Dark Remnants: Street Games, #1

By L.K. Hill

Would you face down a serial killer to save your brother?

Kyra is already undercover in the murder-capital of the country, and she prefers to go it alone. When she stumbles on a plot to kill most of the city's cops, she has a decision to make.

After shouting her warning at a handsome random detective, she's sure that will be the end of it. Until the same detective shows up at her employer's estate…where there happens to be a dead body in the pool.

But that's not the only corpse in this city. Prostitutes keep turning up dead, and Kyra suspects everything is connected. If she can't figure out how, more than one person might disappear into these shadowy alleys, and never be seen again…

If you love, dark, gritty urban reality, complete with clandestine serial killers and brooding detectives, you'll want to join Kyra and Gabe on this pulse-pounding sprint through Abstreuse City. Because darkness lurks in us all.

"On the edge of my seat the whole time! Chilling view of darker side of the city. Kyra is tough and intelligent. I highly recommend it!"

• Language: English
• Publisher: Liesel Hill
• Release date: Jan 5, 2014
• ISBN: 9781536589757

L.K. Hill

L.K. Hill is a lifelong Connecticut resident. After attending community college, she married and raised two sons. Getting tired of retail jobs, she trained and became a certified nurses aide, focusing on homecare. But her lifelong interest was writing and The Viking World, so she decided to write a book about them. This novel is her dream come true, and may your dreams become a happy reality.

Book preview

Chapter 1

M STREET WAS BUSIER than usual. It bustled with activity, the kind that feared daylight and only found true comfort under the cloak of night. Kyra, hunched in the shadows, wondered if the extra movement had anything to do with the rumors she’d been chasing all night.

Women in skimpy clothing clustered in groups of two or three, waving at the occasional passing car or flirting with the nocturnal pedestrians going about their own nightly business. Gangbangers sported bandanas, chains, and loaded guns with equal gusto. Junkies and drunks sprawled on every curb and bus bench, or ducked into the shadowy alleys to use their product of choice. Two blocks down a group of hobos clustered around a fire in a barrel, talking quietly. It wasn’t anywhere near cold enough for a fire—summer was only beginning—but Kyra supposed even the jobless needed a water cooler to cluster around. M Street was one of the most poorly lit areas in the Slip Mire, which meant it was one of the darkest places in the city. 

Kyra always made it a point to observe for a time before venturing out. She hadn’t been in this part of the city for over a week, instead spending time at the Carlotta estate on the opposite side of the city. The Carlottas, it turned out, might be a closer link to the person she was looking for than she’d initially realized. After having drinks with one of the estate’s employees, she had plenty of leads in her search. She knew she needed to return to the Mire before following up on any of them, though. She needed to be seen, touch base with her contacts, and get the gossip.

Now, disturbing rumors circulated the Mire her first night back. She needed to find someone who could confirm the stories for her. From her hiding place under the eaves of a long-vacant business, she scanned the street for prospects.

Run-down business fronts lined the broken, pitted sidewalk, most vacant. The few still in business had locked their doors long before darkness fell, and most sported iron bars on the windows. Between the shabby buildings ran alleys of various widths. The denigrated alley system made Slip Mire what it was: a depraved bruise on the geography of the state, forgotten by respectable people. Abstreuse City was already one of the most dangerous cities in the country, and the Slip Mire was the worst Abstreuse had to offer. Darkness of all kinds came with the territory. 

Every shadow moved and whispered; people hunched together to do things they couldn’t do in daylight. Kyra pulled the hood of her sweatshirt up over her spikey, black hair and did a quick check to make sure everything about her person was in order. Her phone, cards, and weapons lay strapped tight against her thigh. She hid them under baggy black sweats, the same shade as her hoodie. It helped her blend into buildings and shadows. The Mirelings only saw her when she wanted them to.

Emerging from the shadows, she started down the dim street, stepping carefully. The dark, indistinct lumps lining the sides of the alley turned out to be sleeping people as often as garbage. The smells of putrefying trash, urine, and human body stench hung in the air, omnipresent, accompanied by the gummy smell of filthy passages, traversed by thousands of second-hand shoes. The air even tasted gritty.

M Street, like many of the larger streets of the Mire, had sufficient illumination to see by, though just barely. A few, widely-spaced streetlights shone from behind rust-colored glass, giving the light in this district a distinctly red hue. While the narrow alleys seldom had any lighting of their own, crimson light from the larger streets spilled in a short distance. It filtered through the steam pouring from grates in the ground. The headlights of passing cars added to the illumination, though their nearly white light was not very common here. 

Two streets over, K Street was the metropolis of the Slip Mire. A busy road with brightly lit, if run-down, businesses that stayed open all night and catered to after-dark patrons. Even a couple of casinos squatted nearby, along with a truck stop down near the highway.

But this was M Street, not K Street. The deals that happened here didn’t want to be illuminated, even by the flashy electric lights of Abstreuse City. M-Streeters were more observant than the masses of blurry-eyed consumers on K Street, though. Their lives hinged on awareness of their surroundings, so Kyra had come here to seek the information she needed.

An alley yawned wide on her left. Larger than most, and completely unlit, it stretched like a black tunnel into oblivion. As Kyra came abreast of it, a tall, slender figure materialized, and she stopped short to avoid colliding with it. She glanced up through her lashes and met the narrow, sneering eyes of the man emerging from the alley. Putting her head down, she moved forward quickly, forestalling conversation. Demitri Santos was a pimp who trolled the Slip Mire most nights. Many of the girls clustered on street corners worked for him. More than once he’d offered Kyra a job. While Kyra was friendly with many of his girls—they’d proven to be one of her most reliable sources of information—Demetri seemed under the impression that Kyra admired the lifestyle. Or perhaps it was just an excuse to approach her. The way Demetri’s eyes followed her made it clear that, even if Kyra was the kind of woman who would turn to a life of prostitution, a prerequisite for the job would be sleeping with Demitri himself. Kyra was fairly traditional in her sexual morals anyway, but Demetri was an STD waiting to happen. 

Shuddering, she moved more quickly down the street. Not so fast as to give him the impression that she feared him. Despite his sleazy nature, Demetri was more an annoyance than a threat. Still, Kyra did her best to ignore the feeling of him undressing her with his eyes as she moved away. It was no wonder all respectable businesses had relocated from M street long ago.

Despite the late hour, M Street became more crowded by the minute. The Slip Mire was largely vacant in the daylight, only growing lively when darkness fell.  

Sauntering unhurriedly along the sidewalk, allowing people to see her long before she approached them, Kyra eventually found herself near a woman she recognized. Tina was a working girl with dyed raven hair, bobbed at her chin. She wore a sequined mini-skirt, a halter-top, and six-inch knock-off stiletto heels. Bright green eye shadow covered her eyes from lid to brow. She smiled when she saw Kyra.

Supra? Where you been hiding, girl? Haven’t seen you in weeks.

Kyra smiled back, purposely dropping her voice to a lower pitch than what it usually had. I been around. Just working down south.

Yeah? Tina bent slightly at the waist to wave at a passing car. Its headlights were off and the dark windows gave no clue as to who was inside. How’s that treatin’ you?

Can’t complain. Kyra leaned back against the filthy brick building. How about you? How’s business?

Tina shrugged. Slow tonight, but it hasn’t been. First time in a week I haven’t been picked up before midnight.

Kyra nodded. So, I been hearing some weird rumors. Something going on down on Warehouse Block tonight?

Oh yeah. Tina waved her hand as though swatting at a fly. Everyone’s been talking about that for days.

What is it?

The cops are raiding one of the Ares’ warehouses.

Kyra frowned. Is that it? Why is that such a big deal?

’Cause the cops think it’s some big surprise. But the gang knows they comin’. Gonna put the surprise on the cops instead, you know?

Tina smirked, but Kyra frowned. As in, they’re going to ambush the cops?

Tina shrugged, eyes, scanning the street as more cars drove by. I s’pose. Or whatever it is they do. They the Sons of Ares, aren’t they? The cops piss ‘em off, they gonna pay for it.

Kyra’s heart began to pound. What Tina was saying fit with other rumors she’d heard, but she hadn’t realized it was this bad. When’s this happening, Tina?

Tina shrugged. Not sure. Just sometime tonight. Prob’ly soon. Tina turned suspicious eyes on Kyra. Why you askin’?

Kyra shrugged. No reason. Just wanted to know what it was all about. Everyone’s buzzing about it but no one would give me a straight answer.

Tina frowned. You wouldn’t go down there tonight, would you Supra? Steer clear of the warehouse district until tomorrow. Them boys’ll be sure to pull they guns. And I don’t mean the ones I play with.

Kyra didn’t know if by ‘them boys’ Tina meant the cops or the gang, but supposed it didn’t matter. She put on her most reassuring smile. I’m not going anywhere near there tonight. I got people to meet elsewhere.

Tina’s eyes twinkled and she gave Kyra a mischievous grin. Got some hot suga-daddy waitin’ for ya?

Kyra chuckled, shaking her head. No, I’m working.

Tina’s smile faded. Working? Around here?

Kyra nodded.

This is all Ares territory. You can’t work around here, Supra. You gonna get yourself into trouble.

Kyra opened her mouth, but just then a woman she didn’t know approached. The woman had cascades of dull, red curls. She wore a thin cotton top that left her shoulders bare, black leather shorts and torn fishnet stockings.

Hey Sadie, Tina murmured, keeping her eyes on Kyra.

Kyra smiled at them both. I can take care of myself. She cleared her throat as her voice caught. Maintaining a lower-than-normal pitch as Supra could be difficult. Some nights she managed it better than others. You girls be safe tonight.

She strode back toward the shadows, wondering how much time she had.

Who was that? Sadie asked as Kyra retreated into the alley.

Supra, Tina replied. Crazy girl. Cool, though. How’s your night been?

The conversation faded as Kyra turned the corner. When she’d turned down several transecting alleys, leaving M Street behind, she fell into a crouch against a dirty brick wall, trying to decide what to do. She’d heard snatches of the rumor all night, but hadn’t been able to put all the pieces together. A cold, nagging feeling had settled in her stomach, though, and she hadn’t wanted to go back to her hotel until she understood the situation. Now that Tina had filled in the blanks, she had to do something. The question was what.

Other bits of information she’d come by talked about hundreds of pigs—a street term for cops—converging on the Carmichael district. The figure was probably exaggerated, but anything more than a dozen cops in one place was a lot. Big Charlie mentioned the gang stock-piling product worth mo’ money ‘n I could count in their warehouses. It hadn’t made any sense to Kyra. Why would the gang stockpile product—she could only assume drugs—when they knew the cops were planning a raid? Shouldn’t they be trying to move their goods to a safer location? Before talking to Tina, the two stories seemed contradictory.

But maybe it wasn’t illegal drugs being stockpiled. The Sons of Ares also traded in guns. If the plan was to ambush dozens of cops...Kyra shivered as the full weight of the implications settled on her. The Carmichael district would become a slaughter field tonight. She passed a hand over her eyes, careful not to disturb her makeup. Could this really be happening? An ambush the police didn’t know about? Surely if a raid was in the works, they would be careful enough that news of it wouldn’t be all over the Slip Mire. Wouldn’t they?

Kyra huffed in frustration. This wasn’t part of the plan. She had to keep her attention focused on finding Manny. He was her priority. The last thing she needed was to end up on the Abstreuse PD’s radar. It flew in the face of all her precautions.

Yet, what if they really didn’t know? She knew and respected too many cops to risk letting such a tragedy happen when she could stop it. 

With a growl, she lunged to her feet. She couldn’t be seen talking to the police. If she’d been around the past few days, she could have worked out a plan to warn them without blowing her cover. If this was going down tonight, she didn’t have long. She might already be too late.

Breaking into a jog, Kyra made her way, mostly by feel, down the black alley. The nearest precinct wasn’t far, but now that she’d decided to go, a sense of urgency spurred her on. She had no idea what she’d do when she got there—simply walking into a well-lit police station was out of the question. She’d just have to play it by ear. 

She pushed herself to go faster. The night cloaked her passage.

Chapter 2

EVERY CHAIR, DESK, and tabletop held a human backside; dark-colored shoes compressed every square inch of floor. Bodies leaned against every white-lacquered brick in the cinderblock wall below the six-foot mark. A few uniformed officers hovered in doorways, trying to listen in before heading out to their beats, but not many. Most of the people in the meeting were detectives dressed in street clothes.

Detective Gabe Nichols could hardly draw breath. He’d arrived early so he could get a chair, knowing the meeting would be packed. Now, sitting in the center of a room, he was beginning to feel claustrophobic. He told himself to focus on Shaun’s presentation.

The raid is going down here, Shaun Thatcher’s massive biceps bulged when he pointed to the map whose image was thrown up onto the wall by an overhead projector. Their precinct had yet to install a system that would hook up to a laptop. In the Carmichael district. We can get in undetected, but these places are stacked floor-to-ceiling with empty crates and other junk. Lots of shadows. Lots of places to hide. Exercise extreme caution.

A baby-faced detective Gabe didn’t know raised his hand. How many subjects do we expect to encounter, Sir?

Shaun ran a thumb and forefinger over his thick black mustache, the other resting calmly on the Glock at his belt. Originally we only thought we’d be dealing with ten to twenty. Recent intel says it’ll be more than double that: upwards of fifty.

A murmur rumbled through the room. Gabe didn’t blame them for being worried. More than fifty armed hostiles? Even after bringing in detectives and SWAT teams from two other cities, this would be a crazy night. And most of these men and women had never worked the Slip Mire before. They had no idea what they were up against.

That’s a lot of scumbags, sir, the detective said.

Shaun nodded. Why do you think we’ve called in so much help? When the intel showed higher numbers, we thought about calling off the raid, but the DEA’s been working on this for a year. We’re going to bust a lot of dealers tonight, people. He returned to the projector and took the map transparency off it, replacing it with a bulleted list. "Obviously the SWAT teams will go in first and get the situation under control. After that, we’ll need all of you to help keep the situation under control. Detectives from other precincts will work under the direction of the 49’s detectives."

Another hand must have gone up in the back because Shaun nodded to something over Gabe’s head.

Sir, some of us run DEA units in our own precincts. Shouldn’t we be given charge over your non-DEA detectives?

Shaun shook his head. Normally that would be the case. If we’d have known how much help we were going to need earlier, we might have been able to prepare you, but there’s no time now. I know some of you know drugs better than, say, my homicide detectives, but you’ve never worked in this part of the city before. The Sons of Ares are one of the most violent gangs in the country. Most of the cases our homicide detectives investigate involve gang violence. I have to put them in charge because they have experience dealing with this gang. I can’t stress enough how much you all have to be on your guard. I’ve lost three officers in the last six months, and have stricter protocols than most other forces in the state combined.

A heavy silence fell as Thatcher’s dark, heavy brows frowned at each detective in turn. Or at least the ones from other precincts. He knew Gabe and the other 49 detectives needed no reminder of the dangers of their part of the city.  

Any other questions? Shaun asked. Good. It’s after ten, now. We move at midnight. Report to your respective commanders by eleven. They’ll give you your assignments. That’s all.

Gabe sighed as people began trying to move. He didn’t bother to get up. There were only two, regular-sized doors. It would be ten minutes at least before he would be able to leave. The murmur of voices alongside the squeals of chairs and tables being pushed around as people exited as quickly and clumsily as humanly possible became a low roar.

Luckily, Shaun was stuck in the center of the room as well. Gabe raised a hand until Shaun acknowledged him with a nod. Where do you need me, Boss? Gabe asked.

Shaun’s lips moved, but Gabe couldn’t hear anything over the din, and there was no reading them under that thick mustache. Gabe pointed to his ear and shook his head to show he couldn’t hear. Shaun nodded and waved him forward.

Moving to the front of the room wasn’t any easier than trying to exit. After several unsuccessful attempts, Gabe shrugged and crawled over the top of tables and chairs. Climbing over the front-most table to stand in front of Shaun was nearly his undoing. His shoelace caught on a chair and he plunged forward. Had he not caught himself at the last moment, he would have landed on his face on the floor. Despite his lucky save, he spent several seconds teetering on one knee and unable to control his facial features.

By the time he untangled his legs, swung around to plant both feet on the floor and stood up, Shaun was watching him critically.

Gabe cleared his throat. Uh...lots of bodies in here tonight.

Shaun nodded and went back to studying his map, brow creased in concentration. Thanks for coming in, Gabe. I know it’s your night off.

Gabe shrugged. No big deal. Sounds like it’s gonna be an intense shift.

Shaun nodded. To say the least. I meant what I said about putting our detectives over those from other precincts. You’ve worked homicide for—what? Two years? Three?

Three.

Shaun nodded. You may have more experience dealing with the Sons of Ares than anybody in the city.

Gabe ran a hand through his short, dark hair. Anywhere else in the country, three years as a detective would be seen as relatively little experience. This was Abstreuse City, though. Few detectives stayed longer than a year. The area was just too dangerous. Sane men—especially those with families—transferred as soon as positions in other cities opened, or they gained enough experience or clout to pull some strings. Gabe, however, had no family, and no particular desire to move on. Even the worst places in the world needed good cops. That may be true, Sir, he said. But I don’t know DEA procedures. At least, not well.

Shaun shook his head. Don’t worry about that. You’ll be working with other DEA operatives. You can rely on them for procedure. Really this won’t be a case of one person in charge of another. Just agencies working together. I need your eyes, Gabe. You’ll see things others won’t.

Gabe nodded. So where do you want me?

Go to the situation room. Report to a detective named Watson.

Gabe quirked a smile. Seriously?

Unfortunately. Did you remember to bring that box of files I wanted?

I did. They’re in the trunk of my car. You want me to get them?

Finally they were the only ones left in the room. Shaun turned and headed for the door. No hurry. Talk to Watson first. Then bring them to my office.

Gabe followed him out. Will do.

An hour later, Gabe jogged toward his dark sedan. The well-lit parking lot was packed with extra vehicles tonight, so Gabe had been forced to park on the far side of the lot, which was much darker than the area near the building. He sighed. The box he’d brought for Shaun was heavy. It would be a long hike back lugging thirty pounds of files.

Using his keyless entry, he popped the trunk in the darkness and leaned in, glad his trunk had a dim orange light in it. A soft, cool wind blew through the lot, ruffling his shirt and bringing the scent of a rank dumpster with it.

Psst!

With a frown, he straightened up, his heart beating faster. Had that been a whisper? Or just an imagined movement? They were deep in the city here, but stray animals—especially cats—were common sights. Gabe was the only human in the parking lot, as far as he could tell. Deciding he’d imagined it, he reached for the box again.

Psst! Hey you! Over here!

Snapping upright, Gabe put a hand on his gun, wondering what awaited him in the shadows. The voice had come from off to his left, but the whisper made it hard to pinpoint. He couldn’t even tell if it was masculine or feminine. Twenty feet from his car, he stopped.

Over here, the harsh whisper came again. By the dumpster.

Gabe’s eyes found the blue, industrial-sized dumpster in a shadowy corner of the lot. Probably what he’d smelled earlier, it was situated at the mouth of a narrow alley that ran to an intersecting street in the distance.

Gabe squinted, trying to make out shapes in the darkness. A silhouette, darker than the surrounding murk, stepped out from behind the dumpster. Small in stature, the figure was either a woman or a youth. Baggy, shapeless clothing gave no hint to the contours beneath. He couldn’t see long hair, either, but when the figure looked toward the precinct building, the distant lights flashed off eyes bluer than he’d ever seen. They were electric, and Gabe wondered