Yuletide Defender (2 page)

Rachel could almost hear her heart pounding. “That depends on what you have to tell me.”

“Oh, you gonna like this. 'Cause I got a story that'll rock this city.”

“I'll have to be the judge of that. Now tell me what you've got.”

“No way. You ain't gittin' this information over the phone. You gonna have to meet me in person.”

The sinister tone of the man's voice sent chills down her spine. Matt's warning flashed into her mind. Could this be a gang member? If so, she could be walking straight into trouble if she agreed to meet him.

On the other hand, if she didn't meet him, she might be giving up the chance at the break she'd been waiting for. A huge story could get her name out there to influential people in the industry. When she weighed the pros and cons of the situation, she knew it was a no-brainer. She hesitated only a moment before she answered.

“Okay, where do you want me to meet you?”

“You know the City Park out on Highway 45?”

“Yes.”

“Meet me there at midnight. Go to the picnic tables by the lake and sit on the bench right next to the woods. And come alone. Understand?”

Rachel swallowed. “Yes.”

The caller disconnected with a click. Rachel replaced the phone and stared into space. Somehow she'd known since the first murder that this was the story she'd been waiting for—one that would set her apart as an investigative reporter. And one that would prove she was unafraid to pursue truth, no matter where it took her.

Dangerous or not, she had to go. This could be just what she'd been waiting for—her big break. Or it might be more—the tragic end of a promising career.

 

The bells in the pavilion tower across the lake chimed the midnight hour as Rachel climbed from the car. The familiar landscape looked very different than it did in the daytime, when families played together in the wide expanse. Rachel shivered at the stillness that enveloped her.

The distant rumble of thunder broke the silence. She glanced up at dark clouds rolling across the sky. The moon disappeared behind a cloud and the darkness deepened. The
streetlamps around the lake cast a soft glow of light on the jogging trail that circled it. Tonight, however, there were no runners. She was alone.

She studied the park benches that dotted the grassy area in back of the picnic tables, then trudged toward them and scanned the dark forest beyond for signs of movement. Seeing nothing, she eased onto the bench where he'd instructed her to sit.

The leaves on the trees behind her rustled and she tensed. Was there someone there? She tilted her head to the side and listened. An owl hooted and she shivered.

How long should she give him to show up? She hugged her coat tighter and knew she'd stay until sunrise if she had to.

“Don't turn around.”

She gasped in surprise as fingers clamped down on her shoulder. Fear oozed through her body and left a blanket of ice in its wake. “W-who a-are y-you?”

“Don't make no difference what my name is.” His warm breath fanned the back of her neck.

Rachel struggled to breathe. “Then what shall I call you?”

“Like I said, just say I'm your confidential source.” He paused for a moment before he continued, “I been readin' your stories 'bout gang members being killed. You done a good job reportin' the facts.”

“Do you have some additional information for me?”

“Maybe.” His fingers tightened on her shoulder. “Let's see now, in that last story, how many you say died?”

When Rachel didn't answer, his index finger jabbed her. She gulped a big breath of air and sat up straighter. “Five before today. Now there's six. All of them shot to death. The police think rival gangs are killing each other.”

The man behind her exhaled a long breath. “The popo don't know nothing.”

Rachel frowned and tilted her head. “You mean the police?”

“Yeah.”

“What makes you think that”

“It ain't what I
think.
It's what I
know.
” His lips grazed her ear.

His nicotine-scented breath filled her nostrils and she turned her head away. “And what's that?” Rachel asked.

“They's two gangs here in Lake City, the Vipers and the Rangers. The Vipers, them are my brothers. We take care of our hood. The Rangers, they on the south side of town, and we don't mess with them.”

Rachel started to say she knew how the Vipers took care of their neighborhood—drugs, shootings, robberies—but reason told her not to anger him. “I know about the two.”

“If they found out I was talkin' to you, I'd be dusted by mornin'.” A trace of fear trembled through the man's words.

“Your friends would kill you? Why?”

A small groan came from behind her. “We ain't 'posed to talk to nobody 'bout gang business.”

“Oh.”

“The popo think the gangs be fightin' each other in a war. That ain't true, but I 'spect somebody wants to start one.” He paused for a moment and Rachel tensed, wondering if he expected her to say something. When she remained silent, he continued, “You 'member the last murder two weeks ago? The Viper that was killed in front of that pizza place on First Street?”

“Yes, I wrote a story about it.”

“Well, what you didn't write was that there was another guy with the one killed, but the shooter missed him.”

Rachel thought back to the story. No mention had been made by the police about another individual being present. “Who was it?”

“Me. I saw the guy right before he shot and he weren't no
gang member. I ran and he chased me. I hid in a Dumpster, but I seen him.”

“Then you can identify the killer?”

“Naw, but I knows he's a white guy.”

Rachel's shoulders sagged. “That just reinforces what the police think. The Rangers are white. It was one of their members.”

“No,” he hissed. “This guy didn't have no flag.”

Rachel sat up straighter and frowned. “He wasn't wearing gang colors?”

“No. If he been a Ranger, he would've been proud of the hit and woulda been showing 'em off.”

Rachel thought about that for a moment. What he said made sense. “Then who do you think he was?”

“Ain't got no idea. But like I said, I been thinkin'. The popo ain't questioned why they so many deaths of gang members in Lake City all of a sudden. They say that just no-goods killin' each other. What if somebody who ain't in a gang'd like to see the two go head-to-head in a war? So he starts killin' Vipers and Rangers, hoping that'll happen.”

Rachel's eyes widened. “A vigilante? You think there's one on the loose in Lake City?”

“Now you catchin' on.”

“But why are you telling me this? Why not go to the police?”

A laugh rumbled in the man's throat. “I can't do that 'cause we don't talk to no popo. They wish we'd all disappear from the face of the earth anyway. I expect they figures if we kill each other off it'll just make their job easier.”

Rachel's breath caught in her throat. A vigilante? She'd never thought of that. “What do you want me to do?”

He leaned closer, and she could feel him pressing against the back of the bench. “I'm tired of the killin'. I wants you to write a story 'bout what I told you. Then see what happens.”

Rachel shook her head. “I can't do that just because it's what you believe. I need some kind of evidence.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw an arm appear next to her shoulder. A piece of paper dangled from long brown fingers before it fluttered to the bench beside her. “This here the name of a cop on the take and where he meets up with a Ranger for his payoff. He'll be there at midnight tomorrow night. Check this out first. See if I'm tellin' the truth about this. Then maybe you'll believe me about the vigilante.”

Rachel reached for the paper. “Okay. How do I get in touch with you if this lead proves true?”

The man laughed. “Don't worry. I be watchin', and I gonna be callin' you 'cause there's somethin' I want out of this.”

Goose bumps raced up Rachel's arm. “And what's that?”

“I wants you to help me get outta town. Start a new life somewheres else.” He was silent for a moment. “I know the gang life ain't for me no more. I wish things would change, but I done decided ain't nothin' gonna change where I live 'til Jesus comes back.”

A gasp escaped Rachel's throat. “Are you a believer?”

He exhaled a long breath. “My mama taught me lots of stuff. Don't think she's too proud of me now, though.”

His words felt like a kick in the stomach. She knew what it was like to disappoint your mother. “If you're really serious, I'll help you whether or not the story pans out.”

“I knowed you was a good woman. I be talkin' to you.”

“Wait! Don't go!” she said. However she sensed no one stood behind her any longer. She counted to ten before she slowly turned and stared at the tree line behind the bench. Again she was alone in a deserted park.

She grabbed the piece of paper, stuck it in her pocket and ran toward her car. Once inside she locked the door and leaned her head against the steering wheel. Tonight she'd been more scared than at any other time since she had begun working at the newspaper.

She straightened in the seat, pulled the paper from her pocket and stared at it.
Walters and Branson.
Another street corner on the run-down south side of town.

Her hand shook and she jammed the paper back into her pocket. She had no idea what would happen tomorrow night, but she did know one thing. She'd be there to witness whatever took place.

M
att Franklin glanced at his watch as he walked down the hallway at the Lake City Youth Center. 1:00 a.m.? Where had the time gone? When he'd dropped by after the Bible study, he'd only meant to stay a few minutes, but he'd soon lost himself in planning next week's activities for the young boys he mentored. A light in the staff break room caught his attention and he stopped at the door.

David Foreman, the center's director, sat at the round table in the middle of the room. He sipped from a cup of coffee but looked up and motioned for Matt to enter. “What are you doing here so late? You had a busy day with this latest murder. You must be dead on your feet.”

Matt walked to the table and pulled out the chair across from David. “I didn't mean to stay so long. I thought you'd already left. I heard you go out the back door several hours ago.”

David nodded toward the counter where the coffeepot sat. “I wanted some coffee and there wasn't any left in the canister. I went down the street to that all-night market and got some. I knew the staff wouldn't like it if they didn't get their fix tomorrow morning.”

Matt couldn't suppress the yawn that overwhelmed him. He tried to cover his mouth. “Sorry about that. I guess I'm
more tired than I thought. But I'm used to missing sleep. It seems to go with my job.”

“You need to take care of yourself, Matt.” David regarded him for a moment. “Don't you have a life outside of the police department and the Center? I appreciate your help, but you spend most of your off-duty hours here. Isn't there some nice woman that you could take out every once in a while?”

Matt chuckled. “I haven't found one yet. Maybe I will.” He swallowed before he dared voice what he'd wanted to ask David for several days. “I have met an interesting woman, though. Rachel Long. I think you know her.”

David's eyebrows arched. “Rachel? She's my goddaughter. I've been a friend of her mother's since we were children. In fact, I helped Rachel get her job at the
Beacon.
So you're interested in Rachel?”

Matt straightened in his chair and clasped his hands on top of the table. “I don't know. She just seems nice. I thought she might come to the Bible study tonight, but she didn't show up.”

David shook his head. “Sounds like her. She hasn't gone to church much since she got out from under her mother's influence. I guess it's a kind of rebellion for being made to go all the time when she was younger.” David paused and ran his index finger around the rim of the coffee cup. “All she thinks about is work and how she wants to make a name for herself at the paper.”

“I've noticed she's really dedicated to her job.”

David chuckled. “Dedicated is hardly the word for it. Obsessed describes it better.”

Although Matt had talked to Rachel several times, he'd never suspected she might be so driven to succeed. “But why?”

“It has to do with her family.”

Matt nodded. “Oh, I see.”

If there was anything he understood, it was how a family
could influence the way a person approached life. He should know. His life was the perfect example of what a dysfunctional family could do to a person. Thankfully, he'd escaped them and found God in the process.

Matt pushed back from the table and stood. “Maybe she'll get active in the church.”

David picked up the cup and took a sip. As he put it down, he smiled at Matt. “Or make new friends there that will occupy some of her time.”

Matt's face burned, and he stuck his hands in his pockets. “Maybe so. Well, I guess I'd better get on home. I'll see you later.”

As he walked to the parking lot, Matt thought about what David had said. Maybe Rachel was so involved with her job that she didn't want anything else.

After they first met, he knew he wanted to know her better. He'd been in the middle of giving the local television station a statement about one of the gang-related murders when she had walked up beside the cameraman and proceeded to write down every word he said.

The sun had sparkled on her shoulder-length blond hair, and she had chewed on her lips in concentration, nodding every once in a while as if she agreed with what he was saying. When she had glanced up, her piercing blue eyes had stared at him with an intensity that made his heart do flip-flops. Then she had smiled, and he couldn't finish his interview quickly enough. He had to find out more about this willowy blonde who took his breath away.

Now two months later, he still knew very little about her. One of the reasons for going over to her at the crime scene today had been to ask her to go with him to the ballet at the Fox Theater. Instead he'd lost his nerve and they'd discussed the murder.

He reached his car and climbed inside. Weariness surged through his body. He hoped he wouldn't be called out tonight
for the murder of another kid. This last one had been younger than the others, not much over sixteen. It troubled him to think of the wasted lives he'd seen in the past few weeks. Gang violence in Lake City was escalating out of control and he had to help the department find a way of stopping it.

There had to be a solution, but what it was he didn't know yet.

 

The next morning, Rachel strode down the hallway of the Lake City Police Department toward the open office door a uniformed officer had pointed out. She peered inside at Matt Franklin. He looked tired this morning. His dark eyes, usually filled with excitement, appeared bloodshot.

The pencil he held dropped to the pile of papers in front of him. He yawned, rubbed his hands across his eyes and then ran his fingers through his thick dark hair. She knocked on the door frame. “Good morning. Are you up to having a visitor?”

His eyes lit up when he saw her. “Rachel? What are you doing here?” He rose and came around his desk.

She laughed, dropped her briefcase on the floor and shrugged out of her coat. “You look tired this morning. Did you work last night?”

He shook his head. “No, I went to the Bible study at church, then dropped by the Youth Center to do some work.” He took her coat, hung it on the rack and pulled out a chair for her. Walking behind his desk, he sat down and folded his hands on the top. “And to what do I owe the pleasure of a visit from Lake City's favorite investigative reporter so early in the morning?”

Rachel chuckled. “Favorite reporter? I don't know about that. You should see some of the emails I get. You might change your mind.”

Matt's tired eyes twinkled. “If they're anything like mine, I completely understand. If we don't solve a crime, we're
wasting the taxpayers' money. If we do make an arrest, the jailed person's friends think we're persecuting him. Sometimes it's a no-win situation.”

Rachel nodded. “I guess we have something in common.”

Matt smiled. “So tell me, what brings you to the station this early in the morning?”

Rachel took a deep breath. “I've been thinking about what you said yesterday about being careful about the stories I write.”

“Good. I'm glad you listened. I wouldn't want to see you get hurt.”

“I don't either, but I have a job to do. I have to tell the stories of the gang killings and how their presence in the neighborhoods is a danger to the people there. This may mean I have to dig a little deeper into the gang culture. I thought you might be able to give me some pointers about how I should proceed.”

Matt frowned and leaned forward. “These are dangerous people, Rachel. They don't appreciate attention. I'm not about to give you advice that might get you killed.”

Rachel waved her hand in dismissal. “So far I haven't focused on them other than to report what the police have told me about the murders.” She scooted to the edge of her chair. “But the facts are that at least six gang members have been murdered in the past few weeks. I'm beginning to wonder if there's more to the story.”

Matt's hair tumbled across his forehead and he brushed at it. “What do you mean?”

She got up and closed the door. Returning to his desk, she planted her hands on the top and leaned forward. “I talked to a mother at that murder scene yesterday. She's scared for her son to leave the house. I feel a responsibility to the people who're living in the shadow of these bullies.”

He jumped to his feet. “They're more than just bullies,
Rachel. They're dangerous. You need to stay away from them.”

Rachel straightened and crossed her arms. “I'm not looking for trouble. I just need to know how to talk to them. You probably encounter them on a daily basis in your job, and I know you volunteer at the Youth Center. So you deal with the kids who live in the neighborhoods controlled by them.”

Matt walked around the desk, stopped in front of her and shoved his hands in his pocket. The muscle in his jaw twitched. “I do. And I see what it does to their lives. They live in a violent world.”

Rachel thought about the whispered words she'd heard the night before from someone wanting to escape that environment. To help him she needed to understand it. “That's why I came to you. I know all about the Center's success record with these inner-city kids. You can help me understand what it's like for them.”

He pulled a hand from his pocket and raked it through his hair. With a sigh he returned to his chair. He sat in deep thought before he looked up. “I can't even imagine the terror they feel each night. Afraid that at any time a stray bullet could sail through their window and kill one of their family members like it did Carlos's baby brother last month. I was the detective who questioned the family after the shooting.”

Rachel swallowed and eased into her chair. “That must have been difficult.”

His eyes took on a faraway look. “Can you imagine what it's like to tell a mother there was no reason for her baby to die? Or to calm down a teenage brother when he's ranting that he's going to find whoever shot into their house and kill him? And all the while the mother's begging him to be quiet, she doesn't want to lose another son.”

A bitter taste flowed into Rachel's mouth. “That must have been horrible.”

“It was, but the sad thing is it only seems to be getting
worse. When morning comes, I don't know how the kids gather their courage and go to school where they know at least half the students are carrying concealed weapons.” He took a deep breath before he continued, “How do children survive in such surroundings?”

The concern she saw in Matt's eyes pricked Rachel's heart. “These kids are lucky to have people like you who care.”

Matt shook his head. “I don't know about that. I've been fighting the effects of these criminals ever since I came to Lake City five years ago, and I'm mystified by what I see. No matter how bad it gets, too many kids long to be like the guys who are destroying their neighborhoods. Wannabes, I call them. They hang around the fringe of the gangs just waiting until they're old enough to throw their lot in.”

“Surely there are some success stories.”

He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his hands over his eyes. “Yeah, there are some. I'd like to have more, though.”

Guilt coursed through her. “David's asked me several times to volunteer at the Center but I've always put him off. Maybe it's time I did my duty and helped out more.”

Matt smiled. “He'd like that. We can always use extra help.”

Rachel nodded and stood. “I'll talk to him about it. This might help me to understand better what I've been writing about.”

Matt walked around the desk, pulled her coat from the rack and held it for her. “The gang members tend to stay away from the Center, but there's one thing you need to remember. With them, it's all about respect. They see themselves as the most respected individuals in their neighborhood. If you ever come in contact with them, be courteous. They'll respond to you in the same way. They leave the Center alone because of the way David treats them.” He chuckled. “He told me once that it's because a lot of them are kids he didn't save.”

She turned to face Matt. “I'll remember everything you've said.”

Concern flickered in his eyes again. “Remember what I told you yesterday. You need to be careful with your stories. I don't want to answer a call that you've been hurt.”

The warmth of his voice flowed over her and her breath caught in her throat. “I will be. But you're the one out on the streets. You take care of yourself, too. Thanks for seeing me, Matt.”

He stared at her for a moment before he backed away. “Drop by anytime, Rachel.”

Rachel glanced at her watch. “I've gotta go. See you later.”

With a wave, she headed into the hallway. Before she exited the building, she looked over her shoulder. Matt stood in his office doorway watching her. She was relieved they had gotten on the subject of her volunteering at the Youth Center. At least he hadn't seen how his warnings about the gangs scared her.

She wondered what he would say if he knew what she intended to do tonight. A chill raced up her spine at the thought. Dangerous or not, she had to find out if her source was telling the truth.

She glanced at her watch and swallowed. Rendezvous time was a little over twelve hours away. If she was lucky, she might have a good story. She chuckled and shook her head. No. In the words of her confidential source, she might have a story that would rock this city.

 

Matt's words of warning rang in Rachel's head as she pulled her car to the curb a little before midnight, turned off the motor and stared at the dark streets. Her skin prickled with fear. A city park one night and a slum the next. At least she was becoming familiar with new areas of the city.

She stepped from the car and started toward the meeting
place two blocks away. In the glow from a streetlight, she glanced at her watch. Eleven forty-five—fifteen minutes until showtime. She'd have to hurry if she was going to find a vantage point for watching. She pulled her coat tighter and hurried through the night.