by Nolon King
Silence.
“Talk through the door,” he finally said. “What do you want?”
“I want to know where Jessi Price is.”
More silence. Then, “I don’t know what you’re talking about! Get outta here.”
“I suppose you don’t know about Dodd’s escape, either?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Leave here now, while you still can.”
“I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t I call the sheriff’s department. I’ll tell them all about Cadillac Taylor and the mercenaries you paid off.”
A gunshot ripped through the wall, thunder reverberating through the upstairs hall.
Jasper ducked.
The door opened.
Lawrence came out, gun drawn, aiming straight at Jasper.
Jasper leapt up.
The gun fired again. The sound was like someone clapping hard on his eardrums.
Jasper slammed into the man with his full weight, shoving Lawrence backward and falling atop him. The gun slid from his hand. The lawyer’s eyes bulged as he desperately reached for it.
Jasper had his blade at the man’s flabby neck.
“One move and I slice your throat. You understand me?”
Lawrence froze, staring up at Jasper. “Y-y-yes.”
“Good. Now I want info. Where is Jessi Price?”
“I don’t know. Someone paid me to have Cadillac get her.”
“I want names.” Jasper pressed the blade into his fatty flesh.
“I don’t know any names!”
“Where is Paul Dodd?”
“I don’t know. Someone called me, said I’d better do it or they’d release some sensitive information they had on me. They wired three hundred grand into an offshore account. I paid Cadillac from that. We’ve worked together before. The person who hired me was in contact with Cadillac directly. I was out of the picture.”
Jasper stared down. “For a lawyer, you’re a shitty liar.”
“I swear! I don’t fucking know!”
“Then you’re no good to me.” Jasper pressed the knife until blood beaded the blade.
“I’ll give you Cadillac’s address. Talk to him. I’ll give it to you if you let me go. Come on, brother.”
Jasper laughed at the obscenely wealthy, absurdly criminal, and extremely white man trying to use the word “brother” with him. He released the pressure but didn’t remove the blade from his neck.
“Tell me now.”
“It’s in my phone, for Christ’s sake.”
“All right, Mr. Kampf, let’s go get your phone,” Jasper said, slowly standing. “But you do anything I don’t like, and I will cut you into bacon. You feel me, brother?”
Lawrence nodded.
The lawyer stood and put a hand on his neck. A minor cut, but you’d have thought Jasper flayed him. “You slit my throat!”
“You’ll be fine. Don’t be such a pussy.”
Jasper followed Lawrence downstairs, then told him to pick up his phone, and get the info.
Meanwhile, he stood behind the lawyer, blade to his neck, watching the man’s every move.
He entered his code on the phone, 1-1-7-0, pulled up his contacts, then navigated to Keisha Brown, with a St. Augustine address and number.
“That’s Cadillac’s girlfriend, Keisha. When he goes dark, that’s the only way to reach him.”
“And he’ll know where Jessi and Paul are?”
“Yes, I swear.”
“If he doesn’t, I’ll be back to kill you.”
“Okay!”
Jasper slowly withdrew the blade. He stopped before leaving the kitchen and turned around.
“Why the hell would you facilitate the kidnapping of a child?”
Lawrence, putting a wad of paper towels against his neck, looked confused. “I already told you, they had shit on me.”
“What?”
“I’m not telling you.”
“Tell me,” Jasper said, his voice deep, as he took a step closer.
“It’s nothing. Just some hooker I got photographed with.”
“And for that, you were willing to kidnap a young girl and free a serial killing child rapist?”
“I’m not the bad guy, here!”
Jasper darted over and plunged his blade into the man’s flabby gut. “I think you are.”
Lawrence tried to cry out, but Jasper put a gloved hand over his mouth, hard, and kept cutting the bacon.
Chapter 21 - Paul Dodd
Paul entered Jessi’s room, hardly able to believe she was sharing paradise with him. A part of him was aroused, looking forward to their time together, though he wasn’t sure if he was ready for sex just yet. His body was still so battered and bruised.
“If you need anything, call,” Daniel said with the cordiality of a man working the Four Seasons rather than someone inviting him to visit a pre-pubescent prisoner.
“Thank you,” Paul said.
Daniel closed the door behind them.
Jessi was sitting up in bed, wearing a pretty white dress, a bow in her hair, face painted with garish makeup and bright red lipstick. Like a harlot. Not his style, or Jessi’s. The whole thing felt off.
She was staring at him, blank-eyed.
He slowly approached, not wanting to frighten her, but mostly not wanting her to scream or come at him. He could defend himself from a child but didn’t want to hurt her.
Her pupils were large, her eyes glassy.
What had they given her? Heroin? Rohypnol? Some cocktail he wasn’t familiar with?
He inched closer to the edge of her bed, waiting for some response, for her to realize he was there. But she was staring right through him, either without recognition, or no longer able to care. In this state, she was only a shell, and Paul felt a profound sadness to see her like this.
He sat on the bed beside her, reached out and touched her cheek.
She didn’t move an inch. But tears still gathered in the corner of her left eye.
“You poor thing. What did they do to you?”
Still nothing. The tear trickled down her cheek.
“I’m sorry, Jessi. I had nothing to do with this. I didn’t ask them to take you.”
Another tear, now down the other cheek. Her lip trembled.
She was cracking, and Paul could no longer take it. He stood, went to the door, and banged until Daniel finally opened it.
“What the hell did you do to her?”
“Pardon me?” Daniel looked past Paul toward Jessi. “Is she okay?”
“No, she’s not okay. She’s drugged to hell, man. She’s practically catatonic.”
“Oh,” Daniel said, sounding relieved. “She’ll be fine. We had to give her something because she was not taking this very well.”
“You don’t say,” Paul said, annoyed. “Stop giving her that shit.”
“Well, the other option was to tie and gag her. She was making too much noise. That tends to hamper the enjoyment of our guests.”
“I want to talk to Madam.”
“One moment.” Daniel pulled a phone from his pocket and made a call. “Yes, he’d like to see her again. No, I don’t think he’s happy with her condition. Too medicated … Yes … Yes. Okay.”
He put his phone away. “This way.”
He led Paul back to Madam Pandora’s room, then left the two of them to talk.
She was sitting at her desk, same as before. Paul wondered if she ran this place or managed it for someone worse.
“I understand you’re not pleased with our gift?”
“She’s not herself. She’s fucked up on whatever you’ve got her on.”
“I apologize. We were merely trying to be merciful. There are two ways to break a girl — violence or drugs. We figured the less bruising option would be best, but we can adjust.”
“No,” Paul said, disgusted by the woman’s nonchalance at torturing a child. “Aren’t there any other options?”
“We could lower the dosage, but if sh
e gets out of hand, we’ll have to consider the first method.”
“Fine,” Paul said.
Madam looked at him, her head tilted ever so, a slight smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “Interesting.”
“What?”
“May I be frank?”
“Yes,” he said, curious.
“Well, according to your dossier, you’ve raped and murdered girls. And yet you blanch when we threaten violence against this one. Why is that? Is she special to you?”
Paul weighed his answer. If he said Jessi was special, they could use that as leverage against him. And that could be useful, because in the end, she wasn’t. While he didn’t want to harm her, nor did he take particular delight in seeing her in pain, he didn’t truly care one way or another about her.
If he gave the impression that he did, that might keep them from seeking other forms of leverage that would force him to do what they want. If these people thought nothing of hurting an innocent child, surely they’d not think twice about hurting him or going after his daughter.
“Yes, she’s special. And I don’t care to see her in this state, like some common whore.”
Madam nodded. “I understand and apologize for your experience. You should find her closer to normal tomorrow. I promise we won’t hurt her, but we may need drugs again if she becomes a threat to our peace.”
“Understood.”
“Good. Now, about that other thing. Have you considered our request?”
“The safe deposit box?”
“Yes.”
“I have. And I’m game, under one more condition.”
Her gaze narrowed on him, and he was fairly certain she was pissed beneath her calm facade. The smile left for beat before returning. “Yes?”
“I’m not sure how you managed to get Jessi, but I’m guessing this next request will be easier.”
“Go on.”
“I want Mallory Black.”
Chapter 22 - Mallory Black
Mal woke up to a ringing doorbell, looked out her bedroom window, and saw the Sheriff’s SUV parked outside.
She grabbed her empty bottle of pills off the ground, hid it in her nightstand drawer, tied her hair back in a ponytail, then went downstairs and opened the door.
“Hello, Mal,” Gloria said. “May I come in?”
“Sure, but the place is a bit of a mess. Haven’t been staying here for months.”
She led Gloria to the dining room table and asked her if she wanted a drink. When the offer was declined, Mal grabbed a cold Diet Coke from the fridge and swallowed some, hoping it masked her morning breath a bit as she took a seat across from her boss.
“So, what brings you by?”
“You’ve been cleared.”
“What?”
“We’ll be doing a press release at five. You officially start back on Monday.”
“Thank you.” Mal was relieved but felt like there was something the sheriff still had to say. “But …?”
“But we’ll need you to get counseling and submit to routine drug tests for the next year.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“I need something to show that you’re under control.”
“I haven’t done anything like this in nearly a year!”
“What about last night?”
“What about last night?”
“I heard about your run-in with Cameron Ford at Grommet’s.”
“It was hardly a run-in. I saw them and said hi.”
Gloria rolled her eyes. “And you threatened them?”
“I did not threaten them. And by the way, who the hell told you this?”
“It was in the Gossip Corner on Creek County Confidential.”
“That little bitch needs his website DDOSd. Did he happen to mention that he was having dinner with Merle Fucking Truman? I bet he didn’t write that in his bitch-ass column.”
“Maybe he was doing a story on Truman? Or he’s a client that advertises on Cameron’s website?”
Mal was a decibel from yelling. “Or maybe they’re meeting so Truman can give Cameron his new instructions from Barry!”
“Even so, you can’t keep getting into situations like this.”
“I said hi. Believe me, if I wanted a situation, Cameron wouldn’t be able to type his lies with two broken hands.”
“And that is what I’m talking about!” Gloria slammed a palm on the table. “You can’t say shit like that.”
“Oh, come on. Where did your sense of humor go, Gloria? You used to talk trash with the best of them. You used to like it when I said shit about these cocksuckers.”
“Yeah, that was before you were on video beating the crap outta guys. Listen, Mal, I don’t need to tell you that the easiest thing for me to do would be leave you out in the cold. That would be the safe thing for my reelection in November. I’m doing the right thing instead. But I need you to meet me half-way. Can you do that?”
Mal sighed. “Yes, boss. I’ll be a good girl.”
“I can’t tell if you’re being a smart ass or serious.”
Mal considered joking, but didn’t. “I’m serious. I want to come back. I can’t do shit from here, and the longer Jessi’s gone and Paul is in the wind, the more dangerous this world is.”
“Agreed. Give HR a call and they’ll tell you where to go for your drug test.”
“Okay. Any chance I can go into the office? Get a head start?”
“Wait until Monday. We’ve got this until then.”
Mal fought to keep her disappointment from her expression and voice. “Yes, ma’am.”
After Gloria left, Mal made something to eat. The only thing in the house worth cooking was chicken noodle soup, so she was sitting at the kitchen table and eating the slop while scrolling through her personal messages. She saw old texts from Ray, asking her to call.
It’d been more than a week since the last one. She’d forgotten to call back, as she’d been busy with the Chloe Conlan case and then the recent madness with Jessi.
Mal dialed, readying her apology for taking so long. She barely started before he said, “Let’s not do this.”
“What?”
“I don’t need to hear the apologies and details of whatever case you’re working on. It’s fine, Mallory.”
“Um, okay,” she said, confused by his bitterness. “So, you called?”
“Yeah, I just wanted to talk to you before I left.”
“Left. Where are you going?”
“Already gone. I went to New York.”
“What? New York? Why?”
“Yeah, I needed a reset. Too many reminders back there. And you know what, I’m happy now.”
Mal was pissed, though she wasn’t entirely sure why. That he’d left without waiting to say goodbye? Or that he felt he could just forget everything they had together, the daughter they shared, by packing up and heading north?
She tried to mask her rancor. She wanted Ray to be happy, even if that meant leaving her behind. “Well, congratulations.”
“Thank you. It feels good. You should try it.”
“Try what?”
“Starting over.”
“You know it’s not that easy for me.”
“I know you’re not making it easy. You choose to stay there, in that damned house, stuck in the past. You have a choice. You can be happy if you want to be.”
Mal bit her tongue, trying not to blast back.
Then he sighed, nice and long. “You know what, never mind. I don’t feel like fighting. That’s another thing I don’t miss. Goodbye, Mal.”
And just like that he hung up.
She stared at the phone, still feeling the slap.
Chapter 23 - Jasper Parish
After ransacking the place, Jasper took the lawyer’s wallet, phone, laptop, two iPads, and a thumb drive, hoping something would help him find Jessi and Dodd.
He thought about handing them over to Mal and letting the Feds’ forensics crew have at it, but that would more or less i
mplicate him in Kampf’s death. Besides, he had someone who could do the job quicker.
He pulled up to the rundown two-story tenement in the middle of the Butler projects.
Jordyn looked at Jasper, her eyes big as she surveyed the parking lot filled with young men eying their car with hardening stares. “Um, Dad, why are we here?”
“Seeing Spider.”
“Spider? Who the hell is Spider?”
“You’ll see.”
Jasper opened the trunk and grabbed the duffel filled with the lawyer’s electronics. There were too many eyes, assessing him as a threat. He’d never been to Spider’s. Their prior meetings had all been on the phone or at other locations.
Jordyn whispered, “Are we safe?”
“Relax, we’re fine.”
Jasper closed the trunk and approached the entrance. He was stopped by a young, muscular teen in a skull cap and a tee shirt two sizes too small.
“Who you here to see, Pops?” His cold, dark eyes narrowed on Jasper. No doubt he was packing and would think nothing of shooting him on the spot if he deemed this visitor a threat.
“I’m here to see Spider.”
“Whatchya got in the bag?”
“That’s between me and Spider.”
He eyed Jasper up and down again. Then he grabbed his phone and dialed. “Yo, Spider, some old fool is here to see you … What’s your name, Pops?”
“Professor Xavier,” Jasper said.
“He says he’s some professor, Xavier or some shit. You know this clown?”
The man looked disappointed in the answer, said “Okay,” then led them inside and up the stairs to the last apartment on the left.
The man knocked twice, waited, then beat the wood another three times. Jasper could hear EDM thumping on the other side. The door buzzed open.
“This way, professor,” the man said, eyeballing Jasper the whole way.
As run-down and dirty as the building’s exterior was, the inside of Spider’s unit was its opposite, a tech junkie’s version of a minimalist.
