by L. K. Hill
“What’s the name of that new girl at the front desk? Donna?”
“Dana, I think,” Cora said.
“Would you go get her for me?”
Cora raised an eyebrow. When Gabe didn’t explain, she shrugged and disappeared.
“What are you thinking?” Doug asked.
“That she’s roughly the same size as Tanya.” Gabe gave Doug a sidelong glance. “You reading Harry Potter now?”
“Aloud to my grandkids,” Doug said defensively.
Gabe put his hands up but couldn’t hide his grin. Doug kept casting him suspicious glances after that.
“There any food around here?” Gabe asked. “I haven’t eaten in hours.”
Doug grinned. “Not gonna faint on me, are you Detective? Just for the record, I don’t catch men.”
Gabe rolled his eyes. “Thanks for the warning.” He really did feel like he might pass out soon without food, though, after chasing Norse so far and then cutting up his arms. Black spots kept appearing in his vision as well. He really had to get some sleep.
The door opened a minute later and Cora led Dana in. She was petite, like Tanya was. Both of them came about up to Gabe’s shoulder. There the resemblance ended, though. Of Latino origin, Dana was young, just out of college. She had beautiful dark skin and black, silky hair that reached to her waist. She wore large hoop earrings and lots of makeup, but dressed conservatively. Today it was black slacks and pinstriped blazer over a pale pink blouse.
“Hi,” Gabe said. “Dana, right?”
She smiled and nodded.
“I wondered if you would do me a huge favor, Dana. It’s not part of your normal job description.”
She shrugged. “Sure, I guess. Anything I can do to help.”
“I’d like you to see if you can crawl through that window.” He pointed to the open wedge up by the ceiling.
She glanced up at it, then back at him, smiling. The smile faded when she realized he wasn’t joking. “Um…well, I don’t think I could with my shoes…” Her black shoes weren’t open-toed, but they did have a heel on them. “And…my clothes could get ruined.”
“We can get you a jumpsuit to put over your clothes. I have some sneakers you can borrow,” Cora offered, coming up behind Dana. “You’d really be helping us out.”
Looking vaguely resentful, Dana agreed and followed Cora out of the room. The next problem was with safety. Shaun approved their little experiment on the condition that Doug remained in the bathroom to catch Dana, in case she lost her footing, and several men stood outside the window, for the same reasons. It was only a one story drop, so if she got outside the window and hung by her hands, it wasn’t bad. But if she rolled out the window and just fell, she could be injured and that became a liability issue.
Gabe, Shaun, and two uniforms ended up beneath the window outside. Cora stood behind them, arms crossed over her chest and observing. It was a slow process with plenty of grunting and wiggling, but Dana eventually got through. Once she had both legs through the window, she was forced to turn onto her stomach, which was difficult. The thick, orange jumpsuit she wore over her clothes kept catching on the corners of the window and he heard Dana muttering to herself. He only caught every fifth word or so. Things like men and job description were interrupted by ouch and a few other colorful phrases. Once both her legs dangled down the wall, the two unies stepped forward to put steadying hands on her waist. They helped lower her safely to the pavement.
By then, rivulets of sweat ran down her face, and her makeup was smeared.
“So,” Gabe said when she stood in front of him. “It is doable.”
To his surprise, Dana shook her head. “Not really. Well, I suppose it’s doable, but it’s hard. I got one leg out the window, but didn’t have the strength to pull myself up. Doug had to push me up from inside. If some other woman did this, she’s in excellent shape.”
Gabe thought about it for a minute, but decided it made sense. Not that he’d spent a lot of time studying Tanya’s physique—of course he hadn’t—but she had an athletic build. And she was determined. She’d have to be, trying to infiltrate a gang like the Sons of Ares. Besides, if she was doing things as dangerous as she’d described, she probably had to keep in good shape to protect herself.
He nodded. “Thanks for doing this, Dana. You can go back to your normal work now. Uh, any injuries?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so. This part of the suit ripped, though.” She fingered a hole in the outer thigh. “And thank goodness for this coverall. If that tear had been in my pants, the department would have paid for it. They’re brand new. I just got them at…”
Gabe tuned out the rest of what she was saying and studied the tear in her suite. It looked a whole lot like…
“Gabe, what’s the matter?” Cora was watching him worriedly. Dana cut off and turned to study Gabe’s face, as did Shaun and the two unies.
Ignoring Cora’s question, Gabe addressed Dana. “Could you do one more thing for me? Could you squat down?”
The look Dana gave him was mildly appalled. “What?”
“Just do it.” He put gentle pressure on her shoulders to push her down, and squatted beside her, in much the same position he and Supra had been in while squatting in the shadows of the alley hours before.
The tear was identical, except that this time, due to the extra layer of the jumpsuit, there was no blood.
Gabe winced as the full realization hit him. He’d known before he asked Dana to squat, but the confirmation left him reeling. Rather than stand back up, he pushed his weight back until his backside hit the pavement and pulled his knees up, cursing softly.
Shaun, Cora, and the two unies stared at him. Dana inched away.
Cora crouched in front of him and put a hand on his knee. “Gabe, what is it? What’s wrong?”
“They’re the same person,” he said quietly, then ran a hand over his face, dropping his voice to a whisper. “I can’t believe they’re the same person.”
Looking utterly bewildered, Cora looked up at Shaun, who immediately became all business. “Dana,” he said. “Why don’t you go change and get back to the front desk? Cathy will have a fit if I don’t get you back to her soon.” He turned to the two officers as Dana nodded and started toward the front of the station. “You two can go as well. We’re done here.”
They nodded and followed Dana, though both of them cast several curious glances over their shoulders before disappearing around the corner.
Shaun crouched beside Cora. “I know you haven’t slept in two days, Gabe, but try to hold it together for another hour. What are you talking about?”
Gabe told them about Supra having an identical tear in her pants. “I only noticed it because it had blood on it. I was afraid she was hurt. She said it was nothing.”
Cora frowned. The confusion had never left her face. “Are you…saying Supra climbed through a wedge-shaped window at some point in the day?” she asked.
“Yes. This one. I knew it was too convenient that she just happened to show up there.”
Shaun got it before Cora did, understanding dawning in his eyes. “Tanya…and Supra. They’re the same person?”
Cora’s eyes flew open wide. “What?” She straightened her legs, eyes wide as saucers. “But…but…oh my…” She paced away and then back to where Gabe sat. “I can totally see it now, but I would never have put that together.”
Gabe almost pointed out that Cora hadn’t actually ever seen Supra, but all that would have gotten him was a glare and a snappish comment. She’d seen the sketch and heard Gabe’s descriptions, so instead he muttered, “she’s got a good disguise.”
“You think?” Cora paced again, studying the ground furiously as she thought about it.
Gabe understood. The events of the past few days kept flashing through his mind, pieces falling into place so quickly that it made his head ache. When he met Tanya at the Carlotta estate, she’d almost jumped out of her skin. He thought he’d just start
led her, but it was because she was afraid he’d recognize her. He hadn’t. Then she’d run away, giving them false information, trying to cover her trail. He understood why much better now. No wonder she’d had so much information on the Carlottas and the gang. Driving a delivery truck wasn’t the only—or even the primary—way she was getting it.
Someone who looks like you can’t just waltz through the Carmichael district and expect to come out unscathed, he’d told her in Shaun’s office. That must have sounded so stupid to her, when she’d already thought it through, had a plan, and was implementing it. Oh yeah, and saving the entire department from bomb ambushes in the process. She’d stared at him so strangely, then. Probably thought him a complete idiot for not getting the irony of that statement. For looking at her, but not really seeing her.
And in the alley…there are things you don’t know about me. Things I haven’t told you. When you figure them out, you won’t like me much...I’m not a big fan of myself right now. ‘Like’ wasn’t really the right word. He was angry that she hadn’t told him the whole truth—she’d had plenty of chances—but even the anger was a distant emotion. He was too tired to feel it fully. He’d take it out on his punching bag tomorrow. For today, he just felt numb. None of it made him like her less. Granted, it didn’t make him like her more, but it did make her more intriguing. Why was she doing what she was? Research for a book? Surely there had to be more to it than that. Why would someone risk their life like that for research?
Then again, he’d heard of reporters that would do anything for a story. Some took it too far, especially where radical groups or wars were concerned, and got themselves killed. Perhaps that was the case here. But somehow, he just didn’t think so.
Gabe didn’t know how long he’d sat there musing on everything, but when he looked up, Shaun was watching him worriedly.
“Go home, Gabe,” Shaun said. “Get some sleep.”
Gabe rubbed his eyes. “I have to write my report.”
“That will keep until tomorrow. Chances are it will be riddled with mistakes and snatches of dreams if you try to write it in this state.”
Cora barked a laugh and Gabe glared at her.
“I’ll get one of the unies to drive you home,” Shaun said.
“I can drive myself,” Gabe objected.
“No you can’t,” Shaun snapped. “Your eyes are so bloodshot it looks like you’ve been doing pot all night. No more arguing. Just go.”
Gabe rolled his eyes, or tried to. They were so dry it bordered on painful. He didn’t argue anymore, though. He let Shaun pull him to his feet and followed him into the station. Nothing sounded better right now than his bed. Maybe when he awoke, he could make some sense of this night.
Chapter 24
A squad car dropped Gabe at his tiny, cubical house an hour after the Dana experiment.
Gabe knew he should shower before sacking out, but he didn’t want to. He was afraid he’d fall asleep standing up if he tried. He dumped his mail on the table and headed for the bedroom door.
Then he froze, his heart pounding almost as hard as it had while chasing Norse through the Slip Mire. Buried in the pile of mail was a small, brown box, covered with postal paper. It was so small that, with the mailers wrapped around it, he hadn’t even realized it was there.
Now he stepped back to the table. Not that there had been any noise in the house before, but everything seemed to have gone silent, as if the very air were waiting.
Taking a pen from his shirt pocket, Gabe flipped the small package over so he could see the writing on it. It was addressed to him in neat, block-style lettering. The return address was nonspecific, reading only “Chehalis, Washington” and a zip code.
Sighing, he pulled out a chair and dropped heavily into it. Of course this had come. The perfect ending to the perfect day. Or perhaps it had come yesterday. No way to be sure, since he hadn’t come home.
The anniversary of Dillon’s disappearance had been two days ago. When the package hadn’t come, he’d been relieved. Now it was here. The sender of these packages was too meticulous to mess up the day. Chances were, it was late simply because it got lost in the mail or was delayed somewhere else. Something the sender couldn’t control.
Gabe could always try to trace the package—and he would, just so he would know that he’d done everything he could—but nothing ever came of that. He’d traced each package through the postal service, but it was always mailed from a public mailbox or post office, and each one from a different state. A few times, there was even a street listed in the return address, but it always turned out to be bogus. 123 Road Street, or some such. A taunt. Nothing more.
He’d only been receiving the packages for ten years. If things continued, it would be another forty years before the sender was forced to reuse any states. The idea of getting these packages forty years from now depressed Gabe. Yet, he knew he’d never be able to sleep without opening the box.
Rummaging through the drawers in the kitchen, he found some tweezers and a letter opener. Using them, he carefully peeled the tape off the package and opened the paper without actually touching it. Inside was a small box—perhaps a reused checkbook box—taped shut. Using the same tools, he peeled the tape off one side and opened the lid like a hinge. Inside, sitting on a bed of white quilt batting, was a string of prayer beads.
These ones were made of unpainted, light brown wood. A cross hung from one end of the string. It was plain and unadorned, carved from the same wood as the beads. Gabe used the letter opener to pick up the beads and turn them from side to side. There was nothing special about the rosary, as far as he could tell. He dropped it back into the box and shut the lid.
Every year, a different set of beads—some made of wood, others of glass or metal. Some were decorated with colors or designs, others were encrusted with jewels—though never the expensive kind. Others, like these, were utterly plain.
He would have to talk to Shaun tomorrow. Dusting the packages for prints or swabbing them for DNA had never yielded clues to who the sender was, but Gabe would do it anyway. The only way he could sleep at night, with his brother’s case still unsolved, was by doing everything he possibly could, even if it didn’t yield results. Besides, most criminals were caught when they got lazy and screwed up. Surely this one would eventually, too. If not…
Gabe turned away from the box and toward his room. If not, he might just go mad one day. Many people knew about Dylan’s disappearance when Gabe was only a child, but only a handful knew everything. Shaun and Tyke knew. Gabe had a sneaking hunch that Cora knew, courtesy of Tyke. Other than that, only two or three guys Gabe had worked closely with over the years. Gabe would tell Shaun about the package, and Shaun could have it processed without any questions being asked, even though it wasn’t part of an active case.
Though the case remained open, the kidnapping hadn’t happened here, in the city. Gabe’s brother had disappeared from their home in the countryside, miles away.
“What’ll I tell my mom?” Gabe had sobbed into his pudgy, six-year-old hands, lying on his belly in the grass.
The man in the ragged grey trench coat turned on his toe to look down at Gabe. A thick silence reigned briefly before he answered, his voice nasally. “Tell her God saved you from Hell. But he couldn’t save me.”
He threw a string of prayer beads into the grass. They landed inches from Gabe’s face. Then the man had gotten into his fat, unmarked blue van and driven away.
Gabe shrugged his shoulders as he crossed the kitchen, trying to force down a memory he could never entirely expel. The packages hadn’t begun arriving until ten years ago. The first showed up two months after Gabe joined the Abstreuse police force, on the anniversary of the day Dillon was kidnapped. Since then, another had arrived each year on that same day.
They were from the man in the trench coat. Gabe was certain of it. He’d never been more certain of anything in his life. He was being taunted, laughed at. And somewhere in the world, the man who had tak
en his older brother, who knew exactly what had happened to Dylan, was still breathing, living his life, walking down the street, maybe stalking other kids.
Gabe shrugged out of his coat and it fell to the floor. He didn’t bother to pick it up. When he got into his room, he knew the shower would have to wait. He just couldn’t deal with reality for one more minute today.
He fell onto his bed and was instantly asleep.
Chapter 25
Utterly exhausted, Kyra dropped onto her bed when she got back to the hotel and fell instantly asleep.
She dreamed she was crouched in the narrow alley with Detective Nichols again. They hunched in the shadows, waiting for the cursing hobo to pass by before emerging. The smell of the Slip Mire was in her nose, the feel of the pavement, hard beneath her feet. Kyra watched the muttering man with shaggy hair and bare legs trudge in front of them. This time, the man paused, then turned and peered into the alley. Kyra’s stomach dropped. The man wasn’t searching the alley or peering into the darkness or looking at detective Nichols. He was staring straight at her. Glaring. Snarling.
Kyra blinked, and when she opened her eyes, the man had moved. Now he squatted directly in front of her, his face inches from hers, snarling and baring his teeth. His eyes were red and menacing, and a guttural growl emanated from his throat.
Kyra tried to scramble backward, but she was paralyzed in the manner of dreams. She couldn’t even move her face or scream. The next moment, she realized she could move her left arm, but only sluggishly, along the ground. She reached out for Detective Nichols, hoping to grab his arm or at least get his attention. He wasn’t there. No one was. She was alone in the alley with this beast.
The man leaned so close to her that she could feel his lips moving against her cheek. When she tried to bring her arm up to push him away, it felt like dead weight, as if her fist weighed fifty pounds. She could swing her arm forward, into her lap, but couldn’t lift it otherwise. She fought, screaming in her head, against her paralysis.
