Hart of Darkness

by S. B. Alexander

  I held back from spewing all kinds of barbs. I wanted to tell him she’d lost her innocence when he started slapping her around and telling her she was nothing but useless. Instead, I probed more. “Did you talk to her? Did she say anything like where she was living? Did she ask where I was? Or Duke or Denim?”

  “The only thing she said to me was ‘I was never here.’”

  All signs so far were telling me she didn’t want anyone to know she was alive, which was giving me one big fucking headache.

  Silence, murky, cloudy, and stinky, hung over us.

  My father’s shaky fingers fussed with a thread on his blanket. “If I could take back what I did to her, I would.”

  I drilled daggers at him, waiting for more. What about me, Duke, and Denim? But I wasn’t there to get an apology. And while every muscle in me had protested coming to the hospital, I was glad I had. The idea that Grace was alive six months ago, according to Syd, and four or five months ago if my old man was right, was perplexing, enlightening, exciting, and scary as fuck.

  The idea that Grace was alive but hadn’t bothered to reach out to me was unnerving. I was her brother. I was the one who had protected her from the man that stunk to high heaven.

  You were the one who left her to fend for herself against a monster. And for that, I was angrier with myself.

  I opened a drawer on the table beside the bed and found a pen. Then I scribbled Manny’s address and phone number on a napkin that sat on top of the table. “When they discharge you, call this guy or stop by and see him.” It wasn’t a plea or a question, but a statement, and it was the only help I could give him. My father had shown more regret in the last fifteen minutes than he had my entire existence, and for that, my hatred for him diminished a tiny bit.

  I didn’t wait for his excuse of why he wasn’t going to get help. I had a sister to hunt down.

  16

  Maggie

  I played with my pesky hangnail as I waited for Ted. The gang unit was located on the second floor and tucked away behind a high security door. Using a rope, the police had also cordoned off the stairs with a sign that read, Police Personnel Only Beyond This Point.

  Aside from the cop at the front desk, who had his head buried below the ledge of the counter, the station had minimal activity with only the occasional police officer walking by. I thought for a split second that the criminals had decided to take the night off.

  I messed with my phone, clearing the apps hogging my battery life. Then I added Dillon to my contacts. I bounced my knee. I wasn’t nervous about seeing Ted, but I was out of sorts over the exchange I’d had with Dillon. If I would’ve kept my mouth shut, I might have been coming down from an epic orgasm right about now.

  Stupid me had to open my mouth.

  A platonic relationship was for the best. I had to concentrate. I had to crack a nut in the story on the Black Knights, and if anything, I had to find some sort of news that would sell the Sunday paper.

  I was flushing out a headline on what had happened to Nadine and how to tie her back to the standoff I’d witnessed. First, I had to get Ted to give me some facts I could print.

  Footsteps clamored down the steps, and I was ready to hop up when I spotted Rick. He gave me a warm smile, his high forehead glistening as though he’d walked out of the gym.

  “Mags,” he said when he cleared the stairs.

  I tucked my phone into my messenger bag and stood.

  Rick gave me a hug, something he always did when he saw me. “Good luck with Ted.”

  I pulled away. “What’s going on?”

  “Rick,” Ted warned as he came down, dressed in his usual attire of jeans, a short-sleeve plaid button-up shirt, and a gun on his hip—standard uniform for the gang unit. Well, not so much the plaid shirt, but the jeans and combat boots for sure.

  Rick had the same style of clothing from the waist down, but he didn’t do plaid.

  “See ya, Mags,” Rick said as he left the building.

  The bald cop at the front desk acknowledged Ted with a dip of his head then went back to whatever he was reading.

  Ted unhooked the rope, the light on his huge diver’s watch illuminating. “We’ll talk in my office.” His brownish-black eyes didn’t give away an ounce of emotion, which was typical of a cop, at least a good and seasoned one.

  Nevertheless, I knew Ted. I knew when he was perturbed. His lips were pursed, and I could tell by the minuscule movement of his jaw that he was chewing on the inside of his cheek.

  Clutching the strap of my messenger bag, I climbed up the steps as if I were scaling the stairs to the electric chair. “What’s wrong?”

  His mustache twitched. “If you don’t want your ass arrested, you will do as I say.” His tone permitted no argument.

  Suddenly, my teeth knocked together. He knew about Nadine and me. I searched my brain as to how he could know. Dillon hadn’t told him. More than that, I was scratching my head as to how I could get arrested.

  “Up.” His voice deepened to a growl.

  I squared my shoulders and did as I was told.

  At the top, Ted punched in a code.

  Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

  That was a familiar sound from when I’d been thrown in a cell a time or two as a teenager. Familiar or not, I shuddered.

  A stream of cold air whooshed over me when the door opened.

  Reluctantly, I stepped inside what the gang unit referred to as the pit.

  We circled desks that were scattered around facing the huge, empty whiteboard. I imagined the board had been flipped over so I wouldn’t see the evidence and pictures of suspects the team had on gang members. Regardless of why I was there, I had the urge to dash over to the board and see if Cory Calderon’s picture was one of the gang members.

  Ted had always said he didn’t know who led the Black Knights. Part of me believed him. The other part of me didn’t, only because he wouldn’t want to ruin an investigation or put me in danger by telling me.

  “You’re mad about Dillon Hart. Aren’t you?” I knew otherwise, although Ted always tried to give me fatherly advice on topics. Since I didn’t date steadily, he hardly knew the men I’d slept with.

  A large window separated Ted’s office from the pit. A feeling of claustrophobia enveloped me, and I wasn’t even afraid of small spaces.

  Ted nudged me into his office, or more like blocked me from turning around and darting out of the building as if I were the Flash.

  “Sit your ass in that chair.” His deep, commanding voice made the hairs on my neck stand up.

  I lowered my shaking body into the lone chair in front of his desk. A wall of honors and pictures stared back at me. Ted was a decorated police officer, having received awards for his valiant efforts on saving victims over the years.

  Ted circled his desk, sat down, steepled his fingers, and glared at me. “I don’t like that Dillon Hart. He’s all wrong for you.”

  Inwardly, I sighed. I was there to get the third degree about Dillon. I could handle that. “I’ll decide who’s right or wrong for me.” The shivers melted as confidence worked its way back into my bones.

  “So I guess you’ll decide if you sit in a jail cell or get to go home tonight,” he deadpanned.

  I clasped my hands together in my lap. “Instead of playing games, Ted, tell me why I’m here.” If he wanted to play his cop game, then I could play my own.

  He leaned back in his chair. “Tell me about Nadine.”

  There it was. And he didn’t ask but commanded in his brusque tone.

  How he knew wasn’t even a question. After all, he was a detective.

  I slumped my shoulders. “I ran into Nadine right after your standoff the other night.” Although the other night was only last night, it felt as if months had passed. “She was scared. She didn’t want to go to the cops. She said if she did, Miguel would kill her. I wanted to get her to safety before I called you. Anyway, when Dillon reached out to me about his sister, I learned he’d opened a shelter for wom
en. So I brought Nadine there. I swear I was going to tell you, especially after I heard you found the redhead, but you took off so fast. I feel horrible that she’s dead. All I wanted to do was help her.”

  I hung my head as tears sprang forth.

  “Mags.” His voice softened. “Did she tell you anything else about Miguel?”

  I sniffled. “He was her pimp, and she never heard of the gang the Black Knights.”

  He rubbed a thumb over the corner of his mustache. “I should throw your ass in jail for nothing more than slowing down my case and not telling me.”

  “How did you know I was with Nadine?”

  “A witness identified Nadine getting into a VW Bug. She didn’t see you, and there are several yellow VW Bugs in the city, but you were at the scene. Look, I’m giving you a warning. Get in the middle of any of my cases, and I won’t hesitate to lock you up. Are we understood?”

  I nodded and nodded and nodded. “Yes.”

  He opened the top drawer and produced a white envelope. “I know, Mags, that you want to see Cory Calderon behind bars. But you can’t shove your way into situations that are dangerous.”

  “I’m a reporter. We want the juicy stories. The paper wants stories that sell. I’m not in the market to get fired. Also, Cory needs to pay for what he did to me.”

  His expression grew somber. “Sadly, you don’t have proof, and as much as I wouldn’t mind throwing him in a cell, it would be hard for a judge to even take on a rape case from several years ago, and the statute of limitations on rape has passed. You’ve got to let go of your revenge for Cory.”

  Even if the statute of limitations hadn’t run out, the rape would have been hard to prove in court. It would have been Cory’s word against mine, which was why I hadn’t pursued legal action.

  I tugged on my braid, hard, as tears shot out. “You don’t get it. You weren’t the one raped. You weren’t the one he carved up like a dead animal.” With my hand, I hid my scar. I shouldn’t have been so frightened of going to the cops after he raped me. “Sometimes I wake up in a cold sweat from dreaming about the asshole over me, smiling, like he’d just captured the winning prize.” Tears were pouring out of my eyes. “I can’t live until I get closure.” All my strength that I wore on the outside crumbled.

  Ted didn’t move or speak. He didn’t have to. His eyes became glossy. “Mags.” Pain laced his tone. “I’m sorry. I don’t have a solid thing on Cory. He’s an upstanding citizen.”

  I refused to believe that. “My source tells me Cory roughed up a prostitute last week, and the rumor is he’s with the Black Knights. He might not be the big boss, but he’s part of that gang.”

  He scrubbed a hand over his face. “That may be true. But until you can prove that, we got nothing on the man.”

  Even though I knew that, I frowned anyway. “What do you have? Something I can print?”

  “We’ve confirmed that the man we arrested, Dan Silva, is working for the Black Knights. He finally talked when we cut him a deal. I do have something you can’t print yet. I will share with you only because I don’t want you to start asking around about the Black Knights and get yourself into a dangerous situation.” He pointed a stern finger at me. “I mean it, Maggie. No article until I give you the nod, and no asking your source on the street anything. You would only put your source in danger too. Are we clear?”

  “Crystal,” I said, salivating to hear the rest. I wouldn’t betray Ted’s confidence.

  He rested back in his chair. “We now know Miguel Rivera is the pimp of all pimps and that he’s the leader of the Black Knights. He finds runaway girls, homeless girls, and girls prostituting themselves, and cleans them up, takes care of them, promises them a life of riches, and then sells them to the highest bidder. I’ve got men out now looking for Miguel as we speak.”

  “Can you tie him to Nadine’s murder?”

  “Not yet. But that brings up another problem. She was found a mile from the shelter, which means you and her were followed last night, which is another reason I’m sharing some of the facts with you. I want you to stay at my house.”

  He wasn’t ordering me, and even if he were, I could take care of myself. “Thanks, but I’ll watch my back. I’m at the paper most of the time anyway, and I’m helping Dillon follow up on a hot lead about his sister. The one you gave me on Skins and Needles panned out. The girl you saw that day was Grace Hart.”

  He popped forward. “No shit?”

  “We don’t know much yet except she was at that tattoo shop six months ago. She might hang out at some bar called the Crow.”

  “It’s closed for renovations right now,” Ted said. “They had a small fire a few weeks back.”

  Dillon wasn’t going to be happy about that.

  Nevertheless, I sifted through my brain for other questions he might be able to answer or information he could give me for my story. “What did you find in the house?” I remembered the urgency of his team wanting him to see something in the house.

  He averted his gaze to the envelope on his desk. “A dead girl.”

  My blood became ice. I wanted revenge not only on Cory but on all those jerks like Cory.

  Ted picked up the envelope. “We’ve contacted Nadine’s family, but we haven’t told them about her being the victim of a gang that is involved in sex trafficking yet. We will when we have all the facts. So you’re clear to use her name in print, but nothing about the gangs.”

  So all I had for a story was her name, which wasn’t much.

  “And the other girl?”

  “We haven’t been able to contact her next of kin.”

  “She didn’t resemble Grace Hart, by chance? Brown hair, tattoo on her neck of a hummingbird?” Please say no.

  He pinched his chin. “Blond girl and no tats.”

  I release a quiet sigh. “I would like to talk to Nadine’s family. I won’t say anything about the gang or her pimp. I just want to learn more about her.” A good story involved getting at the hearts of people.

  “I’ll send you their info. I want to talk to you about something else.”

  I eyed the envelope that he was guarding heavily. “Please don’t start with Dillon. I’m not dating him. We’re friends, nothing more.”

  Relief washed over his face. “Speaking of Dillon, he lied too. He was protecting you, wasn’t he?”

  I shrugged. “Please don’t give him a hard time. I told him not to tell you. It was my job to do that.”

  I couldn’t tell if admiration passed over him or something else. But Dillon became a memory when he lifted his chin. “I know you’re adamant about not knowing who your parents are, but I’ve found your mother.”

  My head jerked back then bounced forward. I could’ve sworn someone had slapped me across the face. I could almost feel the sting.

  He held up the envelope. “If you want to know, her address is in here.”

  I stood up and shook off the coldness running through my veins. “I don’t.”

  He pushed to his feet and skirted his desk. “What are you afraid of?” His breath smelled like an ashtray.

  Everything. “That I’ll punch her and end up in jail.” I swished the saliva around in my mouth. “She dumped me at a fire station when I was a baby.”

  Ted grasped the sides of my arms. “She wants to see you.”

  I jumped back like a kangaroo. “You’ve talked to her?” I choked on the words. “You’re supposed to be my friend. You’re not supposed to do something I said no to.”

  “Family is important, Mags. You’ve got a lot of pent-up hatred for not only Cory but for the way you were shuffled around the foster system. Maybe if you heard her side of the story, you could sleep a little better knowing why she did what she did.”

  “Do you know why?”

  “If I did, it’s not my place to tell you. You wouldn’t believe me anyway. You need to hear it from the horse’s mouth.”

  “How did you find her? Don’t forget the firemen at the firehouse named me.” Accordi
ng to one of my social workers, my file indicated that one of the firemen had been smitten with me. He’d wanted to adopt me, but he’d been single and didn’t have the resources, but he’d given me the name Maggie, after his mom. The last name of Marx—well, the first family I’d lived with gave me their last name, which was Marx. That was the extent of my knowledge of my heritage.

  Ted rested his body on the edge of his desk. “I talked to the people in the homes surrounding the firehouse. After many conversations, dead ends, leads, and trails, I found someone who remembered a pregnant young girl who had been dating a boy in the neighborhood. All I needed were the names of the girl and boy, and…” He extended the envelope. “Here’s her info.”

  Curiosity was a fucking bitch. “I’m not ready.”

  He tucked the envelope in the front pocket of my messenger bag. “Don’t open it until you’re ready.” He prodded me with his dark-brown eyes.

  Suddenly, I was wondering if I’d gotten my blond hair and green eyes from my mom. I wondered if she was on the heavy side like me. I didn’t consider myself fat. I had wide hips, thick thighs, a small waist, and large breasts. I liked to call myself big-boned. My gynecologist referred to me as one of those ladies who had the structure for making lots of babies. I’d laughed at her comment. I didn’t see myself having a ton of kids, or one for that matter. Which made me also wonder if my mom had had any more children. Boy, I wasn’t sure it would sit well with me if she’d had a family yet given me up.

  I started for the door, with the envelope burning a hole in my bag. I was tempted to dump it into the trash can on my way out.

  “Mags,” Ted called.

  I tossed a look over my shoulder.

  “Please watch your back.”

  “I’m too old to be sold to the highest bidder,” I said. “They won’t touch me.” I wasn’t certain about that.