Justice Returns: A Private Investigator Mystery Series (A Jake & Annie Lincoln Thriller Book 6)

by Rayven T. Hill

  Uriah scurried backward on all fours, rolled over, and sprang to his feet. He ran into the kitchen, pulled open a drawer, and came up with a long knife. He held the weapon out, pointing the tip at Moe. “Stay back,” he growled.

  “Relax, Moe,” Jeremy was saying. “He didn’t mean anything.”

  Moe stood still and glared at Uriah, his breath coming short and quick. As Jeremy continued his calming words, Moe felt himself relaxing; suddenly, he didn’t want to kill Uriah any more. “I have to go out,” he said, and sprinted for the door. Jeremy called his name as the big man ran out into the hallway and down the steps.

  He almost knocked over a decrepit old man who was entering the building. He mumbled an apology and dashed outside, leaving the man staring after him.

  He didn’t want to listen to Jeremy right now. He had to walk. That had always helped him when his father was so mean to him. Sometimes he would walk for hours and he felt much better by the time he returned home. By then, his father cooled off as well.

  He flipped up the collar of his shirt, trying to hide his face, keeping his head down when he passed anyone on the sidewalk. He walked for a couple of blocks and turned down a side street.

  He knew now, he only had one friend in the world, and that was Jeremy. Even Uriah had turned his back on him, just like his father. But good friends were hard to find and he was willing to do all he could to make it up to Uriah.

  Once when he was a boy at school, he’d beat up three other kids who made fun of him. They’d used the same word Uriah did—stupid. After a while, he felt sorry he’d hurt the other boys, and when the teacher made him apologize, they didn’t call him names any more.

  Maybe he would go back to Uriah and apologize. The word “sorry” seemed to do wonders. If it worked again this time, then everything would be ok.

  He circled around the block, ending up at the apartment. He looked forward to getting Uriah back as a friend again.

  Chapter 45

  Friday, 9:02 AM

  JAKE DROPPED MATTY and Kyle at school and watched them until they were safely inside the building. He didn’t suspect they were in danger, but the unexpected happens on occasion, and when dealing with psychopaths, he preferred to be cautious.

  The school was locked down during the day since all this started three days ago, students not allowed out during school hours, and no one let in without passing a security check. Officials were being vigilant, and Matty understood he was to wait inside the building after school until either of his parents picked him up. Other families made similar arrangements, the memory of Spencer’s prior killing spree still fresh in their minds.

  When Jake arrived home, Annie met him at the door, eager to get started, her handbag over her shoulder, a plastic grocery bag in one hand, a manila envelope in the other. She’d put together some sandwiches and tucked them into the bag along with a few bottles of water, anticipating a long day ahead.

  Most of the canvassing would be done on foot, but they decided to take Annie’s nondescript Escort—not likely to be recognized should their quarry be nearby.

  Annie drove to somewhere near the mid-point of the neighborhood, parked on a side street and shut off the engine. She removed the map from the envelope and studied it.

  Jake leaned over and looked at the paper. “It’s only a four-block area, but it seems like a daunting task,” he said.

  “It’s not as bad as it looks,” Annie said. “Three quarters of it may be houses and apartments, but the rest are stores, offices, and restaurants. If they’re in this area, then it stands to reason they may have frequented one or more of these businesses.”

  Jake brushed a finger down one side of the map. “This part is a middle-class neighborhood, so I think we can eliminate that, as well as any single dwelling homes. I can’t see any homeowners sheltering fugitives.”

  Annie looked through the windshield and pointed. “Two streets that way are government housing and tenements. If they’re here at all, that’s the most likely place we’ll find them.”

  “I expect you’re right,” Jake said. “But it’s easy for them to hide, and we can’t force our way in. The police already canvassed this whole area and were faced with the same problem.”

  Annie pointed to the map. “We could stake out one of these streets?”

  “That may take all day and we may be on the wrong street.”

  “Let’s start with the shops, then.”

  Jake nodded and they stepped from the vehicle and walked out to the main street, lined on both sides by a host of businesses. Annie opened the envelope and drew out a pair of photos, one of Moe, and one of Jeremy.

  They worked their way up one side of the street, showing the pictures in the shops and to everyone they met. A few recalled hearing about them on the television, or in the newspaper, but no one had seen either of them.

  They’d reached the boundary of their target area, so they crossed the street and began their way back. A woman in one of the shops thought she’d seen Jeremy around somewhere, and then changed her mind, supposing she’d only recognized him from the television news.

  They continued relentlessly, with person after person shaking their head, or shrugging, before moving on.

  Jake stopped in front of a convenience store. A sign read, “Morningstar Convenience.” It was the place Moe robbed. He looked in the window. An old Chinese man stood behind the counter, undeterred by the robbery, making a living the best way he knew how.

  A homeless man sat next to the store at the entranceway to a narrow alley. The man looked up at Jake through tired eyes, his wrinkled and darkened features showing the years he’d spent on the streets. His matted hair was covered by a filthy baseball cap, his beard shaggy, his clothes in tatters. He held a paper cup in one shaky hand.

  Jake crouched down, dropped some coins in the cup and held out the photos. “Have you seen either of these guys?”

  The destitute man dropped his eyes and peered into the cup, then raised his head and squinted at the photos. A hint of recognition appeared on his face. He lifted the cup, held it out and shook it, making the coins jingle.

  Jake slipped out his wallet, removed a five, folded it, and held it over the cup. “Did you see him?”

  The man snatched the bill with his free hand and jammed it into his shirt pocket. He looked back at Jake and poked a twisted finger at the shot of Moses Thacker. “Saw that one yesterday.”

  “Where did you see him?”

  The man waved his hand to one side. “On the sidewalk.”

  “Walking?”

  A nod. “Just walking fast.”

  “Which way did he come from?”

  The man pointed down the sidewalk.

  “Was he alone?”

  He nodded, lowered his head, drew his feet up, and wrapped his arms around his knees. Jake dropped another five in the cup and straightened up.

  Annie was looking down the street in the direction the man indicated. “I’m more convinced than ever,” she said. “He’s in this neighborhood somewhere. Both of them are.”

  “And it’s somewhere that way,” Jake added.

  “Not necessarily. He might’ve been returning home when this man saw him.”

  Jake shook his head. “I don’t think so. The government housing is the next street over.” He pointed back over his shoulder. “There’re mostly houses and upscale businesses the other way.”

  Annie unfolded the map and glanced at it, nodding slowly. “I think you’re right.”

  The public housing came in all sizes and types, from scattered single family houses to low-rise apartments for the elderly, low-income families, and individuals. The area was built some forty or more years ago, and the forgotten street was long overdue for a makeover.

  Jake frowned at a group of four boys playing street hockey. They should be in school, their best chance for a way out of this crumbling neighborhood. He wondered where their parents were. Without some type of supervision, they may be destined to continue on the sa
me hopeless path.

  The boys eyed him curiously as he approached and held up the photos. “Have you seen either of these guys?” Jake asked.

  One boy came over, peered at the pictures, and shook his head. The other three hung back. Jake went over to them. “Seen these guys?”

  A small boy indicated the picture of Moe. “Think I saw him around yesterday,” he said, squinting at Jake. “What’d he do? Are you a cop or something?”

  Jake chuckled. “Something like that.” He leaned down and looked the boy in the eye. “Do you know where he lives?”

  The boy pointed to a group of three low-rise apartments at the far end of the street. “Down there. In one of those buildings.”

  Jake straightened his back and looked where the boy pointed. “Which building?”

  A shrug. “Don’t know,” he said, and scurried after the puck.

  “Anyone else?” Jake said, waving the photos.

  No one answered, the game now back underway.

  Jake returned to where Annie stood watching. He saw the mother in her, concerned about the young boys. She sighed and said nothing.

  Jake pointed to the group of buildings. “Thacker may live in one of those. And I’m betting, if we find him, we find Spencer too.”

  Chapter 46

  Friday, 9:41 AM

  JEREMY SPENCER sat at the kitchen table pondering his and Moe’s future. He missed the old days—the days when he could go about his mission without worrying about where to live, or money, or a warm bed. He missed the old house and his heart ached when he thought about the destroyed barn, the farm, and the surrounding forest. It was home, and reminded him of Mother and better days, and yet, he was unable to safely return.

  He shook his head, took a deep breath, and sat back. Those days were in the past, Mother was gone, and the future was now all that mattered.

  The mood in the apartment was still one of subdued hostility. Jeremy looked over at Moe, sitting quietly on the couch, his arms crossed, a sad and sullen look on his face as he stared at the far wall. The big man didn’t dare open his mouth for fear of starting another war.

  The only sound in the small room was Uriah, rattling drawers and utensils, making himself some breakfast from the sparse amount of food left in the fridge. Jeremy supposed Uriah’s quietness came from his fear of being a repeat target of Moe’s unbridled wrath.

  The three barely said a word to each other the evening before. When Moe apologized, Uriah grunted, and nothing else was said on the matter.

  Uriah set his plate of food on the table, sat down and took a bite, looking at Jeremy while he chewed. “You can keep the gun,” he said. “I have no use for it any more.”

  “Thanks, Uriah,” Jeremy said. “That’s very kind of you. We’ll be gone out of here today.”

  “Where you goin’?” Uriah asked in an offhand way.

  Jeremy hesitated. “It’s not far away, but maybe it’s better if I don’t tell you.”

  Uriah shrugged and shoveled in another forkful of eggs. His lips smacked together in an annoying way as he chewed.

  “I hope you don’t lose your apartment, Uriah. I expect you’ll find another job before long. You surely will.”

  “They won’t kick me outta here real quick. It’s government housing. Takes ‘em a long time to evict anybody, but I gotta pay the rent eventually.” Uriah sat back and took a long breath. “Hope you understand. It ain’t nothin’ personal, but I can’t have you guys here. It’s not just the money, it’s too dangerous for me.”

  Jeremy nodded in understanding.

  Uriah reached into his pocket. “Look, I feel lousy about all this. Here’s a hundred bucks before you go. It’ll get you started.” He peeled off some bills and tossed them over. “I’d give you more, but I ain’t got a job.”

  Jeremy hesitated, and then picked up the bills. They had to eat. “I appreciate this, Uriah, and I’ll pay you back. I surely will.”

  Uriah waved it off. “Don’t mention it.”

  Jeremy stood and approached Moe. “We’d better go.”

  Moe stood, tucked his hands in his pockets, and looked at Uriah with a downcast expression. “Bye, Uriah.”

  Uriah waved a hand without looking up from his plate. “Take care, guys.”

  “We’ll pick the bicycle up later,” Jeremy said to Uriah.

  “Whatever.”

  They had little to take with them, only a bag containing Jeremy’s old clothes. He pulled his cap on, retrieved the revolver from under the couch cushion, stuffed it behind his belt, and they left the apartment without another word to Uriah.

  Out in the hallway, Moe turned to his friend. “Where we goin’, Little Buddy?”

  Jeremy grinned. “I was up early this morning, before dawn, while you guys were still snoring. I found us a temporary place up the street. I surely did.”

  Moe’s eyes lit up and he followed Jeremy down the steps, and then toward the fire exit at the rear of the lobby. Jeremy pulled his old shirt from the bag and handed it to Moe. “Put this over your head, sort of like a shawl, and cover your face if you see anyone.”

  Moe took the shirt, did as he was told, and they stepped out the door to the back of the building. Week old garbage ripened in a big, blue bin, papers blowing around the lot. A cat scurried away with a whine and scrambled over the rear fence.

  Jeremy glanced at Uriah’s motorcycle. It was too bad he wouldn’t have its use any more. It’d come in handy. He would have to be sure to come back for the bicycle after they got established.

  He turned and strode across the lot as the big man followed. They climbed over fences as they crossed the rear parking lots of two other low-rise apartments, finally approaching the adjoining street. They waited out of sight behind a tree as two women strolled past, one pushing a baby carriage, the other talking incessantly. When the coast was clear, they stepped out onto the sidewalk.

  Side by side they walked down the street, watching carefully for pedestrians. Moe kept the shirt over his head, now tied by the sleeves at his throat.

  Finally, a half block away, Jeremy stopped in front of an old industrial building. It was a profitable shop of some kind in times past, now abandoned and boarded up, patches of stubborn grass and weeds poking through where the asphalt had cracked and popped from years of weather.

  The entire lot was enclosed by a chain-link fence, now rusting and tottering in some places. At one end, a pair of straps that fastened the links to the post had rusted away. Jeremy tugged on the fence and revealed a space large enough for him to squeeze through. He’d found the gap earlier, and it made easy access for him, but Moe was three times his size.

  He pointed to a group of weakened straps. “Can you rip that back?”

  Moe grabbed the fence in one hand, the post in the other, tensed his muscles, and pulled. One by one the links ripped clear of the straps. Moe curled back the fence, climbed through the space, and Jeremy followed, tucking the fence back in place against the post. It would only be noticeable if someone looked closely.

  He led the way to the back of the building, heaved on a shaky metal door, and it swung open. Stepping inside, they were greeted with the smell of stale air along with a faint odor of old oil. A mouse skittered across the floor in an attempt to escape from the intruders.

  Light eased through a pair of uncovered windows on one side of the building. The room was littered with cast-offs, years of dust covering cardboard boxes, empty shelving, and discarded furniture.

  “This is home,” Jeremy said. He kicked aside an old soda can, crossed the room, and opened a door leading into what might’ve once been the office of a thriving business. “This is where we’ll stay.”

  The big man looked around the dim room, the windows covered with cardboard. “It’s better than a jail cell.”

  Moe seemed to be in a much better mood. The big lug trusted him implicitly, and Jeremy didn’t want to let his friend down. He only wished Moe hadn’t robbed that store. Then he would be free to move about, and they c
ould depend on each other.

  Sure, they had a place to stay for now, but with only a hundred bucks to last them, and difficulty moving around the city without being recognized, the situation was far from ideal.

  He had only the weapon behind his belt and Moe’s friendship to comfort him, and he was determined to find better accommodations as soon as possible. This building would do for now; it would serve as his base of operations, and he was anxious to get his mission back underway.

  Chapter 47

  Friday, 10:02 AM

  ANNIE STOOD BESIDE JAKE and looked at the three buildings arrayed in front of them, each a carbon copy of the others. They all had two floors, with three separate apartments on each floor. She could only make a guess as to which building Thacker and Jeremy might be holed up in.

  “We’ll start at this one,” she said, pointing to the closest building.

  They entered the premises, and one by one, knocked on each door. There was no answer at two and Annie made a note of those. The inhabitants in the rest of the dingy apartments claimed never to have seen either of the men in the photos. As she showed the pictures, she knew Jake was scanning the apartment with his eyes, looking for any indication the fugitives may be inside.

  Annie had made small talk with each tenant, trying to gauge their response to the questions, attempting to get a feel for each person. She was satisfied the wanted men weren’t in the first building.

  At the front of the next building, a couple of women had brought lawn chairs out to the concrete slab serving as a patio. They were lounged back, sipping on beer, and discussing the indiscretions of another tenant when the Lincolns approached.

  Annie showed the photos. Neither of them had seen the fugitives, but one woman cocked a thumb over her shoulder. “Landlord’s on the first floor. You might ask him maybe he rented the place to anyone shady.”

  “They’re all shady ‘round here, Millie,” the other woman said, looking at her friend. “I reckon could be any of ‘em.”