LUCY: The Complete Lucy Kendall Series with Bonus Content (The Lucy Kendall Series Book 5)

by Stacy Green

Of course they did.

  Brent Johansen was an African-American man with lovely green eyes. His work as a civil engineer took him into all areas of the city, and he claimed to have a passion for saving the city’s grand old homes.

  No mention of how the men had met. Just a shared passion for history and making their beloved city better.

  I nearly puked into my coffee.

  More than a decade had passed. But images like that were seared into a person’s soul.

  She would have known.

  How had Kelly felt when she saw these pictures? Despondency momentarily paralyzed me. I could not imagine how she must have felt, sitting alone in her apartment, looking at the faces of these monsters. Most likely anger at first, and maybe fear. But then Kelly’s goodness and nurturing would have kicked in. She would have known the men hadn’t stopped their sick games and that every new business adventure gave them a brand new list of potential victims.

  I wished I’d been there to comfort her.

  Especially when they described their renovations as “turning Philadelphia history into your family’s future.”

  Come, buy our restored homes. Bring your children. Teenage girls preferred.

  Familiar rage descended. The table began to shake, my fisted hand repeatedly hitting the wood. I tasted blood in my mouth. I’d been biting my tongue to suppress my anger since Lily’s funeral.

  What had Kelly done with this information? Had she gone to their homes? Sought out their family members as she’d done with Tesla? Somewhere along the way, she’d made a major mistake. And one of the men made her pay for it.

  None of this gave me what I really needed to know: where did Kelly’s captor have her?

  Vacant properties. Philadelphia had hundreds of them. How many would qualify for the gentrification Philadelphia Renovations pushed?

  Most of the old homes that had been gentrified belonged to the city. They were condemned and left to rot or had been run down by public housing. None of these were safe places to hide Kelly. Too many drug addicts and homeless looking for shelter.

  A vacant property privately owned by Philadelphia Renovations and in the midst of renovations would be the perfect place to stash her.

  The company had dozens of homes in their records, but only two were listed as currently vacant. Pictures showed one in the middle of reconstruction, with the other waiting its turn.

  I packed up my now charged laptop, took a couple of bites of the dry pastry, and then grabbed my cold coffee.

  I’m coming for you, Kel. God help anyone who stands in my way.

  14

  He leaned against my car obviously waiting to see which business I came out of, although he should have known I’d have been in the coffee shop. Knowing Todd Beckett, he wanted to avoid a scene.

  He looked safe and inviting, and I had the silly urge to rush into his arms. Heat warmed my face, and my heart rate ramped up. I wanted to believe it was because I had to lie to a police officer’s face about Kelly, but I knew that was only a fraction of the issue. No time to deal with that now.

  His usually pale face had a reddish-tan, his forearms looking more muscular. His black sunglasses hid his eyes, but the set of his mouth gave away his irritation.

  “You haven’t answered my calls.”

  “Sorry.” I kept my distance, hovering near the Prius’s bumper. “Trying to get caught up on everything. What happened with Joan?”

  Fresh anger roiled through me at my mother’s callous betrayal of my sister. And if she’d somehow managed to set this entire mess in motion by drawing the attention of a killer…but those photos had been online for five years. And what would I do? I’d never been able to do anything as far as Joan Kendall was concerned–the Grand Villain of my tragic life.

  Todd’s mouth twitched. “She’s really something, isn’t she?”

  “The Wicked Witch of the East would have been a better mother. At least her hate would have been straightforward.” I briefly wondered what life would be like if I didn’t carry the burden of hating her. But I couldn’t fathom that existence. “Let me guess. Joan denied everything and then tried to make you feel like a terrible person for believing a grieving mother could do such a thing?”

  “Boy, you have her pegged. Basically.” Todd said. “She admitted to talking with a grief support group about Lily’s death a few years ago. But she denied uploading the images.”

  “Did you tell her we had proof?”

  “I didn’t get the chance. She told me if I had any more questions I could come back with a warrant. Which is what I’ll need if I want to get on her computer.”

  I shouldn’t have been shocked. I certainly shouldn’t have allowed the anger to course through me until I wanted to pound my fist on the car. But Joan never had to be accountable for anything. Why didn’t someone make her admit her own wrongdoing? I stood rigid, my fingernails digging into my palms. My jaws locked. I studied the jagged crack on the sidewalk.

  “I’m not sure it matters.” Todd’s voice softened. “I’ll get the warrant because I want to see if she communicated with anyone, but I doubt we will get any sort of lead from it. Not for Shannon Minor’s murder.”

  Or Kelly’s disappearance. My mother had just made mentally torturing me easier for the bastard.

  Todd remained against the car, his long legs stretched out so that passersby had to step over him. “So you’re not even going to mention Kelly?”

  My head snapped up so fast pain shot across my neck. “What do you mean?” I glanced around. Had I been tracked here? Did he see me talking with Todd? I needed to get out of here.

  “I talked to Justin. He’s a wreck.”

  Damn. “Well, it’s the truth. I didn’t want to lie to him.”

  What a terrible person you are.

  Had Justin said anything about Tesla? If he had, Todd would have been all over me about it by now. Then again, he liked to work up to things and then pounce at the right moment. I appreciated that about him.

  “You’re sure he can’t talk with Kelly?”

  I felt my throat tightening. “They told me no calls or visitors. I don’t know what else to do.”

  “What’s the name of the facility? I’ll see if I know someone, maybe I can pull some strings.” His gaze searched mine, trying to find the lie. I refused to break.

  New raindrops landed on my nose, trickling down my face. “No. Don’t you see? Overstepping Kelly’s boundaries is what put her there. You can’t keep doing it. She has to have the control.”

  I wished he’d take off those stupid glasses so I could read his eyes. A muscle in his cheek worked quickly, but he nodded. “I suppose you’re right.”

  “Thank you.” The rain fell harder, dampening my shirt.

  Finally, he pushed the glasses on top of his head. I wasn’t prepared for the rush of emotion at finally getting to truly see him. If I could only tell him everything, we could find Kelly together. He had the resources and the skill, and he’d stay right by my side until it was all over. And then what would happen?

  I couldn’t take the risk.

  Or maybe I was just too damned proud to admit I couldn’t do it.

  You just want to kill the person who took her.

  That too.

  He stood up straight, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. I realized he wanted to hug me. I couldn’t allow it. I would break if he did.

  I took a step back and around the bumper, toward the driver’s seat.

  Todd flinched, and I warmed with shame.

  “No other updates on Shannon’s case?”

  He shook his head. “They’ve got about as little as we do. He might have created one hell of a scene, but her killer didn’t leave much physical evidence. He’s not a first timer.”

  Which meant that if Tesla and his crew were behind Kelly’s kidnapping, they’d likely hired someone.

  “You know what’s really interesting?” Todd put his sunglasses back on, the business tone back in his voice. “One of the guys we identi
fied as being affected by the sex trafficking bust and possibly having a grudge against you doesn’t live far from here. Just up the hill, really. His name’s Robert Tesla.”

  I snorted. “Like the physicist? How kind of his parents.”

  I hope the rain hides the sweat on my face.

  “I just think it’s kind of fascinating you’re in his neighborhood.”

  I tried to smile. “Chestnut Hill is one of my favorite places. I think you can chalk that up to coincidence.”

  Todd didn’t take the bait. “Nothing you do is coincidence. You’ve obviously decided to investigate on your own. I can’t stop you, but I don’t think Tesla’s got anything to do with Shannon Minor. He’s a pothead living on Daddy’s name. But he’s not a killer. And he’s got an alibi.”

  “Good to know.”

  Daddy’s the one you need to worry about.

  “So I guess I’ll get going.” He still hovered around the passenger side. “Unless you wanted to make plans for tonight.” His cheeks turned the color of a sunrise, and I suddenly wanted to close the distance between us and step into his arms. Some childish part of me still pretended that one day, Todd and I could be together, a normal couple with normal things to talk about.

  I shook my head, wondering when those feelings had taken over. They needed to be shelved, because Todd deserved normalcy.

  “Let me call you later. I’m not sure what’s going on tonight.” Another lie. At some point I wouldn’t be able to weed out the truth.

  “Yeah, all right.” He smiled again, this time genuine. “You look good. Alexandria was the right move for you.”

  “Thank you.” I got into the car before I lost the rest of my resolve. By the time I had entered the address of the first property into my GPS, Todd had disappeared.

  15

  I spent the entire drive to the first address waiting for another contact, but nothing came. Either he’d lost his tail on me or decided he’d had enough fun at the Teslas. Either way, I couldn’t keep worrying about it. If he called, I’d deal with him then.

  Dismissing building one turned out to be easy enough. A construction crew crawled over every inch of the row house in West Central City, tossing trash and worn out building materials out of the top floor of the brick structure. More hardhats hauled rotting wood and bags of trash out of the bottom floor, throwing all of it into a rapidly filling dumpster. Apparently Philadelphia Renovations hadn’t updated its website, and these guys had decided to take advantage of the break in the weather.

  Nearly an hour and the downpour passed by the time I arrived at the second property in a largely vacant area of northern Philadelphia. The abandoned commercial building sat across the parking lot from an abandoned power plant. The apartment’s name had long since disappeared off the front door. The fuzzy black mold on the plywood covering most of the building’s windows only made the place more of a health hazard. A thick chain and padlock ensured no squatter entered through the front door.

  Darker clouds drifted into the horizon, with thunder grumbling in their wake. The entire street appeared to be abandoned, but I had no way of knowing if the other boarded up properties were home to transients. I made sure both computers were safely in my bag before slinging it over my shoulder and leaving the safety of the locked car. They made for a heavier trek, but leaving them in the car was out of the question. Both had information I might need, and I wasn’t risking a robbery. The pressure of the Glock against my tailbone did little to boost my nerve.

  Following the chain-link fence line, my shoes sinking into thick mud, I checked each section for a weak spot big enough to crawl through. I found it in the back of the property, where the base of the fence had been cut away.

  A shiver of unease came over me, as though someone standing far behind me had called my name. I whipped around, desperately trying to get my bearings. My sense of smell provided the first clue: a fishy odor competing with the stench of rotting earth. My heart suddenly tried to crawl into my throat. Nearby, the Delaware River drowned Monteray Cemetery, a casualty of bad planning and the city’s post-industrial age. From this distance, only a few crumbling vaults at the top of the hill were visible, but they were enough to hasten my step.

  The Delaware reclaimed the Victorian garden cemetery, and the city responded to the health risk. Most of the bodies had been removed, with only the vaults on the hill remaining untouched by the water. Not all of the monuments had been taken away, however, and now their tops peaked out of the water like ancient reptiles.

  Even with the rain making me feel wrung out and wilted, I shivered before turning my attention back to the cut-away hole in the fence. One last check for any onlookers and then I shoved my bag through the hole. Shimmying through on my belly proved harder than I thought. My elbows dug into the dirt and the back of my shirt snagged on the jagged fence edge. By the time I slipped through, mud covered my clothes. I snatched the Glock out of my shorts before it got caught and wormed the rest of my body into the courtyard.

  Shouldering the bag and gun, I crept toward the back of the lonesome apartment building. Every window boarded, same as the front. But the back entrance descended into the ground, and three sub-level window wells looked like perfect places to break and enter.

  The plywood covering the basement windows appeared bright and clean; wet from this rain, but not weathered like the other windows. Someone had recently boarded these up. Just Philadelphia Renovations being proactive or something worse? No way would I be able pull the boards free without some kind of tool. I didn’t have anything other than a spare tire in the trunk and a lock picking kit.

  The wind kicked up, bringing with it the scent of summer heat and stinking sewer. I doubted many of the surrounding buildings had working plumbing, but any person calling them home still had to relieve themselves. I searched the yard, desperately hoping for something I could use to pry one of the boards away. Nearly everything in the small courtyard was trash: broken bottles, fast food wrappings, and discarded drug paraphernalia. No sign of a screwdriver or anything I could use to wedge between the boards.

  The brick exterior appeared to be cracking, with shards of brick and masonry littering the ground. I grabbed a jagged piece of broken brick and hurried back to the window well. All three window wells had trash floating in the standing water. Thank God I’d changed into tennis shoes earlier.

  I eased into the nearest well, shivering at the cold water and filth, slipping down into the small space. The water went up to the middle of my calves.

  The brick piece barely fit between the plywood and the window frame, but I managed to wedge it down and started to pry the board away. The brick’s saw-toothed edges scraped my hands, drawing blood. I kept trying, using my weight as leverage.

  More thunder stormed in the west. I pulled again, and the shard snapped in half.

  “Damnit!”

  The remaining remnant was smaller than my hand, but I had to keep trying. Sweat soaked the roots of my hair, my back ached, and my hand kept bleeding. My nerves built with every pull, desperation making me lightheaded. Kelly might be inside. I had to get through this window, had to find out. Tears and sweat mingled on my face as the frustration threatened my sanity.

  The plywood splintered, and a palm-size piece flew into the pile of filth at my feet. My bleeding right hand left bloodstains on the wood as I braced my feet and broke away more sections until I finally had a big enough space to crawl through.

  Pure darkness awaited me, and I didn’t have a flashlight.

  I fished my phone out of my back pocket and used the light app to shine a bright, blue-tinged stream of light into the basement. I noted a boiler in the corner, along with an ancient water heater. Much of the ductwork had been ripped away, and I guessed the copper piping had been stolen to pawn as well.

  I strapped the heavy bag to my back while I slipped feet first into the unknown. My shoes hit the concrete floor with a dull thud, and I whipped around, aiming my phone. My heart felt like it had become a grow
th in my throat. I retrieved the bag and secured it on my shoulder and then pulled out the Glock and the silencer Chris had given me months ago. Until now I hadn’t seen fit to use it, but I didn’t want to draw attention if I had to defend myself. I wrestled on the silencer and faced the darkness.

  My eyes stung, and I wiped the sweat away. After only a few minutes inside, my thin shirt stuck to my back, and my sinuses felt blocked from the heat and dust. My shoes scraped the floor as I forced my legs to move.

  Safety off, gun in front of me, I eased toward the boiler. It looked to have been defunct for years, but these old buildings had often been built with various side rooms in the basement, for equipment and maintenance offices. So I checked that side of the basement.

  Nothing.

  My chest hurt, and my head felt uncomfortably heavy. With no air and the high humidity, the building was a baking sauna. I took a deep breath and focused on the building’s layout. Rectangular, longer than it was wide. So I needed to move straight ahead, sweeping from side to side. Clear the basement first and then go to the first floor. Kelly could be in an apartment.

  The streaming light from the phone caused the dust in the air to sparkle like freshly dug diamonds. A piece invaded my eye, and I struggled not to scrub it out. I skirted more forgotten junk in the basement, probably storage of long gone residents. A rat scurried away from the light. Cobwebs rained down from the ceiling. My hair and the back of my neck suddenly felt as if tiny, quick legs scurried over my skin. I brushed away the sensation, trying to pretend the spiders had vacated along with the residents.

  With the basement cleared, I shouldered open the door to the stairs. The scent of urine nearly gagged me. I pulled my shirt over my nose and listened for any sign of life above my head. If Kelly was here, did her kidnapper stand watch?

  I could only hope, because I had plenty of rounds in the Glock’s magazine.

  Up the stairwell and onto the first floor. Perpetual dusk reigned inside the boarded up building. I blinked as if the hallway would suddenly become brighter. Three apartments on the left, three on the right. A couple of doors stood open. Flattening against the wall, I edged on tiptoes toward the first open door. Was something moving around inside? I tried not to breathe, but my lungs refused to cooperate. The air moving through me sounded like it had been run through a compressor. On the other side of the wall, more movement.