by Blake, Toni
Whoa, this sounded serious. He plopped into a chair. “I am now.”
He listened to Tony take a deep breath. “The guy with Stephanie’s sister, Nicholson? He’s the kingpin, Jake. Of the whole damn operation. He’s the guy who ordered the hit on you.”
The hit that had killed Becky instead. Jake couldn’t breathe and bent over to rest his head in his hand.
“Those girls Raven mentioned? Tracked ’em down and they still deal for him, have been for years, and they IDed him as Typhoeus. Our hunches were right—serious drugs are being moved through Sophia’s and the CBD, by the escorts. These girls and a couple of higher-ups they turned us on to are all willing to turn, so that and a few well-placed wiretaps and we’ll have enough to put him away.”
Nicholson was Typhoeus. The man responsible for his wife’s death.
To think he’d just talked to the bastard last night.
“You there, man? You hearing this?”
“Yeah, I’m hearin’ it—just . . . a little overwhelmed.”
“I know,” Tony said. “I probably should have come over and told you. I just didn’t want to wait. I know it’s hard to hear, but it means Becky’s killer’s going to jail, man. And not just on drug trafficking. Before we’re through, he’ll face murder charges, too. If nothing else, Jake, we’re going to get some justice out of this.”
“Jesus” was all he could mutter. Finally getting his head back about him a little, he said, “We found Tina Grant, just last night. She’d been livin’ with that asshole until yesterday.”
“You’re kidding.”
“He was at Sophia’s and I asked him about her. I was face-to-face with him, Tony.” As shock slowly transformed into rage, he spoke through clenched teeth. “Face-to-face.”
“Listen, man,” Tony said, and Jake could already hear the calming tones—they’d learned about those in the academy, how to talk to people who were on edge to settle them down. “You don’t want to do anything crazy where this guy’s concerned—if for no other reason, you’ll mess up our case. And after all this time, I know you don’t want to do that. I know you want to see Becky’s killer get put away for a good long time. You’re hearing me on this, right?”
Jake took a deep breath. “Right.” He wanted to rip Nicholson limb from bloody limb—but more than that, he wanted to watch him rot in a prison cell. “You think this is what the feds were really lookin’ for when they came down on the brothels a few years back?” he wondered aloud.
“Truth is . . .” Tony began, then stopped.
Shit. There was some truth Tony had never told him? “What?”
“The feds put a buzz in our ear a while back. I didn’t get the idea about drugs on the third floor all by myself, and I had more than just a hunch. The FBI thought that’s how it was going down—just couldn’t nail it. They pulled us in on it a couple of years ago—not long after Becky died—but you were in too bad a way to tell you about it.”
Jake shook his head. “Why? I know I was bad off, but why not tell me?”
Tony hesitated. “It’s like this. Danny didn’t offer you the job at Sophia’s just out of the goodness of his heart. I asked him to, Jake.”
“Why the hell would you do that?”
“You were closing down, shutting everything and everybody out. But I wanted you there, at Sophia’s—wanted you in on this when it eventually came down. Because you’re a cop to the bone, whether or not you’re carrying a badge, and I needed your eyes and ears. And because I knew you’d need to be in on it when we found out who was behind Becky’s death.”
Just then, Shondra stretched and eased out from under the sheet on the couch, careful not to step on Scruff, who lay on the floor next to her on an old pillow Jake had pulled from a closet. She gave a sleepy-eyed, messy-haired wave good morning before scurrying off to the bathroom in one of Jake’s old T-shirts he’d given her to sleep in.
“Jesus,” Jake murmured, still trying to absorb it all, and part of him wanted to chew Tony out for manipulating him—but he couldn’t. It all made sense. And Tony had done it because he’d cared.
They talked a little while longer, Tony making sure Jake wasn’t going to go looking for Nicholson with a baseball bat, and discussing some more details of the case the NOPD would be building against the son of a bitch. It was so damn much to take in. They knew now. They knew who’d killed his wife.
He was just hanging up as Shondra exited the bathroom in a pair of shorts and a pullover. Scabs adorned each of her knees.
He pointed at them. “What happened?”
She shook her head as if the answer were a nuisance. “That’s how Scruff got loose last night.”
“What do you mean?”
“Some boy I know was botherin’ me.” She said it like it was nothing.
But Jake stood up. “Botherin’ you? Botherin’ you how?”
She looked almost ashamed to tell him and he prayed to God it wasn’t anything like what had happened with her mom’s boyfriend. “This boy called P.J.—homeless kid, like I was. I seen him on the street a couple times lately and he’s been givin’ me shit ever since I got new clothes.”
Jake blinked, not quite understanding. “Why?”
“Figured they meant I had some cash. Last night I went out to get some dog food, and P.J. saw me and hit me up for money. When I said no, he sorta . . . knocked me down, grabbed what change I had, and ducked off when Scruff got hit.”
Jake couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen her skinned knees last night, but now he was noticing scratches on her arm, and a bruise on her right thigh, too. His blood began to boil. “This P.J., what’s he look like and where can I find him?”
She drew back slightly. “Why?”
“Just answer the question.”
“He’s got a nappy afro, all uneven, and wears a dirty old Saints T-shirt with a number seventeen on it. During the day, he sleeps in an empty building down close to the river.” She told him where.
And he stormed past her into the bedroom, where he traded in the gym shorts he’d slept in for last night’s jeans and tee. “Don’t leave this apartment ’til I get back,” he commanded, trudging past her out the door.
He traveled to the abandoned building she’d described with tunnel vision. He didn’t see morning traffic in the Quarter or people on the streets hosing down sidewalks or opening businesses. He saw nothing but a little girl’s skinned knees. What the hell was wrong with people in this world that they thought they could just go around hurting other people? What gave them the right? It was gonna stop now—with him and this little jerk-off, P.J.
He pushed through a tall, half-shut door and found a handful of kids, varying ages, sleeping on old mattresses, car seats, blankets on the floor. The Saints jersey stretched out in a reclined bucket car seat drew his eyes. Damn, the kid was big—and too old to be hanging with the other young teenagers scattered about the place. It made him even angrier.
He yanked the kid up by the shirt, ready to scare the shit out of him. The kid’s eyes popped open and as soon as he saw Jake, he drew back his fist and swung. Jake jerked to the right quick enough that it didn’t hurt much, despite the coppery taste of blood in his mouth—but it was the last straw with this loser. In instinctive response, he delivered a hard left to P.J.’s jaw.
“Wha . . . ?” the kid muttered, dazed from the blow.
“From now on, try pickin’ on somebody your own size!”
“Huh?”
“Last night you stole some money from a friend of mine. Attacked her, knocked her down, got her dog hit by a car. Ring any bells?”
The guy just made a face. “Yeah, but . . .”
Jake slugged him again, this time in the gut. The jolt sent P.J. doubling over with a grunt and the rest of the homeless teens had come awake to simply watch in fear, as if they were afraid to move, lest Jake notice them. As soon as P.J
. rose back up, Jake countered with a right to the eye. The kid fell with a plunk to the old wooden floor and Jake leaned down over him. “She’s just a goddamn little girl! Just tryin’ to get by, like you are! You had no right to hurt her, so I’m just makin’ things even here.”
P.J. didn’t answer, simply lay there gaping up at him in the morning shadows.
He doubted he’d actually made the kid understand anything, but at least maybe he’d think twice before getting rough with somebody again. “I oughta hurt you a lot worse,” Jake said through gritted teeth, “but you’re not worth it.”
With that, he stomped back out the door. His hands hurt as he walked up the street, the right one beginning to swell a little.
He didn’t want to go back to the apartment just yet—wanted to cool down first—so he headed to the Café Du Monde to get some beignets for Shondra. He wasn’t proud of his actions just now, but seeing those scabs and hearing her tell him what happened as if it had somehow been her fault—it’d been the straw that broke the camel’s back, the thing that made him blow.
The last couple of days had just been . . . too damn much to handle. Stephanie, Raven, Tina, Scruff, Shondra—and now they’d found Becky’s killer, after all this time. Merde, no wonder he’d blown a gasket.
By the time he got the beignets and made the walk home, he felt calmer. And sorry he’d gone off on the kid, probably more than he should have. If he’d still been a cop and heard about someone dealing with a homeless kid the way he just had, even a criminal homeless kid, he wouldn’t have been happy.
When he walked in, Shondra stood in the same place he’d left her, as if she hadn’t moved in all the time he was gone. “Where’d you go?”
“Just had a little talk with P.J.” He held up the beignets. “And got breakfast.”
“Your hand’s red. So’s your cheek.” Her eyebrows knit. “Did you beat him up?”
He nodded, still not proud. “Pretty much.”
To his surprise, she let out a sigh of what looked like . . . relief. “Cool.”
“What?”
“He’s a jerk. Nobody can stand his ass. Whatever somebody has, even other homeless kids, he thinks it should be his. He thinks he’s so bad and . . .” She let out another sigh and took on the innocent look she sometimes forgot to hide. “Well, now I don’t gotta be scared to go out. After last night, I kinda was. So . . . thanks, Jake. I wish there were more guys in the world just like you.”
She took the white bag from his hands and went into the kitchen. He, on the other hand, simply stood there feeling numb. Strange. Good strange. Like maybe . . . he’d saved somebody. Even if just a little. Even if just for right now.
Maybe he hadn’t gone about it the best way, but as Shondra’s words replayed in his head, he couldn’t help feeling satisfied, and thinking maybe he’d somehow managed to show her there were good men in the world and that maybe she wouldn’t live her whole life being afraid of them all.
“OJ?” she asked from the kitchen.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “Thanks.”
As they sat down at the little table together, Shondra knew she had to tell him what she’d done while he was gone. He’d be glad, but she hated to think this was the last time she’d sit eating beignets with Jake, and she just wanted to enjoy the quiet companionship they shared.
So it wasn’t until she picked up their sugar-covered plates and carried them to the sink that she said, “While you were out beatin’ up P.J., I called Grandma Maisy.”
He blinked. “Really?”
She laid the plates down and turned to face him. “I figured you done enough for me already—and it seemed like a thing I should be able to do. I mean, I’ve lived on the streets. I oughta be able to call my own damn grandma, right?”
He gave her a small smile, one of the things she’d miss—his smiles. “I guess so,” he said. “Did you tell her . . . everything? About your mom’s boyfriend?”
She nodded. “She said if I come live with her, she won’t let him nowhere near me. Said her and me’ll go through the court and see what to do so I can live with her permanent, until I’m old enough I wanna move out. And best of all, she’s down with me bringin’ Scruff. She’s got a little fenced backyard and I think he’ll like it.”
His smile widened on her. “That’s real good. I like Grandma Maisy already.”
“She likes you, too. From all what I told her, I mean. And she’s . . . expectin’ me tonight. She’s makin’ breaded pork chops for supper ’cause they’re my favorite—so I guess I better be there.”
He nodded quietly, and she liked to think maybe he seemed just a little sad, too. Probably wishful thinking, but she loved that Jake liked her, she loved making him laugh, and she was going to miss him something awful. He was the best thing that had ever happened to her. Well, him and Scruff. They’d both come along right when she’d needed them the most.
THAT EVENING AROUND five-thirty, Jake pulled the truck to the curb outside a well-kept little shotgun house on the West Bank. He saw a few kids out playing, and an old man working in a flower bed, and immediately felt good about leaving Shondra here. “Got all your stuff?”
They’d packed her clothes in the shopping bags they’d come in, and her old backpack was hoisted on one shoulder. Scruff sat in the seat next to her, on his leash. She nodded at Jake’s question, but seemed nervous, as if she couldn’t quite look at him. Clearly, she’d learned early in life to hate awkward goodbyes as much as he did.
“If you ever need anything, you got my number, no?”
She nodded again, glancing up at him, then back down.
“Or even if you don’t need anything, but you just wanna talk—call me. Okay?”
She nodded more vigorously this time.
“Well then, I guess that’s it.”
Her lip started trembling before she said, “Thanks for everything. I might’ve died if not for you.” And with that, she leaned past Scruff to throw her arms around Jake’s neck.
It caught him off guard for a second, and he wasn’t sure at first if he should hug her back, all things considered. But then he did, for a long minute that wrenched his heart a lot harder than he’d ever expected. She raised her head and kissed his cheek, just like Tina had done, before returning to her side of the truck.
After that, she seemed embarrassed, hurrying to get out with all her stuff, saying, “Come, Scruff. Come on.” Only after she slammed the door did she pause, looking back in through the open window.
“Take care of yourself, ’tite fille. Have a good life.”
She looked utterly forlorn as she nodded at him one last time, quietly saying, “Bye.”
He lifted a hand in parting. “Bye.”
He pulled away, discovering about a block later that something was clouding his vision as he drove. He reached up, wiping at one eye, and his fingertips came away wet. Tears.
Interlude
YOU SEE HER sitting naked and beautiful in a dark room. A pale spotlight shines on her, yet her face remains in shadow. Slim knees are drawn up, her arms curved around them, and in one hand she holds a daisy. With the other, she plucks off the slender white petals, one by one. “He loves me,” she says.
Her voice is the faintest whisper as she pulls the next.
“He loves me not.”
She lifts her gaze just slightly, and you feel her eyes on you.
“He loves me.”
You want to go to her, but you can’t seem to move.
“He loves me not.”
Another petal falls to the floor in front of her as you reach out.
“He loves me.”
But you’re not there with her, you suddenly realize. It’s as if you’re watching from behind a glass wall.
“He loves me not.”
She cannot see you. Which means you’re both alone.
“He l
oves me.”
She glances down at the remains of the flower, one last petal left. She plucks it off and lets it drop as a single tear rolls down her cheek. “He loves me not.”
Chapter Twenty-six
THE FIRST NIGHT after Stephanie got Tina back, they’d stayed up all night talking. They’d shed a lot of tears, and done a lot of apologizing, and by morning, Stephanie felt she knew more about her little sister than she ever had before. They’d worked through all the mistakes each of them had made and Stephanie felt real hope for Tina’s future, and hope for the future of their relationship, too.
She’d been upset but not surprised when her sister admitted that Stephanie’s reactions to Tina’s decisions had ultimately been part of what had driven her away, but she’d just have to deal with that knowledge. She’d told Jake he couldn’t hold on to his guilt about Becky forever, and she’d meant it. Right now, she felt horribly guilty about Tina, but she knew time would ease it.
The next morning, she’d again found herself sneaking off to Mrs. Lindman’s kitchen for muffins to share with her unauthorized guest, and just like when the guest had been Jake, they’d giggled over prim and proper Stephanie engaging in such a deception.
“Not so prim anymore, though, right?” Tina had asked. “I mean, once you’ve masqueraded as a hooker . . .” They’d both laughed, but clearly Tina had seen memories of Jake dancing in her eyes. “Or . . . is there something more I should know?”
Stephanie shrugged, not wanting to give her affair with Jake as much power as it truly held over her. “I . . . sort of had wild, crazy sex with Jake a few times, in between looking for you.”
Her sister’s eyes had gone wide and appreciative. “Jake, the ex-cop bartender who rescued me? My God, Steph, he’s a total hottie and a half.”
Stephanie had sighed. “Don’t I know it.”
Tina tilted her head, too perceptive. “Why do you sound sad about this? Wild, crazy sex is usually fun.”
Stephanie, who’d gotten very honest with her sister over the previous hours, had said, “I’m in love with him.”