by Dale Mayer
“Not too impressed with your timing,” one said. “But, yeah, absolutely. Cheating is not your deal. But, like he said, make sure you are careful.”
“Got it,” Simon said. “Thanks for the warning.” He tucked the bag under his arm, pocketed his cell phone, and said, “Gentlemen, it’s been a pleasure.” And he walked out. Just silence was behind him. But ahead of him, he knew would be a trap. No way the cheater would let Simon walk out of here. What Simon didn’t know for sure was if one of the men behind him wouldn’t let him walk out either.
He wrapped up the ball of money as tight as he could, tucking it into his outside pocket, so he had both hands free, and then he stepped out to the street. When the whistle of air came, he had already ducked and was moving. But unlike most people, he didn’t move away. He turned and headed directly for the target. The cheater stood there, waiting for him. A gun in hand, the cheater wasn’t expecting Simon’s right fist that clocked him on the jaw or Simon’s left leg that came up and took out his gun hand. When the cheater went down, his head smacked hard onto the concrete.
Simon stood over him and said, “Seriously? You wait out here to shoot an unarmed man?”
“I need my goddamn money,” he said painfully.
“Well, you’re not getting it,” he said. “Did you really think you could get away with all that cheating?”
With eyes opened wide, the man sputtered, “How did you know?”
“Because I can recognize a cheater,” he said. “You’ve been stealing from these men for months.”
“Have not,” he said.
“Not only that, you completely bankrupted the last guy.”
“He shouldn’t have been here. I was teaching him a lesson,” he said.
“Well, guess what? That lesson is now yours,” he said. “Get out of the game before you end up playing a game that you can’t win.” And, with that, Simon turned, and he walked away. He’d kicked the gun away, but that didn’t mean the guy wouldn’t go for it again.
When Simon turned around and saw him reaching for it, he hid in the alleyway and waited. No way to know just how stupid the cheater would be. When he heard raised voices, he realized the other players from their game had come out. Simon stepped around the corner, even though the guy had a gun. “Now you tell them,” Simon said, “how you’ve been cheating them for the last couple months.”
But the cheater shook his head. “You’re the one who’s been cheating them. The proof is under your hand right there.”
“I’ve been playing here for years,” Simon said. “I’ve never cheated. You’ve been fleecing them one by one,” he said. “You think that gun will help you?”
But the shooter raised it and pointed at Simon. “I should have killed you when you stepped out.”
“You actually tried, as I recall,” he said.
And, just like that, the cheater pulled the trigger. But an empty barrel clicked. He stared at it, shook his head, and said, “No way. I loaded this thing.”
“Well, try it again,” Simon said, and again the man fired at him. Trying over and over, but it was empty. He threw it away in disgust. “How the fuck did you do that?”
“No idea what you’re talking about,” Simon said cheerfully, noting the other guys closing in on the cheater. “Have a good night.”
As Simon walked away, he considered what to do with the money. And had a perfect answer. As he kept going, up ahead was one of the more hidden women’s shelters in town. They had to be obscure so their abusive husbands and boyfriends could not find them. He walked up, rang the doorbell. There was no answer at the door but someone over an intercom asked him what he wanted.
“Is Lisa here?”
“The manager?”
“Yes,” he said. “Tell her Simon is here to make a deposit.” While he waited, he opened the bag and frowned, grabbed out a large handful of bills, rolled it back up again. When the door opened, and a woman stepped out, her gaze was fearful as she looked around. He said, “Hold out your hands.”
She looked at him in surprise, until she saw the money. She immediately held out both hands.
“Spend it all on the women’s shelter,” he urged.
“Simon, your previous donation helped to fund two more years. We appreciate you, but you don’t have to keep doing this.”
“Like hell,” he said. “You take care of yourself.”
And just like that, he turned and walked away.
*
That’s not how he had intended the child swap to go. When he’d questioned his group, he’d heard about the child from another one. This wasn’t the child everybody was looking for but another one, a little boy. He desperately wanted him. But apparently, when this asshole realized the cops were trailing all pedophiles from the most recent Amber Alert, he had dropped the boy somewhere in a public place.
He’d talked to the asshole only an hour earlier, tried to get the youngster for himself, but the perv had refused, said he was going downtown to drop him there. It had taken a bit to get the directions, but, as soon as he had, he’d seen the boy up ahead. Almost in reach. And he’d been so close, so damn close. Then he saw the woman racing toward him, shouting, and knew he would be too late.
Had she seen him? He really hoped not because he didn’t want to deal with that right now. He’d kill her if he needed to. He’d killed others for less. It was all about secrecy … and staying away from the cops. He didn’t even stick around long enough to see what she’d done with the child, but he knew instinctively that she would care for him and would make sure he was okay.
He’d have done the same. He’d have looked after him, and the child would have been grateful too. That was all he wanted anyway—somebody who would love him. At least some of the time that’s what he wanted. Other times he didn’t even know what the hell he wanted.
So be it.
He quickly dialed his sister’s number. “What do you want at this hour?” she groaned. He stared at the phone. “I didn’t even think about that,” he said. “What time is it?”
“It’s got to be close to midnight,” she said. As she fumbled around on her side of the call, she said, “Damn it, bro. It’s two in the morning.”
“I need to talk,” he said. She sighed, and he could imagine her sinking down again into her pillows, lying there, with her eyes closed.
“About what?”
“I almost got a little boy tonight.”
“Almost?” Silence. “Normally you don’t tell me about your failures.”
“Well, in a way it’s a success,” he said, “so I’m trying to find the good part.”
“You’re very confusing tonight,” she said.
“I heard that another pedophile had this little boy but was running scared with the Amber Alert. You know registered pedos in the kidnapping area are rousted first,” he said. “I’m fairly well-known for shaking them down, so, when I put out the word that I was looking for the little boy, I was hoping that he would just give him to me.”
“And he didn’t?”
“No, he didn’t,” he said. “He let him go in some damn dark corner of downtown. A tiny little boy just left in the doorway like that,” he said. “Who the hell would do that? He just deserted him on the street corner. Anybody could have picked him up.”
A half snort came from the other side of the phone.
“What the hell?” he said. “Are you laughing at me?”
“I’m laughing at the pedophile who stuck a child on the street corner, and you’re worried about just anybody getting him.”
He thought about it and then said, “Good one. Yeah, very funny. You’re right. But I would have looked after him.”
“Of course you would have,” she said in a soothing voice.
He needed that. She let him rant and yell until he’d finally wound down. “See? That’s why I called you,” he said. “I needed this talk.”
“I’m glad to help,” she said, “but could you possibly avoid calling so late? This was a lot, eve
n for you.”
“Well, I keep trying,” he said, “but tonight was different.” By the time he finished talking, his sister wasn’t answering anymore. “Sis, are you still there?” He heard a murmur come over the phone, and he glared at it. “The least you can do is listen to me.”
“I tried,” she said, “but now I’m asleep, so goodbye.”
And instead of the click of the phone, he heard the phone drop and knew his sister was off to dreamland, as he should be.
But it had been a busy night. He’d gotten rid of the broken China Doll, but he’d missed his chance at getting a little boy who would have looked up to him and would have been beyond happy to have been taken care of by him. Now he was all alone in his damn apartment, and he hated it. Something was so depressing about being here. At least while the China Doll was here, he hadn’t felt quite so lonely. Of course it was broken, but, even broken, it was something. Now he had nothing again.
He frowned at that; he hadn’t heard whether the seven-year-old Leonard had been found or not, and that worried him. It worried him because still other pedophiles were out there. Hell, he knew many of them. He should get his pick of the kids. He hadn’t shaken down a couple other pervs yet; maybe he needed to. Maybe somebody else had Leonard that he didn’t know anything about.
As he thought about it, he wondered if Leonard’s family wasn’t doing this for some other reason. He hated it when families used kids to fill their pockets. Talk about abuse. He loved his kids. When families did something like that, it made life impossible and miserable for their kids. Nobody ever charged the parents. Nobody ever gave a shit about the poor kids then. No, it was all about what he did wrong. It was ridiculous.
That little China Doll would have been great, if she hadn’t died. He didn’t even know how she died. He stared down at his hands and shook his head. He’d given her a bath in alcohol to make sure there were no signs of what he’d done. She’d been so sweet and so perfect and obviously very sick before he ever got her.
The same with Jason. That little boy had been in terrible shape. He’d loved him and had done everything he could to keep him alive, but eventually Jason had died on him. It was just so damn sad. Already he felt the tears collecting in his eyes, but he didn’t want to cry again. He didn’t want to cry over Jason; it was just too hard. He absolutely loved that kid.
He brought up the news article that he’d seen online and saved the picture of the little boy Leonard to his desktop. He felt his heart tighten as he saw that face. He really wanted him. But where the hell was he? It didn’t make sense. Unfortunately it actually did because lots of guys just like him were out there. Guys who were lonely, guys who were looking for their special companion to make life not quite so rough. Hopefully he could find Leonard and could bring him home. He also thought about who else he could take that child from because that was the key to everything. It was one thing to know somebody else had him, but no way he would let that stand.
He would take Leonard for himself.
Chapter 10
Friday, Very Early Morning
It was a damn long night. Kate worked straight through Thursday into the wee morning hours of Friday. The success of protecting the little boy was followed by an absolutely aching defeat, as Kate stood next to Owen, over what appeared to be a six-year-old girl, her skin perfectly china white. Her beauty—that simple innocence—shone through in the darkness. Kate stepped back and asked Owen, “Who found her?”
He pointed to the side of the road and said, “That man over there. Simon St. Laurant. I spoke to him when I arrived, and he said he’d come back later and talk to you. But I see he’s there now.”
She glanced across, Simon staring at her. He lifted a hand, as her breath sucked into the back of her chest. She looked down at the little girl, then back at Owen. “Any other witnesses?”
Owen nodded at the cops. They shook their heads. “Just him.”
She nodded. “I’ll go talk to him. Why isn’t the coroner here yet?”
“He’s on the way,” Owen said. “Everybody is busy tonight though. A couple bad accidents and some gang-related shooting downtown. Then this one.”
“By morning there will be half a dozen more too,” she said sadly. “Unfortunately that’s the world we live in.”
“It is, but it would sure be nice if it weren’t.”
She crossed the street, turning her hands in her pockets, while she studied Simon. As she approached, she said, “What the fuck?”
Simon shrugged. “What was I supposed to do? Not call it in?”
She reached up and rubbed her face. “It would be nice maybe if you just weren’t involved every time I turn around,” she muttered. “Particularly with these cases.”
“You have to pick which side you think I’m on, Detective,” he said, “because this sitting on the fence could get a little rough.”
“I know which side you’re on,” she said. “And it’s not my side.”
“Are you so sure?” he asked.
She glared at him. “When did you find her?”
“About twenty minutes before the cops arrived,” he said. “I was at the club, having a couple friendly card games, and, when I was done, I walked out and came this direction and found her.”
“But this isn’t False Creek,” she said, looking at him.
“What does False Creek have to do with it?”
“I don’t know,” she said and then groaned. “Did you see anyone? Was anyone around her? Did you remove anything from her?”
“I didn’t see anyone. I didn’t see anything. I didn’t see any vehicle. I didn’t touch the body, and I didn’t remove anything from her.”
She nodded. “Were any lights on in the nearby apartments, anybody hanging around? Were there any shadows, any footsteps, any noises that didn’t fit?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Nothing like that.”
She nodded. “Fine. So how did your game go tonight?”
He held out the bag with what was left of the money. “It went great.”
She shook her head at the size of the bag. “Jesus Christ, at least ten thousand must be in there.”
“Twice that, at least,” he said calmly.
“High stakes,” she snapped. But she turned and stared at Owen and the local beat cops, still looking at the body. She couldn’t give a shit about the money in his pocket. All she cared about was the life that had left that little body.
“How long were you looking for her?”
She shared a glance at him. “I never got any report that she was missing,” she said sadly. “So that’s giving me a whole new investigation.”
“Well, I didn’t have anything to do with it.”
“Just a magnet for trouble though, huh?”
His tone turned grim. “Only lately.”
She stopped, turned, and looked at him. “What changed?”
He stared right at her, his gaze completely unfathomable.
“For something like that to happen in your world,” she said, “usually something changes.”
He gave her a shrug and a blank smile.
Frustrated, she said, “Well, that’s your problem, but make sure you stay the hell away from my cases.”
“And if I don’t?” he asked, his tone turning silky.
“I’ll make sure that I drag you into each and every one of them,” she said. “You’re either a charlatan or somebody who gets his kicks out of seeing the police running around, chasing after this killer,” she said. “Or you are the killer himself. I’m okay to lay any one of those labels on you, though I’d much prefer that last one.”
“You need proof for that,” he said.
“And what?” she said. “Are you too smart for that?”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” he said, “but it’s definitely an issue.”
“I don’t think so,” she said, “but now we have a problem.”
“What’s that?”
“Now you are in too many of my case
s. I’ve got a missing seven-year-old boy, and we’ve got a dead little girl,” and she frowned, as she recognized the ages. “And we’ve got all those kids from those crazy nightmares of yours.” With that, she turned and headed back to the crime scene. Only to realize she hadn’t asked him about the toddler she’d found alive earlier.
*
Simon watched the detective leave. Something was elusive and yet addictive about her. They were playing cat and mouse, only he didn’t know what the end game was. He detested the police, detested authority of any kind. Particularly people who took a paycheck and didn’t give a shit about anything beyond that.
Jobs weren’t people; they weren’t hearts and souls. They weren’t dreams and hopes and wishes. When it came to a lot of cops, they didn’t give a shit about any of that. They were just about black-and-white statistics, needing to make an arrest to keep their paychecks flowing. He didn’t think she was the same kind of paycheck-collecting cop because something was different there, something damn weird about her. No. Not weird. Unique. Yeah, he’d go with unique.
Yet she was right about one thing—something had changed. He just didn’t know what had triggered it.
He patted the money bag in one pocket, then pulled out the small yellow ball he still kept in the other. Not sure why, except it was a reminder of Yale, who’d tossed it to him as he was leaving the park that one day. With that, he turned and headed for home. As he walked, he passed several others out, cruising around and enjoying life. But something in the back of his head said that he was up against some other elements.
He kept walking forward, searching the alleyways as he crossed them. Once again, he heard a weird sound that had him flattening against the wall, turning to face the threat. And, sure enough, there was his cheating opponent from the game earlier this evening. Only now his face was puffed up and red, his nose bleeding. Simon stared at the man in surprise. “Whoever did that to you, well, I’m surprised they even let you walk away.”
“They didn’t,” he spat on the ground. “I woke up on a bench a few blocks away. But don’t worry. I know who is really responsible for this.”