by J H Leigh
Priests were just people and people were generally awful so, there you go.
But Jilly had once made this place her stomping ground. For whatever reason, this hole had made her feel safe when nothing else in the world had felt like a sanctuary.
I went to the old and battered desk and tested the stability of the ancient chair before fully seating myself. I slowly opened drawers, curious as to what might’ve been left behind. Not much. A few pens and pencils rolled forward, as if to say, “Here I am! Don’t leave me behind!” but nothing else of value.
I leaned forward and rested my head on my folded arms. At this eye level, I saw something scratched into the soft wood top. I moved a little closer to get a better look. In the tiniest scrawl, I saw something that pricked the tears from my eyes.
Jilly Jewell Perez was here.
I traced the pad of my fingers over the carved cry for remembrance and squeezed my eyes shut. Jilly Jewell. How perfect was her name? She’d been a rare gem and I’d never forget her.
That’s the crux of it, isn’t it? We all wanted to be remembered. We wanted a legacy. We didn’t want to fade into nothingness like a dream forgotten in the morning light. We wanted to matter.
But those without money didn’t matter.
The lives of the auction girls didn’t matter. We didn’t come from rich families. They trolled the poor, disadvantaged and disenfranchised who were desperate for a sliver of hope, for something to cling to that didn’t hurt or leave scars.
Henri (or whatever the fuck his name was) had pretty much said as much when he wouldn’t allow me to ask if he’d offer up his kids to the auction. Let his friends pony up cash to fuck his daughters. He got pretty frosty at the idea.
Because they were better. Their lives mattered.
Mine didn’t.
My blood had lesser value as it spilled. My skin was simply for his pleasure. As was my pain. I closed my eyes, riding out the wave of revulsion that always followed memories of Henri. He was the worst sort of monster — his supposed kindness was a game with rules he alone understood.
I won’t cry. Not for him. Not for what he did to me. Not for what I lost. But I’ll cry for Tana and Jilly…and even Nova, even though we’d never met. I’ll cry for every single duped girl who’d been hoping for a fresh start by sacrificing some vital part of herself.
I’ll cry for every girl who never had a chance to realize that she was worth so much more than the sum of her parts.
I’ll cry for every girl lying in a cold, unmarked grave, mourned by no one and forgotten by everyone.
But I won’t cry for him.
Not ever.
He could die with the rest of The Avalon assholes who thought because they had money, no consequence applied.
I would teach them that everyone had to pay at some point.
And their bill was way the fuck overdue.
I just needed a little help to figure out how to do it.
14
“Badger says to go to Hicks’ place,” Dylan said after receiving a message on her burner. We’d had no choice but to lay low in the church, waiting for instructions. We were too apprehensive about venturing out in broad daylight, which meant hiding in the church like two mice trying to outwit the cat. She shouldered her pack and waited for me to do the same. “Wear your hoodie, try to cover your face as much as possible.”
I nodded, afraid to ask, “What about…the bodies we left behind?”
“He took care of it,” she answered in a wooden tone. “C’mon, we need to get out of here.”
We went out the back, avoided the CCTV street cameras and climbed the fire escape of Hicks’ place and into the open window where the grizzled PI was waiting for us.
He quickly shut the window behind us and pulled the blinds down. I breathed a sigh of relief, happy to be somewhere that wasn’t cold as a meat locker and sat heavily in the first chair near me, rubbing some warmth into my hands.
Hicks started talking first. “What the fuck happened?”
“Somehow they found us,” I answered, hating that I was probably the weak link. “They got Jilly.”
“Ahh shit,” he muttered, shoving his hand through his wiry black and white peppered hair. “She seemed like a sweet kid.”
“She was.” I looked to Dylan, my throat closing. I couldn’t continue. She’d need to tell the rest. Dylan understood.
“It was about three in the morning. Nicole and I woke up at the same time. We heard noises in the apartment that didn’t feel natural. They sent three assassins to snuff us out but we took them out instead. Except, Jilly didn’t make it out. She died saving us both.”
Tears threatened to fall but I sniffed them back. I nodded, confirming Dylan’s account. “She took a bullet to the gut,” I said.
“Fuck, that’s a shit way to die,” Hicks said.
I glared. “Thanks. I think I already know that. I held her in my arms as she died.”
“Sorry, kid,” Hicks said. After a beat, he went to his kitchen and pulled a bottle of Jack, gesturing in offer, “You need some of this?”
I shook my head but Dylan accepted. They both downed a shot and then Hicks returned to sit opposite us, the bottle in hand. “You’re in some deep shit.”
“You think?” I returned caustically. I didn’t have the mental bandwidth to entertain bullshit comments. “I need to know how they found us.”
“You been staying out of sight?”
“As much as possible. I met up with a friend the other day but I stayed out of the CCTV line of sight and I wore a hoodie,” I said. “I don’t know how they found us.”
“Retrace your steps,” he instructed as he pulled a city map free from a cubby in his cluttered bookshelf, his gravelly voice rough with phlegm. Hicks wasn’t a healthy man but his deep-set eyes remained sharp like a shark’s. He unrolled the map, saying, “Don’t leave out a single step.”
I nodded and shared my exact route to and from The Cruller, ending with my subway ride back to the apartment as he traced with his finger my steps.
Hicks leaned back, nodding, then stabbed the map with his thick, calloused finger. “Right here,” he said.
Both Dylan and I stared in confusion. “The subway?” I asked. “There aren’t any cameras down there.”
“Not that you can see. Hidden cameras were installed last year after the MTA got a big-ass grant to cut down on crime down below street level. You know those big silver columns? Well, it’s got a closed-circuit camera system watching your every move, from every angle. So whatever they didn’t catch up top, they caught down below. There’s your mistake.”
I blinked back tears. So it was my fault that Jilly was dead. I covered my face and leaned into my hands, afraid I was about to lose it. But Dylan didn’t let me take all the blame.
“I didn’t know about the cameras either,” she said. “I’ve been using the subway for runs. Fuck, it could’ve been either of us that tipped The Avalon off.”
I wiped at my face, so grateful for Dylan’s grim admission. I couldn’t survive the guilt thinking it’d been entirely my fault. As it was, I was teetering on the edge of a total melt-down. “So that means they have access to the feeds,” I said, my voice strangled.
“That’s my first guess,” Hicks agreed, his brow wrinkling as he lit up a cigarette. “To be honest, I wasn’t sure if you weren’t just being a bit dramatic when I first heard your story but four dead bodies suggests that you weren’t lying.”
“Why would we lie about something like this?” I asked, incredulous. “What the fuck? You think we’re on the run for funsies? We just lost someone we cared about. This is as real as a fucking heart attack.”
Hicks wasn’t ruffled by my venom. He rubbed at the scruff on his chin, thinking.
“What are we going to do?” I asked.
The silence grew tense as we waited. My heartbeat painfully against my chest.
Finally, after a long drag, he narrowed his gaze and said with a heavy sigh, “Here’s the thin
g…I don’t know if there’s anything you can do.”
“That’s some shit advice,” Dylan said. “Give up? Let them put us in the ground? What the fuck kind of advice is that?”
“I didn’t say that,” Hicks said, swigging straight from the bottle. “I said, fighting whoever the fuck these people are might be a lost cause and lost causes are bad for business.”
“Badger already paid you, old man,” Dylan reminded Hicks with a growl. “There’s no backing out now.”
Hicks reached down into the nightstand cubby and pulled a book, revealing a hollow core, tossing the roll of cash back to Dylan saying, “And here’s his money back. I don’t take cases that have a zero chance of being solved.”
Dylan tossed the wad back and he caught it with one hand. “And so is disappointing Badger.”
Hicks finished off his cigarette and stubbed it out. “Kid, I sympathize with you but the thing is, I’m not going to blow smoke up your ass and tell you that everything is going to be okay when it’s likely going to get you killed. My best advice, get off the grid, get out of the city, hell, get out of the state if you can, and try to start a new life elsewhere because this whole town is burnt for you by the looks of things.”
That was his advice? That’s what Jilly had wanted to do but Dylan and I had both known that if The Avalon could find us here, they could find us anywhere. I protested hotly, “There’s no place safe enough from them. We’re too big of a risk to leave running around. They’ll come for us no matter where we run.”
He didn’t argue the point, just said, “Yeah, sorry kid. It’s a shit hand.”
“Fuck you,” Dylan said, shaking her head in disgust. “Pretty easy to wipe your hands free of us, right? Must be nice to have shit for a conscience.”
“Look, I feel bad for you. Is that what you want to hear? Fuck, it’s a terrible situation, either way, you look at it but I don’t have endless resources either. To fight this fight, you need bigger artillery than what I got. I’m trying to be honest with you.”
Dylan’s nostrils flared as she held back whatever was coursing through her veins — rage, fear, helplessness, take your pick — and muttered, “I need some fucking air,” before slamming out the front door.
Dylan didn’t like anyone see her crumple but I sensed she was struggling. She may be a bad-ass but she was still like me, overwhelmed and looking for someone to help before we all ended up dead and The Avalon continued, business as usual.
I didn’t hold back the tears this time. I met Hicks’ gaze even as he tried to avoid my stare. He shifted with discomfort, shaking his head, saying, “Your pitiful look isn’t going to work. I’ve walked away from cases better than yours and I’m fucking immune to emotional manipulation.” He shrugged again, “Like I said, I’m real sorry but there’s nothing I can do.”
My gaze snagged on a beat-up picture frame lodged on the bookshelf, nearly hidden, of a little girl and what looked like Hicks during better days. He didn’t look like a drunk beat-up by life in the picture. He looked healthy, happy and competent.
A far cry from the man drowning himself to avoid feeling anything.
I took a wild guess, gesturing to the picture, “That your daughter?”
He lifted his gaze to mine, narrowing his stare as if he’d rather not answer but he did. “Yeah. Cheyenne.”
“Pretty name.”
“Thanks,” he grunted, still uncomfortable. “I can give you some train money to get you out of the city, maybe even out of the state but that’s about the best I can do.”
I ignored his offer. “How old is she?”
He rubbed at his forehead. “Uh, twelve. About to thirteen.”
“I remember thirteen. Puberty. Good times.”
“Yeah, well, she’s with her mother so I’m sure that’s all handled.”
I started to put together a picture. There was no way Hicks brought his kid to this shithole. Not seeing how he used to live, how he used to be with his kid. This man was living in purgatory for sins he thought he owed penance. She looked about six in that picture, which meant, he probably hadn’t seen his kid in six years if she was twelve almost thirteen now. Long time to be without your kid. My gaze fell on the bottle he was clutching like it was the only thing in his life that made sense.
I knew that look. I’d seen it plenty of times with Carla. He was an alcoholic.
“Why’d you lose custody?” I asked. He shook his head as if he weren’t going to answer. I’d struck a nerve. Time to keep pressing. “You seem pretty close in that picture. She’s cute. You miss her?”
“Every damn day,” he admitted gruffly. “But she’s better off with her mom.”
“Maybe,” I said, adding with a shrug, “probably.”
He scowled. “No one fucking asked you, did they?”
“Well, you’re a fucking mess and this place is a shithole. I wouldn’t let my kid stay here either. I’m curious though…did your wife leave you because you’re an alcoholic? Or did you do something really bad when you were drunk? I know some people like to pretend that alcohol made them do shitty things but I think it’s just because deep down, they’re shitty people and the alcohol made it easier for them to be their true selves.” I paused a minute before asking, “Did you molest your kid while you were drunk or something?”
I felt the violence in the air but as quick as it surged, it receded. Instead, Hicks shook his head, as if realizing what I was doing. “I never hurt my girl like that and never would. I lost my job and…lost everything else along with it.”
Men were so ego-driven. Their self-worth was tightly tied to their ability to bring home the bacon. In Hicks’ case, he let the pig get away. No more bacon. “That sucks,” I said, trying to sound sympathetic. “But I’m sure your kid misses you.”
He didn’t believe me. “She’s better off without me.”
“Who knows? I guess you never will because you gave up.”
“Enough with the motivational speeches, kid. Better and brighter than you have tried. Some things just aren’t meant to be fixed.”
I shrugged. “Yeah, probably right, but if you had a chance to take down the biggest, most disgusting human trafficking network in New York, I would think that you’d want to try if only for the simple fact that you don’t want Cheyenne to end up like the rest of the auction girls.”
His eyes flashed. “Cheyenne would never—“
“How would you know what your daughter would do? You haven’t seen her in six years. Abandonment issues create daddy issues for girls. I’m sure you’ve seen plenty of what happens to girls constantly seeking approval from a dad that was never around.”
There it is — the button I’d been searching for. I added, leaning forward and pinning him with a look to make my point, “Tana was a good girl and Madame Moirai still managed to get her hooks into her. What makes you think Cheyenne is safe?” I paused a beat, hardening my tone. “No one is safe from The Avalon unless you’re in the Million Dollar Club and something tells me…you’re not a fucking member.” I rose and went to the door, ending with, “Call us when you find your balls.”
And then I left to find Dylan.
15
A few days later Badger gave us a heads up that Hicks was coming to talk to us and to lay low until he showed up. We didn’t have a choice but to settle in and wait in the church until Hicks showed up.
Silence was a mind-killer.
Dylan paced like a caged tiger and I chewed on my fingernails, replaying every bad decision of my life that lead up to me sitting in an abandoned church with no hope of ever having a normal life again.
I missed homework and overbearing teachers.
I missed the stale smell of booze and cigarettes that clung to the air in my apartment.
I missed the familiarity of routine that before, I couldn’t wait to escape.
I risked a glance at Dylan. The quiet agony, the stuff she’d never share, brimmed in her eyes and I simply acknowledged it all with a nod because words weren�
��t needed.
As bad as life had been, it was nothing compared to now.
By the time Hicks arrived, we were both a little feral and almost hoping it was The Avalon coming to end our misery.
But to our shock, Hicks wasn’t alone and he made quick work of an introduction, gesturing to the middle-aged woman briefly, saying, “Dylan, Nicole, this is Kerri Pope, she’s a detective with NYPD. You can trust her.”
The woman, dirty blond hair tucked back in a low ponytail, had sharp eyes like Hicks but where he was hard and salty around the edges, she had a competent yet warm presence that I found genuine. Kerri nodded in greeting as I closed and barricaded the door out of habit. “Bad neighbors,” I said by way of a small joke. To her credit, Kerri gave me a tiny smile before taking a seat on the lumpy sofa that served as our bed. Dylan hopped on the desk, eyeing both adults with wary suspicion.
“So you changed your mind about helping us, huh?” Dylan asked.
“Yeah, guess so,” Hicks said, casting a quick look my way but didn’t elaborate, going straight to business. “Kerri and I used to work together. I know she’s trustworthy and she’s a good person to have on your side. We’re going to need someone on the inside if we’re going to get anywhere. I’ve told her what I know so far but it’s better if it comes from you.”
Dylan looked bored but I knew this was her way of protecting herself. She couldn’t take another rejection and neither could I but we had to start trusting someone if we hoped to survive what was coming for us. I took the plunge and shared our story. I didn’t leave out anything, not even when my throat threatened to choke off my airway.
I could tell Kerri was struggling with the information and I couldn’t blame her. If she was a good cop, learning that two kids just killed three assassins wasn’t an easy pill to swallow. She’d have to fight her instincts and I knew all about that so I could sympathize.
“And you have no idea who these people are running The Avalon?” she asked.
“Nope,” I answered with a resolute shake of my head. “If I did, I wouldn’t be sitting here, I’d be wherever they were hiding so I could end their sorry lives.”