Damaged Hope

by L. K. Hill

  Her eyes had adjusted to the light, but she still didn’t entirely recognize him. Not until he transferred both her wrists to one of his hands and pulled off the hood. The wig of moppish, brown hair went with it, revealing his true, close-cropped black hair.

  “What are you doing here?” she growled through clenched teeth. Strange that Jane had mentioned Kyra's ex just an hour ago, and now he stood here.

  “Letting you know I'm in town, of course,” he grinned. “Oh, don’t look so surprised. You aren’t the only one who knows how to hide in plain sight. Remember?”

  Kyra did her best not to grimace. “What do you want, Chris? You aren’t supposed to be here. How did you get out of prison?”

  He grinned again. “Released on parole. Good behavior. White collars get let go first when they run out of space.”

  “Bullshit.”

  He cocked his head to one side. “Which part?”

  “All of it. If you’d gotten out on parole, I'd have heard. Someone would have informed me.”

  He shrugged. “You’re hiding out from everyone here, dear. Someone probably tried. Newsflash: finding people connected to parolees' cases aren’t the court officers’ full-time jobs.”

  Something Jane said suddenly clicked.

  "What's Chris got to do with anything?"

  "Um…nothing."

  Jane knew. She had to know. She must have heard Chris was out, and between that and Phil's meltdown, thought something really bad was happening.

  Then again, Chris was here. Maybe Jane's instinct had been right.

  Kyra fought to free herself from Chris's grip. He'd always been too strong for her. He leered down his huge, crooked nose at her.

  What he’d said earlier sunk in. “What did you mean about hiding in plain sight? Have you been watching me?” A million thoughts swirled through her head. How long had he been in Abstreuse? What had he seen?

  He chuckled ominously. “Don’t be so paranoid. I don’t need to watch you to find out stuff about you.”

  “Like what?”

  He shrugged. “You’re working as a CI, for one thing."

  Kyra’s stomach restricted further. How the hell?

  He studied her face and chuckled again. “You know I have contacts in both high and low places.”

  Kyra swallowed, not wanting to explore the implications of the statement.

  “Relax,” he snapped. “I don’t want to fight.” He released her hands. She stared in a shock at the sudden freedom, before thinking to react. In the time of her hesitation, Chris bent and retrieved her gun.

  Kyra straightened her spine and rolled her shoulders back, forcing her voice to sound calm. “Instead you want to…what? Kill me?”

  “Of course not,” he snapped, giving her a scornful look. “I’m here to…make amends.”

  Kyra laughed aloud before she could stop herself, and his face darkened.

  “Your way of making amends is to attack me from behind and shove me into a dark room?”

  “I figured you would try to kill me,” he raised her gun as evidence. “I knew I’d have to back you into a corner to get you to listen.”

  Kyra sighed, affecting annoyance, though truly she fought panic. Where was her phone? She couldn’t remember. Couldn’t think. Not that he would allow her a call if she had it on her. “Fine. I’m listening. What do you want?”

  He hesitated. “I need you to recant your testimony.”

  Kyra scoffed. “Of course you do.”

  “Not all of it,” he said defensively. “Just some.”

  “What difference does it make, Chris? You’re out now.”

  He shrugged. “True, but I have some…associates who aren’t. Besides, I want my name cleared.”

  She stared at him. “You were guilty.”

  He shrugged again. “So what? I don’t need this following me for the rest of my life.”

  Kyra rolled her eyes. “Even if you were fully exonerated, involvement in a crime like yours will still follow you.”

  “Maybe,” he conceded. “At least it will be illegal for employers to discriminate.” He showed her his teeth.

  “You don’t even want a legal job,” Kyra shouted. Arguing was as good a way as any to stall. “You kept books for criminals.”

  “Well, I’d like the option. So, what do you think?”

  “Uh, that’d be no.”

  He scowled. “I’m asking you nicely here.”

  “You don’t know ‘nicely,’” she muttered.

  “Sure I do.” He took a step back and held his arms out to the sides dramatically. “This is me being nice.” He dropped his arms and stepped toward her. “Not nice would be more like…”

  He backhanded her hard enough to lift her heels from the ground and send her sprawling into the adjacent wall three feet away. She slid to the ground, face pressed into the corner where the two walls met. She rolled, pressing her back against the wall. The room spun.

  “Get up, Kyra.”

  She turned her head gently. The room slowed, still tilted at the corners. Chris stood in the same spot as before, hands on his hips and glaring down at her.

  “Get up.”

  Kyra stumbled to her feet, steadying herself on the wall when the room lurched again.

  “Like I said, that was me not being nice. Just wanted to illustrate the difference. So, what do you say?”

  Kyra shook her head. “I thought you came to make amends.”

  “I am. This is how we make amends. We make a deal. You did much worse to me than I did to you.”

  She gaped at him. “Seriously?”

  “You put me in prison.”

  Kyra shook her head in awe. No use in arguing with that kind of stupidity. “Someday all the terrible things you do to people is going to catch up with you Chris. You won't be able to pretend the consequences don't apply to you forever."

  He snorted. "Says the woman leading a double life in the murder capital of the country. You're probably right, Kyra. Someday the consequences of our decisions will hit us both, right between the eyes." He leaned closer. "But not today."

  "So you’re ‘deal,’” she spat, “includes asking me to lie, commit a felony? How is this a deal?”

  He frowned. “Recanting your testimony isn’t a felony.”

  “Perjury is,” she snarled.

  He shifted his eyes to one side. “Oh. Right. Well, whatever. Do it anyway. Don’t care.”

  “Things aren't that simple, Chris. I can’t—”

  She didn’t see his hand this time. The world went black and she tasted carpet, felt a dull drum thudding between her temples.

  She pushed herself up, placing her palms on the ground and straightening her elbows. She got no farther before the warmth of his torso pressed against her. He smelled of musky cologne. Though she'd never had a problem with the smell before meeting him, now it made her want to vomit. She wanted to lean away, but the only place to go was back down. She locked her elbows stubbornly.

  Her left arm, from shoulder to elbow, pressed into Chris’s chest. Squatting beside her, he pushed the hair off her shoulder, exposing her neck, and leaned so close, she felt his breath on her ear as he spoke.

  “I’m going to give you a few days to think about your answer. I want you to consider something. I could do anything I want to you right now. If I wanted to screw you, or beat your head in, I could. No one could stop me. No one would suspect me. Now granted, I’m not the kind to do something like that. I prefer willing women, and the rest is too messy. I only want you to appreciate that I could. We both know if I want something to happen to you, I have the right connections to make sure it does.”

  Kyra’s breathing became ragged. Every muscle in her body screamed to fight back. She needed to wait for the right moment. He had too much of an advantage now.

  He bent closer, and when he spoke again, she felt his lips move against the exposed skin between her shoulder and neck. “Hell, I could even arrange for something untoward to happen to Jane or another—�
��

  With a war cry, Kyra sucked in her stomach, twisted at the waist, and struck him. First with the back of her left hand, followed by the open palm of her right. The thick, deep slapping sound echoed through the hotel room. Chris fell off his toes to his knees. As they hit the carpet, he swung back at her.

  He hit her in the jaw this time, much harder than before, with something metallic. Her gun. He still held it.

  Kyra’s eyes came level with the carpet. Her vision blurred and everything moved in slow motion. Chris rolled her onto her back. She saw first the white plaster ceiling, then Chris hovering above her. His knees pressed against the sides of her hips as he straddled them. Everything looked blurry, as when the killer in Old Abstruese leaned over her.

  Chris put his palms down on either side of her head and leaned down so his face hovered centimeters above hers. “Relax, Kyra. I wasn't serious about Jane. I know how to play nice. As long as you keep up your end of the deal, I always do. I’m sure you remember.”

  He kissed her, pressing his body against hers and ramming his tongue down her throat. Kyra stiffened her spine and pulled back, but didn’t have the strength to free herself.

  He released her and sat up, his face growing smaller as it retreated toward the ceiling. Something thudded to the carpet beside Kyra’s left hand. Chris disappeared from her blurry view entirely, leaving Kyra to stare at the white ceiling while her chest heaved.

  The sound of the hotel room door opening reached her ears. “Oh,” his voice came again. “Not that I expect us to meet in public, but you should know I’m going by the name Blagden. Don’t call me Chris in front of others. That would be the same as breaking the deal.”

  The door closed softly.

  Minutes passed before Kyra pulled herself into a sitting position. The blood pounded in her temples so violently, she thought she might pass out again. Eventually, she managed to raise her head without the room spinning.

  Her gun lay beside her. He’d dropped it.

  She gasped as the sound of the door opening again reached her ears. Lunging forward, she snatched her gun and held it below the level of the bed, ready to raise and fire on whoever entered.

  A man she didn't recognize, wearing a police uniform, appeared. He held a gun, pointed toward the ground. When he caught sight of her, he swung toward her, keeping the gun pointed toward the ground.

  “Miss?” He said. “Are you all right? Some of the neighboring rooms reported gunfire.

  Kyra shifted her eyes to the wall behind the unie. A small dark hole now marred the ugly cream interior of the room, where she’d fired at Chris and missed.

  The cop followed her gaze to the hole. His gun came up higher. “Are you armed, Ma’am?”

  She nodded. Laying her gun on the carpet, she used her shoe to push it away from her and into his field of vision. “I was attacked. Fired on the intruder.”

  The young cop came slowly forward and picked up her gun. His stance relaxed marginally. “Where is he now?”

  “Gone. Can you call someone for me?”

  He surveyed her with intelligent eyes, taking in details, no doubt. “I need to take a statement. Then I can.”

  She nodded. “Detective Gabe Nichols. Abstreuse homicide.”

  Understanding came into the unie's eyes. “Of course.”

  Chapter 10

  An hour later, the hotel cop, Officer Dixon, had taken her statement. She knew he was ready to leave, but wouldn’t until Gabe arrived. Kyra, for once, was glad to have the company. She knew Gabe would arrive any minute, but she didn’t want to be alone.

  She excused herself and went into the bathroom. After using the facilities and washing her hands, she stared at herself in the mirror.

  As she’d suspected, a mess of bruises decorated her face. Josie’s fist had connected with her face left of her nose and up close under her left eye. A dark purple bruise began there, looking like a black hole, and radiated out across her nose, cheek, eye and down toward her lip in continually lesser degrees.

  Shit. Gabe was likely to hit the roof. She heard the rumble of deep voices conversing outside the bathroom door. With a sigh, she unlocked the door and went through it. Shaun and Dixon stood near the door, speaking in quiet tones. Gabe had come farther into the room and stood in front of one of the beds, eyes sweeping the room. All three men turned toward her as she walked out.

  Gabe’s eyes widened in horror and he crossed the room, barely bothering with the space between them. “What happened? Who did this?” he shouted. He touched her face gingerly, his gentleness at odds with the anger in his voice.

  “I’m fine, Gabe,” she said firmly. She widened her eyes significantly, giving her best shut-up-and-we’ll-talk-later look.

  He missed it entirely, instead turning a surprisingly accusatory glance on Officer Dixon.

  “I thought you said the intruder didn’t hurt her,” he spat.

  Dixon put his hands up. “Hey man, that’s her story. Not mine. She wouldn’t tell me where the bruises came from. I can’t force the explanation out of her.”

  Gabe frowned down at Kyra, his eyes asking for explanations.

  “Can we talk about this later, Gabe?”

  His frown deepened.

  “Thank you, Officer Dixon,” Shaun said brusquely. “If you need anything else for your report, feel free to call me.” He handed the cop card.

  Dixon nodded, cast one more curious gaze toward Kyra, and left the room. Shaun closed the door firmly behind him and turned toward her.

  “What happened?” Gabe demanded.

  Kyra heaved a deep breath. She couldn’t meet his eyes. “The bruises came from Josie. I pissed him off. By accident. He hit me.”

  Gabe’s face darkened. “Who was the intruder you fired at?”

  Kyra swallowed, studying Gabe’s chest. “I don’t know. Just some young punk in a hoodie. Probably trying to steal my computer. The shot scared him away.”

  She waited for Gabe’s reaction. Waited to find out if he’d see the lie in her face. She’d lied to Dixon because she didn’t want a domestic abuse report filed on top of everything else. She knew she ought to tell Gabe. She owed him that much.

  Chris was a whole different thing, though. She wasn’t ready to let Gabe in about her past. She didn’t want to see or discuss Chris. He had nothing to do with Abstreuse. Or Manny. Or Josie. She’d switch hotels again, so Chris didn’t find her immediately. If she switched regularly, she could stay ahead of him. She spent more time in the Mire than in a hotel these days anyway.

  Gabe raised her chin with his forefinger, forcing her to look into his eyes. “Are you okay?” he whispered.

  She nodded as confidently as she could. “Yes. I can’t stop shaking, but yes.”

  Gabe slid his arms around her while Shaun furiously contemplated the door jamb.

  Kyra leaned into Gabe’s embrace for a moment. A brisk knock made her jump. She and Gabe stepped apart as Shaun opened the door to admit Tyke and Cora. They both looked guarded, and Tyke carried two brown paper bags that

  Kyra frowned. What were they doing here?

  Shaun shut the door and noticed Kyra’s expression. “I asked them to come,” he said. Gabe said the two of you were going to meet and swap information about the case. I thought we could all do a brief think-tank about it. Make sure we’re all on the same page.

  Kyra nodded. Now was as a good a time as any.

  “Oh Kyra,” Cora said, coming to stand by Kyra’s side. “Are you okay.”

  It felt weird to have people stare at the side of her face, like they couldn’t quite find her eyes. She couldn’t blame them, though. The right side of her face, where Chris pistol-whipped her, had swollen so much even she could see it. A purple bubble on the periphery of her vision.

  “I’m fine,” she assured Cora.

  She looked up at Tyke, who gave her a sad smile. He held up the paper bags. “I brought food.”

  They sat on the two beds, Gabe and Kyra on one, Tyke and Cora on the other. Shaun
pulled a stuffed chair from beside the window and sat between the two. Cora slipped her shoes off and folded her legs beneath her while Tyke broke out the cheeseburgers. Kyra was glad for them. She was famished.

  “Why didn’t you go to my place, Kyra?” Gabe asked. “Do you still have the key I gave you.”

  “Yes,” Kyra dug into her pocket and produced the key he’d given her to his place. A stripe of green paint decorated the head. He’d given it to her so she would have a safe place to go if she needed one. “I didn’t think I needed to. I made it back here just fine after Josie.”

  She avoided his gaze, but glanced up to see him give her a scathing look.

  “So,” Tyke began. The facts of the case are these. Weeks ago, Kyra,” he nodded at her, “brought to our attention a killer in the Mire. Given how many bodies are buried in the Purple Valentine, he’s probably been here for months and we simply didn’t know it.”

  Shaun breathed deeply. “There’s something you need to know that’s surfaced recently, Kyra.”

  Kyra’s stomach clenched. Why single her out rather than just continue with the case facts? “What is it?”

  "The night before you wandered into Old Abstreuse, a box was left on Gabe’s front step.”

  Gabe looked as serious as she’d ever seen him.

  “A box?” she asked.

  Gabe nodded. “It had a rosary on the side.”

  A pang of surprise invaded Kyra’s chest. Anything with rosaries must have to do with Gabe’s brother, Dillon, who’d disappeared twenty-five years ago. Why bring that up while they were speaking of the killer in the Mire?

  “I found three things in it. A bandanna Dillon wore when he disappeared, a bottle of soap, like the stuff the killer has been pouring over the bodies of the prostitutes he kills. And a coin. With the letters g-a-a-p engraved along the edge.”

  Kyra struggled to make connections. He could mean…. “So…what?”

  Gabe merely looked at her, his brow furrowed, his expression disturbed.

  “Are you saying the same guy who’s killing the girls, who I ran into last night, is the same man who took Dillon?”