The Harry Starke Series: Books 1-3: The Harry Starke Series Boxset Page 57

  They looked at each other, then at me, then Terri said, “But, Mister, you said....”

  “I know what I said, and I meant it, and I want you to call me Harry. Okay? Can I bring them in?”

  They both nodded, warily. There was a knock at the door. I got up and opened it. Kate and Lonnie came in.

  “Kate, this is Terri and Sandra, and girls, the big guy is Sergeant Lonnie Guest. You can trust them both. I promise.”

  I looked at the two police officers. They were as befuddled as I was. Lonnie leaned over the table, looked at them and said, “Hey, girls. Can I take a peek at this with you?”

  The younger one nodded up at him. Sandra just stared up at him.

  “Great,” he said, and dragged up a chair and set it down beside Sandra. “Now, ladies. If you’ll go through it again with me.”

  I shook my head in amazement. The great bear was trying to make friends with them, and he did. Within minutes, he just about had the two of them eating out of his hands. Hell, they were giggling at him.

  Kate and I sat at the table facing Lonnie and the girls.

  “Tell us about Reverend Dickerson,” I said. “How did you get there, with them?”

  “The guy, Darius,” Sandra said. “He found me first. About a year ago, I s’pose. I got off the bus on Airport Road. He was outside, sat in a nice car, BMW. He was dressed nice. Asked me where I was going. I didn’t know. I was fourteen. I... I... just wanted to go somewhere, anywhere. He asked if I was hungry. I was. He bought me a burger. We ate it in the car. We talked. He was nice. He asked if I had somewhere to stay. I didn’t. He said he knew a nice place where I could stay ‘till I got on my feet. That was it.”

  She paused, shuddered, then looked sideways, up at Lonnie, and said, “That night, Mr. Dickerson, he screwed me. It was my first time. It hurt so bad.” The tears were streaming down her face again.

  Lonnie was so angry I thought he was going to blow it, but he didn’t. He just gently rubbed the girl’s back, shaking his head. At that moment, I knew I would not have wanted to be Billy Dickerson.

  Terri’s story was almost identical, only she had hitched into town with a truck driver. He dropped her off at the junction of Highway 153 and Shallowford Road. It was just her bad luck that she hitched another ride with... yeah, you guessed it: Darius Willett. She also suffered through the Dickerson initiation, and then Sandra kind of took her under her wing. Fat lot of good it did. All they could offer each other was company, sympathy and a little comfort. From that point on, their every move was strictly controlled.

  They were worked every night, seven nights a week; sold, on the streets or in sleazy motel rooms. They even went to private homes, and they were paid nothing. They were housed, clothed, and fed, and that was it.

  Lunchtime came and went, and the girls continued to talk, and we continued to record everything they said. By the time it was over, at a little after one-thirty, we had it all; the whole pitiful story.

  “What are we going to do with them?” Kate asked, as we looked through the back side of the mirror. “We can’t turn them over to Children’s Services, not now; not after what they’ve been through.”

  “I was thinking the Draycotts,” I said, “but right now, that’s not an option. Not until we know who murdered the girl and the kid in the sewer.”

  I leaned against the wall beside the glass, and stared in at the two kids. Jesus H. Christ. What a goddamn mess. What are we going to do with you?

  I closed my eyes, leaned my head back against the wall....

  “Hey, Harry. Wake up,” Kate said, shaking my arm.

  “I wasn’t asleep. I was trying to figure out what to do with them. They need clothes, something to eat, somewhere to stay until we figure out the Draycott thing.”

  “Hell, Harry. Take ‘em home with you.” I knew she was joking, but it was something I’d already been considering.

  I looked at her, rolled my eyes, and took out my iPhone. I dialed the number and waited.

  “Hey, Harry. What’s up?”

  “Hi, Amanda.” Now it was Kate’s turn to roll her eyes. She did, and then turned and walked away.

  “Listen,” I said. “I have a bit of a problem, well, a big problem. I need your help, if you can.”

  I told her my idea. She was cautiously optimistic. Said she would try, and that I should pick her up at the station; she’d get someone to cover for her. I then went looking for Kate. I found her with Chief Johnston. Neither one of them looked happy.

  “So what’s the plan?” she asked.

  “I need you to release them into my custody.”

  I thought the chief was going to explode. “Are you out of your gourd, Starke? Those two are hookers, for Christ’s sake. We got ‘em red handed. Two for one, is what they were selling. We can’t let ‘em go just like that.”

  “Okay,” I said. “First, they’re not hookers; they’re victims. Second, they need a goddamn break, and third, I made them a promise, and I intend to keep it. They gave us the Dickersons. All you have to do is tear that place apart. You find that room and the rest of the kids and it’s open and shut. No damned misdemeanor this time, no matter who he knows. I’m taking them home with me. Amanda will look after them for a couple of days, while we clear up this Hill House thing, and then, if all goes well, I’ll pressure the Draycotts into taking them. That’s just an idea, but it’s all we have. You send them to DCS and they’ll run.”

  “Okay, okay. Take a breath, Harry. I’ll have the papers drawn up. You’ll be responsible for them until... well... until we can figure out something else. In the meantime, we’re putting together a team to take out the Dickersons. You want in? You deserve it.”

  I said I did, and the time for the raid was set for six o’clock that evening, before the kids were put out on the streets, we hoped. In the meantime, I had work to do.

  Chapter 29

  “Come on, girls,” I said. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “Where?” Sandra asked. “Where you takin’ us?”

  “I’m taking you home with me.”

  “The hell you are. You just like all the rest. It ain’t gonna be. Help!” she yelled at the top of her voice.

  I looked at her, my mouth hanging open.

  Kate came in, laughing. I knew she’d seen it through the glass.

  “It’s okay, girls. Harry’s one of the good guys. You can trust him. He’s taking you to his place on the river to stay with him and his girlfriend for a few days, until we can sort out something permanent. Just be good. He’ll treat you right.”

  I settled the girls into the back seat of the Explorer and headed over to Channel 7. Amanda was waiting in the lobby. I didn’t leave the kids in the car. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust them... you’re right, I didn’t. So I took them in with me.

  I don’t think I’ll ever forget the sight of Amanda when she spotted them. She stared at them, and then at me. I’m not kidding, her mouth was wide open, her eyes the biggest I’ve ever seen them. She was dumbfounded. I grinned at her, looked round at the two waifs, and saw why. They were snuggled up together, arm in arm, and they looked like two skinny, teenage Barbie Dolls in short, quilted coats, miniskirts, tight sweaters, and five-inch heels. If they hadn’t looked so pathetic, I swear it would have been hilarious. As it was, they were more than a little impressed themselves. The look on their faces when they saw Amanda was a sight to behold.

  “Is she real?” I heard Terri whisper, to Sandra.

  “Yeah,” I said, with a smile. “She’s real, and she’s really nice. Amanda, come and meet Terri and Sandra.”

  To this day, I have no idea what was going through Amanda’s mind when she greeted those two kids, but she did it.

  Now you have to know something about Amanda. This was a very big deal. She’s an only child. Never in her life had she been around kids. This was a first, and I was impressed. Not that I’m an expert. I haven’t been around that many myself.

  ““Okay,” I said, when we were all back
in the car. “This is how it’s going to be. Amanda is going to drop me off at the police department, then she’s going to take you home and get you both cleaned up, and give you something to eat. Aincha, Momma?”

  I thought Amanda was going to choke.

  “Then,” I continued, “she’s going to take you shopping, buy you some decent clothes. You’ll stay with us for a few days, no more than that, until I can sort out something permanent.”

  “You said you already had a place for us; was you lyin’ to us?” Sandra asked.

  “Nope. I do have somewhere, but I have a couple of issues to sort out first. Okay?”

  I looked at her in the rearview mirror; she nodded.

  I pulled up outside the PD and got out. Amanda also got out and came around the front to get into the driver’s side.

  “Here,” I said, as she fastened her seatbelt. I handed her my American Express card. “Get them what they need, everything, and look after them. Don’t let them out of your sight; they’re very fragile.”

  “Hey, Amanda.” Kate waved at her from the entrance to the PD. “Good luck.” I’m not sure if she was being facetious or if she meant it. Whatever, Amanda thought she did, and waved back at her as she drove out of the lot. Me? Hell, I fervently hoped I was doing the right thing. I watched them go, shook my head, and followed Kate into the building.

  “Kate, was Tim able to find anything on the Dickersons’ computers?”

  “I don’t know. Why don’t we ask him? He’s in the computer lab.”

  “Hey, Buddy,” I said.

  He was seated in front of the laptop, and looked about ready to quit for the day. “Oh, hey, Harry. I was just about to call you. Here.” He handed me a thumb drive, and another to Kate. “There’s an Excel file on there. It was encrypted, and they’d tried to bury it, but they didn’t know how to do it, amateurs. If they’d been savvy, it wouldn’t have been on the computer at all, but, hey, it was pretty easy to find and decode. It looks like they were advertising the girls on the web. Classifieds, but I haven’t been able to run down the exact sites yet. They were selling them out of Cherry Street, taking calls: hotel visits, home visits, quickies in cars, you name it, and for anything and everything from role-playing to BDSM. Lots of nasty stuff. Oh, and it looks like they were paying off De Luca. That would be his connection to the Dickersons; he was taking a cut, a big one.”

  He hit a couple of keys on the laptop and the file opened. It didn’t mean anything to me, not right then. I would need some time with it.

  “It has a kind of spreadsheet on it ordered by month going back to 2013,” Tim continued. “Girls’ names, places, times, money, and so on. It also has the names of what I presume to be the johns. There are hundreds of them, and that info includes credit card numbers, phone numbers, social security numbers, birthdates, even addresses in some cases. Someone has done a lot of background checking into those folks. I’m thinking possible identity theft. The meta data shows India Dickerson is the author of the file, and that she was the last one to update it.”

  I looked at Kate. She was smiling.

  “Do we have enough there to hang them, Tim?” I asked.

  “It’s a good start. Put it together with a couple of witnesses and... yep. I think you do. Harry, I’m beat. I need to eat and I need to sleep. Tomorrow?”

  “Yes, go on, get out of here. Good work, Tim. I love you, man. Oh, wait, before you go. Do you think Samantha could do another head for us? I’ll pay her this time.”

  “I’m sure she will. Do you have the skull?”

  “Carol is making one for us. Give her a call. If it’s ready, go get it. Okay?”

  “Yep. I’ll let you know what Sam says.”

  “So. Are you ready to go?” Kate asked, when we got back to her office.

  “As always,” I replied.

  She took the Glock from its holster, checked the load, grabbed her coat, and said, “Then let’s go join the crew.”

  And quite a crew it was. She and Lonnie would head the squad, which included a SWAT team of ten, five cruisers, and a dozen other officers. The Dickersons were in for quite a surprise.

  ,

  Chapter 30

  By six-fifteen that evening, we had the building on Cherry Street surrounded. It was already dark, but Kate and I were parked out front and we could see the big old house by the light of the street lamps. It was then I noticed, for the first time, the arched tops of four windows, two on either side of the front door. Only the topmost eighteen inches were visible; the bulk of the windows were below the pavement. I realized then that this was not a two-story building at all; it was, or had been, actually three stories. What once had been the ground floor was now the basement, the doors to which, well one of them at least, opened up onto the original street level of the late 1800s.

  Then I realized what I was looking at. It was something I’d heard about in high school and hadn’t thought of since. This was part of Underground Chattanooga.

  Underground Chattanooga is an abandoned level of the city, the old street level of the late 19th Century, all of it now underground and long forgotten, remembered only in legend and ghost stories. There was a time when Chattanooga was a busy trading post on the river, just a few feet above water level. In 1867, the water rose almost sixty feet above its normal level and flooded the entire city. Chattanooga was growing, so something had to be done. The answer was to raise the street level. Chestnut, Broad, Market, and Cherry, from the river to Martin Luther King Boulevard, then 9th Street, were raised from between four to fifteen feet, depending on their original elevation. The buildings, however, were not raised; ground floors became basements or were abandoned, and that was what we were looking at now.

  That lower corridor that led to the stairs was once the ground floor, and so was that hidden area we now knew was beyond the stairs.

  The only way through that steel basement door was either to blow it, or for it to be opened from the inside. That being so, Kate decided to take a more direct approach, one that would not give the Dickersons an opportunity to clear the building, as they obviously had on our previous visits. I agreed with her. We would go in through the front door on Cherry Street.

  “I get the impression that the front door is never used,” I said. “There’s a padlock and chain on the outside, but I didn’t notice if it was barred on the inside.”

  “No matter,” she replied, staring at the door. “The SWAT boys will have no trouble busting it down.”

  She got on the radio and began issuing instructions. The plan was that SWAT would go in through the front, followed by Kate, Lonnie, me, and six officers. One of those officers would head straight for the stairs and open the basement door for more officers. The other five would secure the ground floor, including the kitchen area and service rooms. If all went well, it would be over and done with in less than thirty minutes.

  I thought she was being a little optimistic, but who the hell am I?

  We exited the vehicles, and SWAT ran for the front door. Amid a great deal of yelling and shouting, the door was breached. More than a dozen officers, followed by our small party, charged through the opening and spread out across the first floor, weapons drawn, some heading for the area behind the desk, the offices at the rear of the communal room. The designated officer ran on, down the stairs. Two minutes later, a dozen more uniforms charged up the stairs, and for a few minutes, chaos reigned.

  India had backed up against the wall behind the desk, her hands high. Lonnie grabbed Billy Dickerson and slammed him face up against the wall beside her, cuffed him, then grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and dragged him out into the center of the room, his feet barely touching the floor. I thought Lonnie was going to hammer him with his weapon, but somehow he managed to get ahold of himself.

  “You piece of shit,” he growled in Dickerson’s ear. “Just move a goddamn inch and I’ll smash your sick, stupid face to pulp.”

  Mouse Donavan was face down on the floor, cuffed, with his hands behind hi
s back. Of Willett, there was no sign.

  Billy’s face was white. I don’t know if it was from fear, shock or anger; he certainly was angry. India was in an almost trance-like state. She still had her arms stretched, full reach, above her. Kate reached up, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her out from behind the desk, to stand beside her husband. They were a forlorn-looking pair.

  “Get this sick son of a bitch away from me,” Billy mumbled. “I want my lawyer. I’ll have your goddamn jobs.”

  “So, Reverend Dickerson,” Kate said, holstering her weapon, and looking around the crowded room, “you can call your lawyer when we get you back to the station, but first, where are they?”

  “Where are who?”

  “Let’s not screw around, Billy. You know who. The girls... and boys, I guess. They certainly aren’t in here, and there’s no one up on the top floor either.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Bull,” Kate shouted. “Where the hell are they?” She turned to me, the question unspoken.

  I nodded, turned to Lonnie, and said, “Let’s go.” We ran past the desk into the kitchen area, nothing. Where the hell is Willett?

  It didn’t take more than a couple of minutes before we found it, at the back of what I assumed to be the pantry. A heavy wooden door that looked older than the building itself stood wide open. Someone must have been in a hurry. I went down the steps at the run, the MP9 held out ahead of me. Lonnie was just two steps behind me.

  At the bottom of the stairs was a huge open area, a living space, a dormitory with sixteen beds in two rows of eight, but no kids, and worse, no Willett.

  “There,” I said, pointing. “Sandra said there was a way out. It has to be in that wall.”

  It was in the corner, difficult to see in the half-light and shadows, another heavy wooden door, and it was locked, from the outside.

  “Here, let me,” Lonnie said, holstering his weapon. He took two steps back, and then threw himself forward, all 265 pounds of him. His shoulder hit the door. I heard it crack. He hit it again. It cracked more. He backed off at least a dozen feet, took a huge breath, and then hurled himself at the door. This time there was no holding him. The door burst outward and Lonnie hurtled through, landed on the floor, on his face, and lay there, unmoving.