The Harry Starke Series: Books 1-3: The Harry Starke Series Boxset Read online

  I rushed to his side, grabbed his arm, and pulled. “Hey, Lonnie. You okay?”

  He groaned, stirred, rolled over, looked up at me and grinned. Blood was streaming down his face from a deep cut over his left eye.

  “Go get ‘em, Starke. I’m okay.”

  I nodded, looked ahead. A string of incandescent bulbs stretched away into the distance, but struggled to breach the darkness. The roof was low, no more than six feet. Rubble, rocks, bricks, great chunks of concrete, and filthy wet sand lay everywhere. Brick-built pillars and round steel supports spaced every few yards held up the roof which must have been Cherry Street. A flight of open wooden stairs led to... nowhere. It was a dank, nightmare world of shadows, rats, and stagnant water, and ahead I could hear someone crying.

  I started toward the sound.

  “Wait. Hold on. I’m coming with you,” Kate shouted, picking her way over the debris.

  We didn’t have to go far; we couldn’t. There was no clear route through the underground city. It was a maze of openings, broken walls, piles of rubble, dead ends, and then we saw light ahead, a square opening to the outside world. I went through first, straight into the arms of a waiting uniformed officer.

  “Who the hell are you?” he roared in my ear.

  “He’s with me,” Kate yelled as she breached the opening.

  “Oh, sorry, Lieutenant. I thought he was with them.” He pointed.

  There they were, a forlorn-looking bunch of youngsters, none of them more than sixteen or seventeen years old, a couple no more than eleven or twelve, and... Darius Willett. The officers had him up against the wall, cuffed and waiting for us.

  “We were watching the raid going on down there,” the sergeant pointed to the now one-time Blessed are the Homeless building some fifty yards away, “and here he comes, bustin’ outa the hole in the wall followed by this bunch of kids. There’s thirteen of ‘em, an’ not one of ‘em wearin’ a coat.”

  From that point on, there was little left to do other than wrap it all up and haul them all away. DCS arrived with a commandeered church bus and took away the kids.

  The Dickersons and their “assistants” were hauled away to the PD where they all lawyered up. There would be no interviews that night, or even the next morning. It wasn’t until late the following afternoon that they finally agreed to talk, but only if they could make a deal, and they did. What it was, I had no idea, but talk they did. Implicate Salvatore De Luca, they did not.

  It was no more than we had expected. The Dickersons, along with Willett and Donavan, and several others we had yet to apprehend, had been running a sex for sale racket that implicated a lot of well-known members of the public.

  Sex with a minor under twelve years of age is rape, a Class A felony in Tennessee; under sixteen, it’s a Class B, and there are a whole lot more charges that can be brought for trafficking. The Dickersons were into that in a big way, not to mention that Billy was sampling the product for himself. He was going down, and so were India, Willett, Donavan and the others.... but not, at least for now, Sal De Luca.

  Chapter 31

  I was in the office by eight-thirty the following morning. Kate arrived a few minutes later and we set up the conference room for interviews: camera, recorder, files, and note pads.

  Of the eleven names on the list that Tim had found, Officer Beckham had managed to reach only seven. All of them agreed to be interviewed; the first would arrive at nine o’clock.

  Jenny Hollis had been nineteen at the time of the transition of control of Hill House from Dickerson to Draycott. Now, she was almost thirty, married, and had two small children. She was nervous, and when she saw the camera, I thought she was going to walk right back out again. She didn’t, and Kate did her best to put her at her ease.

  The interview was short. She was at Hill House for only six months, none of them during the Dickersons’ reign. I showed her the group photos and asked if she was featured in them. She wasn’t. They were taken a couple of days before she arrived. Did she recognize any of the other group members? Yes, several, but she could not remember any names. No, she didn’t remember any Brinique. We thanked her for her time, and she left. The second interview was a bust, too.

  Number three on the list, Rhonda James, was only fifteen when she arrived at Hill House, and she remembered just about every minute of what she called the worst time of her life. Unfortunately, for us, it didn’t last for long. She came to the house with the Draycotts and thus had no knowledge of times or people prior to her arrival in late June of 2005. She did, however, remember the Dickersons, an older boy whose name she never knew, and two of the other girls, one of whom was Jenny Hollis; they were still friends.

  Rhonda had been a runaway, and she got lucky. One of the Draycotts’ volunteers had found her wandering around the Aquarium after dark; a bad place and time for a young kid to be alone. Her parents came and took her home two weeks after her arrival at Hill House. She was now working as a registered nurse at Erlanger Hospital. Good for you, girl.

  She looked at the group photos, but remembered none of them, except for herself, a miserable-looking little thing in the front row on the upper balcony.

  And so it went on. By one o’clock we had seen them all, and we were no further ahead. Oh, several of them had recognized people in the images; we even managed to gather a few new names, but that was about it. No one remembered Brinique.

  I ordered pizzas delivered for the staff and Kate and I retired to my office to eat.

  “The girl was there,” I said. “She had to have been; she died there, for Christ’s sake, but nobody remembers her? That’s crazy.”

  “So what now?” she asked, through a mouthful of cheese and peperoni. That girl loves her groceries, that’s for sure.

  “I don’t know. I just don’t know. We know she left home on May 27, 2005, and that she was still alive a week later on June 4, because she called her parents. After that, nothing. Not a goddamn thing. I don’t think it was the Dickersons.”

  “Why not?” she mumbled.

  “Hell, I don’t know that either. It could have been, I suppose. I just had the feeling Billy was telling the truth when he said he didn’t know her. That’s it. That’s all I have.”

  “That leaves the Draycotts then,” she said, “and I don’t see that at all.”

  “Maybe you’re right, but I like them for it better than I do Billy.”

  “So, I’ll ask again. What now?”

  “Same answer. I dunno, and I’m outa here. I need to go see how Amanda’s getting on with the kids. I’ll call you later, if I think of anything.”

  I got up from the easy chair, my mind churning. Without thinking, I leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. She almost choked with surprise. Why I did it, I have no idea. Must have been an instinct left over from long ago. Our personal relationship had ended months ago.

  “Oh shit. I’m sorry, Kate. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  “Me neither... oh hell, Harry. It’s no big deal. We have a long history together. Forget it.”

  I said I would, but I was kind of confused, and it started me thinking, but not about anything I’d seriously entertain.... Hell, who am I kidding? I miss her, goddamnit.

  Chapter 32

  Now I have to tell you, I have never been one to think much about domestic bliss. I was forty-two years old, and a confirmed and happy bachelor. I had no intention of ever getting married. I’d seen what that unhappy institution had done to my friends. How can they live like that? I don’t know a single one who isn’t miserable, at least now and then.

  So maybe you can imagine what it was like that afternoon when I walked into my living room to find it full of women and kids. Well, one woman and two kids.

  Yes, I know. I volunteered for it. No matter, it was damned unnerving and it conjured up visions of a future I wasn’t sure I wanted, much less could handle. Okay, so dinner was almost ready, and the kids were nicely dressed in new pajamas and were watching television, and Amanda
was wearing a cute little apron over.... Oh my God. It’s June Cleaver.

  She stopped what she was doing, came around the breakfast bar, gave me a peck on the lips, said, “Hi, sweetie,” and then went back to the stove. I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. I shuddered, went to the drinks cabinet, and grabbed the first thing that came to hand. I poured a stiff one and sucked it down; ugh. Damn. I hate neat gin.

  Ah, it really wasn’t that bad, at least when I remembered that it was only temporary. The kids would soon be gone, and so would Amanda.... Hmmm.

  We ate dinner. The talk at the table was awkward, stilted, and, well, awkward. We didn’t know what to say to one another. For sure, we couldn’t talk about the situation the kids had just gotten out of, or the future they would soon have to face.

  Fortunately, they both were very tired, and being in the tranquil atmosphere that was my home, even be it essentially a bachelor pad, they soon relaxed and fell asleep on the couch. We got them into bed in the spare room, and damned if we didn’t stand in the doorway, Amanda’s arm through mine, looking fondly in at them. Oh no. This is not happening.

  I pulled my arm away, maybe a little too roughly, and it earned me a rather testy look. I grinned at her, took her hand, and led her back to the sofa. I poured her a glass of wine, freshened my Laphroaig, and we settled down for the evening.

  The call came at eight-thirty. It was Lucy Haskins, Jacque’s long-time partner. She was in a hell of a state, and by the time the call was done, so was I. Jacque had been involved in a hit-and-run accident and was in the hospital, in the intensive care unit.

  I explained to Amanda that she had to stay with the kids and I left. This was one of those times when I missed the flashing blue lights and the siren. No, I wasn’t legally fit to drive, but I wasn’t drunk, and I had no damn choice. On the way across the Thrasher, I called Kate and told her what had happened. She was waiting for me when I screeched into the parking lot at Erlanger Hospital.

  Lucy was at Jacque’s bedside, holding her hand. She was crying. When she saw us, she jumped up and threw her arms around me. I held her for a moment, then pushed her gently away and looked into her eyes.

  “How is she? Have they told you anything yet?” I asked, gently.

  “She was hit from the back. She has a broken leg, pelvis, and four broken ribs. They don’t know what internal injuries. She also slammed the back of her head on the truck, and look at her poor face.” The tears were flowing freely.

  Jacque’s face was a mess. She must have landed face down on the pavement; road rash. Her left cheek and ear were skinned, raw, but it looked superficial. I didn’t think it would scar, if she survived. She was unconscious.

  “Can you tell me what happened, Lucy?”

  “We... we’d been shopping, at the Hamilton Place Mall. We were coming out of Penny’s when this truck appeared from nowhere, its engine roaring, like... like it was on a racetrack. It wasn’t an accident. He meant to do it. He didn’t even slow down. He hit her and screeched off at full speed.”

  I glanced at Kate; she was recording.

  “He must have been doing fifty when he hit her. She... she... she didn’t have a chance. Ohhh, Harry. Please tell me she’s going to be all right.”

  I did. I told her. I sat her back down, leaned over and kissed Jacquie on the forehead; nothing, no reaction. Goddamn it. De Luca! Had to be. You’re dead, you son of a bitch; dead!

  “Stay with her, Lucy. I’ll go see if I can find a doctor who knows what’s going on.”

  Lucy nodded and took Jacque’s hand in both of hers.

  “Kate, you’d better come with me. I may need your badge.”

  I found the doctor who was treating her, but it was a waste of time. He could tell us no more than Lucy had. Oh, she would survive, of that he was quite sure, but what he was worried most about was the bang on the back of the head. There was a hairline crack in the skull and only time would tell if she’d suffered brain damage.

  So, I went back to Lucy, and even though no one knew for sure, I told her that Jacque was going to be okay. Kate and I stayed only a few minutes more, and then we left them alone together.

  I was in an icy state of calm. To this day, I have no real idea of what my emotions were that night.

  I told Kate goodnight, that I would call her the next day, and I left the hospital and drove home, my head full of dark and evil thoughts. At one point, I stopped the car. I was about to make a U-turn and head for De Luca’s place, when the reality of what I was thinking set in; now was not the time.

  Chapter 33

  The phone rang at five-thirty the next morning. I thought the world was ending. I’d forgotten to turn it to vibrate. It was Lucy.

  She was excited. Jacque was awake and talking. I got dressed, left Amanda snoring gently, and headed to the hospital.

  Jacque’s parents were there, in the small waiting room next to the critical care unit. Her mother hugged me, tears streaming down her face. Her father was in a state of shock. He just sat there, staring at the wall, slowly shaking his head.

  “Hey,” I said. “She’s awake. She’s going to be fine.”

  I crept into her room. She smiled up at me, a little ruefully. “I suppose I should take more care and look where I’m goin’.” The Jamaican accent was now very pronounced. “Harry, there are some t’ings you need to do....”

  “Whoa. You stop right there, young lady. I don’t want to hear any more of that crap. Do you hear?”

  She nodded and winced. Even that tiny movement hurt her. I was boiling, but so glad to see and talk to her.

  “Can you tell me what happened?” I asked.

  “Not really. I was crossing the road outside Penny’s when I heard this engine roaring. I started to turn to see what it was. I saw this huge truck, well, just the front of it, it was so close, and then.... I woke here.”

  “Well, it looks like you’ll be here for a while, until they fix your leg... and everything. You need to rest, forget about work. We’ll manage.”

  “But, Harry, there’s so much to do.”

  “Nothing we can’t handle. I’ll have Margo and Leslie take it on until you come back. Lucy.” I looked at her, tried to look stern. I’m not sure if it came off. “It’s on you. You need to keep her mind off things.”

  “Hah. You know Jacque. As if anyone could.” She was right, of course.

  “Well, just do your best. By the way, what color was the truck?”

  “It was dark red, old, muddy, with those big wheels. You know; off road, like.”

  I did know, but I didn’t remember ever seeing such a truck, at least not during the past several weeks. Not that I would have taken notice if I had.

  The nurse came in. I gave Jacque a peck on the forehead, hugged Lucy, and left them to it, promising to drop in later.

  I’m not sure where my mind was when I got back to my car that morning. What with the kids at home, the Dickerson thing, Brinique, and not least what had happened to Jacque. That was no accident. Someone had tried to kill her, and that someone was, I was certain, Salvatore De Luca. I was also certain that he would do it again, unless he was stopped.

  It was just after eight o’clock when I arrived at my office. I had to unlock the place myself, something I rarely had to do. Jacque almost always was there before me. The place seemed strangely vacant without her. I made coffee and checked the office voice mail, something else I’d not done for a long time.

  The two girls arrived at eight-thirty. They were devastated to hear about Jacque. I gave them their instructions and turned them loose. Bob arrived next with Tim and Ronnie in tow. Heather arrived last. By 8:45 they all knew what had happened, and then I went to my office and closed the door. I needed to be alone,

  For almost an hour, I sat at my desk, staring into space, doodling, talking to myself, my mind was in a whirl: odd thoughts, threats, promises, visions, anger, despair, all of those, and more, none of it good.

  In my imagination, I saw over and over, Jacquie in front of the tr
uck, its engine howling, tires squealing, the horrified look on her face, her cartwheeling through the air, the back of her head bouncing off the hood, the truck racing away out of the parking lot and out onto Gunbarrel Road. Maybe my imagination was making a bigger deal of it than it actually was, but I didn’t think so. I’d seen the results, and the looks on her parents’ faces, and I could only sit there, hoping that she would fully recover.

  The longer I sat there, the angrier I became. I knew who it was. I also knew I had to put a stop to it before someone else got hurt, or killed. The bastard was turning the screw. He had no intention of getting me, at least not yet. He knew he could hurt me the most by hurting those around me. Christ. Who the hell will it be next?

  The answer came instantly: no one. He would hurt no one else, because I wasn’t going to let him. It had to be him or me.

  For another hour, I sat there, mulling it over. It was almost ten o’clock before I thought I might have it. I got up from my desk and walked to the door. All was quiet in the outer office, all except the slow pecking of keys. Bob was writing a report.

  “Hey, Bob. Can you leave that until later? We need to talk.”

  “Sure, just give me a minute to finish this sentence and I’ll be with you.”

  I went and sat down in one of the big easy chairs and waited. A couple of minutes later, he joined me.

  “What’s up, Harry? You look pretty rough.”

  “Bob, we have to put a stop to this De Luca crap. What if Jacquie doesn’t fully recover, ends up crippled, or something? It will be my fault because I didn’t stop it sooner. What he did to her was retaliation to what we did to Dickerson. We have to do it before he can hurt anyone else. It’s me he’s after, but right now he’s playing mind games, getting at me through the people I care about. So....”