Desolate Mantle

by L. K. Hill

  In the four days since Kyra disappeared through his back door, much had happened in the precinct. Shawn announced to all the detectives that a serial killer prowled the Slip Mire. The other detectives believed the work of the killer was discovered through similarities between Gabe’s murder cases and a witness who wished to remain anonymous.

  The profile of the killer was one that stalked prostitutes, sometimes dressed up as a woman himself, and when he wasn’t, he often went without his shirt or wore short pants. The long, bushy hair—probably a wig—seen by both Kyra and Sadie was also mentioned.

  Other detectives scanned their cases for signs of the killer, though that was more easily said than done, considering he didn’t have a consistent M.O. Eventually, news spread to detectives of a neighboring precinct. One of them, a Detective Howard, had approached Gabe two days before. Howard had an undercover operative that often posed as a prostitute for sting operations, or to find persons of interest. This operative—a knockout of a woman named Bellamy who bore a striking resemblance to Marilyn Monroe—claimed to know a man who went by the name of Danny Bronco. Bronco lived in the Slip Mire, and kept tabs on everything that happened, especially concerning the prostitutes. He claimed to be in love with all of them, and frequently solicited their services.

  Detective Howard explained that they were sure Bronco worked for the Sons of Ares, but hadn’t been able to ascertain exactly what he did for them. Either way, Howard was sure he could give them some information on the killer. Not that he would necessarily know the killer’s identity, but there was no way Bronco hadn’t noticed the murders. He might have some insight Kyra missed.

  Bellamy, the undercover operative, knew which parts of town he frequented and which nights he usually came out. “We’re offering our services for a sting operation, Detective Nichols,” Howard said. “We’re confident we can get Bronco and bring him in for questioning.”

  Of course Gabe jumped at the chance. Anyone who could tell him anything at all would be worth the effort to bring in. Bellamy, posing as a working girl to get Bronco to solicit her, wore a wire. The moment he agreed to pay her, they’d move in. They would protect her undercover identity by telling Bronco this was a sting operation for vice, and Bellamy knew nothing about it. Given how often she posed as a prostitute in the Mire, Bronco would believe them.

  Bellamy’s smoky voice came through the comm. “Hey, Sugar. You looking for a date?”

  The answering male voice was firm, confident. “Not tonight, Darling. I’m actually looking for someone else. Was hoping maybe you’d seen them.”

  “Who’s that?” Bellamy asked the man, her voice still sultry. Gabe relaxed. Obviously this was not their guy. If he was, Bellamy would have called him by name to identify him to the listening detectives.

  “Don’t actually know her name,” the man answered. “She’s small—littler than you. Black, spiky hair, like a little boy. Always wears black, baggy clothes.

  Gabe’s head snapped up. That sounded an awful lot like Kyra in her Supra guise. This guy could be anybody—a friend or acquaintance of Kyra’s even—but hearing some random male Mireling asking about her made Gabe uneasy. Across from him, the tech noticed Gabe’s expression and arched a questioning eyebrow. Gabe ignored him.

  “So that’s what you go for, huh?” Bellamy asked the man, an edge of tease in her voice.

  The man laughed, a low, husky sound. “Not like that. If that’s what I wanted, you and those hips of yours would be first on my list. No, I’m looking for this one for another reason.”

  “Sorry. Ain’t see her,” Bellamy said.

  “Well, maybe I’ll be back around to visit you later,” the man said.

  “I’ll be here, Sugar.”

  Moving silently up onto the balls of his feet, Gabe crept toward the front seat, lifting his head slowly above window level to see where Bellamy stood on her corner.

  “What are you doing, Gabe?” Tyke hissed. “Someone’ll see you.”

  Tyke wore dark clothes and a ski mask to blend into the shadows. Even if someone peered into the van, they probably wouldn’t notice Tyke right away. That wasn’t true of Gabe.

  “Gabe!”

  “Give me a minute,” Gabe whispered back.

  From the distance they were at, he probably wouldn’t be able to make out the man’s face, but he wanted an impression of this guy, beyond just his voice coming through the com. The man had moved past Bellamy and retreated into the alley behind her. All Gabe could see was the back of a dark head and a dark-colored trench coat. Yeah, dark hair and clothes. That ought to narrow it down in a city of a quarter million. Perhaps he could ask Bellamy for a better description later.

  Gabe eased back to his place across from the tech.

  “What was that about?” Tyke asked.

  Gabe shook his head. “Ask me later.” Tyke knew nothing of Kyra, so there was little Gabe could say to explain.

  The silence stretched, and Gabe sighed. It looked less and less like Bronco would make an appearance tonight. Stakeouts were tedious by nature, and Bellamy could only tell them when this man would most likely be there, so getting him tonight was never a guarantee. Bellamy said Bronco always showed up before midnight, and it was quarter of. If he didn’t make an appearance in the next few minutes, he probably wouldn’t at all.

  “Here comes another possibility,” Tyke whispered. “He’s up the street. Approaching. Hasn’t noticed Bellamy yet.”

  Gabe waited, suppressing the urge to tap his foot.

  Bellamy’s whisper came through the com again. “That’s him.”

  “Are you sure, Bellamy?” Tyke asked through the com.

  “Yes, I can see his face. It’s him.”

  “Get his attention,” Tyke said. Gabe put a hand on the door lever again.

  “Hey, Danny,” Bellamy’s voice called. “Where you been hiding?”

  A muffled reply came through the com. Bronco was too far away to pick it up clearly.

  “Uh oh,” Tyke murmured.

  “What’s the matter?” Gabe whispered.

  “We got company,” Tyke said. “Homeless guy. He’s staggering pretty heavily, headed toward Bronco.” A moment later Tyke groaned, and Gabe sighed. The drunk must be headed for their suspect. It didn’t mean tonight was a bust—they’d have to wait and see what happened—but they needed Bronco to focus on Bellamy. A distraction might mean he didn’t approach her. If he didn’t solicit her, they wouldn’t be able to pick him up.

  “What’s happening?” Gabe asked after a moment of silence. “The second guy’s talking to Bronco. Bronco keeps throwing looks at you, Bellamy. He’s still interested. Keep trying. Damn. We need someone to send in and distract the drunk.”

  That gave Gabe an idea. It couldn’t work though, could it? “Tyke, I need your phone.” Cora still waited on the other end of his, and didn’t want to hang up on her. He did navigate out of the call, though, to look up Kyra’s number.

  “What? Why?”

  “Just give it to me.”

  Muttering to himself, Tyke dug his phone out of his jeans and tossed it back to Gabe without looking at him.

  He dialed the number to the phone Kyra didn’t carry with her. She said she checked her messages often, but chances were by the time she got his message, the sting operation would be long over. Still, it couldn’t hurt to try.

  “Kyra, it’s Gabe,” he whispered after a generic voice mail message played. “I’m sure you won’t get this on time. It’s—” he glanced at his watch, “11:52. If you get this more than an hour from now, disregard it. We’re doing a sting operation a block up from the Honk’s General intersection on the eastern edge of the Mire. It involves a prostitute and the guy we want to pick her up. There’s a drunk guy interfering. I hoped you might be able to get here and distract him. Fat chance you’ll get this anytime soon, so don’t worry if you’re nowhere near. Just thought I’d take a shot.”

  He hung up the phone and found both Tyke and Jones staring at him like he’d
lost his mind.

  “What the hell was that?” Tyke hissed.

  “Nothing. Tell you later.” Gabe tossed him back his phone.

  “Yeah. You will,” Tyke muttered, obviously trying to be firm, though it sounded ridiculous in a whisper.

  The next fifteen minutes passed more slowly than Gabe could have imagined. Bronco appeared to be humoring the drunk. He’d talk to him for a few minutes, then move past him toward Bellamy. The drunk invariably followed, talking too loudly. He would stagger off, and Bellamy would try to talk Bronco into buying her services, but the drunk would return to butt in again. As the minutes passed, Bronco seemed less and less interested in Bellamy. And who could blame him? He wouldn’t want the drunk guy around while he did his thing with a hooker.

  Tyke cursed again. So did Gabe. Repeatedly. Cora, listening through the phone, kept asking what was going on, and should they come out and grab Bronco?

  “No!” Gabe practically yelled. “Not until I give you the word!”

  “Shhh!” Tyke hissed.

  Gabe lowered his voice and whispered instructions to Cora.

  “This is usually a busy street,” Tyke muttered. “Can’t anyone else stroll by to distract this guy?”

  Gabe’s mind raced, trying to come up with something that would help. Could he get out? Cause a distraction? Not really. They were parked too close to where Bellamy stood. The instant he left the van, Bronco would see him and the sting would be over. Besides, what could he do that would distract the drunk but not Bronco? Nothing came to mind.

  “Hey, Sam!”

  Gabe didn’t hear the low, throaty, feminine voice through the com so much as from outside the van.

  “There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you!” A small, dark figure passed beside the van not three feet from where Tyke hunched out of site.

  “No way,” Gabe murmured.

  “Who is that?” Tyke whispered.

  “It’s the person I called on your cell phone.”

  Tyke’s head whipped around to stare at Gabe in disbelief. “Really?”

  Gabe didn’t blame him. He was shocked himself.

  As Kyra approached Bellamy, Gabe could no longer hear her voice with his own ears. Snatches of it came through the com. “Sam…supposed…meet…M Street…Remember?”

  “Supra?” the drunk said, the name coming clearly through the com. Gabe hoped having Bronco hear that name didn’t compromise her. No reason it should, though, as she was in her Supra guise.

  More words from both her and the man apparently named Sam, came through the com, but Gabe couldn’t make them out. “Tyke, what’s happening? What’s she doing?”

  “Wrapping her arm in the drunk guy’s. She’s pulling him down one of the alleys. I don’t know who this chick is, Gabe, but I think I’m in love with her.”

  Gabe slid up to crouch beside Tyke, slowly raising his head above window level to get a better vantage point. Detective Bellamy and Johnny Bronco were now alone on the street corner.

  Gabe should have been watching Bronco and the sting, but his eyes followed Kyra and Sam as they moved into an alley. Right before they disappeared, Sam did something Kyra didn’t like. It was hard to tell exactly what at this distance but she batted his hands away, using the full length of her arms to keep him at a distance. The next moment, he went back to behaving, and Kyra followed him into the alley.

  Gabe pressed his lips together, worry niggling at the back of his mind.

  Bellamy’s sultry voice once again came through the com.

  “Now that he’s gone, did you have something in mind, Baby?”

  “Wouldn’t mind,” Johnny’s deeper voice answered. “I got some me cash. Why don’t we head into that there alley?”

  Gabe pulled his eyes from the alley where Kyra disappeared to see Detective Bellamy and Bronco heading for one across from it. Bellamy walked backward while Bronco, hands on her hips, guided her.

  “Sure you got enough?” Bellamy asked. That was the code phrase to tell them to come in. Not that they needed to hear it now.

  “I got me enough,” Johnny said. “Long as I’m satisfied you’ll get paid.”

  Gabe snatched the cell phone to his mouth. “We got him, Cora. Go get him off Bellamy.”

  “Roger.”

  Before Bellamy and Bronco got to the mouth of the alley, Cora and four uniforms appeared, coming at a jog. They rounded the corner and pounced on Bronco before he knew they were there.

  Gabe and Tyke let out their breath at the same time. Sting operation successful.

  “So you gonna tell me what the hell?” Tyke asked, speaking in a normal voice and straightening his spine.

  Gabe put on his most innocent face. “What do you mean?”

  Tyke glared.

  Gabe smirked. “I’ll explain, but first I want to jog down that alley and make sure she’s okay. That all right with you?”

  “Yeah. I’ll radio Shaun and tell him we’re headed back in.”

  Gabe exited the van. The rusty hinges squealed like dying pigs, and he was glad he hadn’t gotten out to create a diversion. It really really wouldn’t have worked.

  Bronco glanced up as Gabe came toward him. His hands were cuffed behind his back and the four unies escorted him around the corner to where a squad car hid under a tarp. Cora met Gabe as he walked.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Yes,” Gabe said, and kept walking.

  Near the alley, Howard stood handcuffing Bellamy. As soon as Bronco was out of sight, he dropped the charade and took them off. “Good work, Bellamy.” The plan was for Tyke to walk her into the station in cuffs to keep her cover in place.

  “What’s going on, Nichols?” she asked as Gabe approached. “Who was that?”

  Gabe glanced at the alley, then back toward where Bronco had disappeared around the corner, debating with himself over what he should tell Bellamy.

  “C.I.?” Bellamy asked quietly.

  “Yeah. Don’t want to give out details here.” She nodded her understanding. “Is she who that first guy was looking for?”

  Gabe was impressed she’d made the connection so quickly. That’s what made Bellamy good at her job, he supposed. “Maybe. I want to talk to you later. I want a description of that guy.”

  She nodded. “I’ll call you later, once I’m cleared and out of costume.”

  “Thanks, Detective.” He touched her arm, then hurried toward the mouth of alley while she headed toward Tyke.

  Gabe jogged into the alley. It proceeded in a straight line for a hundred yards with no intersections or turn-offs. He followed it to the right and jogged to an intersection beyond that, glancing in both directions. Two figures moved away from him down the left branch. He immediately recognized Kyra’s small figure beside Sam’s much larger one. She wore black clothing, as always, and her dark, spiky hair stood out against a red light in the distance. Sam, though there didn’t look to be anything to trip over, suddenly lost his balance and reeled to one side, his arms flailing outward in an attempt to regain his balance. Kyra put out a hand to steady him, and Sam kept his feet.

  Gabe opened his mouth to call out to her, but thought better of it. The Mire was chillingly quiet at this hour. He broke into a jog to catch them.

  Up ahead, Sam lost his balance again. This time when Kyra steadied him, he slapped her hands away. When she persisted, Gabe heard a distinctly vile epithet. Sam grabbed Kyra by the waist, lifted her up off the ground and threw her to the side of the alley.

  “Hey!” Gabe’s feet pounded faster against the pot-holed pavement.

  Sam whirled at the sound of Gabe’s voice. His eyes flew open wide and he turned and fled. As he passed an intersecting alley on the right, he suddenly decided to go down it. He tried to skid to a stop and turn at the same time and slammed into the corner of the brick wall. It didn’t faze him, though. He simply corrected himself and kept going. By the time Gabe reached Kyra, Sam had disappeared. Gabe briefly considered chasing him, until Kyra’s weary voice reache
d his ears.

  “Let him go, Detective. He didn’t mean any harm.”

  She’d landed atop of pile of two-by-four stubs and other scrap wood. It’s wasn’t a tall pile—between four and five feet in height—but the force with which Sam threw her landed her at the top, right up against the alley wall. She was obviously struggling to get up.

  “We’ll have to disagree on that,” Gabe said, climbing up to help her. “Throwing you across an alley isn’t exactly a protective measure.” The wood pile was loosely packed and precarious. Gabe stepped carefully to keep from sliding through the pieces of wood and getting stuck himself.

  “He’s too drunk to mean any harm,” Kyra said, still struggling to rise to the top of the pile. “He just doesn’t know his own strength.”

  “What the hell is all this?” Gabe muttered, fighting to keep his footing atop the debris pile, and Kyra laughed, surprising him. It was a more genuine sound than he usually heard in the Slip Mire. She couldn’t be hurt too badly and be laughing like that.

  “There’s a construction site on the other side of this wall,” she explained. “I think they throw their scrap wood over so they don’t have to haul it away.”

  “Gabe?” The deep, familiar voice came from behind him.

  Gabe turned to see Tyke jogging toward them. He stopped beside the wood pile and his eyes slid from Gabe to Kyra. “What’s going on?”

  “Tyke, you’re not…” But Tyke was his best friend and partner. Gabe wouldn’t be able to keep Kyra’s identity from him for long. “Aren’t you supposed to be taking Bellamy in?”

  Tyke shrugged. “Cora’s doing it. I didn’t want you to be in these alleys at this time of night without backup. How’d she get up there?”

  “Sam threw her. She landed up here.”