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.Ozzie, standing beside him, made a low sound, his fur rippling, corrugated by an unseen wind.Ryder said nothing, instead focused on the non-verbal interplay going on around him.The deputy chief, as usual, was clueless to anything except saving his own ass.“Detective Ryder, you’ll start your new assignment with the Advocacy Center effective immediately.Which means that you no longer have any business on this crime scene.” He gestured to Petrosky, who stood nearby.“Please escort Detective Ryder and his dog,” he gave Ozzie a dirty look that the dog returned by baring his teeth, “beyond the barricades.”Ryder gave them a nod, turned smartly on his heel, and left, Ozzie at his side.He trusted the dog to guard his back more than anyone else there.“The Tower is your primary beat?” Ryder asked Petrosky as they worked their way through the throng to his car.“Yep.Community policing and all that.Why?”“Any strange activity lately? Kids gone missing?”“Missing? No.We had a few runaways right after school started, but none since.Too cold at night.Brings them to their senses, and they head back home.”So not only were the seven kids not reported as missing, there was no unusual talk about them.Ryder glanced up at the Tower.His gait wobbled the slightest bit, as if instead of being safely home in Pennsylvania, he had one foot still back in Paktika.“What’s the deal with Leo Kingston and Tyree Willard? Why would the son of the most powerful man in the city give a shit about a low-rent pimp and drug dealer?”Petrosky shrugged, but her posture tensed and her pace picked up.Like she didn’t want to be answering questions.Or maybe she just didn’t want to be associated with a detective whose career was taking a sudden meteoric fall from grace.“Leo has a few possession busts, meth and cocaine, scores from Tyree.And Tyree and the old man have always been tight.”“What do you mean?”“Other than the gangbangers, most of the residents in the Tower are single moms and their kids.Back in the day, we’re talking twenty, thirty years ago, Daniel Kingston liked to make sure they knew their place so that nobody gave him any trouble.”Ryder stopped, not sure he understood.Waited.Petrosky didn’t turn back, but she did slow down.“Kingston used to come visit—anyone who gave him grief, didn’t pay the extra ‘rent’ he charged for protection, tried to organize folks into protesting the conditions—anyone he thought was a troublemaker, he’d visit their family.Personally.Especially liked to spend time with the women.Would pick one, make a special example of her to keep the rest in line.”“What’s that got to do with Tyree?”“Story goes, Kingston handpicked Tyree to lead the Royales.It’s been over twenty years since the old man has been back, but he still keeps a tight grip on things over there.Sentimental reasons, I guess.”“I thought Tyree ran the Tower.”She shrugged.“Tyree might run the place, but it’s Kingston who owns it.In every sense of the word.”Maybe it was Tyree who’d gotten the search shut down and persuaded the Kingstons to get Ryder kicked off his own crime scene.Tyree had damn good reason to keep Ryder out of those tunnels—at least until he had time to finish covering his tracks and moving his drug operations.Did that mean he knew where Esme was and was hiding her until he could deal with her mother’s killer?Petrosky left Ryder at his car.He turned back, staring up at the Tower, lights scattered across its gloomy countenance—most of them on the top floor and roof, Tyree Willard’s domain.Ryder squinted through the dark as a curtain of fog flowed across the Tower’s lights, obscuring them, burying their secrets in its haze.CHAPTER TWENTY-TWOA hand touched my shoulder, and I opened my eyes, half-expecting to see Ryder or Father Vance.But it was Devon Price.He stood with his back to the altar, the crucifix hanging directly over his left shoulder, aimed at his heart.“You okay?” he asked.“Having another one of your spells?”I cringed.He was much more comfortable with my problem than I was.“No.” I could tell he saw through my lie but was kind enough to allow me the dignity of denial.“Any word on Esme?”“No.” He sank into the pew beside me.“Figured it was best to start at the beginning.Was on my way back to the Tower when I saw you come in here and had an idea.”“What?” I asked, wondering at his vagueness.The Devon I’d come to know was nothing if not direct.Part of why I liked him.“Will it help find Esme?”“I hope so.” He slid from the pew, and I followed.Funny how we both bobbed and caught ourselves halfway through the sign of the cross as we left the pew—two sinners, fallen from grace.Devon noticed as well.“How long has it been for you?”“Twenty-two years.How about you?”“Almost eleven.” He stopped, looking up at the stained-glass windows depicting St.Timothy’s martyrdom.Devon barely glanced at the one of St.Tim smiling down on us benevolently, preferring the more ferocious images of the stoning.“This place was like home.When things got too bad.Jess and I…” Sorrow shuttered his face.“Did you go to school here as well?”He nodded.“Had a scholarship.Most from the Tower never come here.Think the Church is thumbing its nose at them, all gold and silk when they’re fighting for food and running water and heat in the winter.Nice to know Kingston finally cleaned up his act.”“What do you mean?”“Inside the Tower.Outside, it looks as bad as ever.But inside, it seems like things are a little better.Folks taking pride in where they live instead of using it like a urinal.Tyree made it sound like he forced Kingston to fix things up, but that doesn’t sound like Tyree.My money’s on the women.After all, it’s them that take care of this place.” He nodded to the immaculate altar with its embroidered silk drapes and shiny gold candlesticks.“Mrs.Anders, she used to drag me here at least twice a week on top of the Mass we attended every morning as part of school.Said I had the devil in me, needed an extra dose of Jesus.”I nodded, remembering that daily parade from the school on the other side of St.Tim’s into the church.God help you if you straggled or whispered or stepped out of line.“I went to St.Tim’s, too.Would have been a few years ahead of you.”His gaze was still lost among the stained glass above us.In the darkness, the saints glowered down on us, ignoring poor St.Tim as he was stoned to death.“Always swore I’d never be him.That I’d fight back.”“That’s what I told myself as well.”Devon gave himself a shake and dredged up a tired smile for me.“Guess we both got the devil in us.”He had no idea.But I smiled back at him.Felt a little less tired and uncertain, even though nothing had changed.We made it to the front vestibule.“You know how you said you could read that girl’s mind? Could you do that again?”“That’s your idea?” I stopped, afraid to look at him—afraid of how I looked to him.“I don’t read minds.I’m not sure what happened, just somehow we were…together.”“Whatever.Could you do it again?”Damn, he was stubborn.“No.I don’t know.” Embarrassment flushed my cheeks.Last thing I wanted was to explore my newfound craziness.“Maybe.But only certain minds.”“What kind of minds?”“People in comas [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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