Chapter 1
Clark
Onlookers stood around the yellow tape, their phones at the ready, trying to catch a glimpse of the dead man. There wasn’t much to see. He had a hole right in the middle of his forehead. It was a clean shot, a shot any marksman could be proud of.
“What do you think?” the detective on duty asked.
I stood up to my full height and covered the dead body that lay exposed on the cold hard ground with a crisp white sheet. He deserved some dignity, even if he was a piece of shit wrapped in skin.
Then there was also the fact that this particular victim was a victimizer. It made my job even harder, particularly when I was glad he was dead. He’d killed his wife four years prior, and had gotten away with it because someone forgot to read him his Miranda rights. He’d been walking the streets, using his dead wife’s money to buy hookers and cocaine, for four years.
Now he was gone. I’d say good riddance if this had only happened to him, but I had no less than twelve cases just like this sitting on my desk. Dead men—not to mention a few women—who deserved to be dead. Only they weren’t dying of natural causes. They were dying because someone was taking justice into his or her own hands.
I also had cases of missing criminals that were suddenly solved. One had been found just last week tied up on the front steps of the courthouse. The security footage from that time frame had somehow been wiped; it couldn’t even be found in the cloud. Yet there the shithole sat, a rag stuffed in his mouth as he waited for the sun to come up. Then another the previous month, where a mother who had traded all her children for heroin was found tied to the fountain in the city’s busiest park. Again, no security footage could be found, even though there were cameras all over the place.
Whoever was doing this was really good at covering his tracks.
The detective cleared his throat. “Officer Clark?”
“Just Clark,” I said quietly. I wasn’t with the police department anymore, although they still contacted me when a case needed some special attention. I’d been told I had a knack for finding people who didn’t want to be found. I’d given up my badge, though. I had enough people to take care of in my private life. I didn’t need any more.
The detective looked decidedly uncomfortable. “What do you think, Clark?”
“I think he’s dead.” I popped a piece of gum into my mouth and started to chew. Even though I’d quit smoking ten years ago, I still wanted one in times of stress. My fingers got twitchy and I started patting my pockets. Gum took off some of the edge, but not all of it.
“Well, no shit,” the detective barked.
“The bullet hole in his forehead should have clued you in.” I sent him a sideways grin.
The muscle in the man’s jaw ticked as he clenched his teeth.
“Can’t say I’m sad about it. Whoever took him out did me a favor.” I’d been tracking him for months, trying to catch him doing something wrong, but I hadn’t had any luck.
“You’re going to consult on this one, right?” the detective asked.
“Don’t know why I would.” I lifted the yellow tape that cordoned off the area and ducked beneath it.
I had almost made it to my car when a blue sedan pulled up next to me. “William Clark,” a voice called. I grinned. I knew that voice. It belonged to my former boss, my mentor, my reason for still freelancing for the police department. John Spanner was my connection to my old life. A life where I wore a gun and a badge. A life where I took care of others. Now it was all I could do most days to take care of myself.
“Boss,” I replied. I rested my elbows on the top of his car and leaned toward his open window. I knew he wasn’t my boss anymore. He knew it too, but he’d always hold that place in my life. He was my conscience when I really didn’t have one. “What’s up?”
“Dead body?” He nodded toward the crime scene.
“Yep.”
“Anyone we know?”
“Danny the dick.”
His eyebrows rose. “Danny the dick is dead?”
“Ding dong,” I sang back at him.
He whistled slowly. “Can’t say I’m sorry to hear he’s gone.”
“Whoever did it deserves a medal.”
“Any idea who that might be?”
“Danny had more enemies than friends. Could have been anyone.” I turned my head away and blew my gum out of my mouth. It had lost all its flavor.
He nodded. “Get in. I’ll buy you lunch.”
I shook my head. “Can’t. Got to go watch somebody dunk a baby.”
“What?” His brow furrowed.
“Baptism. Friend. I’m going.”
“Someone invited you out in public?”
Okay, so I was a little rough around the edges and I really didn’t give a shit what anyone thought of me, but that one did sting a little. “Some people like me.”
“Let me guess. A former client?”
I grinned. “Solve a case for someone and you become his best friend.” I patted my stomach. “I’m hoping there’s free food.”
A few months back, I’d done some surveillance work for a man named Mason Peterson when his wife Lynn was missing. It was a complicated case, and we’d eventually found her, but not without some problems along the way. They’d just had a baby boy and invited me to his christening. I’d accepted. I might be a cold, hard bastard, but I liked a happy ending. I’d never get one of my own, but I did take pleasure in other people’s.
“You’re looking good, Clark. Better than the last time I saw you.”
I nodded and stood up tall, looking into the distance, suddenly wishing this conversation could be over. “I’m going to be late.”
He nodded and pulled into a parking space. I rushed to get in my car, still thinking about the dead guy. He had been one of my cases, and now he was dead. He wasn’t the first. There had been more like him in the past few months. We had a vigilante killer on our hands. Someone was killing people who were weaker than him—or her. We also had a vigilante fixer. I’d bet ten to one that they were the same person, but I had no proof. There was no profile yet. But there would be soon. I’d keep an eye out.
Chapter 2
Shelly
Lynn was going to kill me. I was late. I couldn’t possibly be late for my nephew’s christening, but I was. I loved that kid desperately, and my sister had asked me to be his godmother. It didn’t matter that everyone else thought I was crazy. Lynn loved me. She accepted me and she had enough faith in me that she was entrusting me with the care of her child, should anything ever happen to her and Mason. At best, she was trusting me to love him and care for him. At worst, she trusted me to guide him through life.
The thought of her trusting me with something so precious made it difficult to swallow, and every time I thought about it, I got that same lump in my throat. Someone trusted me with something. Lynn trusted me. She’d never trusted me, despite all I’d done for her throughout the years. Not until now.
Lynn and I were twins, though we’d never lived together after the age of six, aside from the odd summer or weekend when they let us be together. Our parents had sent me to live with our grandmother. Lynn had stayed with our parents. Lynn had suffered unimaginable terror, and there were repercussions from her having stayed with people who didn’t value her life at all.