Secret Worlds (569 page)

Crap.

She’d broken rule one.

Trying not to freak, Ari braced herself for Jace’s approach, running her tongue along her grandmother’s ring for confidence and pressing her palms flat against the floor. Maybe he didn’t recognize her.

That thought was short-lived as a pair of boots kicked her bag aside and warm, calloused hands wrapped around her mouth. Another hand grabbed onto the waist of her jeans from behind. Ari’s body slid across the floor backwards. She fought back, twisting and kicking, trying to make contact. Whoever had their hands on her was too strong and very fast.

The four rules Ari just thought about vanished because there was one rule that trumped all the others.

Never get moved to a second location.

Past the point of panic, Ari bit the inside of her attacker’s palm. He cursed but didn’t move his hand. She heard a low whisper in her ear, “Trust me.”

“Screw you!” Ari yelled, or tried to, into his hand.

A commotion across the store made Ari jerk her head in that direction. Four guys ran through in baseball caps and sunglasses. Jace held a gun to an elderly man’s head and asked him for keys to the office.

Four? The guy who had her was a fifth. Not one she’d counted before and not one seeming to work in conjunction with the others.

Her abductor stopped at the back of the store and hoisted her against his chest. Ari’s mouth was still covered, but she watched as his free hand covered the door handle. The muscles in his forearm flexed as he twisted it and again, she noticed how strong he was. Her eyes widened as the knob stopped at the locking point, but he continued rotating until there was a sharp crack, breaking the metal off in his hand.

He swung the door open and pushed her inside a small, cluttered closet, lit by a single blub hanging from the ceiling. Ari turned quickly, looking for an escape, but he had her blocked. Anger welled up inside her chest, surpassing the fear. But, instead of a gun-wielding criminal, Ari found herself face-to-face with him.

He wore a baseball cap under a thick, black hooded sweatshirt. The brim shaded much of his face and Ari couldn’t see his eyes. All the same, she knew it was him. His sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, revealing muscular brown arms and on his left wrist she saw a blur of letters tattooed in dark ink.

“What are you doing?” she whispered, working around the ring in her mouth. She spit it into her palm. He ignored her and started to leave. Ari realized he was going back out to the front of the store.

“Hey,” she said, gripping his arm.

He turned sharply and put a finger to his lips. She looked up at his eyes, which were shadowed completely by the bill of his cap. Despite the obscurity, she was mesmerized by the intensity and control brimming from within, and Ari found herself nodding, willing to do whatever he asked her.

“Don’t leave until the police get here,” he said in a gruff voice. He closed the door, leaving only a sliver of light between it and the frame. Ari pressed her back against a wall, catching her breath.

Within moments, Ari heard a loud smashing sound. Shelving? The shouting increased, and the distinct sound of grunts and curses exploded from the other side of the door. Someone was getting their butt kicked for sure; she just hoped it was the bad guys. Ari listened to the fight, wincing here and there as fists landed on flesh and objects toppled over. The inside of the closet felt increasingly stuffy and hot. Sweat pooled at her lower back from nerves, heat, and the mere fact that she couldn’t see what was going on outside.

She should’ve been scared, but she wasn’t. He was a legend, a myth. Even though she’d never laid eyes on him before, she knew. It was him. Although there were documented accounts of his existence, there was no solid proof. Ari now knew the truth. He was real.

He didn’t have a name. Well, obviously he did, but not publicly. He was that guy who walked in the shadows and appeared in the nick of time. He saved drowning babies and appeared out of nowhere to help those in need. He was on the playground when the bad guys tried to sneak away with other people’s kids. He was like Batman or Superman or The Green Arrow, but not the made-up fantasies of men who never grew up and who sketched their heroes into comic books. He was real, and he’d just saved Ari from four armed gunmen.

He was the Glory City Vigilante.

Ari sat in the familiar office waiting on Detective Bryson. Nothing much had changed since the last time she was there four years earlier, except the pictures of his wife now included two children.

She’d given her statement at the robbery, claiming to have hidden in the closet while the men ransacked the store. She lied in her report, not including any information about the mystery guy singling her out. She wondered if this was why Bryson had asked her to come to the station, or if it was about her parents. He hadn’t said.

“Thanks for waiting,” Detective Bryson said, closing the door behind him. They met when she was 21, when he showed up at her apartment, grim and bearing bad news. “How have you been?”

“Pretty good,” she answered. “Busy with work.”

He sat behind his desk, shuffling some papers around. When he looked up, he frowned and said, “You cut your hair.”

Ari ran her hand over her short hair. The last time she saw him, her hair went halfway down her back. Now it was short, other than the long pieces she tucked behind her ear. “Spontaneous decision,” she said.

“It looks nice.”

They looked at one another over the top of the desk. Detective Bryson had rich brown skin and pretty, grayish eyes. She barely knew this man at all but he’d seen her at her worst. “So,” she said. “Any particular reason you called me down here?”

“I’ve been assigned to this robbery you witnessed and wanted to ask you some follow-up questions.”

Ari breathed a sigh of relief. Not about her parents. That had been put to rest. She saw no need to open that wound again. Good. “Sure, how can I help you?”

“The report says you didn’t see the guy that stopped the robbery.”

“The mystery man?” Her face reddened when she said the made-up name out loud. “That’s what I call him. You know, since no one knows who he is.” Ari took a deep breath. “No, I didn’t see him. I wasn’t aware there was anyone in the store other than the robbers and the customers.”

“He disabled three of the men, but one got away.”

“Jace Watkins. I recognized him from our office.”

“Do you think this ‘mystery guy’ would have let him go for some reason?”

Ari frowned. “Why would he let him go? Isn’t that kind of his thing? Stopping bad guys?”

“That seems to be his motive but between us, we don’t know what this guy is up to. It’s important for us to cover all angles and get him off the street. Vigilantism is never a good thing. Unfortunately, he’s as much of a suspect as the other men.”

Ari was as pro-police as a person could get, but she didn’t agree about the mystery guy. He seemed to do what the police couldn’t. They had rules and procedures that kept them from catching criminals without wading through a pile of bureaucracy first. Regardless, she kept this opinion to herself. “Well, I didn’t see anything, promise. Once I saw Jace, I hid. I’d worried what would happen if he’d recognized me.”

“Good thinking.” Bryson smiled and flipped the file on the top of his desk shut. “So, how have things been for you other than armed robberies and ‘mystery men’?”

“The same. Still living with Oliver and trying to keep the juvies out of trouble. Clearly, our work with Jace Watkins wasn’t much of a success story.” She saw the concern in his eyes and cut him off before he could bring them up. “I’m taking it one day at a time. Or more like one week at a time now, I guess.”

“Good,” he said. He stood up and she did the same, thankful the meeting was over. Ari had no intention of reliving the accident again today, and being with Bryson brought her emotions to the surface.

“It was good to see you,” Ari told him.

“You, too,” he said. “Please let me know if you remember anything, okay?”

“Sure,” Ari said. She left Detective Bryson in his office, hoping she wouldn’t be back at the police station for a long time.

***

Ari scrambled up the steep incline of steps to the court house with only minutes to spare. Inside the dated, 1970’s style industrial building, she waited in line behind a mother and her three small children, each having to pass through the metal detectors and a search by the security guards before being allowed inside the building.

“Good morning, Carl,” Ari said to the guard, dropping her black leather satchel, keys, and phone onto the conveyer belt. They disappeared behind the curtain and into the x-ray machine.

“Ms. Grant,” he replied and waved the wand over her body. No alarms rang and he allowed her to pass through and gather her things.

“Is she here?” she asked, eyes darting to the courtroom over his shoulder.

He nodded and said, “She just arrived. I saw her Mercedes pull into the parking lot.”

“Thanks.” Ari walked across the crowded waiting area and found a seat near the judge’s chambers. She hoped the wait wouldn’t be long. Judge Hatcher had a notorious reputation for being late, but as Carl had just confirmed, she might be on time that day.

Ari rummaged around in her satchel and pulled out a small stack of paperwork she needed to catch up on. She also took a moment to search the room for Hope’s family. She didn’t see Hope’s father, which wasn’t that surprising, but she thought perhaps her grandmother would make it for the hearing.

Sixteen-year-old Hope had been on Ari’s caseload for over a year. Half feral, she’d spent over nine months at a long-term detention facility for an assault charge. Hope had been out for three months and had been doing well until Ari received a call on Friday night that the girl had been arrested for prostitution.

The idea that Hope sold herself was upsetting, but not a stretch. Almost all the girls on her caseload had prostituted themselves at one time or another. It was a common practice for them. Too common, and this wasn’t the first time Hope had been charged. That had been a while back, and Ari had thought they were past this type of behavior.

Ari opened the file and reviewed the information in preparation for the hearing. It would determine if Hope could return home or if Judge Hatcher would send her to an out-of-home placement—possibly detention.

Twenty minutes later, the bailiff came out of the courtroom and announced Hope’s case. Ari slid her file back into her bag and followed him into the room. She nodded to a different guard before sitting down on the long, narrow bench in front of the judge. Judge Hatcher sat above the room at her podium. She caught Ari’s eye and smiled. The two of them had a history of working together on behalf of Glory’s children. There were days when they each had to be tough and break hearts, but doing so had been a necessary evil. The tiny judge was dark haired and pretty. On first sight, most of the kids thought she’d be easy to manipulate, but they were mistaken.

They had the same misconception about Ari.

For the first year, Ari faked it. Pretending to be tough as nails, but swallowing back the fear and sadness that consumed her daily. Over time, though, she’d realized that the best way to reach them was by providing consistency and a firm approach. They had to know she was there for them—no matter what—but that she would also lock them up in an instant.

Ari wasn’t tiny by any means, but slim and tall. Her short, black, cropped hair, streaked with red made her appear less girly, and she wore her makeup heavy on her eyes, but light everywhere else. Scattered over her body were a dozen tattoos.

The minutes ticked by while the judge spoke quietly with the lawyers, and they all waited for Hope to exit the back hallway and enter the courtroom. The door near the front of the room opened and a corrections officer brought Hope in. Dressed in standard blue coveralls and generic tennis shoes, she shuffled over to the seat behind the defendant’s desk. She looked exhausted and her normally well-kept hair was a tangle of knots at the back of her head.

Ari offered Hope a wary grin but was met with a heavy eye roll and a snarl. Ari stared back, refusing to feel guilty about the girl’s choices. Hope’s reaction wasn’t exactly shocking. Ari cared for her, as much as she could allow herself, but the lifestyle Hope led tipped the scales out of her favor. Not just illegal, prostitution was risky—often deadly. As her probation officer, Ari’s job was to make sure Hope stayed on track and she worked diligently to help her stay in school, get a job, and stay off the streets. Ari couldn’t do that if she was in jail.

With a bang of her gavel, Judge Hatcher announced to the court the start of the hearing, reading Hope’s full name aloud and reciting the numbers of her case. Ari waited in the galley, behind her client. It was now in the hands of the judge to determine Hope’s fate.

***

Ari’s job in court, as she informed each of the children when they came on her caseload, was to tell the truth. What she revealed to the judge was really up to them. In this situation, Ari had no choice but to explain to Judge Hatcher that Hope had been in violation of her probation for the last six weeks. She’d missed appointments, broken curfew, and failed to take more than one drug test. Her grandmother called Ari repeatedly expressing concern about Hope staying out all night. The last time they’d spoken, Ari had threatened to put her back on the electronic monitoring bracelet if she didn’t cooperate. Obviously, the threat didn’t work since she disappeared for two weeks before being picked up by police.

As Ari read the handwritten list of violations in her folder to the Judge, she expected Hope to get angry and argue with her—perhaps make a scene. But that was not her reaction at all. Instead, she broke down into silent tears and refused to meet Ari’s eye. Atypical for sure. Something was off. The tears were strange, but Hope only made matters worse when she refused to answer Judge Hatcher’s questions.

“I can’t help you if you won’t talk to me, Hope,” Judge Hatcher remarked. Hope kept her steely gaze forward, eventually being led from the courtroom for disrespectful conduct.