by L. K. Hill
Bronco quieted, evidently lost in thought.
“And?” Howard prompted.
Bronco squirmed in his chair and shrugged his shoulders around. “I. I think she was trippin or something.”
“Why?” Gabe asked.
“Nothin’ she said made sense. Kept talking about the demon that took her. Said he was lookin’ for her ‘cuz she got away. Said he prowls the city, looking for women to transform so they can have lovers.”
Gabe blinked. “Transform? So they can take lovers?” He didn’t succeed at keeping the disbelief out of his voice.
“Hey,” Bronco raised his hands as if in surrender. “Her words, man. I didn’t know what the hell. She’d found some bitch that was going to L.A. and Lacy was already stuffing things into this piece of shit ride by the time I got there. I tried to get her to stay. She’d only met this other chick a few days before. But she wouldn’t. Kept saying if she stayed, the demon would find her. She was going to Cali, where it was safe.”
Gabe frowned. Even the most ignorant hooker from the Mire would know better than to consider L.A. a safe place. If this woman felt safer there than in Abstreuse, this encounter must have really done a number on her. “So she went?” he asked.
“Yeah. Couldn’t stop her.”
Gabe’s notepad was already in his hand. “Okay. Was Lacy her real name?”
“Don’t know, man.”
“Do you know her last name?”
“Only ever knew her as Lacy, man.”
Gabe nodded. “Her roommate, China? Is she still in the same place?”
“Yeah. Think so.”
“Where?”
Bronco gave an address on the outskirts of the Mire. Any address would have to be on the outskirts. Addresses didn’t exist in the deep parts of the city.
“Like I said,” Bronco muttered. “Not much to do with them dead girls.”
Gabe studied Bronco for minute. The man looked sincerely disturbed. “Johnny, do you think the person who hurt Lacy is the same one killing these girls?”
Bronco raised his head and, for a wonder, met Gabe’s eye. “I heard Janny’s thighs was cut to ribbons. Is that true?”
“She had injuries on her inner thighs, yes,” Gabe said. Ribbons was a bit of an exaggeration.
Bronco nodded. “So did Lacy. Remember I said she was limpin’? I didn’t know it then, but China told me her inner thighs was all cut up. That’s what made me think of it. When I heard about Janny.”
Gabe nodded, the gears in his head turning. “Is there anything else you can think of, Johnny? Anything else Lacy said?”
“Naw man. But her room was really messed up.”
“How so?”
“China took me in there after Lacy left. She wanted to ask me how to get rid of it, actually. See, Lacy carved things into her walls. China was afraid if the owner saw they’d kick her out. They haven’t found out, though. Far as I know.”
“What things did Lacy carve?” Gabe asked.
“Letters. G-a-a-p. Over and over again. With the g capitalized but the rest not. Like it someone’s name or something.”
“Does that name mean anything to you, Johnny?” Howards asked.
“No. Like I said, man. She was trippin’. China wanted to know if she could paint over it. Stupid bitch. Lacy carved it right into the wall. I told her no paint in the world gonna cover that. Told her to get posters to put over it, and fast. It was trippy. Gave me the willies.”
Gabe nodded. “Anything else?”
Bronco shook his head.
Gabe looked at Howards, who raised his eyebrows in question. Gabe gave the slightest shake of his head to show he didn’t need to ask anything else for now. Howards got to his feet as Gabe moved toward the door.
“Thank you, Johnny,” Howards said. “You’ve been very helpful. We’ll see what we can do about that charge.”
“Thanks, man,” Bronco murmured. “Hey, Detective?”
Gabe stopped and turned, unsure who Bronco was addressing. The man was looking directly at him.
“You think it could really be a demon that messed up them girls?”
Gabe hesitated, not sure what Bronco was asking. Did Bronco believe in the supernatural, or was he talking psychology? Howards looked at Gabe speculatively, as if wondering how he’d answer.
Gabe glanced down at the name on his pad. Gaap. “I think anyone who can do that to another human being has the soul of a demon. Physically, he’s just a person. One I intend to lock up.”
Chapter 12
Gabe stifled a yawn as he pulled into his driveway. After questioning Bronco, Gabe had buried himself under a mountain of paperwork. He’d stayed hours after his shift ended at six a.m. It was now after ten, and he couldn’t wait to hit the sack.
“Oh, Gabe! Gabe!” The wheezing voice came from the driveway of the house next to his, and Gabe did his best not to cringe. He plastered a polite smile on his face and turned to meet his elderly neighbor. Mrs. Parry was a thin, tiny little woman who had emphysema from a lifetime of smoking. She was never without her portable oh-two tank, hauling around the small green tube with the aid of two squeaky black wheels no matter where she went. It never ceased to amaze Gabe how fast she could go down the sidewalk with the thing. A kind woman, if something of a busy-body, she didn’t have much to do except watch the neighbors and gossip.
She got to the side of her property, stopping short at the edge of a strip of gravel that separated her driveway from his. It would be hard to yank those tiny wheels through gravel. Gabe went to stand on his side of the gravel strip, thoughts of sleep still looming heavy.
“What can I do for you, Mrs. Parry?”
“Oh, I’m so glad I caught you, Gabe. You’re usually home earlier, and I’ve been looking for you all morning. I kept thinking I’d missed you and you’d already gone in to sleep. Then I realized your car wasn’t here and—”
“I got off late today is all,” Gabe said quickly. Normally he wasn’t one to interrupt old ladies, but this old lady would babble for hours if he let her.
“Right. Well. I wanted to tell you. Um, Dane is staying with me again. Did you know that? Oh, you did. Well, he’s doing good, keeping his job and all. I let him stay as long as he keeps it. Doctor says I can’t have him smoking in the house with my emphysema and all, you know? So usually he gets off work late, around midnight. He sits out back and smokes for a while before he goes to bed.”
Gabe opened his mouth to ask why she thought he needed to know her son’s nightly habits, but she continued.
“So this morning I’m making him breakfast, and he tells me he saw someone in your backyard last night.”
Gabe snapped his mouth shut, frowning while Mrs. Parry peered at him. “He saw a prowler? Did he call the police?”
“No. Said he didn’t.”
Irritation flared and Gabe fought to keep it from his face. Dane was a troubled young man, barely twenty-one, who couldn’t hold down a decent job to save his life. It really wasn’t surprising that Dane wouldn’t call the police.
He must not have kept the irritation completely out of his face, because Mrs. Parry put her hands up. “Now it’s not what you think. He had a good reason for not calling.”
“And what was that?” Gabe asked patiently.
“Well, here he comes now. I’ll let him tell you.”
Gabe turned to see Dane headed toward him from across the street. With him walked the middle-aged, balding man Gabe had seen beside the moving truck several nights before. The man wore dust-covered sweats with saw-dust stuck to the knees. His faded polo shirt sported sweat marks under the arms. Dane, meanwhile, wore faded jeans that obviously hadn’t seen the inside of a washing machine for some time. The logo on his ratty t-shirt—whatever it had been—was completely washed out. His black hair had been recently gelled.
“Hey, Dane,” Gabe said as they approached.
“Detective,” Dane nodded at him stiffly.
“Your mother tells me you noticed a prowler in my
yard last night.”
Dane shrugged. “Don’t think they were prowling, but I saw somebody.”
“What do you mean?”
“I was out back smoking. My mom’s back porch light is burnt out, so I sat in the dark, but the Jennings on the other side of us? Their back light was on. Anyway, someone jumped the fence, into your yard. A small person. I came up to your fence to get a better look. I would’ve gone inside and called 9-1-1, but two bigger shadows passed on the other side of your fence.”
“In the Gibson’s yard?” Gabe asked, glancing at the neighbors’ house on the other side of him.
“Yeah. I heard whispering too. I think whoever jumped into your backyard was being chased. And I,” he studied his feet, seeming self-conscious for the first time. “I…didn’t want to get ‘em in trouble.”
“With the cops, you mean.” Gabe said. It wasn’t a question.
Dane shrugged.
Gabe folded his arms. “What happened after that?”
“I called out to ‘em. Uh, whispered, you know? I asked if they needed help. Thought maybe they could hide in our house until the ones chasing them moved on.”
“Dane!” Mrs. Parry slapped her son’s upper arm with her open palm. She probably would have smacked him upside the head if she’d been tall enough to reach. “You didn’t tell me that. You were gonna bring a strange person into my house? While I slept?”
Gabe noticed the neighbor from across the street looking away uncomfortably, and Dane looked downright shocked.
“I didn’t want ‘em to get hurt, Mom,” Dane protested. “I’ve been in a spot or two where I wouldn’t have minded someone offering me a place to—uh,” he glanced at Gabe, looking like he thought he’d said too much. “Uh, you know, shelter.”
Gabe forced himself not to roll his eyes. Chances were in the situation Dane meant, he was either running from the cops, or from something illegal that would have gotten him into trouble. “So,” Gabe prodded, “when you whispered, did this person talk to you?”
Dane shook his head. “Naw. I think I scared the sh—” he glanced at his mother, who gave him a stern look. “The crap out of ‘em though. They turned and their eyes flashed in the Jennings’ porch light. Bluest damn eyes I ever saw. Sort of freaked me out, actually. They jumped over the fence and disappeared. I waited out here a whole hour, hoping they’d come back. Never did, though, so I went to bed.”
Gabe frowned. The mention of those blue eyes had frozen him on the spot. It sounded an awful lot like Kyra. What were the chances it was her? Then again, she knew where he lived. What were the chances someone who looked exactly like her happened to be hiding out in his backyard last night? His house sat only three blocks and a train yard away from the Slip Mire.
Worry twisted his stomach. What was she doing in his yard, apparently running from someone? And why hadn’t she mentioned it when he’d talked to her only a few hours ago?
“Has he done something wrong, Detective?” Mrs. Parry asked anxiously, eyes on Gabe’s face. “You see he had a reason not to call anyone.”
“What time was this at, Dane?” Gabe asked.
“A little before midnight.”
Before midnight. That would have been before the sting. Wouldn’t she have told him? Perhaps the prowler wasn’t her.
“I thought you didn’t get off work until midnight,” Mrs. Parry said.
Dane immediately took on a look like a cornered animal. “Uh yeah, well, we got done early last night, so I got home an hour early.”
Mrs. Parry nodded, then gazed up at Gabe again, eyebrow raised. Gabe realized she was waiting for an answer to her earlier question. “He didn’t do anything wrong,” he included Dane in his look, “but in the future, it’s best to report any prowlers you see. You never know, they could have been casing the house and only left because you were there. Might have come back hours later to break in.”
Dane’s eyebrows rose and he glanced worriedly at Gabe’s house. “Is that what you think happened?”
“I don’t know,” Gabe said truthfully. “I haven’t been inside. Probably not. But, as I said, for future reference…”
Dane nodded, then turned to his mother. “I’m helping Ellie here put together his kitchen table. Is that old tool box of Dad’s still in the garage? Can we use it?”
Mrs. Parry nodded. “I’ll have to get you the key from my closet.”
The two of them disappeared toward their house, leaving Gabe and the older man standing together. Gabe turned to the man and stuck out his hand. “Gabe Nichols. Sorry I didn’t introduce myself the other night.”
The man shook his hand firmly. “Not at all, Detective. Eltern Hammond.”
“Eltern? That’s not a name you hear often.”
Hammond chuckled. “No, it isn’t. Inherited it from my grandfather. Kind of a relic, now. Most people call me Ellie.”
“Where you from, Ellie?”
“Cleveland.”
“Ohio? That’s quite a move.”
“Yes, well. I lived here years ago. Just coming back, now. Came for work, but I’m actually closer to my family now, too.”
Gabe nodded with a smile.
“Dane tells me you’re a cop,” Ellie said.
“Homicide detective.”
Hammond gazed at him then, in a strange way. His eyes glazed over and the look was somewhere between disturbed and nostalgic. He shook himself and smiled. “Well, can’t say I mind having an officer of the law in the neighborhood. You never know when someone might surprise you in your own house, try to take away what’s yours. People these days have no respect for a person’s private life.”
“Uh, right,” Gabe muttered.
“Besides,” Hammond clapped him hard on the shoulder, “it’s nice to know someone who has a license for weapons, should I ever have need.” He let out a hyena laugh, like it was the funniest thing in the world.
Gabe smiled politely, though it was one of the more bizarre conversations he’d had about his chosen line of work. Hammond didn’t look like he couldn’t be much over fifty, if that, but Gabe wondered vaguely if the man wasn’t a bit senile.
“You married, Detective? Have any kids?”
Gabe shook his head. “No. Just me.”
Hammond raised an eyebrow. “Not even a girlfriend?”
“Not at present,” Gabe said slowly, wondering what the man was fishing for. “Why?”
Hammond shrugged. “Just wondering. Thinking of have a barbecue or something to get to know the neighbors. Wanted to invite your family. Maybe you and I could have a beer sometime. You like football?”
Gabe grinned. “Who doesn’t like football?”
“Well, maybe a tailgate party, then.”
Gabe nodded. “Sure.”
“Here comes Dane,” the man said. “I’ll be seeing you around. Detective.”
He turned and headed back across the street. Dane, carrying a large black tool box, gave a quick wave as he passed.
“Hey, Dane.” Gabe glanced first at Hammond who was already heading up his driveway, and then at Mrs. Parry, who stood in her doorway, gazing out. He lowered his voice. “You lose your job?”
Dane’s face fell. “No,” he said quietly. “My hours got cut. A lot. I don’t want my mom to know.”
Gabe nodded. “Well, thanks for mentioning the prowler, Dane. I appreciate the heads up.”
Dane’s face lit up. “Sure thing, Detective!”
Gabe smiled in spite of himself.
Dane headed across the street and Gabe went inside. He checked everything—windows, back door, each room in the house. Nothing was out of place. Everything was closed up tight with no signs of anyone trying to enter. Nothing out of place in the back yard, either. Gabe did find a partial foot print under a bush right next to the fence. It wasn’t his—in his three years living here, he didn’t think he’d ever stood that close to the fence, much less put his foot under the hedge that way. The print only showed one side of a heel, though. Not enough to determine siz
e. He got down on his hands and knees and noticed some broken branches down low on the bush, probably where the prowler hid.
With a sigh, he went back in the house, locking the back door behind him and thinking. Kyra had bruises on her neck when he’d seen her the previous night. Could it have been from whoever chased her here, assuming it was her Dane saw? Gabe’s stomach tightened at the thought of her running from—who knew? Rapists? Killers? Gangsters?—and not having anywhere to go.
It occurred to him that, depending on what part of the Slip Mire she prowled on any given night, his house might be miles closer than her hotel. She’d done it on purpose—used a hotel far away so no one from the Mire would ever see her going in, but it meant that when she needed help, it would always be far away.
Deciding to shower and sleep now, Gabe headed to his room. If Kyra was back at her hotel, she was probably sleeping it off. He determined to stop by and see her before work that night. If she wasn’t there when he got there, he could always leave an envelope for her at the front desk.
Just when he thought she was cooperating with them, she paid his backyard a visit and didn’t tell him about it? Secrets and more secrets. He meant to get some answers.
Chapter 13
“Not if you don’t actually know him,” Kyra said firmly into the phone.
“Stephanie knows him. Says he’s great,” Jane answered, voice sounding tinny through the receiver.
Kyra sighed. It was just like her sister to try and fix her up on a blind date from two states away. “How well could Stephanie know him, Jane? They don’t even live in the same state.”
“She grew up with him.”
“And when did she last actually see him?”
A long-suffering sigh came through the phone. “You’re not going to call him, are you?”
Kyra twisted her lips. “Maybe if I’m really bored or desperate.” She sat in the chair that came with the hotel room, beside the heavy, closed, curtains. The clock clicked from 8:59 to 9:00 p.m. She wasn’t going into the Mire tonight, so it was as good a night as any to make calls. Now she wanted to end this one before Jane got any more bright ideas.