trying to find something to occupy her mind. She felt desperate for some sense of normalcy, but she hadn't felt normal in a very long time. It had taken quite a bit of double-talking to get out of the hospital without a battery of tests, but she had finally convinced everyone that stress, fatigue, and lack of food was to blame for her simple fainting spell. She saw a warning in the doctor's eyes, but she ignored it. They all acted as if she wasn't smart enough to know her own body's limitations.

  Well, she was.

  She knew she was getting weaker. She knew time was running out. No point in shoving it in her face.

  When her stomach growled, she made some toast, only to toss it in the trash after one bite. Even the smell turned her stomach. She couldn't stop hearing the sound of gunfire. She couldn't erase the sight of blood on Nick's jacket.

  Lost in thought about Nick, it took a few minutes before she realized someone was knocking on the front door. She looked through the security hole and frowned as she unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door. “Yes?”

  “Can I come in?”

  She stepped back, opening the door wider, allowing Rafe to step into her apartment. “It's a little late, don't you think?”

  “Actually, I'll be here all night, parked outside, watching out for you. I just wanted to know if you had any coffee.” Rafe held up his thermos. “I'd prefer not to leave the parking lot to go down to Dunkin’ Donuts.”

  “Why are you watching out for me?” She closed the door behind him.

  “Because you are a target.”

  Annie watched Rafe disappear into her kitchen. It took her a second to swallow down the idea that killers would be tracking her. Might even be outside now, planning her murder. She ran into the kitchen. “You really think they those men know who I am?”

  Rafe was holding up the coffeepot and frowning at the little bit still left in it. He poured it out in the sink and rinsed out the pot. “Where's the coffee and filters?”

  She pointed to the cabinet above the coffee maker, and he set about making coffee. “You told Nick that someone showed up and told you that he worked for Prodigal, and you told him about going to Jiffy's.”

  “Yes.”

  “Describe the man to me.”

  Annie took a deep breath. “He wasn't one of you, was he?”

  “No. So what can you tell me about him?”

  “I don't know. He was tall, dark hair, nice enough looking. He was coming up the stairs as I was going down. Said that Nick sent him to find out if I'd heard anything from Zeena. So I told him I was on my way to meet her.”

  “Did he give you a name?” Rafe finished loading the coffee maker with a fresh filter, coffee grounds, and water. He hit the power button and then put the coffee and filters back in the cabinet.

  She shook her head. “I never thought to ask and just assumed that I hadn't met everyone that worked at Prodigal.”

  Rafe folded his arms across his chest and stared at the floor for a moment. “You haven't met Steven, but he has light brown hair and green eyes.”

  Annie shook her head. “No, this guy had almost black hair and brown eyes.”

  “So it wasn't Steven. Nick thinks it might have been one of Carver's men.”

  “But how would this Carver guy know about me?”

  “You've been all over the area looking for your sister and leaving phone numbers with bartenders.”

  Annie inhaled sharply. “I never thought. So they could have run a reverse check on my phone number and gotten my address.”

  “Pretty much.”

  “I didn't know that I was going to have killers after me when I went to Jiffy's yesterday.”

  Rafe cocked an eyebrow at her. “No reason you would have. But what's done is done. R
egardless, we have to keep you alive.”

  As if that were possible, she wanted to say. Instead, she wrapped her arms around her waist and watched Rafe check the coffee as the machine cut off while she tried to sort through her thoughts and emotions. “I didn't mean for anyone to get hurt.”

  “It wasn't your fault. There was no way for you to know that the man that showed up here wasn't one of us.”

  “Still, Nick was shot because of me.”

  Rafe rinsed out his thermos before finally turning to face her. “And I understand how you feel. But it wasn't your fault.” He opened the refrigerator. “No cream?”

  “I meant to buy some today.”

  He grabbed the milk. “This'll do.”

  Annie watched him put sugar and milk in the thermos and then fill it with coffee. “Rafe? Can I ask you a question?”

  “Go for it.”

  He tightened the lid on the thermos and then leaned on the counter, folding his arms with a little tilt of his head, his eyes, dark and brooding.

  “Do you think Nick will forgive me? For causing him to get shot?”

  “Absolutely. I doubt he'll even expect an apology. At least not for the shooting. Maybe for not being up front and honest with him all along.” He zipped up his jacket, grabbed his thermos, and walked toward the door. “Thanks for the coffee.”

  “Wait. What do you mean I haven't been honest?”

  Rafe was at the door before he finally turned around and answered her. “Nick told Conner and me about your little deal with him, and I did some research on you. Your mother is not in a hospital, and she's not dying.”

  She staggered back a step as his words slapped at her, brutal in their impact. “What exactly did you find out?”

  “First of all, you don't think I bought that story about just being tired and hungry, do you? But the truth is, I've known that you're sick for days. Why didn't you just tell Nick the truth?”

  She wrapped her arms around herself, stared at him, wanting to lie, to evade, and knowing she couldn't. “Because I don't want to admit the truth. I'm tired of seeing the pity in people's eyes. And I'm trying not to drown in the emotional ramifications of it all.”