Hart of Darkness

by S. B. Alexander

  I had kind of forgotten about the detective when Eddie mentioned Maggie anyway.

  “Thanks for the advice,” I said before trekking to my car.

  Maggie Marx. I didn’t know if she could help me, but I had a butterfly feeling in my stomach. I didn’t get the chance to determine whether it was my gut trying to tell me something or not because my phone rang. For a brief second, my pulse sped up until I saw Rafe’s name on the screen. Then my pulse really took flight. “Did something happen?”

  “Norton is back. No gun this time. He was trying to break in through the basement door in the backyard. He’s drunker than a skunk. I had to knock him out. He’s sleeping on the lawn chair. When you get back, I’ll drop him in front of the police station. Are you on your way?”

  “I’m getting in my car. The cops won’t do anything with a drunk. Take him to Manny’s.” If Manny couldn’t help him, then I might have to involve the cops.

  Rafe chuckled. “Manny isn’t going to be happy. He likes those who want to get help themselves.”

  “True, but Manny can handle Norton. Besides, Norton likes to beat women not men.”

  “He pulled a gun on you, man.”

  I started the engine. “Not really.” Norton had the gun at his side. “My gut tells me he was scared.”

  “You do come off kind of scary,” Rafe teased.

  “And you don’t.” I laughed. “I’ll be there in about twenty minutes.” I hung up.

  As I drove back through the empty city streets, save for a car here and there, I tried to shed the image of the dead girl. I honestly didn’t know if I could look at any more dead girls.

  Maybe Rafe was right. I should let Grace go. I had to consider that maybe she was dead. But until I laid eyes on her body, I wasn’t going down that road, especially not after questioning a handful of prostitutes over a year ago. I’d had a mini breakthrough when a girl named Daisy recognized Grace from the picture I’d shown her. In particular, she’d recognized Grace’s birthmark. According to Daisy, she had seen Grace at a soup kitchen on Asher Street. Even though I’d come up empty after weeks of staking out the joint, I wasn’t ready to give up on finding my sister.

  4

  Maggie

  I parked two blocks from a sea of red and blue flashing lights. I grabbed my bag, hopped out of my car, and ran up to the crowd that had gathered around.

  I sidled up to an older lady. “What’s going on?”

  She didn’t even look my way. Instead, she lifted up on her tiptoes to see over others’ heads. “Word is the cops are in a standoff with some gang.”

  My internal radar was firing on all cylinders. “What gang?”

  She clutched the robe she was wearing. “Not sure.”

  I plowed through the throng to get a better view. Some protested as I wiggled my way up to a man in blue, whose name read Miladin on his uniform shirt. I knew some cops but not him.

  Police cruisers and unmarked cars littered the street on the other side of the police barricade.

  I flashed my reporter credentials. “I’m here to see Detective Ted Hughes.” I scanned the men in blue and some in plain clothes. Ted was tall, lanky, and sometimes hard to miss with his thick mustache that was similar to the actor Tom Selleck’s. I did another once-over and spotted Rick. He wasn’t as tall as Ted, but he was husky, compliments of the gym he lived at during his off-duty hours.

  Officer Miladin narrowed his dark eyes. “Civilians are not allowed past this barrier.”

  “I work for the paper, so let me through.” I knew working as a reporter held no clout to get me into an active police scene, but most cops knew I was close to Ted.

  Officer Miladin stabbed a finger at another police barrier along the sidewalk in front of the brick homes that lined the street. “The media is over there.”

  I didn’t budge from my spot. “You’re new. Aren’t you?”

  Miladin’s voice dropped an octave. “I said over there.”

  I huffed and decided it wasn’t worth arguing. Ted would only kick me out anyway.

  I spotted Deidre, a news reporter for CBNT, a local station in the city. If anyone had a lead, it would be Deidre. She was relentless in her hunt to get the big story. I was about to make my way over to her, when a shot rang out through the humid night.

  People screamed and scattered.

  The cops took cover behind their vehicles.

  I managed to duck behind one of many cars parked along the curb. The lady in the robe joined me, breathing heavily, while the crowd scattered to take cover.

  Then silence ensued.

  I slowly peeked through the car window, when the lady in the robe nudged me.

  She pointed a red-painted nail toward the driveway of the house across from us. “Look.”

  A girl with bold red hair darted from the back of the house, setting off the motion sensor.

  Miladin, who had abandoned his position, edged along the base of the house and down the driveway. He said something into his radio, when the redhead climbed the chain-link fence.

  Considering the girl was running, I suspected the cops didn’t have the house completely surrounded. Or if they did, then their attention wasn’t on the girl.

  The crowd seemed to be holding its breath. A helicopter whirred above, cutting through the soupy silence.

  Officer Miladin reached out to grab the girl when she flipped over the fence. Then a rotund man came out of nowhere and tackled Miladin to the ground. They fought, rolled, and punched each other until Miladin won, securing the man’s arms behind him.

  The light from the helicopter shone down, lighting up the yards of the modest houses in the neighborhood.

  Officer Miladin walked his perp back toward the crowd in handcuffs. Then he said into his radio, “She has red hair.”

  I fumbled for my camera then snapped several pictures. I used the car as my anchor to steady my arms and aimed my lens at the houses across and away from the scene. At the moment, no one was chasing the red-haired girl.

  A radio crackled. “All clear inside.”

  I focused my lens back on the scene, watching the cops scatter in and around the house. I debated what my next move would be. I didn’t know if I should walk up to the media group and get the scoop or go in search of the redhead, who could probably give me details of what had happened, rather than waiting around for the canned speech the police would give reporters.

  After I stowed my camera, I watched Miladin shove the rotund perp into a police cruiser. It wasn’t Cory, and I didn’t recognize the guy.

  The lady in the robe hurried away as did the rest of the onlookers. I stayed put to examine more of the scene, hoping that I would see cops escorting other gang members, like Cory, out of the house. Instead, I spotted Ted, and he did a double take when he saw me.

  He crooked his finger at me but didn’t appear happy, probably because he’d all but ordered me to go home when I’d spoken to him on the phone.

  If I ignored him, I would only irritate him, and then he would send the cavalry for me. I wandered his way.

  His mustache twitched, his gaze never wavering from me until his radio crackled. “Go.”

  “Sir, you need to come inside,” a voice said through the radio.

  “Be right there,” Ted responded.

  I fidgeted with my thin scarf then put on my reporter’s hat. “Detective Hughes, was this standoff tonight with the Black Knights?”

  “Cut the crap, Mags. I told you to go home.” His words were laden with frustration.

  I rolled my eyes, catching a glimpse of Rick standing near the house and talking on his phone. “I’m a reporter. As much as you don’t like me getting involved in stories that could be dangerous, too bad. That’s my job. Why would you think I would listen to you anyway?”

  His tense shoulders lowered. “You got a point. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

  I pouted. “I love you too, Dad,” I said with equal parts snark and affection. “So, are the Black Knights involved? You
caught one gang member. Any others inside?”

  He pursed his lips. “The only story you should uncover is who your parents are. Have you given more thought to what we talked about the other day?”

  Hell to the no. I wasn’t looking for my parents. They’d had the nerve to abandon me when I was a baby, so screw them. Although a tiny part of me wanted to know why more than anything. Ted had offered several times to help me since he had the resources to do so.

  “You’ll regret not knowing where you came from, Mags. Family is important. Maybe your parents did what they did to save you.”

  Whatever. That wasn’t the topic at the moment. “Looking for my parents isn’t going to keep my editor happy.” That was the truth. “Besides, you’re my family. You cared for me. You took me off the streets.”

  He grinned like a proud father, when his radio sparked to life. “Ted,” Rick said.

  I flicked my gaze to where Rick was standing, but he wasn’t there. Too bad. I would’ve liked to have tried to coax him into giving me something.

  “I’m on my way,” Ted said into his radio. “Oh, Mags, I’ve instructed Rick not to give you any more intel. So don’t ask.” Then he crossed the pavement to the two-story brick home.

  I could have argued until the sun came up, but I wouldn’t have gotten anywhere. Ted was a hardened individual and staunch in his decisions, especially when it came to protecting those he loved. Not to mention, he couldn’t and wouldn’t divulge facts of any investigation. Otherwise cases could be ruined and thrown out of court.

  The news reporters were finishing up their late-night segments. I thought about saying hi to Deidre, but she was busy talking into the camera.

  The crowd had scattered.

  The helicopter was gone.

  I was speed walking toward my car, looking down driveways and over fences, in the off chance I would spot the redhead. When I reached an intersection, I glanced in both directions. A streetlight illuminated the roadway, but not all that well. In the blink of an eye, I spied someone in the shadows at the edge of a house across the street.

  I jogged in that direction, looking around me, making sure I didn’t have any creepers on my tail. I always carried a knife, which was in my messenger bag. When I made it to the driveway, a cat screeched as though someone had kicked the poor thing.

  I stopped. “I know you’re back there.” I kept my voice soft in the off chance it was the redhead. “I’m not a cop. I promise. I saw you run from the house, and I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

  The petite form came into view, scared, bruised, bleeding, and frightened.

  I sucked in a sharp breath. “What happened to you?”

  Fear lived deep in the girl’s blue eyes. Her red hair was covered in leaves. Her lip was split, her white frilly blouse was ripped, her shorts torn, and cuts marred her long legs as though someone had decided to use her as a sculpture. Surely, hopping fences couldn’t have given her the bruises so quickly.

  Her gaze darted up and down the street. “I need to hide.”

  She needed first aid. “The cops can help you.” She definitely wasn’t a suspect but a victim, for sure.

  Her head moved back and forth at a rapid rate. “No cops.” Her voice squeaked like a dog’s chew toy. “Please help me.”

  Her plea sent a chill down my spine. My horrible night all those years ago flashed before me. “Come on. My car is one block down.”

  She hesitated, licking her bloody lip.

  “I promise, no cops. But if you don’t come with me now, they will find you.” That much, I was certain of. I was surprised Ted didn’t have a man canvassing every nook and cranny in the near vicinity for her. Whatever was in that house had to be bad to divert the cops’ attention away from a potential suspect or victim.

  I had so many questions skipping through my mind. First, I needed to help the girl, and not by turning her in. I trusted Ted. But at the moment, the girl needed a friend and not an interrogator. I carefully grasped her hand. “We need to move.”

  She came with me willingly. When we were safely in my car and on the road, she sighed then started crying.

  I rubbed her arm lightly with the back of my fingers, careful not to put any pressure on her bruises. “Let it out.” Crying was a great release. I always felt as though tears held all the bottled-up pain, and when tears fell, the pain inside eased.

  She cried as I sifted through my brain, trying to think of where to take her. I could take her to my dingy apartment. I had a bed, a secondhand couch, a coffee table, and no air conditioner. I nixed the idea since the possibility existed that Ted could stop by.

  When I was several blocks away from the crime scene, I pulled off to the side of the road, in front of a closed convenience store.

  The girl looked around. “What are you doing?”

  “I need to think.” I didn’t want to drive around since my little VW Bug was low on gas. “There’s a homeless shelter a mile from here.”

  “No. I’m a mess. I don’t want to call attention to myself. They might call the police. If Miguel knows I went to the cops, he’ll kill me. Also, no hospital. They would definitely alert the police.”

  “Do you have a name?”

  She sniffled. “Nadine.”

  “I’m Maggie. I want to help you, but I’m coming up empty on where to lay low for tonight. And who is Miguel? Your pimp?”

  Ted would be angry if he found out about Nadine. I didn’t think I was breaking the law.

  “Miguel is a very bad man, but yeah, he’s my pimp.”

  “Is Miguel part of a gang called the Black Knights?”

  She hiked a small shoulder. “Never heard of them. Look, if Miguel finds out that the cops have me, he’ll kill me.”

  I pulled out my phone. “Is Miguel the one that hurt you?”

  Her cold, clammy hand covered mine. “It doesn’t matter who hurt me. Please. I need one night to regroup.”

  I wanted to ask then what, but I knew she would go back to Miguel. All nightwalkers returned to their pimps.

  “The guy the cops caught—was that Miguel?”

  “No. I don’t know his name. He’s a new guy who works for Miguel.”

  “What were you doing at that house?”

  Her hand was on the door. “You’re sounding like a cop now, and I’ve said enough.”

  I swung out my arm to stop her. “Nadine, I said I would help, and I will.” Even if it’s for one night. She needed first aid. Maybe the next morning, I could convince her to speak to Ted.

  She diverted her attention to my phone.

  “I need to check this message.” I didn’t recognize the number of the voice mail. Sometimes Ted had one of his colleagues check on me if he was busy. “It might be my dad.” That wasn’t a total lie since Ted was kind of a father figure.

  I didn’t want Nadine walking the streets. If she did end up dead, then I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself. She sat back as I listened to my voice mail.

  “Hi, Maggie. This is Dillon Hart. I don’t know if you remember me. Anyway, can you call me or stop by when you get a chance.” He proceeded to spit out his number and the address of a shelter. “I would like to talk to you.”

  My eyebrows drew together. Dillon Hart, as in the Hart brothers of the Silent Seven gang, was calling me. I’d wondered what had happened to him after all these years. He’d been the cutest of the Hart brothers. I knew his brother Denim was in jail for murder. That had been headline news about four years ago. Regardless, Dillon owned a shelter.

  Talk about odds.

  5

  Dillon

  I parked in the driveway alongside Rafe’s souped-up truck then absorbed the quietness for a few minutes. Pinching my nose, I closed my eyes. Sleep was starting to take over. Rafe was right. I needed to find an outlet or a woman. Too many sleepless nights at the shelter plus bills, spreadsheets, and a dead girl in a morgue were all starting to take a toll on me.

  The small gym in the basement sounded like a grea
t way to unwind, and so did getting laid. The problem with the latter was that I didn’t have anyone I could call. My past hookups had been with women I’d met at clubs. Since I’d bought the shelter, I hadn’t even been out to eat, let alone to a nightclub.

  I couldn’t help but remember how I’d almost opened my heart to someone. Man, she was still beautiful, with black hair and blue-gray eyes, not like the usual blondes I had a thing for. I grinned when I thought of how she’d been trying to avoid a guy at Rumors nightclub and how I’d decided to make out with her so he wouldn’t notice her. I’d been waiting for her to slap me. Instead, her body had molded to mine, soft and perfect. And then there was the kiss. Whoa! Her lips had been like silk. Her tongue had tasted of mint, and the way it had played with mine had made me hard in an instant.

  I shucked the images of Lizzie Reardon. I couldn’t have a girl who’d been saving her heart for her childhood sweetheart, Kelton Maxwell. Besides, love didn’t have a home in my world, not only because I was afraid any woman would run like my mother had, but also because until I found Grace dead or alive, I couldn’t give my entire self to someone.

  Then you might not ever get married, fall in love, or have a family.

  At some point, I would have to call it quits. My problem was that I couldn’t. My blood began to boil at how I wanted to turn back time and change my decision to go into the merchant marines. I’d trusted my brothers, though.

  “I did watch after her when you joined the merchant marines,” Duke had said. “I couldn’t babysit her twenty-four hours a day.”

  Grace had never believed that Denim or Duke would protect her from our father. I banged a hand on the steering wheel. It was my fault that she was missing. She’d trusted me. I was such a fucking asshole. I’d wanted to get away from my old man so badly. I’d wanted to find a better life rather than get abused by my father or even die from some gang fight. More than that, I’d wanted to make money so I could return home and take my sister out of the caustic environment she had been living in.