The McKays Box Set - To Kill For, Blood Sport, Hard Time & Gang Land

by A. J. Carella

  “Yep. It’s the same as the others, so it makes sense. Look, I’m going to do the death message. Can I leave you to supervise things here?”

  “No problem, but are you sure you don’t want me to get one of the patrol guys to do it?”

  “No, I’ll do it. Thanks, Joe.”

  It was almost completely light as he got back into his car. No matter what anyone said, this was the hardest part of the job. Going to someone’s home and telling them that a loved one was dead killed a little part of you each time. And yet, Sam took a certain amount of pride in the fact that in his entire career he had never let anyone else do it for him. The main reason was because he thought of it as his duty; he owed the families that much. But partly, it was also to gauge reactions to the news. Whilst it was not an exact science, Sam could usually tell if someone had something to hide, though he didn’t expect that to be the case this time.

  Pulling out of the parking lot, he couldn’t help but hope that they’d get lucky and get something from the crime scene this time. In each of the other cases, by the time they’d gotten to the bodies, the scenes had already been contaminated. This time, though, the woman had called it in, stayed in her car and Steve had been there within minutes. It was their best hope, so far, of finding something this maniac might have left behind and without it, who knew how many more bodies there would be before they stopped him?

  Three

  Drake watched as the girl on the couch opposite him pushed the needle into her vein and pushed the plunger down, injecting the heroin, and tried not to let the revulsion show on his face. He couldn’t take his eyes off her as her face went slack and her eyes glassed over. Letting out a sigh, she let her head fall back until it rested on the back of the couch and stayed there, the needle still hanging out of her arm.

  It was something he’d seen many times before but it still intrigued him. He’d never tried drugs, had never seen the attraction. Even as a naïve fourteen-year-old runaway, alone on the streets of LA, he’d managed to avoid being sucked into that world, somehow instinctively knowing that it would be the end of his hopes and dreams. And he did have hopes and dreams, despite where his life had led him.

  The house he was in was the headquarters of the local chapter of MS-13. It had long been abandoned before they took it over and now it was used as their base of operations. Deep in the heart of their territory, they were safe here from attacks from the other gangs that roamed the city. MS-13 had taken on a life of its own since its conception in the 1980s as a way of protecting Salvadoran immigrants from the other gangs in the city. Nowadays, its tentacles had spread around the world and members were renowned for their use of violence and their strict code.

  “Drake, you like her or what? Help yourself, man. She’ll never know,” a deep voice boomed from the doorway behind him.

  Drake let out a short laugh. “No, man, you know I wouldn’t touch that.” He turned and smiled. Juan didn’t look at all like you would expect a gang leader to look. In fact, if you saw him on the street, you wouldn’t look twice. He was older, for a start, in his early forties, and he didn’t have the shaved head and tattoo-covered body that seemed to be the standard look for most gang members. Instead, he had a head full of dark brown hair that he wore neatly combed, and the tattoos that he did have were covered up by his clothes.

  “Yeah, I know. You’re a strange one.” He chuckled and clapped Drake on the shoulder before coming to stand in front of him. “Have you seen Angel around?”

  Angel was Juan’s number two, his right hand man. And Drake despised him. The feeling was mutual, though, and had been since the first time Juan had introduced them. He’d first met Juan about six months after he’d arrived in LA. In that six months, he’d toughened up, gotten street smart, but he was still a kid.

  He’d been making his way to the homeless shelter early to try and get a spot when he’d seen an SUV with blacked-out windows slow down across the street and the back window lower, revealing the muzzle of a gun. The gun was aimed at a man walking ahead of him, head down, fiddling with his cell, and he knew he was completely unaware of the danger. He’d reacted instinctively, knocking him to the ground with a rugby tackle just as the gun fired. The car had sped off leaving him lying on top of a stranger, wondering what on earth he’d been thinking. The stranger had been Juan and he’d glared at him, his face thunderous.

  There had been a tense few seconds when Drake had been sure that he was going to get pounded before the man’s face had broken into a grin, and he’d started laughing before pushing Drake off him and standing up. He’d introduced himself and invited Drake to join him for a hot drink. The thought of refusing had briefly crossed his mind, and he’d known that if he went with him he’d likely not get a bed at the shelter that night, but something about the man had told him that he should accept his offer.

  That had been six years ago, and he’d never had to worry about where he was going to sleep since.

  “I haven’t seen him for a few hours.” Drake looked away from the girl and gave Juan his full attention. “He was here until about midnight, but then he went out and you know as well as I do that he wasn’t about to tell me where he was going.”

  “I told him I needed him early. What the hell does he think he’s playing at?” The anger was plain in his voice and Drake kept quiet, knowing that he didn’t expect an answer.

  “Okay. Well, you’ll have to cover for him. I’ve got some business to take care of and it can’t wait. We leave in five. Make sure you’re carrying.” He turned and left.

  Damn. This is the part that he hated. He loved Juan almost like a father. He had taken him in when he needed it most, looked after him, protected him, but he hated what he was. And he hated it even more when he had to get involved. And all thanks to Angel. Just the thought of his name made his fists clench. Ever since that first day when Juan had brought him back here, he had made his life a misery. He was Juan’ right hand man; Drake had never challenged that, had no desire to, but Angel saw him as a constant threat and made him suffer for it.

  Standing up, he stepped over to the girl and quickly checked she still had a pulse before making his way upstairs to his room to grab his gun. He hated having it and refused to carry it unless he had to. It was one of the many throw down guns the gang had in their possession and so was untraceable but, thankfully, he’d never had to use it. Tucking it in the waistband of his pants, he made his way back downstairs.

  Juan was already in the car waiting for him as he left the house, and he opened the door and jumped into the passenger seat. They were just about to pull away when a loud knock on Drake’s window made him jump. Grinning stupidly at them on the other side of the glass was Angel.

  With a frown, Juan rolled down the window. “Where the hell have you been?”

  “I had some business to take care of, boss. Sorry I’m late, but I’m here now.”

  “Get in,” Juan barked crossly.

  “Out you get, then.” Angel opened the passenger door and stood aside for Drake to get out. As second in command, Angel always rode in the front.

  Juan’s voice stopped him as he was about to step out. “No. Angel, you get in the back.”

  Drake tried hard to hide his grin as Angel glowered at him before slamming the door shut and climbing in the back, but wasn’t entirely successful.

  “So, where are we going?” Drake asked as they finally pulled away from the curb.

  “You’ll see when we get there.” His voice brokered no argument and they rode the rest of the way in silence.

  ***

  It was dawn as they arrived outside their destination, the last of the darkness having slipped over the horizon. There was a light fog shrouding everything at this hour, though, and the sun had yet to gather the strength to disperse it.

  “Okay, he’ll still be in bed so we go in hard and fast.”

  Drake looked the house over as they walked up the path. It would once have been a nice home for a small family with a big yard out
front and a porch for mum and dad to have sat, watching their little ones play. Those times were long gone, though, and the house had been left to decay and the yard was heavily overgrown. The wood on the porch was mostly rotten and the steps groaned as they each mounted them in turn.

  Juan silently nodded at Angel. With a grin, Angel lifted his leg and kicked the door hard, causing it to splinter and fly open, crashing back against the inside wall. Drake barely had time to notice the blood on Angel’s shoe before he’d disappeared into the house, closely followed by Juan.

  The stench of filth hit him as he followed them through the open door and into the living room where a man, who’d obviously been sleeping on the couch, was groggily getting to his feet, a stunned look on his face.

  “Where’s my money, Phil?” Juan growled at him, stepping forward so that he was mere inches from his face.

  “I don’t have it.” The man raised his hands and took a step back. “I’ll get it, I promise. I just need a bit more time.”

  “How many times have I heard that from you?” Juan looked behind him to where Angel was standing. “Show him what happens to people who don’t pay.”

  Smiling, Angel reached inside his jacket and pulled out a hammer. Drake had seen this hammer before. He knew what was coming next and he closed his eyes, unable to watch as Angel forcibly took the man’s right hand and placed it on the coffee table before bringing the hammer down on one of his fingers. Phil let out a pain-filled scream as the bones in his fingers shattered. As his screams dissolved into sobs of pain, Drake heard another scream coming from somewhere in house. This was a different kind of scream, though. This sounded like a baby’s scream.

  Knowing that Angel was only just warming up and not wanting to see any more, Drake left the room and went looking for the source of the crying. He’d only gotten as far as the stairs when he came across what must have been the child’s mother. He’d seen enough drug addicts to know that she was a regular user. She was so thin, her arms looked like no more than sticks and her face was covered with the sores so common in meth users. She was passed out and Drake made no attempt to rouse her, stepping over her instead and continuing up the stairs to the source of the crying.

  Another scream came from downstairs as he reached the top of the stairs and he clenched his teeth. The bastard enjoys inflicting pain. Finding his way through the piles of filthy clothes and trash strewn on the landing, he found the room where the crying was coming from and stepped inside.

  In one corner of the room there was a crib and lying in it was a baby, no more than a few months old. The smell was worse in here than in the rest of the house and it didn’t take him long to discover why as he narrowly avoided stepping on a used diaper. The room was full of them, and as he looked down into the crib, he could see that the baby hadn’t been changed in a long while, either. The strong smell of ammonia coming from him made his eyes water.

  He was filled with a white-hot rage, so much so that he wanted to go downstairs, take the hammer from Angel’s hands and smash the man’s fingers himself before then turning the hammer on the child’s mother.

  “There, there little one. Hush now,” he whispered gently as he reached into the crib and lifted the baby into his arms. Immediately, his cries eased. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up,” he said softly as he looked around the room for some clean diapers. Spotting a pack on the window sill next to some wipes, he grabbed them and cleared a space on the floor with his foot. Gently laying the baby down on his back, he removed the soiled diaper and cleaned him up before putting the clean one back on him. What now? You can’t just leave him here. But he had no choice. There was no way he could just walk off with someone’s baby, no matter how much they didn’t deserve to have him. You can’t, no. But there are people that can.

  Cradling the baby in one arm, he pulled his cell phone from his pocket and made an anonymous call. It wasn’t ideal, and it would mean leaving him here for now, but he’d made it very clear how bad the situation was so he didn’t doubt they would send someone that day.

  “Drake? Where are you?” He heard Juan calling him from downstairs.

  “Okay, little one, I’m going to have to leave you now but someone will be here soon to take you to a safe place, I promise.” Gently, he lowered him back into the crib, but as he went to pull his hand away, the little boy grabbed his finger. Drake was amazed by the strength the little boy had as he squeezed his finger tightly, and he felt a lump in his throat as his eyes filled with tears.

  “Drake!” Louder this time.

  Pull yourself together, he admonished himself before gently extricating his finger. The baby started crying again as soon as he turned away, but there was nothing more he could do for him. It killed him to leave him but he didn’t turn back as he made his way out of the room and down the stairs to where Juan and Angel were waiting.

  “Where’ve you been?” Juan asked, frowning. “We’re done here.”

  “Sorry, needed the bathroom,” he mumbled. Juan was his family, but he knew him well enough to know that he wouldn’t understand. Some things were best kept to yourself.

  “Right. Well, come on. I’ve got a meet with Jordan and I don’t want to be late.” He turned and walked out of the house, leaving him alone with Angel, who stood smirking at him.

  “What?”

  Angel laughed. “You’re a pussy. You think he doesn’t know that you can’t handle the tough stuff? I don’t know why he keeps you around.”

  “Because every now and then he likes a bit of intelligent company and he can’t get that from you, now can he?” Drake threw at him over his shoulder as he followed Juan outside, leaving Angel seething.

  Four

  Sam had stayed with the family of the latest victim for an hour before he’d felt able to leave and go into the office. He couldn’t shake their pain, and he felt it wrapping itself around him like a cloak as he opened the files for all the previous victims that he kept on his desk.

  Taking the crime scene photos from each, he laid them out, side by side. Each victim was a white female. All were late teens early twenties, slim, pretty. But the main thing that stood out for him was not visible on the photos. Each of the girls had come from a very wealthy family.

  “It’s definitely the same guy, then?”

  Sam looked up as a large shadow fell over his desk. Captain Fletcher was larger than life, in more ways than one. It was hard to believe, looking at him now, that he had once been a fit patrol cop, the waistband of his trousers riding as they were under his large round belly and his face nestled amongst a couple of chins. Belly or not, he was one of the best cops Sam had ever worked with and he loved having him for a boss.

  “Yep, no doubt about it.” Sam shook his head. “He’s a real sicko. What’s with slicing their ankles?”

  “It’s got to be to stop them running, doesn’t it?”

  Sam nodded. “Agreed. But these aren’t grown men, these are young girls. Surely he could overpower them without that?” He picked up one of the photos and looked at it thoughtfully. “He’s toying with them, isn’t he? As long as they can’t run, he can play with them. Like a cat with a mouse.”

  “Did the family have anything that could help?”

  “No, nothing. It was the same as all the others. Nice girl, good family. Not running round with a bad crowd, not doing anything to give her parents cause for concern. Nothing.”

  “Okay. Well, I don’t need to tell you that this is getting out of hand and I’ve got the brass breathing down my neck. It’s only a matter of time before the press starts connecting these girls and when they do, we need to make sure we’ve got something to give them.”

  “I know. I’ve got a couple of things to follow up today so I’ll keep you up to speed.”

  There was one question that was bothering him and had been bothering him since the beginning that he’d never been able to answer. All of the girls came from good families, but their bodies had been found in parts of town that you would never expe
ct them to be. So why were they there? He had a feeling that if he could answer that question, he would be a lot closer to finding out what had happened to them.

  Five

  Kat hummed to herself happily as she took the cake she was baking out of the oven and placed it on the counter to cool. She had her final interview with the adoption panel today who would decide whether or not she could adopt Daniel on a permanent basis.

  She was nervous, there was no doubt about it, but she was a lot more confident than she’d been just a few short weeks ago. Pouring herself a cup of coffee, she took it to the kitchen table and sat down. Actually, she thought, this is the first time in weeks that I’m not dealing with some kind of drama.

  Looking back on recent events, she knew she was lucky not to have joined Jake in jail. Thankfully, events at the prison had received such widespread news coverage that the district attorney had decided it would go against public opinion to prosecute them and they’d faced nothing more than a very stern talking to and a warning that any further illegal activities wouldn’t be looked upon so favorably. Add to that that her relationship with Finn was blossoming and that there was now nothing threatening her adoption plans and she was the happiest she’d been in a long time.

  She’d known as soon as they were together again that her relationship with Finn was for keeps this time, so she’d told him about her plans. There had been so many secrets in their past that she didn’t want there to be any more. She’d been nervous, worried that once he realized that she wanted Daniel to be a permanent part of her life that he would get cold feet, but she hadn’t given him enough credit. He’d been thrilled at the idea, pleased that Daniel would have the happy home he so deserved.