Kyle (Hope City Book 4)

by Maryann Jordan

  Kyle

  Hope City

  Maryann Jordan

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Sneak peek at Ryker

  Also by Maryann Jordan

  About the Author

  Kyle (Hope City) Copyright 2020

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.

  If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, then you are reading an illegal pirated copy. If you would be concerned about working for no pay, then please respect the author’s work! Make sure that you are only reading a copy that has been officially released by the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN ebook: 978-1-947214-64-4

  ISBN print: 978-1-947214-65-1

  Created with Vellum

  1

  “Jesus.”

  The word was whispered, and Kyle McBride shot a glance toward his partner sitting on the passenger side of his pickup truck. Alex Freeman’s gaze was pinned on the scene through the windshield. For both detectives of the Hope City Police Department, this was not their first rodeo. But seeing this level of poverty never got easier.

  Having exited off one of the main highways that cut through Hope City, Kyle maneuvered along several streets and ramps, finally turning onto a pothole-strewn road. The word ‘road’ was a gift… more like packed dirt, crumbled asphalt, and craters. Nestled under the Highway Thirty-One Bridge, the Cardboard Cottages created a city under the city. ‘Cardboard Cottages’ was the moniker given to a makeshift neighborhood for the homeless, mentally ill, runaways, social outcasts, and drug addicts. And those were probably its good points.

  The neighborhood was constructed from an amalgamation of cardboard, tarps, plywood, and corrugated tin. At one time, graffiti had covered the concrete walls of the underpass, but now only glimpses could be seen between the homemade structures.

  Occasionally, a real tent was erected between the other homemade shelters. That was a new improvement—tents. The city had been working to clean up the area and disband those living there, but they always came back. So, several churches and those working with the homeless population had donated cold-weather sleeping bags and small camping tents in an effort to provide a more hospitable environment.

  Hospitable. Fuckin’ hell. All it accomplished was to splash color on an otherwise dreary scene.

  He parked his truck at the edge, near the first burn barrel he came to. Both men sat, their gazes scanning over the area. It didn’t pay to act in haste in a place where suspicion was in the eyes of everyone looking back, some with an added heavy dose of malice.

  The weather had turned warm, but men still congregated around the burn barrels scattered about the area. A few tents were placed around the edges where families lived. Grass was a distant memory, and several children kicked a ball along the hard-packed dirt outside the tents.

  A memory flashed through his mind of warm evenings spent playing ball in his family’s large backyard. Because it was connected to their neighbor’s yard and the children of the two families played together constantly, they’d joked that it was hard to grow grass between their houses. In reality, their yards were lush and well-tended compared to what he was viewing now. The cheers and laughter from times gone by were not known by these children. Desolation, hunger, cold, and fear were what these kids knew best.

  The children had stopped their play, and several women alighted from the tents, gathering the children close. Knowing they feared whoever was sitting in the truck, he said, “Let’s go. With the morning they’ve had, they’re going to wonder who the fuck we are.”

  A call had come in early. Three men were found dead near one of the burn barrels. The medical examiner had already examined the bodies and had them transported to the morgue for autopsies. Crime scene techs had searched the area for evidence and homicide detectives had already come and gone. By the time Kyle was called in, the initial cause of death was suspected to be an accidental overdose.

  Recognizing two of the men standing near one of the burn barrels, he stalked over the litter-strewn dirt, his senses heightened. The bleak area was known to him as well as many of the long-time residents of Hope City. But he would be a fool to not keep his wits about him. Poverty and hunger often led to desperation. And the police were not seen as friends.

  To a casual observer, he might not appear much different than the men he was approaching. His hair was longer on the top, slicked back away from his face. Tats peeked out from below the sleeves of his shirt. His jeans were worn, frayed at the bottom, although clean. His black T-shirt had seen better days but still fit tightly across his chest. His blue denim shirt helped to hide his body armor, but to the residents of the Cardboard Cottages, his casual-rough appearance did little to hide that he was with the police force. Of course, the light blue gloves he wore on his hands were a beacon, but he wasn’t about to go without protection. Not here, where illness ran rampant.

  The men standing around the burn barrel stayed in their place, stretching their fingers out toward the warmth of the fire. He and Alex slid in amongst them. “Hear you had some excitement this morning.”

  Two of the younger men he didn’t recognize shot gazes between themselves. One was caked with dirt and the body odor emanating was potent. Another one looked as though he might have had a shower within the last few weeks… or maybe took a dunk in one of the ponds at the Hope City Park, something the city council complained about often. The older man sighed. “Not much exciting happens here.”

  “Whatever happened, it happened right here.” Kyle tilted his head in a nod toward one of the large boxes. “I know that’s where you lay your head. You didn’t see anything that happened twenty yards away?”

  “I was sleeping.”

  One of the younger men decided to jump into the conversation. “Yeah, we was sleepin’.”

  “Shut the fuck up,” the first man said. Turning his gaze back to Kyle, he shrugged. “Shit happens. You know that.”

  “Yeah, what I want to know is how you slept through all three getting rolled.”

  “When I sleep, I sleep hard.”

  Alex snorted, and Kyle’s lips twitched as he cut his eyes toward his partner. “So, you wake up this morning to three dead, naked men around the burn barrel and aren’t surprised?”

  “Nothin’ much surprises me around here,” the older man said.

  With a chin lift acknowledging he knew exactly what the man meant, he stepped back from the burn barrel and began walking toward the darker areas under the bridge.
Here, the early morning light didn’t penetrate so brightly. The cardboard of some of the structures was deteriorating… time for some of the residents to go dumpster diving for more boxes—as well as food.

  A slight breeze blew, unable to sweep away the stench of unwashed bodies and refuse. His stomach clenched, and for a few seconds, he regretted the strong coffee he had downed on the way to pick up Alex.

  Hastening his steps, he glanced to the side, seeing a woman relieving herself behind her shelter. She jerked her pants up and stumbled along, her gait unsteady. As she swung her head around, he recognized the glaze in her eyes and wondered what drug of choice had helped her sleep.

  A glance inside a few of the structures revealed some residents still asleep, curled up in their sleeping bags, blankets, and a few tucked in tightly with their dogs. The animals eyed him as warily as the humans.

  Another burn barrel stood nearby, this one’s flames burning higher. Recognizing one of the men, he nodded. “Manny.”

  Manny grinned, exposing his tobacco-stained teeth—what few he had left. “Dee-tective,” he greeted. “I wondered if you might show up.”

  “Well, me and Alex just figured we’d take a little early morning stroll around the Cottages.”

  Manny began to chuckle, which immediately rolled into deep-chested coughing. Alex pulled an unopened bottle of water from his pocket, untwisted the lid, and handed it to Manny.

  Manny’s thin fingers reached out and curled around the bottle, and he drank deeply. After several long gulps and more strangled coughing, he finally sucked in a ragged breath. Lifting the bottle slightly, he nodded. “Appreciate it.”

  “Yeah, well, make sure you put the empty in a recycle bin when you’re finished.”

  Manny grinned again, shaking his head. “You know it, Dee-tective. Don’t want to do no pollutin’ around here.”

  More men closed ranks, moving toward the barrel, each looking as rough as the next. A couple of the older ones had sleep creases down their faces, their gazes pinned on the fire warming the area. Several younger men wandered over, their eyes alert as they stared at Kyle and Alex.

  Turning his attention back to Manny, he asked, “You got anything for me?”

  Manny scrubbed his hand through his scruffy beard, his eyes darting all around before landing back on Kyle’s face. “A lot of shit going around. Far’s I can tell, same ol’, same ol’.”

  “What about those three stiffs from last night?”

  Lifting his shoulders, Manny shuffled from foot to foot. “Talk this morning was old dinosaur.” Shaking his head, he muttered, “Dumb fuck.”

  He had wondered if they’d all been using heroin. “And the younger ones?”

  “Didn’t know ‘em. Probably crank.”

  “Anything else you can give me?”

  “’Fraid not, Dee-tective. Didn’t see nothin’ and don’t plan on asking about it.”

  The others shook their head, a few with slight grins.

  Casting his gaze around, Kyle asked, “Are you sure?”

  One of the younger ones replied, “Nobody saw nothin’. Not a damn thing.”

  Manny’s gaze shot behind Kyle and he took a step back. Kyle glanced over his shoulder and spotted a friendly face walking their way. Not surprised that the residents scattered like roaches when a light went on, he lifted his chin as Detective Brody King stepped closer.

  He and Brody had been best friends since birth and the King family were the neighbors he was thinking of earlier when remembering his childhood home. The three men fell into step as they walked toward the fresher air and daylight now flooding the outskirts of Cardboard Cottages.

  “Amazing how three people end up dead by this burn barrel, in front of all these people, and no one saw a thing.”

  “Safer for them not to get involved,” Brody said, glancing around. “Who has the death scene?”

  “Homicide detectives were here and did the initial canvas. Crime scene techs got what evidence they could, but the bodies had been rolled. No shoes, clothes, nothing of value left on them. It sucks. So many people, so little resources to help.”

  “Hey, people like Tara and Brianne are doing everything they can.”

  Kyle nodded, acknowledging their sisters’ work with the homeless. Snapping off his latex gloves, he dropped them into the burn barrel as they passed by. “True, but what brought you here?”

  “We’ve got good intel that Peña’s cartel is bringing in Gray Death. Two OD’s are suspected already. Was there any indication that these three were using GD?”

  Kyle shook his head. “One died with a dirty needle in his arm. H is my guess. The other two men were meth heads. If they had the money, they’d buy more crank.”

  “One of GD’s primary components is heroin, but they cut it with elephant tranqs.”

  “Are you serious?” Kyle blinked up at him. “I’ve heard about GD, but I haven’t seen it on the streets. Not here at least, thank God.”

  Brody nodded. “Do me a favor and keep your eyes open. When the tox comes back on that H user let me know what it says?”

  “Yeah. I got a good working relationship with Miller and Tripp. I’ll give them a call and give them a heads up.”

  “Thanks, but keep it quiet for now. We don’t need anyone talking. If Peña gets wind of us working to close down his suspected pipeline, we’re screwed.”

  “Gotcha. I’ll call and make an inquiry then. Casual.”

  “Perfect. You have much business in the Cottages?”

  Kyle noticed Brody shoving his hands into his jean pockets and didn’t blame him. The stench alone would make him crave a shower, but that only made him feel sorrier for the residents. “Always. Cheap drugs cut with everything from baby powder to drain cleaner tend to eliminate the poor suckers that are hooked on the shit, but I’m tracking an anomaly out here. Prescription drugs.”

  Brody’s brows raised to his hairline. “No kidding?” His gaze jumped between Kyle and Alex.

  “Yeah.”

  Brody nodded slowly and Kyle knew his friend understood. Kyle’s sister, Tara, had unwittingly become entangled in prescription fraud and illegal distribution in the homeless shelter where she worked. Several months ago, she’d nearly lost her life when trying to ferret out the information. Kyle had watched as someone held a gun to Tara’s head before her now-husband, Carter, saved her. Carter was also a detective, and Kyle wondered how he slept at night having witnessed that scene. I sure as fuck can’t get it out of my mind.

  Brody clapped him on the shoulder. “Let me know if I can help. We can put out feelers if you have anything to go on.” He started to walk away, then stopped. “Oh, and thanks for coming to the ‘rents’.”

  “I’ll take you up on that offer and, dude, mini-you is a great kid. Sorry I couldn’t stay longer.” He jerked his head to the side toward Alex and added, “We had a call out.”

  “No worries. I’m glad you made it over.”

  “Hell, I wouldn’t have missed it. You were getting pretty close to Amber. That on again?” Brody had reconnected with a girl from his past and they were all shocked to find out that he had a son.

  “It is.”

  Brody’s words held a hint of regret, and he met his friend’s intense gaze. “Be careful.”

  “Man, not you, too,” Brody huffed.

  Shaking his head, Kyle chuckled. “You’re my best friend. Yeah, I’m going to tell you to be careful, but I’m also going to tell you to go for it because that woman and that kid are worth the effort. I tried to kick your ass into going to see her after the accident.”

  “Yeah, I remember. Wish like hell I’d taken your advice then.”

  Brows raised, Kyle shot a glance over to Alex before turning his attention back to Brody. “So… you’re saying…”

  Brody huffed. “Fine. You were right.”

  “Damn, that hurt, didn’t it?” Just as he was finished ragging on Brody, a flash of color to the side caught his attention.

  “It did. I’m leav
ing now.” Brody tossed a wave to Alex and turned toward his vehicle.

  Kyle glanced around, his brow furrowed. “Yeah, okay.”

  “What did you see?”

  “Someone that doesn’t belong, which makes me edgy. Let’s go to the Celtic Cock this week. You owe me a drink or ten for being right.”

  “Deal, take care.”

  Focus now zeroed in on what captured his attention, he tossed a wave toward Brody and said, “Alex, circle around to the other side and see if you see that woman who just passed by over there. She’s either fuckin’ nuts if she thinks this is a place to cross through, or there’s something in that backpack that we need to check out.”

  It was not hard to follow the girl as she skirted around the outside of the Cardboard Cottages. Her red sweatshirt hoodie stood out like a beacon. Dark jeans and flat leather shoes were another giveaway that she didn’t belong. As he approached from behind, it was evident the small backpack slung over one shoulder was a leather purse, and his suspicions heightened at the idea of what she carried in that bag.

  Another gust of wind snapped the hoodie back, allowing tendrils of long, honey-blonde hair escaping a sloppy bun to whip about her head. Her steps hastened and he glanced ahead, seeing a small car parked near the end of one of the exit ramps leading back up to the highway.

  She held a cell phone in one hand, talking low and steady, and didn’t appear to hear him approach as he gained ground. “Stop! Police.”

  She screeched as her hand jerked up when she whirled around, eyes wide, shooting pepper spray wildly into the air. Her aim sucked, but before he could duck, the wind whipped it around both of them. It wasn’t a direct hit, but it was enough that he felt the sting in his eyes and burn in his throat.