The Leah Ryan Thrillers Box Set: Three Chiller Thrillers (Repo Chick Blues #1, Finding Chloe #2, Dirty Business #3) (Leah Ryan Thrillers Box Set, Books 1-3)

by Tracy Sharp

“Maybe.” Something about the photograph bothered me. I looked back and forth between the crime scene photos and of the one of him taken while he was alive.

  Then it hit me. In the picture taken of him in life he was wearing a gold chain. It was rather thick and the design of the chain was unique.

  I tapped the photo of him wearing the chain. “Where is the gold chain?”

  Mitch looked closely at the chain, then at the crime scene photos. “I don’t know. Maybe in his personal effects?”

  “No. I don’t think so. That chain was expensive. Look at it. I wouldn’t be surprised if it were custom made. I’ve never seen a gold chain that looked quite like that one. He wouldn’t have taken it off.”

  “Unless he sold it for drug money”

  I shook my head. “He was getting gifts and money from somebody. He wouldn’t have had to sell it. Assuming he was doing drugs at all. I’m wondering if maybe he was somebody’s personal boy. Maybe he didn’t need to work the streets anymore.”

  “Somebody must have taken it off him, then.”

  “Yeah. Maybe somebody who murdered him.”

  * * *

  The last time I’d spoken with a prostitute it had been another young boy, and I’d had Callahan with me. As I sat in my Jeep watching the street, I felt the lack of his presence now in my chest. A sense of emptiness had settled there, and as much as I tried to force my mind to focus on what I was there to do, I knew the truth was that I missed Callahan. I silently cursed my feelings, my memory of him, for intruding upon my purpose.

  I swallowed my emotions down, took a deep breath, and got out of the Jeep. It had been drizzling on the way there, but now it was raining hard, the storm having come up fast and furious. I headed toward the other side of the street, where young male prostitutes showed their wares despite the downpour. They strutted and called out to slowly passing vehicles of men who were doing the equivalent of window shopping, pausing when they thought they saw something they liked, and then sometimes continuing. More often they waited to get a closer look at the merchandise.

  Some of the boys stood in groups, smoking and laughing with each other. You could pick out the new kids, because they were the ones who stood off on their own, having learned that they needed to earn their place on the street. The other boys got first dibs on the passing motorists. The new kids got the leftovers.

  The kid I’d spoken to the previous year had been new too. Terrified and beaten up, his spirit almost broken after only a week out on the street. Callahan and I had taken him home. I knew he wouldn’t be out here now because when he was turning tricks he’d been forced into prostitution, led to believe he was posing for an authentic photographer and then beaten into submission. He was so happy to go home. I was relieved not to see him out here just the same.

  I approached one of the groups of boys. Even before I got close to them I could see them clamming up, their eyes like shuttered windows.

  “Hi,” I offered. I’d had several copies made of the photograph of Tyler Pine in life and I held one up now. “Do you guys know this kid?”

  One of the boys shrugged. He was dressed in a black T-shirt and dirty black jeans. His black hair stuck up in spikes, even while being saturated by the rain. That was some fantastic hair product. “Maybe we do, maybe we don’t.”

  Two of the boys smirked. The third’s face was expressionless. They were all dressed similarly and had a hungry, careless look about them. It was hard to care about somebody else when their own lives sucked so badly. And they didn’t know me from a hole in the ground. I knew they knew that Tyler was dead. Word traveled fast among the prostitutes and it had been months.

  “You know he’s dead, right?” I put the picture away in my jacket pocket. It was wet now and probably ruined.

  The spiky kid shrugged again. “Maybe.”

  Again, two smirked. One remained straight-faced.

  “Look, I just want to know what happened to him. Is there a weirdo you guys have to watch out for?”

  All the kids started laughing.

  When Spike caught his breath he shook his head as if I was the best comic he’d ever seen. “Lady, what planet are you on? The streets are full of weirdoes.”

  “Yeah, well one that might be more dangerous than the others? You know what I’m saying. It’s the difference between getting the creeps with a John and ending up dead.”

  I let my eyes pass over each kid’s face. “Well, if there were, wouldn’t you like to maybe get him off the streets so you can be a bit safer out here?”

  The expressionless kid spoke. “What the hell do you care? You get to go home in your fancy Jeep to some fancy house in the suburbs, right? Watch about the dead bodies on the news while you’re eating a nice, fat steak and sipping chardonnay.” He said chardonnay with a fake British accent, which pissed me off.

  “Hey, you don’t know a thing about me, kid.”

  “I know you ain’t out here sellin’ your ass.”

  “What? So I’m the enemy?” I took a deep breath and let it out. “I just want to know what happened to Tyler.”

  That got another full minute of laughter from them all. I was guessing that Tyler had been known by another name out here.

  Expressionless looked at me, water dripping down his face and over his nose. “Go home, lady. There ain’t a thing you can do out here, and you’re scaring off my next meal.”

  * * *

  “That didn’t go well.” I was talking out loud to myself, as I’m apt to do, and wasn’t sure where to go from there. “Shit.”

  It was dark as hell and pissing rain, and my wipers couldn’t keep up. I could barely see two feet in front of the Jeep. I pulled over to the side of the road and sat, waiting for the downpour to lighten up enough that I could drive home.

  I gazed at the windshield, watching the water cascade down the glass, when I saw something move out of the corner of my eye. It was a gray or silver pick-up truck and it came right up beside me. My heart stopped and I held my breath. I reached over and locked the door, then the passenger door. I knew that the back hatch was probably unlocked. I sat and watched the truck. It didn’t move. Nobody came out of it. I could hear the blood rushing to my ears as adrenaline thrilled in my veins.

  Then as quickly as it had appeared, it moved off, heading down the highway. I sat shivering, wondering if he was planning on turning in somewhere to wait for me. I hoped to hell he didn’t know where I lived. One thing was for sure, this was a terror tactic. Somebody was trying to scare the hell out of me and doing a fine job of it.

  There was a loud knock on the window beside me. I almost jumped out of my skin. I gaped at the dark shape, having no intention of lowering my window. When I glanced in the side mirror I saw that a police cruiser was parked behind me, lights flashing. I lowered my window.

  “Car trouble, ma’am?” The officer was young, maybe early twenties. He still had some baby fat around his face, and his eyes were warm.

  “No, I just pulled over because I couldn’t see the road for the rain. It was just pouring too hard.”

  “Yeah, it’s bad out tonight for driving. It seems to have let up some now.” He looked at the sky.

  I looked at my windshield. He was right. The hard drilling rain had calmed to a light pattering on the glass.

  “Right. I think I can make it home, now.” I smiled at him, hoping to reassure him. I could’ve told him about the pick-up, but it was long gone now, and I really just wanted to get home. “Thank you, officer.”

  “All right, then. Drive safe and have a good night, ma’am.”

  “Thank you, and the same to you.”

  * * *

  “You’ve had a hell of a night.” Jack handed me a mug of hot cocoa.

  “Yeah. No shit.” I wrapped my hands around the mug, thankful for the heat.

  It wasn’t a cold night but I felt chilled to the bone. I couldn’t seem to stop quivering, but it was coming from within. I sat curled up on his big, comfortable sofa with an afghan over me. It ha
d been a gift from me just this past Christmas. Something both he and Sharon could use. I was glad to be using it now.

  Jesse had already gone for the night. As much as he wanted to be involved in the case, I wanted to leave him out of it. He’d almost been killed because of me the previous year and I didn’t want him in danger again.

  I took a breath and slowly explained to Jack everything that had happened that day, from finding out about Michael and his perverted tastes to the crime scene photos, the fruitless talk with the kids in Boy’s Town to the truck pulling up beside me. No wonder I was quivering.

  Jack sat down beside me, gripping a bottle of water in his large hand. “I’d like to know what happened to that gold chain.”

  “So would I.”

  Jack stared off into space for a moment, his eyes squinting a little. “Hmm.”

  “What?” I knew that look.

  “What if old Michael didn’t stop at prostitutes? What if he trolled mall bathrooms? What if he touched the wrong kid and some parent decided to take him out?”

  “Some parent who knew about his nut allergy?”

  “It wouldn’t be that hard to find out. The man must’ve worn an allergy alert bracelet on his wrist.

  “I thought that was just for penicillin.”

  “No. Nuts, too. It’s a very serious allergy. Some dude eats one by accident and starts flopping around on the floor, he wants strangers to be able to figure it out fast enough to find his epinephrine pen. The eppy pen buys about twenty minutes to get to the hospital.”

  “Wouldn’t a parent just stab or shoot the guy? It’s a crime of passion, right?”

  “Not if you have a cold rage, and you plan on not getting caught. You follow the bastard around for awhile and learn all you can about him. You figure out the best way to take him out.”

  “You know, you might be right.” I nodded. “Hey, what if it was a relative of Tyler? A brother or sister? Even a parent?”

  “It’s hard to imagine a parent whose kid is out there hooking on the streets caring about what happens to him.”

  “You never know, though,” I said. “You don’t know the circumstances. Maybe the father was living in another city or something. Or the mother. Maybe both parents weren’t assholes, just one. Maybe the kid just got into the wrong crowd. Who knows?”

  “First things first. Let’s find out where that chain came from.”

  I thought for a moment. “We’ll hit the jewelry stores tomorrow. You up for it?”

  “Hell, that’s an easy task. You kidding me? After everything we’ve been through you think I’d balk at a little field trip to some jewelry stores?”

  “You do have a business to run.”

  “I do have employees, too. Speaking of that, Jesse is doing great. He’s starting the build on his own motorcycle.”

  “What? One he wants to buy?”

  “Oh, he thinks he’s buying it. You know, making payments until he can drive it out of here at a discount.” He gave me a mischievous smile. “I’m giving it to him as a birthday present, and for being such an awesome worker.”

  “Oh, Jack. That’s so generous.”

  “Hey, the kid’s earned it. He’s designed and helped build some of the most beautiful bikes this company has made. He’s made me a lot of money, Kicks. He deserves a nice bonus.”

  I reached out and covered his huge hand with mine. “Thank you, my friend. For everything.”

  “You’re welcome. Listen, you wanna bed down here tonight?”

  “No. I have to go let Buddy out. And I’m not going to be chased out of my own house.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I know. I’ve heard it before.”

  “Then why are you asking me?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. To see if hell’s frozen over yet?”

  I grinned at him.

  “Well, you know I’m coming with you. I want to check your house out to make sure it’s safe.”

  “Buddy’s there. Of course it’s safe.”

  “Just humor me, all right?”

  I stood and stretched. “Fine. Let’s go look for monsters.”

  We really were looking for monsters. Suzanne Ellero’s head and hands, Chloe’s bloody clothes and the strangled body of Tyler Pine proved it. Mitch was right, if people really knew what went on out there they’d never leave their houses.

  Jack and I looked through the phone book and started with the jewelry stores that did custom design. There were five stores in the area that would design jewelry to a customer’s specifications. They were pricey, but there was definitely a market for it. We split up. He took three stores and I took two.

  The first jeweler I approached, Gems for You, was in the middle of town. The place sparkled, every surface shined, every piece of jewelry glittered in its showcase. The place was huge and the two girls and one gentleman working behind the counter all seemed to have the same pearly white smile. I wondered if they had their teeth bleached by the same dentist or if they did it themselves.

  As I approached, they all seemed to prepare to pounce, but they waited to see which area I’d approach. I smiled at each of them in turn as I pulled the picture of Tyler Pine from my pocket.

  “Hi. I wonder if you could help me.”

  They glanced at each other before a tall girl with auburn hair pulled into a twist at the back of her head stepped forward, an enthusiastic smile on her face. “Are you looking for something special?”

  I laid the picture on the glass counter top. “Do you recognize the gold chain around this boy’s neck?”

  She stared at the picture, frowning, then shook her head. “No. It doesn’t look like our work.”

  The other two store workers had come over to look at the picture, and all shook their heads. Something in their nonchalant expressions told a different story.

  “Do you know whose work it might be?”

  Again, all heads shook ‘no’.

  “I’m sure we could design something spectacular for you,” said the young man. He wasn’t very tall, but he was sturdily built.

  “I’m not looking to have anything designed. I’m trying to trace the chain back to whoever had it made. I need to ask him a few questions regarding the boy.”

  All three sets of eyes widened, acknowledgment setting in. Something had happened to the kid. Now either they would completely clam up, not wanting any trouble, or they would try to be good Samaritans. Somebody here was the alpha. The other two would take their cue from him or her. I glanced at their name tags. The other girl, a petite brunette, was the manager. She was far too quiet to be the alpha in the bunch. I waited, eyeballing them all with raised eyebrows.

  The leader of the pack turned out to be the auburn haired girl, whose tag said she was Loren. “I think this is the work of Bannons. They have a couple of different designers, but this chain reminds me of the work of Peter Grogan. He’s a talented artist.”

  The other two nodded.

  “Yeah. That does look like one of Peter’s,” the man said.

  The brunette moved away from the counter, going into a back room. She returned a few seconds later with a purse over her shoulder. “I’m going on break.”

  She gave me a curt nod. “Good luck.” She was through with me. She didn’t look back as she walked out and disappeared into the street.

  “All right,” I said to the other two. “Thank you.”

  As I headed out the door my cell rang. It was Jack.

  “No luck with this place, but they think they know where the chain was made.”

  “Let me guess, Bannons.”

  “Right.”

  “Problem is, they have three stores in the area.”

  “I’ll take two, you take one.”

  “Deal.”

  I hit pay dirt at Bannons on Madison. The owner, a tall, thin man with an obvious sense of entitlement fairly gushed over the gold chain. He said that no two pieces of jewelry made by their store were alike. They employed several jewelry designers to ensure there was something for every t
aste.

  “I’m terribly sorry but we have a strict policy that no piece ever be duplicated. It would defeat the entire philosophy of our store.”

  “Oh, I don’t want a duplicate. I want to know who had the chain made.”

  He eyed me, suddenly suspicious. “I’m not at liberty to divulge information about our clients.”

  Clients. Like it was a freakin’ law firm or something. I went for the throat. Flustering people knocked them off balance and impaired their ability to think clearly.

  I leaned in. “Look, this kid is dead.”

  He blanched and almost rocked back on his feet. “Dead?”

  “Now, I need to know who bought him that chain. If you know and you don’t share that information, you’ll be withholding crucial evidence which could help us catch the killer.”

  I was right. I’d flustered him. He figured I was plain clothed police. Within seconds I had a detailed description and thanks to a copy of a credit card bill, I had a name.

  Michael Nolan.

  Chapter Nine

  “There’s a big shock,” Jack said around a blueberry doughnut.

  We’d met at the Donut Hole in the middle of Albany to compare notes. The name was appropriate. The place definitely was a hole. The doughnuts were delicious and the coffee rich and strong. I could put up with the wide array characters, most of dubious repute, I was sure, who frequented the place. I just avoided the bathroom like the plague. You never knew what or whom you’d find in there.

  “So what do you think happened? Lover’s quarrel?” I took a long drink of my coffee. It was heavenly.

  “It seems pretty obvious that Nolan was in love with this kid. Maybe he didn’t want him hooking anymore.”

  I bit into my jelly doughnut and thought about it. “You mean he wanted Tyler all to himself? It’s a possibility.”

  “Maybe Michael Nolan didn’t kill the kid. Maybe somebody else did.”

  “If it wasn’t Michael Nolan, then who did kill him?”

  Jack shrugged. “A bad John?”

  Heaven knew there were enough of those out there.