by Ashlyn Chase
It had been almost a week since she’d had her last vision. She wanted—needed—something to happen. Was this how detectives felt when they were on a case and trying to locate a missing person or solve a murder? It must be maddening.
She wanted it to happen now. But her empath abilities didn’t work on demand. She knew that, but it was still frustrating.
Luca was being super supportive, in addition to his usual cute and sexy self. They’d gone out for pizza last week—their first official date—and then texted the rest of the week. She knew she should be patient, but she couldn’t wait to see him again.
“Okay, time to concentrate.” Dawn closed her eyes and began taking deep breaths. She held the unicorn close as she relaxed, clearing her mind of all the stuff that pinged around every day…
I feel you, Mandy. I know you’re out there. Show me where you are.
Deep breath in.
Deep breath out.
Mandy…tell me…show me…
Everything was dark. Pitch-black. Dawn kept taking deep breaths, kept holding onto the unicorn until she saw a flash of light. It was like a window blind pulling up. Dawn saw a wall in a small room. A mop leaned against the wall, and beside it was an old, faded poster of Bettie Page.
Dawn gasped and her eyes flew open. “I know where she is!”
* * *
“The kid’s asleep.”
“I don’t care if she’s asleep. We need to fix this problem.”
Ice Spider scratched the back of his neck as he leaned against his truck in the parking lot behind a burned-out warehouse.
Sergeant Butts was pacing back and forth. “Drive up to Canada and dump the kid in front of some church. She’ll get adopted by a nice Canadian family, and we’ll be rid of the problem.”
Yeah, like Ice was going to spend hours driving up to the border with a kid in his trunk and get nabbed by Customs. No way. The kid was his insurance policy. No way in hell he would let her out of his sight. He wasn’t going to take the fall for the woman’s death. He was the one taking care of the girl. Keeping her alive. Butts wouldn’t. Ice and his gang were heroes. The kid stayed with him or his boys.
Butts was one mean SOB, but Ice wasn’t afraid of him. He’d never been afraid of anyone except his father when he was a kid. The man who sired him and raised him for the first ten years of his life was a brutal sociopath who murdered two prostitutes he was pimping before the cops caught him and put him behind bars. The cops had no idea when they burst into Drey Douglas’s dump of a home on Keene Street East that he had a son hiding in a secret hole in the back of a closet. A crawl space the boy had created to hide from his father’s rampant rages.
After the arrest, Ice crawled out of the space and ran to Keene Street Convenience and never looked back. Carla had taken him in and let him sleep in the basement. Eventually, it became his hangout, and when other street kids started showing up, like Mick and Bobo, kids with nowhere else to go, they formed a gang and vowed to be the rulers of Keene Street.
“Look, Carla’s cool. She doesn’t know everything, okay?” Ice ran his hands agitatedly through his curly hair. “She doesn’t ask no questions, and she gets a cut of the deal. She stays quiet. I told her the kid is the daughter of one of the prostitutes who OD’d and is now getting clean at a city-run clinic.”
“Are you a fucking idiot?” Butts spat. “The missing girl has been all over the news. Do you really think Carla bought your lame-ass story?”
Ice lit a cigarette and took a drag. “We’ve been doing business with her for years. We do our thing, and she looks the other way. Carla’s never gotten her hands dirty, but she likes the proceeds from our business and the protection we provide. It’s made her enough to buy a condo in Florida.”
Butts shook his head. “You better be right about her. Or she’s gonna end up as a midnight snack for an alligator in Florida.”
* * *
“Hey, Carla, how was your trip to Florida?”
“Dawnie! Good to see you.” The older woman stubbed out her cigarette and stepped out from behind the counter, wrapping her arms around Dawn.
Dawn smiled when they let go. “Now, if only we can get you to wear sunscreen and stop smoking.”
Carla barked out a laugh. “What doesn’t kill me only makes me drink more gin.”
“Why not retire for good?” Dawn smiled, leaning against the counter. “You could sell this place and just bask in the sunshine.”
“Well, where’s the fun in that? There’s too much excitement up here.” Carla strolled back to the other side of the counter when an old man hobbled in.
“Hey, Carla, gimme two of those scratch tickets I like and a pack of Marlboro.”
“Sure thing, Bart.” Carla pulled up the lottery tickets from underneath the glass for the old man, then rang up his order.
“When are you gonna marry me and make me a happy man?” Bart winked at Carla.
“When you win the Powerball, I’ll be yours forever.” She leaned over the counter and grinned.
The old man’s chuckle turned into a raspy cough. He turned and tipped an invisible hat at Dawn and went on his way.
“See, if I retire to Florida, I wouldn’t be around to make Bart’s day.” Carla opened an old fridge behind her and pulled out a bottle of vodka and a container of orange juice. She poured two glasses of juice, handed one to Dawn, and added a healthy dose of vodka to the other. Taking a sip, she sighed. “Now that’s the way to start the day.”
Dawn grinned as she drank her juice, but inside, she was feeling panicked desperation. She had to get down to the basement storage room. Mandy had to be there. Dawn had recognized the tattered old poster of Bettie Page on the wall and supply shelves that had been in the same place forever. So she had thrown on some clothes and told her grandmother she was going for a walk. She remembered her conversation with Luca after he’d saved that man’s life at Ronaldo’s. Luca was a cop, but it was more than just his job. Despite what he said, he just seemed to know what he had to do and he did it without hesitation. That was what Dawn wanted to do for Mandy. She simply had to be careful not to involve Luca and get him fired.
“How’s Annette doin’?”
“She’s on her fifteenth pair of woolen socks to go with the hats, scarves, and mittens she knits for the homeless.”
“Saint Annette. That’s what we used to call her behind her back.” Carla chuckled and lifted her glass in a toast. “There’s nobody like her.” She downed the rest of the screwdriver and poured herself another.
“I’ll drink to that.” Dawn took another sip of her juice. “So what’s the excitement downstairs these days? Are the guys up to their usual shenanigans?”
Carla’s eyes narrowed. “You know my motto. I don’t ask questions I don’t wanna know the answers to.”
Was she onto Dawn? She knew Dawn had the “second sight.” Easy, Dawn. Keep playing it cool. “Mind if I top up my juice?”
“Sure thing.” Carla lit another cigarette and leaned her hip against the counter. “What are you really doin’ here, Dawn?” Carla crossed her arms over her ample but sagging chest.
Dawn felt a chill go down her spine. She had to keep Carla chatting, keep it easygoing. “Man, it’s tough getting anything by you, isn’t it?”
“That’s why I’m still alive and kickin’.”
“Why come back here, when Florida has all the sunshine?” Dawn tried changing the topic.
“Oh, you know me.” Carla took another sip of her drink and waved her arm, gesturing at the store around her. “I can’t stay away from the place I love.”
“Didn’t Mick’s girlfriend run the place while you were away?”
“Suzie?” Carla snorted. “That one. She spends more time shooting up or shooting the breeze than she does stocking shelves. Nothing like you. When you were working for me, I could leave here for days and know nothing would be
missing and the place would be spotless when I got back.” She raised her glass in a toast. “But now? I found discarded needles in the bathroom downstairs, courtesy of Suzie. That’s what happens to the kids on Keene Street. Some grow up to sell drugs, and others grow up to use them. A lot turn tricks to afford an expensive addiction. But that never happened to you, did it?”
“Ha! Annette would have killed me.”
“Hey, plenty of these kids have tough parents, but the kids lose their way despite whatever threats or guidance they’re given.”
“I guess the problem with growing up on Keene Street is no one tells you there’s always another choice. And even if they do, you have to follow through on it yourself. The deck is stacked against these kids.”
“I was worried about you for a while.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I was hoping you’d pull Ice up and that he wouldn’t pull you down.”
Dawn nodded.
“Ah well, sometimes that’s the hardest choice of all, isn’t it?” Carla topped up her glass with more vodka and skipped the orange juice. “So you never answered my question. Why are you really here?”
Dawn gulped more of her juice and set the glass down on the counter. Shit. Think fast. “I just wanted to say hi and buy Annette some lottery tickets.”
“I don’t remember Annette ever playing the lottery.”
“Well, I got a hunch, so here I am.”
“A hunch, huh? Maybe I should play too. Okay, take your pick.” Carla pulled up the tray of scratch tickets for Dawn to peruse.
Dawn picked a bingo ticket, a crossword puzzle ticket, and two tickets with a joker on them. She paid for the tickets and then reached for her glass to finish her juice. Please, someone come in. Please, someone come in.
“Well, good luck. I hope Annette wins—or better yet, me!”
Dawn laughed. “I hope so too.”
The bell over the door rang, and Dawn almost sighed with relief. A young teenage couple with a crying baby came in to buy junk food, diapers, and cigarettes. Carla had to serve them, so Dawn said, “I just have to use the bathroom. Be right back.” Dawn didn’t think Carla even heard her, the baby was crying so loud and the couple was bickering.
Dawn scooted down the stairs at the back of the store to the basement. The storage room was the second to last door down the narrow hallway.
Almost there. Dawn’s heart was pounding in her chest. She would grab Mandy and then hightail it up the back stairs that led to the alley. She’d deliver her to her father before Carla even knew she was gone. Just as Dawn reached out to grasp the doorknob, she felt a hand on her shoulder. Gasping, she swung around, and standing before her was the last person she wanted to see.
“Hello, beautiful. What brings you back to this hellhole?”
“Hello, Ice.” Dawn slipped her hand into her pocket and gripped her keys. “I was just stopping by to say hi to Carla and came down here to use the bathroom.”
“You passed it. How long did you work here?” Ice slipped his hands in his pockets. His leather jacket fell open as he did so, and Dawn glimpsed the handle of a gun poking up from his waistband.
“Well, I was preoccupied and walked right by. Look, I really have to pee.” She turned around and hoped he couldn’t hear her heart pounding. It felt like it was going to burst out of her chest.
“If you have something on your mind, tell it to someone who cares.” He gestured with his head back in the direction of the stairs.
“Uh, yeah, I get it.” She shrugged, giving him a little smile. Hopefully, he wouldn’t misinterpret it.
There was no way she would be able to rescue Mandy at the moment. She had to get out of there.
“Your hair looks good like that.” Ice reached out and ran his hand along her bangs and down the side of her face. Ugh. He could always be counted on to think with his dick.
Maybe she could distract him and get him to wait for her upstairs if she played along. “Do you think it makes me look hot?” I think I’m going to gag.
“Short hair or long, you are always one hot piece of ass.”
Ice stepped in so close, she could feel the heat of his body. Her mouth had gone dry, knowing he was going to kiss her.
Ice wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, pressing his cock against her thighs.
Shit. Shit. Shit. I’ve got to get away from him.
Just as he was leaning down to press his lips to hers, Carla appeared at the bottom of the stairs.
“I think it’s time for Dawn to go. Isn’t it, Dawnie?” Carla said in her raspy voice. “It was nice going down memory lane with you. But that’s the thing with memories—they’re better left buried.”
Dawn nodded like a bobblehead doll. She couldn’t speak. A little girl was on the other side of that door, and she’d blown it. Saying anything now could get them both killed.
Ice gave a frustrated groan as she began to pull away from him. Leaning down, he whispered, “We should finish what we started.”
Suppressing her gag reflex, she gave him a weak smile and yanked herself out of his arms.
She brushed passed Carla, standing at the bottom of the stairs with her hands on her hips and glaring at her. Rushing up the stairs, she made a beeline for the door and ran as fast as she could, not looking back.
She ran until she got home. Tears rolled down her cheeks. What the hell am I going to do now?
* * *
Craig Butts was no fool. So when he walked into the precinct and saw Fierro chatting it up with Morrow and Griffin, the two detectives assigned to the Richardson case, he knew he had to put a stop to it. He’d assigned his two worst detectives to the case, and he didn’t want anyone else nosing around. Morrow and Griffin were good guys, but they tended to be lazy and didn’t investigate as deeply as they should, exactly the way he liked it.
Butts had counted on that in the past when he himself was connected to a crime, and it had worked every time. But that was before Fierro showed up. And now he was asking too many questions.
“I really admire what you guys do,” Fierro said. “I want to see you in action. Would you mind if I just hang out with you today?”
“On your day off?” Morrow glanced at Griffin. “Hey, this kid wants to work on his off day. What do you think about that?”
“I think he’s a rookie, and by this time next year, he’ll be in bed sound asleep at 9:00 a.m. on his day off,” Griffin said and chuckled.
“Look, kid, this is, what…your second week on the job?” Morrow crossed his arms. “Why not just do what everyone else does? Keep your head down, and learn how to be a cop before thinking you’re a detective.”
“Morrow is right.” Butts stepped up to the trio. The pipsqueak glanced at him and straightened. “One thing at a time, Fierro.”
“Sorry, Sarge.” The pretty boy visibly swallowed. “I was just killing some time before I had to pick up my suit for my brother’s wedding.”
“Well, instead of bothering these two good men and keeping them from doing their jobs, why don’t you go home and get dolled up for that wedding?” Butts slapped Fierro on the shoulder and gestured with his head to step into the hall. “Fierro won’t be bothering you two again.”
In the hallway, Butts took his most imposing stance, feet planted wide apart, leaning forward with his hand resting on his gun, and glared at the rookie. Fierro was maybe three inches shorter than him. At six three, Butts was big and imposing, and he never failed to use it to intimidate. “I hear you already approached Morrow and Griffin once before.”
“Yes, sir, I was just trying to help.”
The kid looked nervous, and that was how he liked these anxious-to-please newbies. “Well, I let the first time go, but I’m gonna write you up this time. It’s going in your file. Fair warning. Don’t do it again.”
“Sir, with all due resp
ect, I didn’t think it was against protocol to ask questions, and I want to learn. I thought that was what we were supposed to do.”
Shit, this kid is a piece of work. Butts glared at Fierro, wondering how he was going to get through to the Goody Two-shoes without making him suspicious. He decided on righteous anger. “You know, for every upstart kid like you who goes to college and thinks he knows everything because he’s taken Criminology 101 and written a term paper about Ted Bundy, I have a dozen cops like Morrow and Griffin who worked their way up the old-fashioned way and know a hell of a lot more than you could read in a textbook.” He shoved his finger in Fierro’s face for good measure. “So don’t ‘with all due respect’ me. I know a brownnoser when I see one. And if you think Captain Moore is gonna be impressed by your Boy Scout charm, you’ve got another think comin’. I’ll be writing you up, and you better understand something—I don’t condone smart-asses. So shape up or ship out.”
“My apologies, sir.” Fierro stood up straight and stiff as a pole. “I promise not to overstep again.”
“Good.” Butts sneered. “Now get the hell out. I don’t want to see you ever nosing around here on your day off again.”
“Yes, sir.”
Butts nodded in satisfaction. And watched Fierro turn and walk out the door. He should have amped up that Taser to full throttle. But if he’d really hurt the bastard, there would have been an investigation. He just couldn’t help thinking that this kid was fucking his daughter, and she thought he was so stupid he couldn’t figure it out. He was a cop, for God’s sake. He’d followed her to see who she was meeting at the so-called library.
No, he’d have to be careful. He’d have to make it look like an accident, an on-the-job thing. Maybe set up a robbery and a fire at Keene Street Convenience. He could off Carla, Fierro, and those two buffoons guarding the kid, then get rid of her himself, niece or no niece. He’d worked too hard for the money he’d never make on the job to get caught now.
He’d have to think this through carefully. Plan everything out.
* * *
I feel like time is running out for Mandy.
“You will find her and free her. I know you will.”
