Dark Divide (Shadow and Shine Book 2)

by Danial Hooper

  *******

  Roy Hadley

  1:30 p.m. (Western time)

  Las Vegas, NV

  The hooker came to Roy because she was scared. She walked in last night with her makeup drizzled down her cheeks and dried pieces of tissue paper under her nose. For all the trashy-glitter and cheap-glamour, she looked better now than she did in the bar. At least now, it was honest. At least now, there was a charming smile. At least now, Roy saw a real human being instead of a play-toy for anyone with seven bucks.

  Acacia was the kind of person who lied so much she convinced herself she was honest. Her entire life was an act. Roy met plenty of narcissists in his life, but this broad took the cake. Everything revolved around the imaginary world she built for herself. Even when she told Roy about the murder, her eyes nearly bulging out of her head, but then pretended to try to make a joke of it, saying, “the real reason he died is because he drove a Prius, let’s be honest.”

  The emotional reward of Roy’s decision to resign began to wane, but he was resolved. There was no reason for him to belong to a force built on a foundation of ineptitude. Chief Jackson has been around since the seventies, yet how many major cases has he helped solve? What good has he brought in the city? Figures and numbers could be put through the washer and come out clean. The reality was, more people died in Vegas each year. Peretti, the kingpin sociopath, murdered more than anyone else.

  While everyone else was watching Utah from their couch, Roy was ready to save Vegas, or die trying.

  The waiting room outside Chief Jackson’s office was always too cold. He liked to keep people on ice, knowing if someone arrived early enough to wait, then they could use some time to cool down first. Roy spent plenty of time here, either reporting on trouble or, more often than not, being in trouble. Roy couldn’t stand how the other police officers stared at him as he sat beside Acacia. They were lumping him in with them, they looked at him like he was just another skirt-chasing dog. Shame on them.

  Chief Jackson opened his door. “Come in, Detective.” Roy pushed his hands down into his knees and leaned up. The fabric of his slacks felt smooth against his palms. His senses were beginning to fire up and act all sorts of crazy, it must have been because of the lack of sleep.

  Jackson held the door, staring at Acacia. Roy walked passed. “Sir?” he asked.

  “Why don’t you join us, miss?” Jackson asked.

  “She needs to cool down, she’ll be fine.”

  Roy heard her high heels clicking. “Thank you for the invitation, Chief.” She smiled at him with her bedroom eyes and raccoon makeup. Chief Jackson guided her to her chair and sat behind his desk. It must have been over twenty degrees warmer in his office.

  “What do you want, Hadley? And why are you bringing this thing in my office?”

  “Excuse—”

  “Not mine.” Roy paused, looking at the hooker. She needed to keep her mouth shut while she was in here. Chief Jackson didn’t need to listen to her lies. Roy didn’t want to be associated with an ugly lying whore. “I’d rather jump off a bridge.”

  “Nice,” Acacia said.

  “Sir, she’s a key witness. We’re going to get him.”

  “Hold on, you brought a whore to my office to give me another conspiracy theory? Goodness gracious, Hadley, how many times do I have to tell you—”

  “Chief.”

  “No, no. Let me guess. I bet you’re back to believing the Vegas casinos are harboring the missing children and cooking them, instead of prime rib? Or is it that you’ve figured out the rigged voting in Laughlin and how the Russian Mafia is buying up land to turn it into the new Vegas Strip. Or wait,” he said, turning to Acacia. “Did this precious peach steal your heart and tell you all about how her dad is actually some willy-nilly taken hostage by the feds?”

  “Those are good.” Acacia leaned in towards the Chief and smiled. Her pencil thin eyebrows narrowed.

  “Sir, I apologize for bringing her here. She is a key witness, that’s all. I couldn’t afford to leave her out on the corner to get picked up by a john or run off with her pimp.”

  “Excuse me? I clock in and out, just like you.” She leaned back into her chair and folded her arms. “Besides, I don’t have a pimp. I’m an independent contractor.”

  Roy laughed. “I’m sure you contract plenty.” He turned back to the Chief. “Sir, this woman was the witness to the murder on Bickmore Street two nights ago.”

  “And you’ve already taken her statement, two nights ago.”

  “The murder is linked to Peretti. She saw an Italian driving Markie’s ca—”

  “Roy.”

  “Peretti only hires Italians—”

  “Detective Ha—”

  “I’m here to—”

  “Hadley!”

  Roy smashed his hands on Chief Jackson’s table and stood. “I’m here to resign.” Heat emitted from his body as the rage from years of playing cat and mouse with Peretti finally came to a head. If Chief Jackson was okay with Peretti running over Vegas, then Roy wasn’t okay with Chief Jackson. Years and years of distractions, roads blocks, and suspensions because Roy wanted to clean up Vegas. If there were a decent man in the role of Chief of Police, the entire force would be united in finding Detective Markie Nelson. Instead, he put Lewis and Tom on the case. Chief Jackson might be in a position of power, but he sucked at his job.

  “Get out. Go home, and don’t come back until you’re done with these theories. Take that piece of trash to bed, whatever it takes to clear your head of this garbage. You’re not yourself, Detective,” the Chief said, closing the folder and putting it on top of a stack of papers. “Do not speak to anyone else about this, I do not want to hear you bring up the Salt Lake City fires again. Not to me. Not to anyone. I’ll have your badge and pension before you spread your conspiracy theories.”

  Roy and Acacia stood. The whore smiled her knowing smile, but kept her mouth shut. Roy was grateful for her to not bury him any deeper.

  Roy wasn’t wrong about this. Every ounce of him knew it. What else would be keeping him awake at night?

  “This isn’t over, Detective.”

  “It is over, Chief. I’m over it.”

  *******

  Jenna

  Afternoon

  Driving East.

  The soldiers shared a silent language in the van. Marshall, their leader, looked at Nino and it was like they were having a conversation while he drove. No worries, just eye contact and nodding. After they were finished, Nino looked back and did the same thing with Jordan.

  Jenna hated how the van was silent. They could have their little secret language but she couldn’t ask Tink if he was okay, or find out why Mona didn’t do anything. She didn’t want to be rude, she was worried.

  It’s for the best. One word and you’ll end up like Tink. Shelly said one word and now she’s going to have a black eye.

  Shelly didn’t do anything wrong, but the soldiers didn’t give out empty threats. When they said they didn’t want anyone speaking, they meant it. Which is why Jordan popped Shelly before she even finished asking her question.

  Mona is letting them do whatever they please. So much for a leader.

  Nino opened a flip-phone, clicked on a few buttons and handed it to Marshall.

  “Sir, Phase One of Omega is complete.”

  Seeing someone use a cell phone was an odd reminder of how much has changed in the last five days.

  While you were being hunted and abandoning your boyfriend, the world stayed the same.

  The van swerved to the right, causing Jenna to bump against Shelly who bumped against Asher. The three of them sat in the middle row while Mickey, Jordan, and Mona sat in the very back. Harry was forced to sit on the floor. Nino made Tink lay down in the very back, still wearing his head cover. Marshall’s voice boomed, “What do you mean? All of them? That’s impossible.”

  Jenna tried to listen to the voice on the other line, but she couldn’t make out any of the other words.


  Asher laughed. With his hyper-active senses, he must have been able to hear every word. They shared a smile.

  Jordan put his hand on Asher’s shoulder. “Not another sound.”

  Marshall continued, “Sir, we should hold off on Omega, at least until—”

  Asher didn’t laugh this time, but Jenna could see his smile.

  “Sir, with all due resp—” Marshall sighed. “Okay. There’s something else, we found survivors. Sat reads were correct… four, sir… yes, four of them… we’re headed to the location…. Yes, sir, I’ll see you there.”

  Four?

  Shelly nudged her, the bruise under her eye was bright red with little purple streaks. Even with the damage, her face was pleasant and peaceful. “Hey,” she whispered, “we’re going to be okay.” Her reassuring smile helped, but it wasn’t enough for Jenna to believe her. She tried. She knew she was supposed to believe her. Shelly wouldn’t lie. But she couldn’t find any reason to think they weren’t going to die.

  “I hope,” Jenna answered. She wasn’t going to disagree with Shelly, because she didn’t want to get caught talking. Even if she didn’t believe Shelly, or even know how to believe Shelly, Jenna kept her mouth shut.

  Both women went back to staring out the windows and not talking. The silence made the drive easier. Jenna looked out and noticed trees on a distant mountain. The colors of greens and the pure-white snow on top was surprising. The sky was blue, it was a beautiful day. There were no clouds hovering over, nor was there any dust laying on and eating away at the ground.

  It was normal.

  For now.

  “Where are we?” Jenna asked. As soon as the words came out of her mouth, she squinted her eyes with regret. Her thoughts just spilled out before she realized what was happening.

  Great job, Jenna.

  Jenna waited for someone to shout, but the soldiers remained silent. She kept her eyes closed and said, “Sorry,” hoping they would understand it was a mistake. The whole van shouldn’t be forced to be quiet for this long, they’ve been riding for over two hours already, it wasn’t fair. Jenna’s group wasn’t dangerous. They didn’t want a fight. Why couldn’t the soldiers just let them talk?

  They make the rules.

  You broke one.

  She hunkered her shoulders up to her ears. The loud humming engine was the only sound. Jenna tried to pull her thoughts away from trouble and wondered when they would stop for gas. They needed a bathroom break. too. Maybe they weren’t bad guys, just men who were strict to the rules. Maybe they were letting her off the hook because she was pretty. It wouldn’t be the first time a man in uniform went easy on her because he thought she was hot.

  Maybe.

  Jenna opened her eyes, Nino smashed the back of his rifle right into the top of her head. Her shoulders went limp as her cheek crashed against her shoulder. He said something, but Jenna couldn’t understand. She tried to lift her head and look at him, but her vision went black.

  ********

  Jake Oberhausen

  No idea

  Brigham City, UT

  He could barely stand. Jake was sore all over, as if he came back to the gym after a long hiatus and then was hit by a bus. The room was unfamiliar, he knew it, but he didn’t know it. The cold concrete was both comforting and miserable. Jake wasn’t sure if he passed out drunk, or if…

  The memories of reality struck him.

  People attacked Jake and his new friends at John’s house. Jake ended up in the basement after hiding and then being tackled. Whoever was trying to kill him, must have showed up to find John, or one of the others.

  His hips tightened as he balanced himself. Sunlight peaked inside and blinded Jake’s eyes. He wasn’t sure of exactly how he survived, but he remembered the attacker and the quick vision of him melting. It seemed like a lucid dream. Jake considered the possibility he ended up getting really high last night and tripping out.

  The blood on his hands said otherwise.

  He tried wiping it on his pant leg, but the stains were etched into the cracks of his fingers. Jake didn’t know the details, but he knew enough to know it all went to trash. John’s friends were dead upstairs.

  But was John? He and Karl were still firing back at the bad men when Jake was thrown out a window and hiding in a basement. There were no sounds from upstairs, but judging from the sunlight, Jake understood the day was already ending. The realization of him being unconscious for the entire day made his hands sweat. If the guys were alive, they might have left without him.

  Maybe, the attackers were still around. Jake leaned up and looked towards the broken basement door. Sunlight shined into the wide open hole, giving him a full view of the pot plants and blots of black paint shining under the UV lights. A quiet breeze came inside making Jake feel at ease, despite not knowing if the men were there.

  “Guys!”

  His ribs hurt as he held his breath, waiting for a reply or the sounds of the house to signify someone was home.

  Silence.

  Jake stood and examined himself. Other than a tender ankle and the left side of his ribs feeling broken, he was okay. There was no way he could fight back against the men, but he couldn’t have fought against them last night, either. Jake wasn’t exactly a fighter. He was just a regular, middle-aged writer with minimal survival skills. Yet, he was alive.

  There was no sense in wasting time looking around the basement, Jake knew there were stairs that would lead directly to the kitchen, but he decided to retrace his footsteps and go outside. The air felt flat against his skin as he walked up the short stairwell and pushed open the broken door. It was daylight, but the sun was covered by the massive clouds from Salt Lake. Ash fell into the palm of his hand, Jake wondered if the fires were spreading.

  “Guys!” he yelled, again. Other than the ash being on the ground, there was nothing odd to see. He realized how vulnerable he was standing in the middle of the yard. “Hey, guys, I’m outside!” he said, rounding to the front of the house. The long empty lane was unmarked by footprints or tire tracks.

  Jake looked up to the broken window. “I fell out of that,” he said in disbelief. Yet, there were no pieces of glass or wood from the window. He remembered landing on top of the kid, he was gone too. It’s like someone cleaned up. “Hey! You guys! Are you there?”

  Why wouldn’t they answer? If they were still inside, why would they clean up? The police would freak out if they knew people were tampering with a crime scene. The only reasonable explanation was they were gone. Jake could go inside, relive the memories, and search through the empty house, but for what? It was hard enough to process the reality of witnessing murders last night, did he really need to go back to the scene of the crime? He didn’t need to go back to the blood soaked halls, broken poker table, or see the bodies. Then again, would they still be there? The question didn’t matter. There was no reason to find out.

  Sounds of rocks crunching under tires came up the driveway. Jake turned to see a jeep making its way through the fog. He considered hiding, there was no telling who it could be. Maybe it was another group of the attackers, but that was wrong. The brunette in the front seat was singing like a terrible backup singer of the drughead popstar, Marlena Mays.

  Jake waved at her as if she might miss him.

  She waved back.

  *******

  Seth Porter/Greg Hart

  3:26 p.m. (Mountain time)

  Northeast Utah

  Seth Porter was the perfect pseudonym. The name wasn’t unique, nor was it bland. The real Seth Porter was a good chemistry partner in college. He was short, normal, and completely forgettable.

  So when Reyes freed him from under the bridge, Greg decided to say his name was Seth Porter.

  The deception may not be necessary, but Greg was going to be judicious with the truth. Until he knew the depth of Adam’s plan, keeping his real identity secret would be the safer alternative. It was strategic to control his story. Greg was given a fresh start, a new lease on life,
and he wasn’t going to waste it by being weak. Or by answering questions on his past. Instead, he could tell his story as he saw fit.

  Greg was wading into uncharted waters and his life boat drifted in the opposite direction. He wanted to take precautions while beginning a new endeavor.

  If there was one conclusion Greg determined while cramped in the closet that protected him from America’s attack on Salt Lake City after being abandoned by his group in favor of an adolescent, that conclusion was to trust no one. Greg’s life was going to be in constant danger as the world continued to fall apart. Greg would be prepared for the inevitable next Mona in the New World. Her kind was a disease inside evolving humanity. She was the worst of evil, the one wearing the mask of virtue. Greg saw through it, no one else did. And that’s why they likely died in Salt Lake City.

  Adam was the only hope of survival, and he saved Greg for a reason. He, not Mona, trusted in Greg’s potential and relied on him for an important aspect of his plan.

  The rest of the survivors, the fools who followed Mona’s directive, were dead. Suicide by ignorance. They didn’t deserve life and their decisions guided them directly to the point of impact of Conrad’s bomb.

  “A survivor?” Conrad Greene said on the other end. Greg’s first objective was to manipulate Conrad Greene into spreading fear throughout the country. Adam didn’t lay out specific steps, he trusted Greg to do what was necessary. While this previously would have made Greg nervous, Seth Porter enjoyed the opportunity to play puppet master. Conrad Greene would never notice the strings attached as long as Greg remained in control. Before Adam placed Greg in the closet, the Alpha mentioned Conrad by name. He said Greene was the soldier who would bring about the change and Greg’s role was to usher him along as he played his part in Adam’s plan. Conrad will be the death of America’s military.