“Midcalf overcoat, dark brown scarf, looking a little odd. Something weird about his eyes. Black gloves.”
“Got it,” she said. “You stay with that child.”
“He’s not going anywhere,” she said. In fact, he was curled up against her chest, her big coat wrapped around him. And, although he still sobbed, he was calming down. She heard the sirens in the distance. “It’s okay, little one,” she said. “The police are coming and so is an ambulance.” He just tucked in closer and hung on.
And she knew she wouldn’t hand him over easily. As soon as the ambulance arrived, she pulled out her badge, showed the EMTs. They nodded and came over to talk to the little boy. When she opened her jacket, and one of the men reached for him, the little boy started screaming. She winced and tried to soothe him, but there was nothing for it. She had to hand him over, so he’d get checked out. Very little light was back here in this alleyway, but the medics had flashlights, and, once the little boy was on the gurney, she didn’t even need lights to see that his pants were bloody. She looked up at the officers. “Please tell me that it’s not—”
They wore grim faces and said, “We’ll get him into the ambulance first and get him to the hospital. Did you find any ID on him?”
She shook her head. “None that I saw in this light. It seemed more important to hold him close at the time,” she said, but her heart was being wrenched from her chest as she listened to the little boy’s cries and anguish. “Dear God,” she said, “get him some help.”
“We will,” he said.
She quickly took a picture of the license plate on the ambulance to make sure that nothing else happened with this little boy. She didn’t even know why she was doing that, except that everything in life right now seemed upside down and backward, and she wouldn’t let this little guy go without a damn good reason. The fact that he was exhausted was one of them though.
As soon as the ambulance left, two police officers came and asked her for the details. She quickly gave them an outline. “One man was looking to snatch the child.”
They looked up from their notes at her. “Are you thinking he knew who the child was?”
“I don’t know,” she said, “but something really weird is going on here.”
“We’re also still missing that seven-year-old,” he said.
“I know.” Just then she got a phone call from her unit.
“Kate, this is Owen,” he said. “We’ve got another body.”
She closed her eyes, stared up at the sky, and said, “I’m on it. Where am I going?”
“You’re almost there,” he said. “Take two blocks, turn right, head up one.”
“You already know I’m here? How?”
“Heard you found a child.” After a heavy pause, he added, “Good job on that, by the way.”
“But?”
“Thebutis, we’re standing over a little girl. This child is dead.”
*
Well, that didn’twork out quite the way I thought it would.
Simon had ditched Kate at the first club, but, not liking the odd sensation inside him, he’d only stayed for fifteen minutes, then had headed out again. He’d walked toward a private game that he’d considered hitting later but figured early would work too. Except, as he’d started walking, his instincts had kicked in, sending him in the opposite direction. He wasn’t even sure where the directive was coming from, but he felt compelled to follow until it. He hit the alleyway shadows and saw something gleaming in the darkness.
Sorrow and anger had kicked in with equal force. He stood silent for a moment, then made the phone call.
And had left right after speaking with the first officer on the scene. He’d left his information and had promised to return later to speak to whoever notified him.
And had promptly joined the private game, now around the time he’d originally planned to step in, and had several stiff drinks. Anything to blank out that image of the dead girl from his mind.
Simon folded back his cuff and pushed up his sleeve, as he waited for the next round of cards to start. He had a stack of chips in front of him, but it wasn’t too high. This was a game he’d been planning for, for several months. A game of revenge. On a cheater. It was one thing to wreck somebody else because you’re good at cards or because you had inside knowledge.
It was another thing to have a cheater drain somebody else who didn’t have the money to lose. Simon planned to take the cheater to the cleaners tonight. The one man the cheater had cheated wasn’t here and wouldn’t likely be back ever. He’d lost way too much on another night and would spend months, if not years, paying it back.
That’s the problem when you got into these games. You got in heavy, and things got ugly.
Simon had a beer beside him, and the smell of smoke was heavy. He wished to hell they’d all stop smoking. It clogged his nose and filled his lungs. It would be days before he’d get it out of his clothing. As he waited for the cards to come his way, he checked out what his opponents all had. Making a decision, he bounced one chip in and said, “I’m good.”