Shepherd's Fall

by W. L. Dyson

  He thought about it as he nursed his coffee. Finally he set his cup down. “Marti, I appreciate the offer, but Zeena worked the streets. There are some very unsavory people out there, and if you don't understand that world, they'll hurt you.”

  “I know that, Steven. And I venture to say I understand that world better than you do.”

  He stared at her a minute. “Tell me you never worked as a prostitute. Please.”

  She shook her head. “No, but pretty close. Still, I know my way around.”

  “I don't think so, Sis. But thanks for the offer. I can't let you go out there. You could get hurt.”

  She laughed, and the bitterness in it stunned him. “Trust me. I've already been hurt.”

  He looked over at her, studied her once again, wishing he could find answers in those dull eyes. “What happened to you, Marti?”

  “Life.” The pain in her eyes broke his heart. She stood up and set her mug in the sink. “Now, I better get dressed. I was going to wash my clothes today, but if I'm going undercover, clean clothes is the opposite effect I'm going for.”

  Thursday, 7:25 a.m.

  1428 Larkspur Drive, Timonium, Maryland

  After Steven left for work, Marti sat down on the floor and pulled Steven's photo album off the shelf. She slowly paged through it. So much had changed while she'd been gone. Her father had gone gray and brittle; her mother had shrunk. Early pictures of Jessica reflected a smiling woman, but the last pictures of her in the album portrayed someone with sad eyes. But the biggest changes that the album documented had been in Krystal. The tiny infant that Marti had held only twice had gone from precocious toddler to a gap-toothed little girl who morphed into a beautiful young girl, and then into a confused teenager.

  Marti felt as if she could reach out to the rebellious part of Krystal and say, “I understand. Been there. Felt that.” But Marti wondered what exactly had hurt Krystal so deeply. What had made her eyes reveal a wounded soul? Reaching out, Marti touched a picture of Krystal taken the previous Christmas. The girl was slumped down in a chair, arms folded across her chest. She had clearly closed everyone out, but Marti could see the hunger in her eyes for someone to reach beyond the self-imposed barrier and rescue her.

  Or maybe Marti was just projecting her own lingering resentment. She shut the album and slipped it back on the shelf. Projecting or not, Marti was not going to let some killer terrorize her niece, much less kill her. If she had to hunt the man down all on her own, she wouldn't let Krystal suffer. She had seen enough women suffering in this family.

  Thursday, 8:10 a.m.

  Prodigal offices, Baltimore

  Conner rubbed his red eyes and stared at his fifth cup of coffee since waking Nick that morning. Jenna tried to convince them both to go back home and get a few more hours of sleep, but Nick refused, so Conner did too. He had to keep an eye on Nick and make sure he didn't push himself into the hospital.

  In the meantime, while Nick was in his office chasing down leads, he had his own work to follow up on.

  Conner leaned back and propped his feet on the corner of his desk, crossing them at the ankle, thinking through all the balls he'd been juggling this week.

  First things first. He needed to listen to his voice mail.

  “I'm calling for Jack Conroy. This is Ralph Henning over at the Lily. You applied for a job as a bouncer. If you're still interested you can stop by tomorrow at six and we'll get you started.”

  He hurried through the front door and headed into Nick's office. Nick was on his computer and looked up. “Jack Conroy got the job as a bouncer at the Stark Lily.”

  Nick grinned. “Jack Conroy, eh? Isn't that your wild-haired biker dude persona? That wig has to be worn out by now.”

  “Got a new one for this. Much better than the old one. Black with white streaks. Hangs down to the middle of my back. It's so cool.”

  Nick eased back in the chair, not even bothering to hide the pain. “You miss those days in the ring, huh?”

  Conner shrugged. “I don't miss the life, but I miss the fun.”

  “I hear ya.” Nick grimaced as he reached for his can of soda. “It hasn't been much fun around here lately.”

  “Things will turn around, Nick. They will. If I thought for one minute that this business was going under, I'd be out looking for another job.” That was a lie, and maybe even Nick knew it, but he truly did believe that Prodigal was going to turn around. He couldn't have said why he felt so confident, but he did. “Anyway, I'll be working at the nightclub at least four nights a week, so I don't know how many hours I can put in at the office during the day.”

  “Tell Rafe to cover for you.”

  “He's playing bodyguard for Miss McNamara in his spare time.”

  “Oh, right. Well, see if she'll go home to her parents for a few days. She probably needs to visit her mother anyway.”

  Conner blew out a heavy breath and stood up, strolling over to the window. “That's fine, but I think you should know that there's nothing wrong with her mother.”

  “I know,” Nick said.

  “I should have known you'd be one step ahead of me.” Conner turned around and leaned back against the window ledge. “Look, considering the fact that she's been playing us, maybe we should just cut her loose. She's not our responsibility, Nick. She brought this on herself.”

  Nick shook his head. “No. I made a deal with her. I'm going to live up to my end of the bargain whether she does or not.”

  “The deal was to find Zeena, not play bodyguard.”

  “And if she's dead, I can't collect my extra bounty on Zeena now, can I?”

  Rafe stuck his head in the door. “Anyone available to help me go pick up a skip? I got a bead on him.”

  Conner nodded. “I'll be right there.” Then he turned to Nick. “You going to be okay until Jenna gets here?”

  “Dude. I'm not an invalid. Get out there and earn me some money.”

  Conner just grinned as he left.

  Thursday, 8:30 a.m.

  Prodigal offices, Baltimore

  Not five minutes after everyone left the office, Nick was running though phone logs from the prison when he heard the front door open. He had begun to stand up when two men in dark suits came through the door into his office. He couldn't recall ever seeing either one of them before, but they had that familiar air of arrogance tinted with malice that marked them as bullies. One was tall and broad-shouldered with long brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. The other was a few inches shorter but just as broad and just as hard-looking with light hair slicked back and probably held in place with gun oil. “What can I do for you?”

  “That's what we're here to discuss with you. Our employer has an offer for you. He's heard about your financial troubles and would like to help you out.”

  Good news—Jenna isn't in the office. Bad news—no one else is either.

  The two men split up, Ponytail walking over to stand in front of Nick's desk, Slick Man moving behind Nick. He swiveled his chair to keep both men in sight. “I'm not sure how you can help me. I'm not looking for any business partners.”

  Ponytail smiled, but it was as cold as an arctic breeze. “Oh, this isn't that kind of deal, Mr. Shepherd. Our employer would like you to keep doing exactly what you've been doing, but if you help him out on one small thing, he's willing to offer you a substantial bounty. Far more than you would get from the bail bondsman.”

  “And just what fugitive is Jon talking about? As if I didn't already know.”

  Ponytail laughed as he pulled the visitor's chair a little closer and sat down. “Oh, you misunderstand, Mr. Shepherd. We don't work for the Carvers. On the contrary, we would very much like the same thing you would—to put Carver out of business. Permanently.”

  Which meant they were Carver's competition. And there were only two main players in the area other than Carver. Derrick Jamal and his crew, and Ken Benedict. Since Jamal tended to surround himself with boys from the hood, these two must be Benedict's employees.
And didn't this just complicate things even more? Benedict hid behind the facade of a real estate developer, rubbing elbows with politicians and criminals alike, with a smooth charm and a bevy of high-priced lawyers that kept him out of jail. Whether Nick liked it or not, he had stepped into the middle of a turf war.

  “I see. And what is it that Mr. Benedict wants from me?”

  Ponytail gave him a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. “We were told not to underestimate that good-ol'-boy act of yours.” He tipped his head. “So I'm sure you can understand that we're not at liberty to discuss the identity of our employer, but we can tell you that if you bring us Carver's laptop, our employer will reward you with a bounty of a quarter million dollars. That would help you save your business, would it not?”

  Nick swallowed hard at the prospect of a quarter million dollars, but the idea of helping these men left a bitter taste in his mouth. “I'll tell you the same thing I told Carver. No. I wouldn't turn a rabid dog over to you or to him.”

  “I know you're a very intelligent man.” The spokesman leaned forward, easing his suit coat back to reveal a gun resting in a shoulder holster. “So perhaps you require some additional time to think over the offer. You are, after all, recovering from a very painful accident. The laptop is merely an item that has no bearing on your ability to collect your bounty on the hooker. It would be quite unfortunate if you were to refuse this offer. Your business could end up in bankruptcy court in a matter of days.” He moved back, letting his coat drop back into place. “To show our good faith, I'd like to warn you about your daughter.”

  Every muscle in Nick's body went rigid as he jerked. “Touch my daughter and it will be the last thing you feel before you die.”

  The man smiled again, but his eyes remained as dead as a two-day-old corpse. And just as creepy. “You misunderstand, Mr. Shepherd. We are not in the business of hurting children. I am merely offering you a goodwill gesture to show you that we are far more civilized than Jon Carver. Your daughter —a delightfully rebellious little thing, but aren't they all at that age—has been known to frequent certain clubs with a fake ID and hang with a somewhat unsavory group of people. We only seek to warn you that it would be most unfortunate if she were to get hurt while on one of her little escapades.”

  After setting a crisp white business card down on the desk in front of him, the man stared hard at Nick for another moment. “We'll be in touch, Mr. Shepherd.” Then he jerked his head at his companion and left the room.

  It took several minutes before Nick could breathe normally. All he could see was Krystal sneaking into dangerous clubs and falling into the hands of men like Scott, Ira, or Richie Carver.

  Thursday, 9:15 a.m.

  Prodigal offices, Baltimore

  Rafe unzipped his coat as he came through the front door of Prodigal, smiling at Jenna. As always, she was giving him a stern look that he wasn't sure he'd earned. She was so obvious about her disapproval for him that he'd given up on any hope of winning her heart. But dang, he was crazy about the woman. She was intelligent, sweet, feminine, and yet could hold her own around a bunch of macho, alpha-male adrenaline junkies. She was perfect. “Conner here?”

  Jenna opened the bottom drawer of her desk and set her purse inside. “I just got here two minutes ahead of you. Doughnuts are in the kitchen.”

  “Have you seen Nick?”

  “He's in his office,” she replied as she dropped a file folder and reached down to pick it up.

  Rafe was about to say something sharp and witty when everything exploded in a rush of pain. And shattered glass. Everywhere. The last thing he heard was Jenna's ear-piercing scream.

  Thursday, 9:15 a.m.

  Downtown Baltimore

  Annie picked up her purse to retrieve her meds. As she unloaded a fistful of bottles, her cell phone vibrated. She flipped the phone open and realized that she'd missed three calls. All of them had come from Dr. Burdine.

  She called him back and waited a few minutes while a nurse paged him. “Dr. Burdine? It's Annie. I'm sorry. I just got your messages. Well, actually, I haven't listened to the—”

  “Annie, your sister is down here at the hospital. How soon can you get here?”

  “Barbara is there?” She felt something surge inside her, and she wasn't sure if it was hope or trepidation.

  “Yes. She was brought in predawn. Drug overdose. She's fine. How soon can you get here?”

  Annie glanced up at the clock on the wall. She'd promised Rafe she wouldn't go out, but this was too important for any promise. “Give me half an hour.”

  She hung up and ran into her bedroom to change from sweats to jeans and a plain cotton shirt. She quickly combed out her hair, touched up her eyes with some mascara, and grabbed her car keys.

  Barbara was at the hospital. She would see her sister in just a few minutes.

  Thursday, 9:18 a.m.

  Prodigal offices, Baltimore

  Nick heard the explosion, and for a split second, his mind argued that he was mistaken. But when he ran out into the reception area, there was no mistake. The entire front window was gone, shattered into a million pieces all over the rug. Rafe was sprawled out on the glass, and Jenna was kneeling next to him, screaming, “Rafe, you get up, you hear me? Don't you dare die on me!”

  Nick hurried over and knelt next to Jenna. Rafe had a deep gash at the base of his skull, and it was bleeding profusely.

  He gently touched Jenna's arm. “Jenna, call for an ambulance.”

  She didn't seem to hear him as tears ran down her face, streaking her mascara. “Rafe! I swear I will seriously hurt you if you die on me! Get up. Get up!”

  Nick applied a little more pressure, pulling her away from Rafe. “Jenna! I need you to call for an ambulance.”

  She blinked up at him. “He's hurt. Rafe is hurt. The window just exploded. Something hit the back of his head.”

  Nick looked closer at Rafe and spotted a brick, half buried under Rafe's outstretched arm.

  When Jenna stood up, he noticed the blood on her knees. “Jenna? Did it hit you?”

  She shook her head no as she ran through the glass and grabbed the phone.

  Nick reached down and pressed his fingers to Rafe's neck. Steady, strong pulse. Knocked out, but other than that, it didn't look to be too serious. Carefully, Nick eased Rafe over onto his side. Sure enough, there were a few cuts on his face, but that appeared to be the extent of his injuries. Grabbing the box of tissues off Jenna's desk, Nick applied a thick wad of them to the wound on Rafe's skull and pressed firmly, hoping to stop the bleeding.

  Then Jenna was back. She picked up Rafe's hand and stroked it, looking at Rafe's face with an angelic expression. “He'll be fine,” Nick assured her. “Just a knock on the head, and we both know how hard-headed Rafe is.”

  Jenna hitched back a sob as she curled her fingers around Rafe's. “One minute he was standing there talking to me, and the next thing I knew, it was like the world just exploded. Why would someone want to hurt Rafe?”

  In that moment, Nick saw it clearly for the first time. The woman was head over heels gone for Rafe. She'd done a great job of hiding it from everyone.

  “You're in love with him.”

  He hadn't intended to say the words, but he saw the response he expected in her eyes. She closed them, took a deep breath, and then nodded slowly. She opened her eyes and narrowed them at him. “And if you ever tell him I will make your life worse than you could imagine.”

  “Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me.”

  Just then, Conner appeared in the front of the building, hands on his hips, staring at the broken window. “What happened?” Then he saw Rafe on the floor and jumped through the opening, his feet sliding a little on the glass fragments. “What is going on?”

  “I think it's a concussion. Ambulance is on its way.” Sirens were starting to blare. “Conner, listen. Get out on the street. Find out if the Carvers were behind this.”

  “Who else could it have been?” Conner ask
ed.

  “Benedict paid me a little visit this morning.” Nick brushed a piece of glass from Rafe's cheek. “I'm just making sure, that's all.”

  Although he didn't think a brick through a window was Benedict's style, he wouldn't put it past one of his goons to put an exclamation point on the morning's conversation.

  The EMTs came rushing through the door and nudged Nick out of the way. Nick stood back and watched. When was the last time he felt in control?

  Jenna appeared at his side, buttoning her coat. “I'm going to the hospital with Rafe. I'll call you when I know something. I called someone to fix the glass—he'll be here in an hour. Make sure someone's here to handle that.”

  Nick just nodded and watched as Jenna walked out of the building alongside the stretcher, holding Rafe's hand.

  Thursday, 9:55 a.m.

  Sinai Hospital, Baltimore

  Zeena lay in her hospital bed, tapping her foot and wringing her hands over and over and over. What if Annie hated her? Maybe she should just get out now. She could leave before Annie got to the hospital. Dr. Burdine could handle everything with Josh. She'd called the foster family, and they gave their consent. Josh said he was willing, and Zeena had given her parental permission.

  But then Annie was standing there, looking so pale and so thin it made Zeena's heart slam in her chest. She stood up, grabbing the bars on the bed to support her. Her legs felt like Jell-O. “Annie.”

  Annie broke into a choked laugh and pulled Zeena up in a limp hug. They were both pathetic. “I've missed you so much,” Annie said.

  “I've missed you too. I didn't realize how much until now.” Zeena stepped back and took a long, appraising look at her older sister. “You look as bad as I feel.”

  Annie grinned. “Same to you.”

  “Well, you know how twins are.”

  Linking her arm in Annie's, Zeena led Annie over to the bed.