No Greater Hell (Lost and Found, Inc. Book 4)

by Jerrie Alexander

  “I don’t need nothin’ from you.” The woman’s lips thinned revealing yellowed teeth.

  The guard stepped between Holly and the addict. “I’ll escort you to the door. Now.”

  His tone was low and cold, leaving no reason to doubt how serious he was. He waved his hand, showing the way outside. When the woman was out of sight, Holly sat to catch her breath. Suzanne hurried from her work area to Holly’s side.

  “Holy crap,” Suzanne said. “I thought for sure she was going to take a swing at you.”

  “So did I.” Holly reached for her bottle of water, not at all surprised to find her hand shaking. “That’s a scene I never want to repeat.”

  “You were so calm, way calmer than I would have been.”

  “I doubt that.” The line at Holly’s work area had grown, so she tried to push the incident from her mind and returned to work.

  Long after the addict had gone, the woman’s rancid scent lingered. She could still see the agony in her eyes; still feel the anger that had spewed from her. The hopelessness on her face as she was escorted from the building haunted Holly. What was going to happen to that poor woman?

  CHAPTER 3

  At twenty-four years old, RG Rogers had never been in a chair as comfortable as the plush leather recliner his ass was currently enjoying. He’d scored this particular hangout by following an old man home from the gas station. With three bedrooms and two toilets, the rancher’s house seemed huge to him. Best of all, the place didn’t smell like stale beer, cheap wine and human shit.

  RG’s discontent with the bowl of crap that life had handed him itched like a cheap wool shirt. Things had gotten so bad that he and Lavon Kelly were now babysitting Angel Garza. Why? Because the money was fucking unbelievable.

  Angel’s big brother, Ivan, was rumored to be a high-priced hitman, but nobody knew for sure. He was older, maybe thirty, and traveled a lot. After their mother had died, Ivan had moved his crazy-ass brother to the other side of town to live with him. But little brother wouldn’t stay on his meds and went through caretakers faster than shit through a goose. Nobody else would take the thankless job of Angel’s caretaker.

  Ivan wanted somebody to make sure his mountain of a brother didn’t start any new shit and wind up in jail. It didn’t take RG long to understand why the previous sitters hadn’t stuck. Angel was a spoiled, crazy motherfucker, and that was when he actually took his meds.

  Within a week, RG was ready to pull his fucking hair out. Angel was supposed to have a psychotic disorder, whatever the hell that meant. He wanted what he wanted when he wanted it, and fuck the rest of the world. RG expected him to start chasing cars and biting at the tires any minute. Truth.

  Angel’s insistence they come to Connersville had come during one of his more demanding stages. They were stealing penny ante shit, but the turnover of goods would be fast. The more drugs and high-end merchandise they hauled back to Houston, the more money they’d make.

  Soon as RG had enough cash, he was getting the fuck out of town. His cousin in Chicago would vouch for him and hook him up with the right people. Then he’d make some real dough. Yeah, the big money was up north.

  Then Ivan could find somebody else to watch his idiot brother.

  RG glanced out of the window at the open fields. There were no neighbors. He couldn’t even see the nearest house. How did people live like this? Out in the middle of nowhere? It was beyond his understanding, but still, this was the perfect hideout. Nosy neighbors would have meant trouble. So did live owners, but he’d let Angel handle that problem. Angel enjoyed killing.

  RG dragged the old man’s hunting knife across the sharpening stone, and then held up the blade to inspect his effort. He spit on the stone, then repeated the process. The home owner’s collection of guns and hunting knives had been a nice surprise.

  The back door slammed open, bouncing off the wall. He didn’t have to turn in his chair and look. Angel’s behavior was getting more erratic every day.

  “RG?”

  Without looking, he knew Helena had come in the room with Angel. The putrid stench rolled off the bitch and filled the room.

  “She’s late.”

  “The line was long,” Helena whined. “I stood out in the heat for hours.”

  Angel had picked the junkie up their first night in town. She’d been begging for a hit and offering to do anything for it. Now RG liked pussy as much as the next swinging dick, but not one as nasty as hers. Angel wasn’t as picky. RG had agreed to let her hang with them because she lived in the area.

  So far, she’d given them the location of one lousy drugstore to hit. The drugs were there, but so was the owner. Old fucker had camped inside thinking he could protect his business from looters. He’d been wrong.

  RG turned to face her. Her skin glistened with sweat, and her hands trembled like an old woman. Her head jerked with the telltale spasm of a junkie in need.

  “Cut the sob story. What did you see?”

  “They’re set up in the cafeteria, just like you said. I counted five nurses up front. They worked on some people up there, but if you were hurt bad, they sent you to the back. That’s where the doctors were.” She fidgeted, shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “I gotta have something. Please.”

  RG ignored her. “What else did you see?”

  She clawed at a sore on her neck. “Three vans parked next to the building and two of them four-door pickups.” Helena came closer, wagging a bony finger in the air. “There’s a trailer backed flush to the building. I’ll bet that’s where the drugs are.”

  “Good to know.” Now he could lay out a plan. They would fill the old rancher’s empty horse trailer and use his pickup to haul ass out of town.

  “I did good, didn’t I?” She perked up. “Good enough for you to help me out?”

  “We didn’t make no deal.” RG just wanted her out of his sight.

  “But I can work for you. Check some more of those medical places.”

  “Angel?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Get her out of here.”

  “No!” Helena cried. “You can’t turn me out like this.”

  RG flicked his wrist for her and Angel to go. “I said to get her out of here.”

  Angel clamped his teeth closed and scowled. There was that weird look in his eyes. Now, what?

  “There’s something else. I saw a guard,” she said.

  “Tell me about the guard.” Bitch had been holding back.

  “Dude stands outside the front door. Black pants and shirt, with a pistol on his hip and a rifle slung over his shoulder.”

  “Did you recognize him?”

  “Never seen him before. But his eyes were cold and mean.”

  “Some reporter said the sheriff called in outside help.” RG lifted his beer and took a drink. “It won’t stop us. We’re going to score and then take our asses back to Houston. Get rid of her,” he said to Angel.

  “No.” Angel shook his head.

  “What the fuck?”

  “She’s mine.” Angel had a tight grip on her arm.

  “We don’t need any witnesses.”

  “No,” Helena cried. “You’ll protect me, won’t you.”

  Angel stood his ground. “You’re mine, right?” He pulled her closer. “Right?”

  “That’s right. I’m Angel’s woman.” Her hand slid between his legs and massaged his cock. “We have fun together, don’t we? There’s more I can do for you.”

  “I’m keeping her.”

  Helena’s about-face from whining to honey-sweet was pathetic. Angel looked over his shoulder and they left the room. RG shrugged. Angel could keep her as long as he wanted. The bitch would do plenty for Angel before she died.

  ****

  Jake had seen pictures of tornado damage before, but nothing had prepared him for seeing it up close and personal. The uprooted trees, roofs blown off, and dead livestock he’d seen on his drive into Connersville had shocked the hell out of him, but that was just
the beginning. The devastation in town was even worse.

  Wide swaths of homes and businesses were gone, leaving behind small parts and pieces of lives. Brick walls had crumbled, some turning into rubble while others remained intact, leaning against each other as if for support. Homes where people had lived had vanished, leaving sad remnants of what once had been.

  People were digging through the debris, hoping to salvage what they could. Some were stacking lumber and downed tree limbs into a pile. The sound of an occasional police siren or fire truck pierced the eerie silence.

  Here and there, a house stood unscathed by the high winds, hail, and rain. But each one looked out of place in the middle of such destruction.

  Jake reported to the police station as instructed, filled out his paperwork, and waited while other volunteers received assignments and left. A uniformed officer picked up a clipboard and read. He walked straight toward Jake.

  “Jake Donovan?” the officer asked.

  Jake stood and accepted the handshake offered. “That’s right.”

  “Officer Tom Parker. Tom, to you.” He smiled and his forehead wrinkled. “You’re riding with me.”

  “I don’t get it. Why am I with you?”

  “I don’t question the chief. I thought maybe you two knew each other.” Tom turned and headed for the exit.

  “Never met him,” Jake said, catching up in a couple of strides.

  “All I know is that Rey, the chief of police, had a list of people from the outside that he was expecting. I think he’s got a plan, but for now, I’m to acquaint you with the area.”

  “Works for me.” Curiosity instantly settled in. How much of his background had Claude shared?

  They spent the day in one neighborhood doing wellness checks requested from people who had relatives in Connersville but couldn’t reach them. Jake and Tom stopped and helped when they could. Mostly they transported people to shelters and the injured to the nearest temporary medical station for help.

  And a separate team had the unenviable assignment of collecting the deceased, looking for identification, and then driving the corpse to the morgue. In war, you learned to separate your emotions from death, but this felt personal.

  Jake had lived in south Texas most of his life, and he thrived on the hot, steamy weather. But it wasn’t the unrelenting heat and humidity that thickened the air and made it hard to breathe that troubled him—it was the tears and despair of the families who’d lost everything. Their losses stripped away any regret he might have had about coming to help.

  The day flew by without Jake once checking the time. It was dark when Tom drove them back to the station. He parked the cruiser, turned in the seat, and offered his hand for the second time today. Jake grasped it tightly.

  “You were a big help today,” Tom said. “I’ll see you in the morning?”

  “You sure will.”

  “Come inside. The motels filled up fast. The desk clerk will have found you a room by now.”

  Jake went inside, accepted the curious apology the clerk gave him as he handed over a note with the motel name and address. He programmed the address into his GPS and followed instructions. The drive gave him time to reflect on the day. His respect for the residents of Connersville had grown immensely. They supported each other in a way he’d never seen. Funny, he hadn’t felt tired once today, but mile by mile he slowly unwound, realizing just how much they had accomplished.

  He laughed as he parked and entered the motel, understanding the apology. The place was beyond calling run-down. The neon sign out front proudly flashed the letters OTEL. He walked into the office and was hit with the smell of stale cigarette smoke.

  At this point, all he wanted was a bed. He got the key and stopped by the snack machine. Two bucks later, a candy bar fell into the tray.

  Motion to his left caught his attention. He turned to find a scraggly dog at his feet. Dirty and wagging its tail furiously, the animal seemed glad to see him. Jake extended his hand and was rewarded with a friendly lick.

  “Well, hello. Where’d you come from?”

  Jake glanced around the parking lot. No one was outside with the animal, and it wasn’t wearing a collar. Jake figured the storm and flooding had separated the mutt from its owners.

  He bought the animal a package of peanut butter crackers, walked to his room, filled a paper coffee cup with water and then set them outside his door. The dog wolfed down the food, drank the water, and then trotted off.

  Satisfied the animal was probably going home, Jake closed the door to his musty motel room. He toed off his boots and stretched out to relax for a minute.

  CHAPTER 4

  Daylight streaming through the curtains pulled Jake from a deep sleep. He rushed through his shower, jumped in his pickup, and sped into town. He ate the candy bar he’d bought last night on the way to Connersville. He arrived a few minutes late to the briefing, so he slipped in and sat in the back of the room.

  He listened as a cop dressed in a crisp white shirt and black jeans talked. “Last night, seventeen looters were arrested, and that number grows every day. Some came from as far away as Louisiana and Oklahoma. They’re stealing everything from copper to televisions. We took guns off half of the people we locked up, so stay safe out there.”

  The crowd broke up into their groups. Jake grabbed a paper cup, filled it with some badly needed caffeine, and then went outside to where Tom’s cruiser was parked.

  “Jake,” Tom called from the doorway. “Chief wants you to ride with him this morning.”

  “Why?” Jake coughed as his sip of coffee went down the wrong way.

  “He doesn’t share his reasons with me.” Tom chuckled as he walked to his cruiser. “I told him you were a veteran and had handled the day like a pro. Maybe he’s got a special assignment for you.”

  “What made you think I was in the military?”

  “Old-fashioned observation. You’ve seen death, and you saw it yesterday. It disturbed you, but you didn’t allow it to derail you.” Tom gripped Jake’s hand. “Ask Rey why he always looks like he just put on a clean uniform. It’s a mystery none of us can solve.”

  “Why do I feel that question might get me in trouble?”

  Tom laughed. “Go. You’ll like Rey.”

  Jake went back inside. When he’d signed up as a volunteer, he hadn’t identified himself as Claude Welborne’s friend, figuring the fewer people who knew about his past the better. He met the chief in the hallway.

  “Jake.” The chief extended his hand. “I appreciate you coming. We need all the able-bodied men we can get.”

  “No problem.” Jake liked the way the chief interacted with his men and volunteers. His easy way of speaking and what appeared to be a calm nature were positive traits to have in a situation so volatile. His handshake was firm and strong, always a good sign where Jake was concerned.

  “You wanted to see me, Chief Santos?”

  “It’s Rey. There’s no rank or class distinction here. C’mon, ride with me. We’ll talk.”

  Jake followed the chief to his car and slid inside. The chief got behind the wheel and drove onto the highway.

  “Why do we need to talk?” Jake braced himself for a lecture concerning his past.

  “Tom said you have a good head on your shoulders. He thinks you’d hold up well under pressure.”

  The tension building in Jake’s neck eased. “What have you got in mind?”

  “My men are working nonstop. I may need to add, well, I can’t call it a citizen’s patrol, but I’m thinking I could use some help. These looters are out of control. I’ve got to get my arms around the situation before somebody gets killed.”

  “Sorry, no badges for me.”

  “I can accept that. You’ve had a rough time. I don’t plan on making it worse.”

  “So Claude Welborne called and told you about me?”

  “No. You impressed Tom Parker and that’s hard to do. So I dug out your registration. When I read you’d listed Murdock as home
, I called Claude. He had nothing but praise for you.”

  Jake smiled, imagining the scene. “My aunt was probably standing next to him, telling him what to say.”

  Rey laughed. “Claude needs a good woman. His wife died around the same time as my dad, and he’s been alone ever since.” Rey stopped at one of the food wagons. “Hang on.” He got out and returned with two coffees.

  “Thanks. I needed this.” Jake blew across the hot liquid.

  “It comes with a price.” He held up a finger at Jake’s raised eyebrows. “Hear me out. I read some of your background. I saw your ties with the Lost and Found agency. We’ll work together today, but tomorrow, I may pair you up with an old friend of yours.”

  “An old friend?”

  “You two are connected through the agency. He’s here and already deputized.”

  “Are you talking about Nate Wolfe?”

  Rey shook his head. “Dalton Murphy. He arrived a few hours before you signed in yesterday.”

  “I wouldn’t exactly call him a friend.” Dalton had done a lot to square things with the Feds for Jake, but working as a team was another thing altogether. “I’d suggest you check with him first.”

  “He doesn’t have a say. This town is my responsibility, and I know what it needs.” Rey turned the cruiser onto a side road. “Dalton is working on this side of town today. We may run into him.”

  “Good enough.” Jake and Dalton had both come to work. Spending time together might be interesting.

  “Did you sustain much damage from the storm?”

  “We had a few downed trees and minor flooding. The destruction I’ve seen here in Connersville makes what happened at home a minor inconvenience.”

  They worked their way through an older neighborhood, taking the time to assist families, driving them to shelters or for medical help. Late in the afternoon, they came across a house where neighbors were trying to move pieces of a collapsed roof. One of the women waved frantically. Rey parked and together they ran across the street.

  “We thought Mr. and Mrs. Barnes were at their daughter’s house in Tyler. She called me when she couldn’t reach them.”