Desolate Mantle

by L. K. Hill

  He looked up to the find the medic frowning at him. Gabe doubted the man heard what he’d whispered, but he could see something odd was going on. Gabe glanced around. No one stood anywhere close to them. He nodded with his head for the man to come closer anyway. The medic stepped up beside the gurney. Gabe kept his voice so low, the man leaned forward over Kyra to hear him.

  “She’s not hurt badly,” Gabe said softly. “A deep cut under arm will need stitches, and she lost a lot of blood. She’s also a C.I. Do you know what that means?”

  The medic kept his face passive, his eyes on Gabe, and nodded once.

  “The only way me carrying her over here like this makes sense is if she’s badly injured. And her cover must be protected at all costs, especially among these people.” Gabe shifted his eyes around to include everyone around them.

  Understanding came into the medic’s eyes. He nodded. “All our red tags were already transported anyway. The rest aren’t in immediate danger.” The man raised his voice. “I need immediate transport for this patient.” Two more medics jumped down from the nearest bus and started toward Kyra’s gurney.

  “Thank you,” Gabe mouthed to the medic. The man nodded back to him.

  Gabe didn’t dare look down at Kyra again. Too many people watching. Her eyes were closed anyway. He still leaned against the side of the gurney, and her hand rested by her hip. Without looking at her, he lets the backs of his fingers brush hers. Without moving any other part of her body, she lifted one index finger and curled it softly around his.

  Such a subtle reaction. No one in the world noticed it but him. It sent fire through his veins and every fiber of his body surged with longing to wrap his arms around her again. Strange to feel such things when all around him swirled chaos, left in the wake of depravity.

  The two medics took hold of Kyra’s gurney and pulled her away from him. Eyes still closed, they loaded her into the ambulance, which took off moments later.

  “Gabe.”

  He jumped to find Tyke at his shoulder.

  “Is she okay?” Genuine concern filled his friend’s eyes.

  “She’ll be fine.” Gabe’s voice sounded hoarse.

  “What about you? What happened to you?”

  Gabe heaved a sigh. “I don’t know. But something tells me things are about to get worse.” He turned to watch Kyra’s ambulance driving away. It had already disappeared.

  “Shaun’s asking for you,” Tyke said quietly.

  Gabe nodded. “Take me to him.”

  Chapter 27

  Gabe sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. The ache became constant an hour ago. Kyra lay in a private hospital room in the west wing of Abstreuse hospital. Shaun was with her. They’d put her in a private room less because she needed it medically and more to protect her identity. Shaun had called ahead. Upon arrival, Kyra was taken upstairs where she could wash off her makeup and be herself, apart from the other Mirelings who’d been at the warehouse.

  Gabe spent the rest of the night helping Shaun and his fellow officers go through the warehouse. The sun had been up for more than an hour, now, and Gabe knew he couldn’t count on sleep anytime soon, no matter how the muscles in his neck protested.

  As he approached the door to Kyra’s room, he felt a pang of surprise to see Shaun coming toward him from the other direction, balancing a cardboard drink holder in one hand and a pile of folders, notebooks, and his phone in the other. They met at Kyra’s door and Gabe reached out to take the drinks.

  “I thought you were sitting with her.”

  Shaun nodded. “Went to get some more coffee. Plus her sister called. I think she wanted some privacy.”

  Gabe nodded, looking down. “Four coffees? For the two of you?”

  Shaun barked a laugh. “Come on. I could drink three of those myself. But I also figured you’d be here soon.”

  “How is she?” Gabe asked quietly.

  “About how you’d expect. Did Riposte call you back?”

  Gabe nodded. “Just talked to him.”

  Shaun nodded knowingly before raising a hand and rapping lightly on Kyra’s door.

  “Come in.”

  Her voice sounded muffled through the door, but strong. That gave Gabe some relief. For all of five seconds he felt relief. Until he followed Shaun into her room and saw her. All of her makeup had been washed away. It hardly mattered. After her encounter with Jenkins, black and purple and yellow bruises checkered her face, neck, and arms. Small, puffy bags had taken up residence under her eyes, which were red-rimmed, and her cheeks looked gaunt. They’d stitched up her arm wound where they could, but because Jenkins sliced through the skin in layers, there were fewer places where stitches could be used than Gabe would have thought. Because of that, a thick bandage covered her upper arm. He noticed she held it away from her torso. The friction of holding it against her side probably hurt.

  She stared up at him with haunted, grief-stricken eyes. “Hey.”

  “Hey,” he answered back.

  Shaun pulled up chairs for the two of them.

  “Well?” Kyra asked, as they sat. She played absently with the pink hospital afghan draped over her legs, twirling the heavy material around and through her fingers.

  “We’ve ID’d all the Mirelings,” Gabe said. “Every one of them has a rap sheet or is in the system in some way. Your brother isn’t among them.”

  Kyra nodded, not looking up from the afghan. She seemed unsurprised. “He got away.”

  “We can’t say for sure that he was out ahead of us, Kyra,” Gabe said gently.

  She raised her eyes to his. They still looked haggard, but he could see the rebellion in them.

  “Did you actually see Manny enter the alley ahead of us?” he asked. “I didn’t.”

  Kyra sighed. “I saw…movement.”

  “So did I,” Gabe nodded. “But it could have been anything.”

  “He’s not among the Mirelings,” she said firmly. “You said it yourself. So he must have gotten away. What does it matter what either of us actually saw?”

  “Kyra,” Shaun said quietly. “An underground tunnel led out from the other side of the warehouse. The opposite side you and Gabe exited on. They built it into the floor of the warehouse itself. It took SWAT a while to find it because it was so well hidden. It was a fluke that one of our guys saw people apparently sinking into the floor.”

  Kyra frowned. “Okay. So what are you saying? You think he escaped that way instead of into the alleys where Gabe and I were?”

  “We were looking,” Gabe corrected. “And yes. Of course we can’t say for sure, but it’s a real possibility.”

  Kyra rolled her eyes. “Okay. Fine. Maybe he wasn’t in the alley where I looked, but he got away. He’s still out there somewhere.”

  She wasn’t getting it. The next moment she glanced at the two of them and froze, her brows drawing closer together. “What? Why are you both looking at me like I’m gonna explode?”

  “Kyra,” Shaun kept his voice quiet. “Not many of the victims got out through that tunnel. We found a handful of dead junkies at both ends.”

  “Meaning what?” Kyra asked warily.

  “Meaning,” Shaun continued, “The only victims that went through the tunnel were probably being used as human shields. When their captors made it safely to the tunnel, they were discarded. Some of the smarter—or just more violent—captors took their shields through the tunnel in case our men were waiting on the outside. When they got to where the tunnel let out into the Mire and saw the way was clear, the butchered their human shields there.”

  Kyra’s eyes shone with more moisture than they had a moment ago. Her voice came out a hoarse whisper. “What are you trying to say?”

  “Your brother wasn’t among the victims, alive or dead,” Gabe said, taking over. “Most of them were too messed up to run. They were injured, or going through serious withdrawal, or weak from not being fed. Not to mention shock. It wasn’t hard to round them up, identify them, and get them the help
they needed. Of those participating in the torture, we only managed to arrest a couple dozen. From what you said, it’s a small fraction of the number in that room. The rest ran. Miles away before we got a handle on the situation. Do you see?”

  “Manny was not one of the participants,” Kyra said fiercely.

  “You can’t know that for sure, Kyra,” Gabe said quietly.

  “I know my brother. He wouldn’t do this.”

  Gabe opened his mouth. Shaun spoke first. “You’re probably right.” He threw Gabe a warning look. “But it’s something to take into consideration. Why would your brother run from us?”

  She shrugged. “He’s scared. Spooked, like all the other victims. Probably just wanted to get away. Look,” she wiped angrily at the water leaking out of her eyes. “He was there. I saw him. Now he’s not. Which means he got away. He’s out there somewhere. I simply have to find him. At least I know now that he is here.”

  Gabe exchanged looks with Shaun. As with most people when a loved one committed some terrible crime, she was in denial. Maybe she was right about her brother. Maybe not. The longer Kyra went without finding him, the less convinced Gabe was of Manny’s innocence. Or even of his drug use. If Mannie was just another junkie, shouldn’t she have found him on a street corner by now?

  Shaun sighed and produced a small, old-fashioned tape recorder from the inside pocket of his jacket. Kyra glanced at it, seeming surprised. They must have discussed this earlier.

  “Are you ready?” Shaun asked.

  She nodded, wiping her eyes again and sitting up straighter. For the next hour she gave them a play by play of everything that happened. She explained her new costume, joining the line of junkies to be taken into the warehouse, being afraid Jenkins would recognize her. What she saw inside, how she escaped the first time, the strange man with dark skin and blue eyes, who pointed her toward the exit.

  “Who do you think this man was?” Shaun asked.

  She shrugged. “I have no idea. He definitely wasn’t a junkie. Or a Mireling, I don’t think. He was clean, had a presence. It wasn’t a negative vibe like Jenkins or the guards or the guy that leaned over me.”

  “I’m sorry, the guy who did what, now?” Gabe said.

  She waved her hand dismissively. “I’ll get to that. This guy was different. He didn’t seem like one of the guards or participants. And he helped me. I thought—” she glanced at Shaun. “I thought maybe he was an undercover cop or something? Afraid they’d kill me if they caught me, so helped me escape?”

  Shaun heaved a breath and rubbed his fingers over his thick mustache. “Could be. I’ll double check with all the local precincts. But Kyra, I’m at least familiar with all the undercovers we have in the area. None of them matches that description. Unless someone new has gone under in the past few days and I haven’t been notified. From the sounds of it, this guy understood what was going on. In detail. I doubt he could have been only twelve or twenty-four hours on the job.”

  Kyra nodded. “Well, if he wasn’t a cop, I don’t know who he was. But he probably saved my life. If I hadn’t gotten out and been able to call you…”

  “I don’t like him,” Gabe muttered. “What he said about all the men in your life dying. It sounds like a threat.”

  “I guess it did,” Kyra said softly.

  “You guess it did?”

  She shrugged. “It didn’t sound threatening when he said it. More like he knew something I didn’t and he wanted me to understand. Besides, it makes no sense, Gabe.”

  “What doesn’t?” Shaun asked.

  She shrugged again. “There aren’t any men in my life. Manny, who I haven’t seen in over a year before last night. My dad, who lives three states away and I haven’t seen him in months. Not since I arrived here. There isn’t anyone else. I’m not close to any male Mirelings. They’d only be interested in one thing from me—”

  Gabe ground his teeth.

  “—and then there’s, you know, you guys. So I don’t know who he was talking about anyway.”

  Silence filled the room for a moment. Gabe turned the information over in his head but couldn’t make the dots connect no matter which angle he took.

  Shaun grunted.

  Gabe glanced sideways at his boss. Shaun rubbed his mustache again. He always did that when deep in thought. Shaun noticed Gabe watching him and quickly straightened up, clearing his throat.

  Shaun wasn’t saying something. Gabe was sure of it. He obviously didn’t want Gabe to ask about them now.

  “Go on, please, Kyra,” Shaun said. “What happened next?”

  She continued with the story, relating what happened when she went back in, her conversation with her cell mates, watching the guards shoot the other prisoners. She teared up talking about that, mumbling about a Mireling named Big Johnny she had known, but been unable to save. Shaun handed her some Kleenex from a nearby box.

  The part that truly worried Gabe was when Kyra talked about playing dead and some creepy douchebag leaned over her, so close she could feel him breathing on her.

  “What the hell was that about?” he asked when she stopped to sip water from a styrofoam cup.

  She shrugged. “I have no idea. I’m sure he knew I was faking, though. He said as much, even if Jenkins didn’t understand right away. Obviously twisted. I think he must have been one of the participants in the warehouse and watched what I did—faking everyone’s death.” She shuddered. “He probably wanted to freak me out. Got a kick out of it.”

  “What if you run across him again?” Gabe said quietly. The more he heard, the more he certain he was Kyra would be in danger if she came into contact again with any of the people who’d been in that warehouse. Present company excluded, of course.

  “It wouldn’t matter, Gabe,” she answered, rubbing her eyes. “My disguise was good. If I came face to face with him again, I’d be Supra. He wouldn’t recognize me. I’ll never wear the same costume again that I wore last night.”

  It did make Gabe feel marginally better.

  “Quick thinking,” Shaun said. “Most people wouldn’t have the stomach to stick their hands into a fresh corpse and smear the blood all over the place. We knew you were gutsy,” he glanced at Gabe. “But, I’m impressed.”

  Kyra gazed at Shaun, the bone-weariness returning to her eyes. “I did it without thinking. Don’t be impressed.”

  Shaun raised an eyebrow. “Why not? You saved the lives of everyone in your cell. That makes you a hero.”

  Kyra studied the afghan still twiddling between her fingers. “You don’t think it makes me a monster.” She barely made it a question. Gabe’s next three heartbeats hurt.

  “No,” Shaun said gently. “You were desperate, trapped. Kind of brilliant.” He sat back. “Granted, you put yourself in that position to begin with, but we’ll let that lie for now.”

  Kyra didn’t smile, but her face softened noticeably.

  She continued with the story. When she got to the part about chasing shadows through alleys and meeting Dellaire, Gabe chimed in with his point of view as well.

  “Why did he hit you, do you think?” Shaun asked, when she’d finished. “Why at that exact moment.”

  Kyra looked self-conscious. “Another stupid mistake on my part. I said his name. In the Mire, he goes by Nickel. I don’t think he wants people knowing his real name. I said it and he got pissed and slapped me.” She shrugged.

  “And how do you know Jerome Dellaire?” Gabe asked quietly.

  Kyra’s head jerked up, surprise showing on her face for the first time since Gabe entered the room. “You know who he is.”

  Gabe nodded. “I do now. The name wasn’t familiar to me, but Shaun recognized it. He called a captain named Riposte. He presides specifically over the organized crime division for all of Abstreuse. He recognized the name right away.” He took a deep breath, sure he wouldn’t like the answer to his next question. “So how do you know the Underboss for the Abstreuse mob?”

  Kyra stayed silent for so long
, he wondered if she would refuse to answer the question. To his surprise, when she opened her mouth, she launched into another story, almost as disturbing as the warehouse, about being picked up, taken to the Boss, seeing a Scavenger being tortured, and being asked for information about the serial killer.

  When she finished, Gabe felt numb. She was on the mob’s radar. They’d been watching her for some time. It didn’t sound like they were an immediate threat to her—though that could change in a flicker of red light if they decided they wanted something from her, or if she crossed them in any way—but if they could see her so clearly, who else could?

  Shaun ran a hand through his hair. “Riposte is going to want to hear this story.”

  Gabe nodded. “He already said as much. Wants me to debrief him tomorrow.”

  Shaun nodded. “I can already tell you what he’ll want.” He gave Kyra a significant look.

  “No,” she said firmly. “No way. I have to find Manny. I can’t be spying on the mob for the cops. With everything else I have to worry about, that’s the surest way to get me killed.”

  For once, Gabe whole-heartedly agreed with her.

  “Dellaire told you the operation at the warehouse wasn’t theirs. Do you believe him?”

  Kyra arched an eyebrow at Shaun. “Why are you asking me? Shouldn’t you be asking this Riposte guy?”

  “Yes. And I will,” Shaun answered. “You know him, Kyra. You’ve met him more than once now, and you’re an excellent people-reader. You must have some impression of him.”

  Kyra stared at the afghan again, obviously thinking. Gabe wished he could hear her thoughts.

  “I think Dellaire told the truth,” she finally said. “He was there, but everyone who’s anyone in the Mire was. Word of the warehouse spread like wildfire through the alleys. I recognized leaders from every group I know of—small and large. Pimps, gangsters, representatives of every social hierarchy. It’s a big deal. Even for the Mire. Dellaire must have heard, like everyone else, and come.” She sighed. “Money was being made there. A lot of it. I’m not sure I believe the mob was oblivious, but I think Dellaire believed what he said.” She gave Shaun a side-long glance and shrugged, looking self-conscious again. “I could be wrong.”