Kyle (Hope City Book 4)

by Maryann Jordan

  “Oh, my, to think this is right here in our town,” came the soft voice from the back seat.

  Twisting around, Kimberly said, “I’m glad you came with me today, Sister Honoria.”

  “I’m blessed you asked me to come, dear Kimberly.”

  Kyle hopped out and rounded the front of his vehicle. First assisting Kimberly out, he then turned to the back seat and carefully made sure that Sister Honoria was steady on her feet. Kimberly moved to take the older woman’s arm, and they began walking toward the tents, met by Margo, Aleeta, and their children.

  Sister Honoria had brought some food and clothing which Kyle carried over and she distributed to the women as well as a few games given to the children. Several other people walked over from the ragtag structures, each greeting the smiling nun, thanking her for what she brought.

  Kimberly moved to the side, standing next to Aleeta. “Will you be moving soon?”

  Aleeta's smile was wide as she nodded. “My brother made the deposit yesterday. I’ve got a surprise, though. Originally, we were only going to get a one-bedroom apartment, but he said the manager had a two-bedroom for about the same cost. Margo and her two kids are going to move in with us.”

  Squealing with joy, Kimberly threw her arms around both women, hugging them. “What about furniture?”

  “He found a deal on bunk beds for the kids. I don’t mind sleeping on the floor, just knowing we have a real place will be worth it.”

  She glanced to the side and, receiving a nod from Kyle, turned back to the two women. “Well, as it turns out, I’ve got some furniture that I’m not going to need anymore. I have a bed, dresser, small table with chairs, and even a sofa to donate.”

  Her curls bouncing as she shook her head, Aleeta said, “Oh, no! We can’t take that from you! That would be too much!”

  Sister Honoria moved to them and overheard Aleeta’s objection. “My dear, in allowing someone to be generous, you offer a gift as well.”

  Aleeta sucked in her lips, blinking back tears before grabbing on to Margo’s hand. “I can’t imagine. I can’t imagine being in a home again.”

  Kyle stepped over and wrapped his arm around Kimberly. “Get the address to us, and I’ll round up some men to help move the furniture.”

  A man walked over from the side and overheard Kyle’s offer. “Well, well, Mr. Dee-tective. Look at you, being all good-deed and shit.”

  Turning quickly, Kimberly’s eyes widened but Sister Honoria just smiled.

  “Manny,” Kyle growled, his eyes cutting toward the nun.

  Manny had the good grace to blush and nodded toward Sister Honoria. “Sorry, Ma’am.”

  Kimberly hugged Margo and Aleeta goodbye, sharing her phone number so that they would be able to let her know when to help move furniture. “Remember, you two are going to be featured in the Faces of Hope City. I think I’ll title it Perseverance and Resilience.” She took Sister Honoria’s arm and they began walking toward the SUV.

  Knowing Kyle was close behind them, she overheard Manny say, “See you around, Mr. Dee-tective.”

  She glanced over her shoulder in time to see Kyle offer a chin lift. He caught up to her and they assisted Sister Honoria into the backseat, making sure she was buckled and comfortable. Walking around the back of his SUV toward her door, she caught Kyle’s arm, bringing him to a halt. He cocked his head and waited for her to speak. Instead, she wound her arms around his neck and pulled him close. She whispered, “I love you, Mr. Dee-tective.”

  “I’d love to do nothing more than take you home, babe, and show you just how much I love you, too. But…”

  “But we’ve got to get Sister Honoria back to Sacred Heart and then get to your mom’s for the party.”

  “Yeah…”

  “But after that? I’m all yours.”

  His arms spasmed around her and his blue eyes lit with the promise of good times to come… starting now.

  For the next Hope City books, click here!

  Ryker by Kris Michaels

  Rory by Maryann Jordan

  Sneak peek at Ryker

  Chapter 1

  The vibration of his cell phone against the bedstand catapulted Captain Ryker Terrell from sleep. He narrowed his gaze at his digital display. Son of a bitch. Fifteen minutes of sleep. Maybe.

  “What? What’s wrong?” A soft, sleepy question came from the tangle of sheets beside him.

  “Nothing, it’s work. Go back to sleep.” He grabbed the phone and slid his finger across the face.

  “Terrell.”

  "Cap, this is Brody. We have a situation. Shit, actually, we have one hell of a mess. You might want to come out here.”

  He slid from the bed and watched as she grabbed his pillow and hugged it close. Fuck, he did not want to leave. Instead of settling back down into bed with her, he grabbed his service weapon, badge, jeans, and shirt and slipped from the room, closing the door quietly. “Our people involved?”

  “No sir, but the crime scene involves a case we’re working.”

  That went without saying if his sergeant was waking his ass up at two in the morning. “What’s the address?”

  “798 Hyatt Place, Maple Hills.”

  “En route.” He tugged on his clothes before he grabbed his service weapon and clipped it onto his belt before he hooked his badge to the opposite side. With a swipe, he picked up the keys to his sedan and let himself out, locking the door behind him.

  He cruised through the nearly deserted streets of Hope City and drove up to... a hell of a mess. His sergeant had pegged the situation, all right. Fire trucks and police vehicles lined the street.

  “Well, hell.” He parked and scanned the scorched vista. Visions of the debacle of a bust almost three months ago flashed through his mind. Another stately house gutted by fire. He exited the car and headed toward the crime scene tape. Brody King noticed him and slapped the arm of his brother Brock. They moved away from the small gathering of police and firemen.

  “Captain.” Brody acknowledged him as he approached.

  “Brody.” He responded to his sergeant and then glanced at Brock King. The homicide detective and he saw eye to eye as they were the same height, but he had a good forty pounds of muscle on the guy. “What do we have?” He nodded his head toward the shell of a structure beyond.

  Brock motioned to what remained of the house. “Three dead bodies. It wouldn’t surprise me if the brass forms an inter-department task force on this one. Homicide, suspected arson, and drugs. There was about a kilo of heroin found scattered throughout the kitchen, which was the only area the fire didn’t gut.”

  Ryker crossed his arms over his chest and stared a hole into the desiccated home. “IDs on the bodies?”

  Brock shook his head. “No sir, the ME will have to use dental records for that. They’re not recognizable. The fire made sure of that. The ME is on the way, I’ve done what I could until they process the bodies.”

  Brody kicked the ground and cleared his throat. “Cap, the house belongs to Paul Desoto.”

  He turned his gaze to his sergeant. “Damn lucky for that son of a bitch he’s in jail.”

  Brody sighed. “No sir, he’s not. When I got the call and Brock told me who owned the house, I called the Cascade just to make sure. The jailor on duty looked it up. He told me Desoto had a court appearance yesterday morning, judge reversed his decision on no bail, and he was free by noon. I didn’t get the notification. The jailor insisted—according to the paperwork—they made the notifications.”

  Ryker slid a pissed off glare to the house. “Who got the call?” If one of his people had failed to up-channel that shit, heads would roll.

  “Colonel Fenton.”

  “Fuck.” That asswipe Fenton.

  “Yeah, after the bust with Clare Edelman, Fenton was acting JDET commander.” Because he’d relieved you of duty wasn’t said, but Ryker got the message, loud and clear. Brody shrugged. “This mess isn’t on us.”

  “Bullshit. If I knew Desoto was out, I’d h
ave had eyes on him. This,” he motioned to the home left in rubble, “is on all of us because HCPD failed.”

  Brock shoved his hands in his pockets and cleared his throat. “Sir, from what Sean McBride was saying, the fire started at the back of the house. By the time someone—our people included—noticed it from the street, the men would have already been dead. You can’t take this on, sir. Someone wanted the people in that house dead.”

  “McBride has the arson?”

  “Yes sir.” Brock nodded.

  Ryker blinked and asked, “Wait, why are you working in Central District?” King worked in the Southern District.

  Brock shrugged. “I transferred. The wife is still down south. Different offices, but same hours. It works for us. She doesn’t have me doing the caveman thing around her, and I don’t have her hovering. And, before you ask, I requested the transfer after we took a long hard look at the situation. We need to be independent so we can work. Two strong-minded people. She’s got a superb partner in Grant Couch and my partner will join me at Central when or if he ever comes back from his loan to the FBI. Until then, I’m breaking in new gold shields before they get their permanent assignment.” He nodded toward the gathering of officers at the front of the building. One was in jeans and a t-shirt with his gold badge on one hip and a gun on the other.

  Ryker rubbed the back of his neck and leveled his gaze on Brock. “Okay. I’ll have my major call McBride’s captain and yours. There is a strong possibility this directly results from the Peña Cartel eliminating witnesses.” He motioned to the crime scene. “Mind if I look?”

  “Not a problem. Follow me.” Brock led the way through the crime scene tape that marked cleared areas for responding personnel. Brody fell in beside him. They trailed behind Brock a bit. Brody quietly grumped, “Fucker should have told us.”

  “Should have, but you know he wouldn’t.” Especially if not telling Ryker would put egg on Joint Drug Enforcement Team’s face. If he was anything, he was realistic. It had been just over three months since they had reinstated him after that dickhead Fenton had tossed him to the wolves. Cleared of any wrongdoing, he re-assumed responsibility as JDET Commander, then Fenton had received a reprimand for wasting the city’s resources, which put his ass on a powder keg with Fenton waiting to light the fuse. The man was gunning for him.

  The Commissioner had started the paperwork to remove JDET from Fenton’s control and place it directly under Central Precinct’s direct supervision, but the transition was taking forever. He understood. It took time to smooth feathers. The people over Fenton were not happy, and they were fighting the move. JDET made huge busts, they were multi-jurisdictional, and that meant it funneled federal money into the division. Only that money didn’t make its way to JDET. No, Fenton kept the money the FBI and DEA sent and used it to beef up other sections under his control. That’s why they’d done an end-run around the mother fucker and were now receiving a percentage of the monies forfeited from the massive drug busts they’d made. Fenton himself had threatened him—actually, the bastard flat out told him he would ruin his career. There were no witnesses to the conversation.

  He stopped beside Brock King and shook his head. “I’d prefer if we didn’t get any closer, Captain. The crime scene techs and photographers are finished with the area for now, but we’re waiting on the ME. When they’re done, I’m going back in with the crime scene techs to see if the bodies were covering any evidence. Speaking of which...” Brock motioned behind them to the large black van that was arriving. “There they are. I’ll go get them. Take your time.”

  As one, both he and Brody squatted down and peered at the dead bodies. The fire had made recognition impossible. Desoto could be any of the three, or he could be in the wind.

  “Peña wants Desoto dead. The fire could have been Molotov cocktails again, like at the Edelman’s.” Brody muttered the words.

  Ryker nodded as he stared at the grotesquely twisted bodies, mouths opened in a charred scream. “It would appear Peña is cleaning house. We need to keep tabs on Clare Edelman. Find out what name they list on her paperwork. If Fenton is on it, remove that fucker and put you, me, and Theron on that sheet. Also, get word to the US Marshals so they can inform whatever marshal has Edelman’s husband’s WitSec case to tell that man to be careful.” Brody scribbled in his notebook as he rattled off actions he wanted his sergeant to ensure happened. Ryker shifted and narrowed his eyes, scanning the area. “No way of telling if they died beforehand or died in the fire. Let’s look at the kitchen.”

  They carefully retraced their path and headed to the side of the house. From the doorway, they surveyed the area. White powder covered the table. A scale, cellophane, and scrapers littered the tabletop.

  “I had the crime scene techs do a drug test kit. This is heroin. I can’t help but think someone interrupted the process of these guys cutting up and processing the H for sale.”

  Ryker nodded. “The question is why would Desoto be cutting heroin. He wasn’t a dealer, nor was he a user.”

  Brody scratched his chin. “Think maybe he needed quick money and had some of this around as insurance?”

  “Maybe.” Ryker shook his head. “He could have been trying to get some quick money to make a run. Or someone was sitting on DeSoto’s place. Someone working for Peña. Desoto comes home, they hold him for the boss.”

  “Only the boss isn’t in the mood to talk. He orders a hit and all three die.” Brock’s voice behind them finished the thought.

  Ryker shot the detective a sideways glance. “That would be one of many theories.”

  “We can work through those ideas when I receive the reports and evidence. Detective McBride is in the back, he’s made the initial call of suspected arson, but he won’t go further until he has all the I’s dotted and T’s crossed. He’s talking to the fire chief. You might want to catch a word with him before he starts to collect his samples.”

  “Thanks.” Ryker motioned to the drugs. “Brody, you have this. I’ll talk to the arson investigator, then get going. I’m assuming someone responded with you?” His sergeant was a damn good detective, but he wasn’t letting his people work alone after recent events.

  “Yes, sir. I'm here with Patel. She’s getting contact information on the people who reported the fire and is going over their statements. I wanted to know if they’d noticed any unusual traffic around the house lately.” Brody’s head swiveled until he found her. “There, with the older couple in bathrobes.”

  “Good. Brock, please keep us up to speed on your case. Brody, I’ll see you at the office later.” He left his sergeant and strolled around the building. The stench of burning materials—and yes, flesh—hung around the structure like a shroud. Sean McBride turned as Ryker approached. McBride’s eyebrows flew up. Ryker got that a lot. Few captains made it a point to come to crime scenes, but JDET was a team, they all worked hard, and he wasn’t a mouthpiece, he was a cop. Although of late, he’d been letting his new lieutenant take half the calls. Thank God Terrence Theron had taken over for Anderson. The man had experience with task forces and also had five years of SWAT under his belt. He was a hell of an asset and flowed into the team perfectly.

  McBride snapped off his glove and extended his hand. “Captain.”

  Ryker shook the man’s hand. “Detective. I understand you’ve determined this is an arson?”

  “Initially, yes sir, that will be our call. Our initial impression is the fire may have started in this corner of the house. We’ve found patterns that would lead us to believe an accelerant started the fire here.” He pointed to the far corner of the structure at a deeply charred area. “The glass in this location fell inward, as you can see by the lay of the shards here and here. Normally, when fire causes windows to blow, the shards will be immediately under the casing or to a degree in an outward arc. There are several shards of broken, melted, colored glass throughout this room, which would lead me to believe the accelerant was in glass containers. I suspect the fire spread from points
too because of the extreme speed with which the house burned. We don’t know what accelerants they used. Once the fire chief has declared the scene safe, my partner and I will climb in and get to work.”

  “Sounds good. Someone will contact your captain. I’d like a copy of the reports and any information you find as soon as you validate it through the lab. Of course, wait until your captain tells you that.”

  McBride chuckled. “Wouldn’t dream of jumping the gun, sir.”

  “I’ll get out of your hair. Good night.”

  McBride glanced at his watch. “It’s almost three. Don’t you mean good morning?”

  Ryker shook his head. “No, I don’t. I’m going home to take a shower to wash this smell off me and climb back into bed.”

  “Wow, can I get a job as a captain?”

  He laughed. “Yeah, just keep putting in the crazy hours, study hard, and don’t get dead.”

  “Don’t get dead. Excellent advice.” McBride saluted him and they both laughed.

  He tipped his chin toward the remains of the house. “Be careful in there. That thing doesn’t look structurally sound.”

  “This one is better than some I’ve gone through, but I’ve got my hard hat and I’ve learned to have a very soft step.”

  “See, captain material.” He raised a hand in farewell and headed back to his sedan. He palmed his cell phone and called his major.

  “Hello.”

  “Hugh, it’s Ryker.”

  “Hold on.” He could hear the man moving around and then the sound of a door opening and closing. “What’s up?”

  “They released Desoto from jail yesterday.”

  There was silence for a moment. “Why didn’t you tell me yesterday, or hell, wait until morning? Why the 3 a.m. briefing?”