Desolate Mantle
Page 40
Most of the population of Slip Mire. Even that wasn’t entirely accurate because no one—she hoped—in the Slip Mire knew her real identity or that she kept this room. Thoughts of Dellaire and the mob floated distantly, but this wasn’t their style. Unless a dead animals’ head had been left somewhere.
“The graffiti. What was it? A message? Random paint streaks? Something…else?”
Lee got to his feet. “Why don’t I show you? It looks like a word but no one has any idea what it means. I’m don’t think it’s English.”
Feeling baffled, Kyra rose and followed him.
When they reached her room, Kyra stared at it for a full thirty seconds, trying to get her heart rate under control.
The door was beige, along with every other door in the hotel. Now dozens of scratches marred the paint. Groups of five long, straight lines tapered off near the bottom. Like fingernail marks. It looked like Freddy Kruger took a liking to the thing.
Large, black, spray-painted letters reached from the bottom left corner to the top right. Only four. G-A-A-P.
All around it in what seemed to be random streaks, red paint was spattered. The red definitely wasn’t spray paint, though. Thick and shiny, it was so dark it almost looked black. Only the sheen of the lights revealed the deep red color.
“Those red streaks,” Kyra said when she found her voice. “Are we sure they’re blood.”
“No,” Lee answered. “The forensics people left not ten minutes before you walked in. They took samples and are going to get back to me. They believed it was blood. Hopefully animal. In his line of work, he would know.”
Kyra nodded soberly.
“So you knew nothing about this?” Lee asked. “Just out of the hotel when it happened?”
Kyra nodded again, feeling numb. It could be a coincidence. Sure it could. But what were the chances, with everything that had happened? Josie, the warehouse, the mob. She was one of hundreds of people staying at this hotel, and it just so happened to be her door? She had no idea who did it or what it meant, but it couldn’t be good.
“Good. Well, I’m glad you’re okay. Probably random, then. The detectives will be here soon. I’m pulling camera footage for them to look through—”
“You have surveillance of this hallway?” Kyra interrupted, hope lacing her voice.
Lee gave a self-conscious shrug, which told her it wouldn’t be that simple. “We have sixteen cameras throughout the hotel, and they all work, but we don’t get continuous footage. They’re on a loop, which means each one gets one minute of recording time and then it goes through all of them in turn.”
Kyra sighed. “So one minute of surveillance, then fifteen without?”
“Yes,” Lee shook his head. “It’s archaic, especially for a hotel of our quality, but I don’t have much say in updating it. Whoever it was walked through a lot of hallways to get here. We may have caught him on tape.”
Kyra nodded, forcing a polite smile.
“Anyway,” Lee continued, “I’m sure the detectives will want to talk to you when they get here. Let’s do that walk through we talked about. If everything looks good, we’ll move you to another room so you can settle in. A few nights free on us since this happened at our establishment.
Kyra nodded. As she went through her room, she rehearsed what she’d say to the detectives. It wouldn’t be Gabe. This wasn’t a homicide and the hotel technically wasn’t even in his precinct’s jurisdiction. She could and should call him, but after their argument—and abbreviated make out session—at the hospital, she knew she wouldn’t be able to bring herself to do it. Not yet.
The thought of him kissing her as he had brought both pleasant tingles and tears, so she pushed it away.
Everything looked fine, so Lee and another hotel worker he called on a walkie-talkie helped her gather her luggage and took her to a new room. They were both sympathetic and kind.
“Please don’t hesitate to phone the front desk if you need anything, Ms. Richardson. Anything at all. And please except my deepest apologies.”
When he’d left, reiterating that a detective would probably be knocking on her door later in the day, Kyra flopped back on the coverlet.
Great. Just what she needed. More drama. Maybe she should hope it was simply random—optimism, always lead with optimism—but after all that she’d been through, she couldn’t.
Gaap. She should put it into a search engine, but felt too exhausted to fire up her laptop. What the hell did it mean?
***
Gabe pulled into his driveway feeling heavy. The night had gotten more discouraging by the hour. Dozens of the participants in the tortures of the warehouse, which the media had dubbed Slash House, escaped and now roamed the city. His city. After leaving Kyra looking stricken, he’d spent the most of the day slogging through people, paperwork, and red tape. He’d even gotten lab results on his latest prostitute vic, which had nothing to do with the warehouse. Nothing. No headway anywhere. And to top it off, he’d now been awake for more than twenty-four hours—again.
He still had a killer going after girls in the Mire. Hammond still sat in a psyche ward, refusing to divulge any more information about Dillon or his case. The warehouse in the Carmichael District would take months to sort out. And now he’d pretty much guaranteed Kyra would not talk to him again. She’d be out there in the danger by herself.
Gabe planned to go back to the hospital and talk to her before coming home, but he’d gotten a call not an hour before saying she’d left the hospital AMA.
“Maybe it’s for the best,” Shaun offered. He’d seen Gabe’s face when the call came in and asked what was wrong. “Give you both a chance to sleep on it.”
“You don’t think I should go see her?” It felt weird to ask for advice from Shaun, more so because Shaun didn’t know Gabe had kissed Kyra. Gabe had no intention of revealing that pesky little fact to his boss. Or that he desperately wanted to kiss her again. “What if she tries to disappear on us?”
“If that’s her plan, she’s probably already gone,” Shaun said. “If not, she’ll still be there tomorrow. You’ve both had a long night. You’re exhausted, she’s traumatized. Let things simmer down first.”
Gabe nodded. Every time he thought about Kyra heading back into the Mire, terror threatened to paralyze him, and she probably wouldn’t come to him with another problem anytime soon.
In truth, Kyra would call if she really needed something. But only in an extreme situation or if others were in danger and she couldn’t save them herself. Chances were, she’d take a lot of pain and abuse before thinking about calling him.
“I’ve been thinking about something,” Shaun said, pulling Gabe from his thoughts.
“What’s that?”
“The tall guy that pointed her toward the exit? She said he told her all the men in her life would die, right?”
“Yeah,” Gabe said. “But she doesn’t have any, other than her brother and…me.”
Shaun stroked his mustache thoughtfully. “Yeah. Chances are he just said whatever came to mind to get her out the door. Yet, it occurs to me that, if she hadn’t gotten away and called to tell us what was going on, she would have disappeared. Either killed or imprisoned in that warehouse for the time being.”
Gabe’s insides twisted into knots and he shuddered.
“You knew she was looking into the warehouse, right?”
Gabe nodded. “Yeah. I found the owner—or his son anyway—and called him for information on her behalf.”
Shaun nodded. “So if she’d disappeared, would you have started looking at the warehouse?”
Gabe considered. “Yes. She could have disappeared anywhere in the Mire, but I definitely would have looked at it as a possible avenue. Why? What are you thinking?”
Shaun shrugged. “You’re a good cop, Gabe. I don’t mean to impugn your abilities at all, but if you’d run in there, all panicky, to look for her, you might have been killed. If you’d brought others of us in, we would have expected drugs
and, sure, guns, but not this. Even knowing they were guarding something, we wouldn’t have expected…this. You wouldn’t have had any reason to send SWAT in first. A lot of people could have died.”
“What are you saying, Shaun? This guy, whoever he was, knew the outcomes of the decisions Kyra made?”
Shaun chuckled. “I don’t know what I’m saying. Just such an odd occurrence. I’m…musing, I guess.”
Gabe nodded. “Yeah. It was definitely weird.”
Now, as Gabe trudged to his door, he replayed the conversation. He’d been too tired—and still was—to really grasp what Shaun said. Maybe when he’d slept he would be able to put his finger on what was so bothersome about the whole situation.
Too much to think about. Too many things that could tear his reality apart.
He jammed the key into the lock and pushed door open. When he stepped forward, the toe of his shoe nudged a cardboard box sitting on the stoop. In his preoccupation, he hadn’t noticed it.
Did he order something? Was it sent over by the precinct? Probably one of those, but he couldn’t think clearly enough to remember right now.
Squatting, he picked up the box. Three feet long and big enough to wrap both arms around comfortably, it wasn’t heavy. Probably not police files, then.
Not caring what it was, Gabe nudged the door in with his knee, kicking it shut behind him after walking through. He crossed to the kitchen and dumped it on the table. He’d worry about it tomorrow. For now, he wanted the escape of sleep.
He turned toward his bedroom, then stopped.
The outside of the box, near the bottom, held a stamped picture of a rosary.
No. Not now. He did not need more drama right now. If he had any respect for his own sanity, he would leave it until tomorrow. Yeah, right. Like that was gonna happen.
Gabe walked to a slim kitchen drawer and pulled out a small paring knife. Pulling out a chair so he could stand as close to the box as possible, he used it to slide through the clear packing tape that held the box closed.
Feeling strangely jittery, he pulled open the flaps.
Three objects stared up at him from a bed of black batting. Gabe’s heart leapt into his throat. His knees gave out and he fell into the chair, blinded by tears.
“Oh please no,” he whispered.
END OF BOOK 2
http://www.authorlkhill.com/storysquad
Author’s Note:
Thank you so much for joining accompanying Gabe and Kyra on the second installment of their dark journey in Abstreuse City. I hope you found it as disturbing and compelling as I did.
If you have a minute to spare, I would really appreciate a short review on the page or site where you bought the book. Your help in spreading the word is greatly appreciated. Reviews from readers like you make a huge difference to helping new readers find stories similar to the Street Games series.
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Enjoying the Street Games saga? Make sure to check out book 3:
Damaged Hope, Book 3 of Street Games
Also by L.K. Hill
If you enjoyed reading about Kyra and Gabe, check out The Botanist, a stand-alone crime fiction by L.K. Hill.
Do you enjoy other genres? Visit L.K. Hill’s website to check out her dystopian and historical fiction series.
Dystopian:
Persistence of Vision, Book 1 of Interchron (writing as Liesel K. Hill)
Quantum Entanglement, Book 2 of Interchron (writing as Liesel K. Hill)
Historical Fiction:
Citadels of Fire, Book 1 of Kremlins
Bastions of Blood, Book 2 of Kremlins
High Fantasy:
The Hatching, a prequel to Dragon Magic
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About the Author
L.K. Hill is an award-winning author who writes across three different genres. Her historical fiction and crime drama are published under her initials, L.K. Her sci-fi, fantasy, and dystopian are written under her full name, Liesel K. Hill.
A graduate of Weber State University, she comes from a large, tight-knit family and lives in northern Utah. She is a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints and cherishes her faith, her family and her country. (http://www.lds.org) She plans to keep writing until they nail her coffin shut. Or the Second Coming happens. You know, whichever happens first. ;D