Logan was a decent-looking man who treated Morgan with love and respect. Though quite wealthy, he wasn’t the sort to flaunt it. More often than not his clothes came from Target, and his watch was a simple, twenty-dollar timepiece instead of a fancier, more expensive brand. Recently he’d confided to Kelly that he intended to ask Morgan to marry him, and she couldn’t have been happier for her sister. They were simply one of those perfect couples that everyone envied, and she couldn’t wait for him to propose so she could help her sister plan the wedding.
Standing before the brilliant white door with gold numbers that led to her apartment, she paused to shrug out of her backpack and began rummaging around in the front pocket for the keys. Even through the door she could smell the mouth-watering aroma of whatever Morgan had whipped up for dinner. Chicken, she thought. And something spicy. Eagerly she let herself inside, pausing just long enough to kick the door shut behind her and reach for the alarm keypad to enter the security code.
“Morgan?” she called out. “Mom wants to know if we’re heading out to see her this weekend.”
She turned away from the pad and froze in disbelief and shock. Just a few feet away a man hunched over her sister’s body, or what was left of it anyway. Morgan was mutilated and covered in blood, and worst of all, not moving. Kelly’s keys fell to the floor as she tried to comprehend the grisly scene before her. You’re supposed to be making dinner, she thought wildly. Her eyes jumped from Morgan’s body to the man crouched beside her, and suddenly confusion turned to a boiling wave of rage rising fast. There would be no dinner from Morgan tonight, or any other night. Her sister was butchered on the floor in front of her, and she was staring at the man responsible.
As their eyes met, she saw a single drop of blood pull away from the tip of the knife he held and fall to the carpet in slow motion.
The next few seconds went in a blur as the two reacted simultaneously. Kelly swung her backpack wildly at him as he lunged for her, knocking him to the floor and sending the knife flying from his hand. She dove for it, determined to use it on him, but he recovered too quickly and grabbed her ankle as she went past. A sickening crack rang out. Kelly shrieked in agony but managed to grab the knife anyway, rolling to her back quickly and thrusting it at him as he threw himself on top of her. There was no way she could have missed, but he gave no indication she’d done any damage.
His hands circled her throat and began to squeeze, but in doing so he left her hands free. Kelly knew she had no time to waste and immediately plunged the knife deep into his shoulder. It had no effect. Keeping one hand firm around her throat, he used the other one to pull the knife from his shoulder. Her vision was growing blurry but she could still hear the sound of the knife as he began to stab her over and over, and behind it, she could hear someone pounding on the apartment door. She tried to scream for help but no sound came out. As everything began to go dark, she heard the door open, and then a man screaming. In a flash her attacker shoved himself away from her and was gone.
Seconds turned to minutes as Kelly turned her head to look at her sister. Her vision slowly recovered as the air returned to her lungs. Each painful gasp brought a cough, and with it, blood. Ignoring the knife still twisted in her belly, she heaved herself over and crawled to Morgan. The carpet became a sticky bog of congealing blood as she reached her sister, and Kelly saw he’d slit her sister’s throat so violently that he’d nearly decapitated her. But the worst part was her lifeless eyes frozen wide open and staring in accusatory silence. If you’d come home just a few minutes sooner, they seemed to say, I might still be alive.
Voices began to filter through the haze that threatened to overtake her. “Help is coming, hang on!” they urged, but she couldn’t tell if they were right beside her or a million miles away. In the distance she could hear sirens, but for now all that mattered was her sister. “Morgan, please don’t leave me,” she croaked hoarsely. “I need you.” Her body felt paralyzed and her lungs struggled to take in air. She reached out to grasp her sister’s hand weakly in her own, and as she heard footsteps rush into the apartment she felt everything begin to fall away.
Strong hands grasped her and turned her over, and through her fog she heard an EMT call out that she was still alive. “Morgan,” she gasped weakly. “My sister, save my sister.”
She couldn’t accept the truth, that Morgan was beyond saving, and even as she was loaded onto the stretcher and rushed to the hospital she wondered if any of it had been real.
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Part One
Chapter 1
New York at night! Watching the big and powerful city at night was like watching a hive of bees preparing for their next morning. The city never really goes to sleep. There were cars chasing each other on the streets, people coming out and going into restaurants, cinemas, bars, apartment buildings. The city wasn’t used to rest. Cleaning crews walked its streets and tried to clean up the mess left by the rest of the population, taxi drivers hoped for a last run and office clerks stayed late at night to please their bosses.
And it wasn’t ever enough. Closed behind their solid doors and alarm systems, the rich and powerful wasn’t ever going to forget the opportunists, walking the streets of their great city. It was a constant fight between those who had the money and those who were ready to do anything to steal it from them. Money, power, strength, the will to do better, desperation, sadness, crime… A by-passer could smell them all on the dark, wet streets of New York City.
That very night, well after the good and most of the bad had retired home for a restless night's sleep, a gang of criminals were on the prowl. So early in the summer the New York air was still chilly in the evenings and Tango Cash was dressed in a thick black hoodie and a hat. Slowly, the man came out of the shadows and looked around as if searching for something or waiting for someone to come to him. The area was empty and the leader of the biggest local gang, retired back into the shadows.
A cat come running his way, but Tango didn’t look up from the telephone he was holding. It was time to give start to the plan he had been carefully planning for the last two months.
“Jordy?” the man spoke quietly on the phone, looking once again around him. “It’s time.”
From the other side of the phone line came a bit of static and then the response. “We’re on, boss.” And then more silence.
“Shit!” Cash swore under his breath and dialed another number. The citywide theft of ATM cash machines was too a big deal for him to trust it to a single man. He had worked for months to reach this point. First, he studied the way the ATM machines were fixed against the walls and on the ground, then he followed thousands of officials in order to learn when most of the ATM’s were filled with money and finally he stole some very useful construction equipment.
That last step had almost cost Cash his freedom, but thanks to his luck, he had managed to escape the police and bring his plan to the next level. The plan was actually surprisingly simple. His father had taught him well and Tango Cash continued the family tradition; sticking to the most obvious and simple of plans. So, he had the equipment and was going to remove at least fifteen ATM cash machines from a few selected locations.
His men had been stalking the destinations for weeks now and they were sure which machines were full of cash at the moment. The simultaneous hit was going to bring millions of dollars to the gang and to Tango in particular. The hit could be it for him. It could set him up for life.
Tango hid deeper in the shadows and continued to check his phone. A semi-truck was supposed to circle the locations and collect the ATM’s, which people from his gang had already prepared. The plan was to do the job quickly and without raising the alarm too early. Their success lay in the fact that they had managed to disconnect the ATM’s without starting the alarm.
His phone rang and Tango jumped a little, startled by its sound. So far th
ey had communicated through messages, to reduce to minimum the lost time. “What?” He barked into the mobile and listened to his second in command explaining that they were almost there. “Good, I’m waiting.”
A smile broke the angry lines of his face and Tango ran from building to building until he was at the meeting point. The semi-truck with the ATMs was supposed to be there in less than two minutes, so that they could get out of the area before the sun came up. Tango waited for a few seconds and then there it was, the steady rumble of the truck.
“Everything okay?” He asked the man, who opened the door for him.
“Everything okay, boss,” came the answer from inside and Cash climbed into the truck, closing the door with a heavy pull. The truck was with fake numbers and the ATMs were covered by a heavy gray tarpaulin, which was disgusting their shapes. Only three men of his crew were in the truck with him, but there were two cars waiting ahead of them and another two were going to follow them at a safe distance.
That was the biggest hit of the twenty-seven years old Tango Cash and it said a lot about him. His mother had always complained that he was too cunning for his own good and Tango smiled, thinking that the old hag was right. Since he had become the leader of the gang, Tango had been planning some kind of big robbery, drug deal or embezzlement. It had been hard, but he had finally done it. He had won the jackpot.
“Come on, brothers, it’s time to live a little,” Tango shouted into the night and his boys cried out in response.
“We are rich now. Nothing is going to stop us from doing whatever we want.”
Chapter 2
The big city woke up in the morning with the buzz of the cars and the shine of the sun to find that nothing had really changed during the night. There were the same gloomy streets and gray houses, even the same people, running towards jobs they hated.
Jimmy Nolan woke to the sounds of the city, still confused by his dream and feeling sore all over. It had been a long night for him, spending hours developing photos in his grandmother’s garage.
As a streetwise photographer, the twenty-one years old man, wanted nothing more than to dedicate his life to photography. After all, that was what he wanted and was able to do. No one seemed to believe him, but Jimmy had every intention to become famous and to follow his dreams.
“Jimmy, Jimmy…” his grandmother called from the kitchen, forcing him to hurry up with his shower and clothes. “You took your time, coming down.” Mrs. Rebeca Nolan commented, when her grandson finally came down for breakfast.
“I was up till late last night,” Jimmy offered as an excuse and already stuffing his mouth with delicious pancakes. “I have a few very good shots.”
“Don’t you think it is about time for you to think about your future?” His grandmother said instead of congratulating him. “Very few photographers manage to actually become famous, Jimmy. You should look at the real situation and decide what is best for you.”
“I will be a big fashion photographer, grandma,” Jimmy repeated himself for the thousandth time. “I have told you already that nothing else interests me. I want to be a photographer.”
“But, you should be practical…”
“I am, I assure you, I am practical. I have been taking photos, developing them and then sending them to the biggest fashion houses. Soon, someone would notice my talent.”
“You know how much I love you, Jimmy,” the woman sat in front of him. “And I want you to be happy and to do what you love, but I want you also to have a good life and in order to do so, you need to have a good, reliable job.”
“Soon, grandma, soon I will have all that,” the boy smiled at her. “Soon, I will be a big fashion photographer.”
Rebeca shook her head at his silliness and poured him another glass of coffee. She had been taking care of her grandson for years now and she was aware that when he made up his mind about something there was little she could do to change it. As all parents, Rebeca wanted the best for her grandson and if that meant crushing his dreams in order for him to have a good life, she was ready to do it.
Jimmy was still too young to understand how difficult life could be and how cruel it was to those who chose to pursue their dreams at all costs. She laughed at him as he sped off into the city on his red bicycle. The boy had brought her a lot of joy and Rebeca was going to be sorry to see him go his own way some day.
Jimmy Nolan was almost six feet tall and liked dressing sporty and in comfortable clothes. After finishing college, he had dedicated all his time and strength to pursuing his dream of becoming a famous photographer. He had an analytic and witty mind that helped him survive in New York. He was still seeing the world through the camera’s lens and the only thing he wanted was to create something beautiful with his own hands.
Jimmy’s philosophy was that everything could be achieved by those who knew what they wanted. And he knew what he wanted, there was no doubt about it. He loved the fashion world, he loved the way clothes and personalities merged and came out as something unique and beautiful. His a bit hasty and foul-mouthed attitude had been a set back for him in the past, but now Jimmy was ready to overcome every obstacle and achieve his dreams.
With that in mind, he rode through the crowded streets of New York in search of the next big hit. The young man was able to see the beauty of the world around him even in the dirty sideways and falling down buildings. A few of his photos were focused on the facial expression of the people he met during his wandering around the town, others were glimpses of what he really wanted – fashion. Jimmy never lost an opportunity to capture a cute combination of clothing or a fashion experiment.
For example, the photos he had developed last night were all pieces of a big puzzle. He had spent the whole of yesterday photographing people in the park. There were women, dressed in comfortable everyday clothes and there were others, wearing designer suits and fashionable pieces. Jimmy had captured them all – the combination in his mind was the perfect one. He liked both styles and wanted to combine them in a unique ensemble.
Chapter 3
Detective Clyde Harris was just wrapping up his last case. It had been a difficult one and unfortunately the man had died, leaving his wife all alone in the world. Detective Harris was thirty-five years old and about five eleven feet tall. Since he had become an NYPD Detective, Harris had been dressing in a dark suit and adopted the professional look of the police officer. Being an African-American had made it difficult for him to pursue a detective’s career, but he had done it and that made him proud.
He had an analytic, tactical and even candid mind, open to new ideas and eager to understand other people’s characters. As a detective, that particular skill was helping him greatly in finding out the truth about the cases he was investigating. Lately, however, nothing seemed to be enough for the young detective, who was looking for a greater sense of purpose in his life. His greatest fear, on the other hand, was the fear of failing and it was giving him the push he needed to go on no matter what.
In his personal life, detective Clyde Harris was a lady’s man, who always took the opportunity to find a date and have a good time with a beautiful woman. Women loved his sense of humor and Clyde never failed to live up to their expectations. Other men saw him as a cold-hearted detective, who was working too much and climbing too quickly on the stairs of success. That, however, never disturbed him, as detective Harris wanted to always be ahead of everyone else.
Today, was one of those days for the young detective, which brought both satisfaction and pain to his heart. He had caught a vicious killer and put him behind bars, but at the same time, the life of a good man had been wasted and that hurt him too much. During his ride in his unmarked police car, detective Harris watched the life going on around him and often swore under his breath, remembering all the bad things that were happening even right then.
The Brooklyn Bridge was hanging like a malicious reminder of everything he wanted to forget and Clyde had to physically shake the feeling off, before climbin
g out of the car and heading towards the house of Mrs. Warren. He knocked softly on the door and waited for it to be open, by a middle aged African-American woman, who by the looks of it, had been crying.
“Mrs. Warren,” he greeted her respectfully. “May I come in?”
“Yes, detective, please, come in…”
Harris walked behind her into the living room and was glad to see that the children weren’t in the house. Their presence would have made his work even harder and right now he needed some air himself.
“I think, you know why I am here, madam,” he said, after refusing a cup of tea. “Our investigation of your husband’s death had been successful and the man responsible for it will be sent to prison for a very long time.”
“I heard, thank you,” the woman said through new tears. “Thank you for coming and talking to me in person.”
“I know what you must be feeling now and I wanted to make sure that you are okay,” Harris smiled at her reassuringly. “The judge gave him the maximum penalty and that man is not getting out of jail any time soon. I am only sorry that I wasn’t able to do more and save your husband’s life.”
“You don’t have to be,” Mrs. Warren said convincingly. “My husband was aware of the danger and he still decided to go. You did more than your best to help him. I know that.”
“That is my job…”
“There are many policemen out there, detective Harris, but very few of them do what you did for my husband and my family. I admire your dedication to the neighborhood and all the work you do for us.”
“You don’t have to thank me for doing my job,” the detective tried to rebuff her attempt to praise him, but Mrs. Warren wasn’t listening. She continued to underline the importance of his work and the goodness she was seeing in him. Harris was a modest man, who had big ambitions, but wasn’t prepared to listen to such praise.
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