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When she climbed into her car and cranked the engine, she held her breath. To her relief, the motor purred to life. She really had to do something about a car soon. Hers had already exceeded its life expectancy by a few years. Maybe by this time next year she’d be driving a new vehicle. The Beacon was just the first step to success. If things went as planned, this job would be her springboard to a larger newspaper or even a television station. And stories of rival gangs killing each other just might be the ticket to jump-start the journey.
Rachel thought again of the mother’s fear for her son. Her own mother had dealt with many problems in raising Rachel and her sister, but gangs weren’t something they had to worry about. She couldn’t imagine what life must be like for that woman and her son. Maybe if she dug deeper into the killings, she would find something to help the police.
Matt’s warning drifted through her mind but she shook it away. There were reasons why she wanted to succeed at her job. No, had to succeed. She only had one choice—to go anywhere and talk to anybody to get the story she needed.
Rachel stared at the computer screen and scanned the article she’d just written once more before sending it to the copy editor. “It seems almost like a rewrite of the other murders,” she grumbled aloud.
She leaned back in her chair and tapped the desktop with a pencil. The police might believe gang violence was the reason for the similar killings, but according to what Matt had told her they still couldn’t be sure. With no clues left behind, the police didn’t appear to know where to turn. Gang members weren’t talking, and most residents who lived in the neighborhoods controlled by the groups were too afraid to tell what they knew.
Somebody in Lake City knew what was going on with these killings but so far no one had come forward. She reread the last two lines of the article she’d just completed. “It’s time for every resident of Lake City to say, ‘We will not stand quietly by and let the gangs destroy us.’ Only by joining forces can we safeguard the future and provide a secure way of life for our children and those who will come after us.”
Whether or not her call for unity would work, she didn’t know. All she could do was try to rally the citizens to fight what was happening around them. She sighed and, with a click of the mouse, sent the story on its way to the copy editor.
She picked up her coffee cup and took a drink just as the phone rang. Setting the cup back on the desk, she wedged the receiver between her ear and shoulder. “Rachel Long. May I help you?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I can help you.” Rachel’s eyes widened at the curtness in the man’s voice. This was no friendly call. She pushed her cup away, reached for a pencil and slid her notepad across her desk.
“Help me with what?”
“I been reading your stories in the paper.”
Rachel took a deep breath to still her thudding heart. “Which ones?”
“The gang murders.”
Rachel’s fingers flexed and gripped the pencil tighter. “I’m glad. We always like to hear from our readers.”
“I ain’t calling to brag on your writing. I gots a story I want to talk about.”
She poised the pencil above the pad. “And what’s your name?”
A low laugh came over the phone. “That don’t matter. Let’s just say I’m a confidential source. Okay?”
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.
TWO
Matt 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.”
