The Killer’s New Obsession by B.B. Hamel
Cam
Kira’s first contact lived in a rundown house right on the edge of West Philly, just across the South Street Bridge. Linc and Omar sat in the back of my truck, and Irene sat up front with me, studiously trying to avoid my gaze like if we locked eyes she’d come all over again.
Gorgeous fucking girl. I smiled to myself as I parked. She’d barely spoken to me since I got her off, and I wasn’t going to push her. I knew she needed time to come back out of her shell, especially after the way she’d lived for the last couple of years, but every time I thought of her body, those pert breasts and hard nipples and that delicious, soaking wet pussy and the way she moved her hips, I knew she wanted more. I knew she’d come begging for it, sooner or later.
I had to be patient. And I could wait, especially for something as good as her.
“The girl’s name is Luiza,” I said. “She’s in one of the profiles, but there’s not much about her.”
“How’s Kira know her?” Linc asked, leaning forward.
“I guess they worked together,” I said. “I didn’t exactly ask.”
He shrugged and sat back. “I’m not sure why you trust that whore so much.” He glanced at Irene. “No offense.”
She made a face. “Do you think I’m a prostitute?” she asked, definitely offended.
Linc opened his mouth, but I spoke up before he could dig an even deeper grave.
“Kira’s been a good source,” I said. “And she gives a shit about these girls. She knows we have their best interests at heart.” I shared a look with Irene, but she didn’t argue. “All we have to do is talk to the girl, get her story, and get out.”
“No problem, boss,” Omar said, looking bored. “I’ll be on guard duty, yeah? Hasn’t been much action since that last hit.”
I nodded at him. “Stay outside then and keep an eye out. Linc and Irene, you’re with me.” I got out of the truck and they followed. Omar leaned against the bed of the truck and nodded as we crossed the street toward the house. Irene caught up with me and spoke softly as Linc trailed behind.
“He doesn’t think I’m a hooker, does he?” she asked.
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “Linc’s just a fucking moron.”
She gave me a look, but we reached the door of the house, and Linc caught up. I knocked, waited a second, and knocked again before someone answered.
Luiza was small, tiny really, with round eyes and chubby cheeks. She wore gray sweatpants and a tight black t-shirt that didn’t leave much to the imagination. “Are you Cam?” she asked.
“That’s right,” I said. “This is Linc and this is Irene. Kira sent us.”
She hugged herself and stepped aside. “Come in quick,” she said.
I stepped into a cramped living room. The furniture was second-hand, but clean, and the TV was decent enough but covered in scratches and dents. The walls were bland white, but the place was spotless, despite the overall sense of shabby decay.
Irene drifted over to a big easy chair and hovered over it. Linc stayed by the door, hands folded in front of him, looking like a big tough guy. Asshole wanted to be intimidating.
“Let’s sit,” I said, and guided Luiza over to the couch.
She was nervous and kept looking to Irene. I figured having a woman around would likely make things better.
“Kira said you can help me,” Luiza said, shifting on the seat. “I don’t know if that’s true. This place, Ronan pays for it. I don’t know where I’d go, if I stopped.” She chewed her lip and looked down at her hands.
“Let’s worry about that later,” I said and Irene shot me an annoyed glare. “Right now, I need to hear your story. Where do you come from, and how’d you end up here?”
Luiza took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “I’m from Ukraine, like Kira,” she said. “From a village near the one she grew up in actually, small world, I guess.” She talked about meeting a man online, then meeting him in person, accepting small gifts of cash, before finally taking a flight over to Turkey, where she got on a boat that carried her in a cramped cargo container with six other girls.
The voyage sounded like a nightmare. Seven women in total, living in cramped, hot conditions, eating whatever the crew tossed in for them, barely surviving. They were all sick and emaciated when they finally arrived in Philadelphia.
“I was so stupid, I thought my real life would begin,” Luiza said, then abruptly put her face in her hands.
“It’s okay,” Irene said softly. “We want to help.”
“Ronan took me then,” she said. “He was nice at first, but he didn’t stay nice.”
“Do you remember names?” I pressed. “Any of the other girls. Men that brought you over. Ports you went through.”
“I think so,” she said, glancing nervously at Linc. “Do you really need all that?” She stared down at her hands and kept nervously tugging at the hem of her shirt.
“Please,” I said.
She rattled off some information and I did my best to write it all down in a tiny notepad I kept in my back pocket. I recognize some of the names from those profiles, though a few of them were new. She gave some phone numbers, but mostly she shook her head when pressed and claimed not to know how to get in touch with them.
“They’re street girls,” she said. “They don’t use phones most of the time.”
I looked at Irene and she shrugged. “I still don’t have a phone,” she said.
Luiza smiled a little. “You spent time out there?”
“Years,” Irene said. “We really do want to help you.”
For one moment, Luiza’s smile got bigger, but then it slowly faded away as she deflated and leaned back against the couch. She crossed her arms and looked down at the floor with a sullen frown, and her entire demeanor suddenly shifted.
“I don’t know what I can do for you,” she said. “I was just some Healy whore.”
“Don’t say that,” Irene said. “We want to hurt them. Get some revenge for you and the other girls they took advantage of.”
“Not for me, you don’t,” Luiza said. “I’m not a part of this.”
“Kira said you wanted to help,” I said, glancing back at Linc, who frowned deeply.
“Yeah, well, maybe Kira doesn’t know as much as she thinks she does.” Luiza glared up at me. “Maybe you people should go.”
I opened my mouth, surprised at the abrupt shift, then turned to Irene. She seemed as taken aback as I felt, but she stood up and held out her hands in a plaintive gesture.
“If you change your mind, get in touch with us,” Irene said. “Talk to Kira.”
“I don’t think I will,” Luiza said. “This was just a mistake, you know? The Healy family doesn’t take this sort of thing lightly. You people should just get out of here right now.”
I felt a suddenly twist of something. It was instinct, undefined, nonspecific, but it was triggered by Luiza’s sudden urgency. Minutes ago she seemed happy to keep talking, maybe a little nervous and uncomfortable, but she wanted to get involved and help out at least.
Suddenly, she’s totally different, like learning that Irene spent time on the streets just like her changed things.
I stood up and grabbed Irene’s wrist. “Let’s go,” I said, tugging her behind me.
“Hurry up,” Luiza snapped, like she was angry.
That sent a chill down my spine.
Linc gave me an odd look as I hustled past him with Irene in tow.
“What’s wrong, boss?” Linc asked. “Why we running? That girl might know more.” He slammed her front door shut behind him as I walked past into the street and toward the truck.
Omar stood up straight as we approached, hand scratching the back of his head.
“You done already?” he called out.
“Get in the truck,” I said, pointing. “Get it started. We’re leaving.”
“Cam,” Irene said. “What the hell’s going on? Why are you rushing out of here like that?”
I hesitated then, and wondered if maybe I was overreacting. Sometimes I paid my gut a little bit too much attention and people thought I could be erratic and crazy. But no, I heard the urgency in her tone, and it happened the second she felt a slight connection to Irene.
That had to mean something.
“I’ll explain later,” I said, pulling her around to the passenger side. Irene stepped up onto the sidewalk and started around behind the bed—
And that was when the van came hurtling around the corner.
Omar said something as he got out of the truck, the stupid bastard. “Get down!” I yelled, and grabbed Irene, pulling her against me. Linc dove behind the red sedan parked behind my truck, but Omar was caught out front.
The gunfire ripped a hole in the air around us. The smell of burning powder, the rattle of bullets on pavement and metal, it wrenched my ears to pieces. Irene screamed beneath me, but I couldn’t hear her, I couldn’t hear anything.
I pushed Irene down into the pavement to make sure she’d stay put before diving for the passenger side. I got the door open and grabbed my gun from the glove compartment. A bullet ripped through the door and narrowly missed my face, lodging itself in the speaker to the right of my ear.
Cursing, I threw myself back and to the side. I came up and returned fire over the hood of the truck. Omar was down, body riddled with holes, bleeding like a gushing river from his chest and mouth and nose and eyes. I shouted for him, the noise lost in the shooting. Three men crouched in the back of the van, the door slid open, and I managed to hit one in the chest. He fell backwards, and the van door slammed shut.
The smell of burning rubber drifted up as the van fishtailed, hit a car on the opposite side of the street, and started away. Linc shot at them, shouting curses the whole time. I turned back to Irene and she stared at me with wild, terrified eyes.
“Are you okay?” I asked, kneeling down next to her.
“I’m fine,” she said, looking down at herself with surprise.
I ran around the truck and crouched down beside Omar. He was still alive, breathing shallowly, gasping and gurgling on his own blood. I took his hand and held it, and his eyes rolled toward me, but he didn’t move. He tried to say something, and it only came out a croak.
“You’re okay,” I said, leaning toward him. “You’re okay, man, you’re okay. You’re going to be okay.” Which was a fucking nasty lie and he knew it. His blood pumped out of him and he’d be gone in a few moments. His eyes were glassy already, but his hand squeezed mine, and I squeezed it back.
He slipped away as Linc knelt down on his other side.
“Omar,” Linc said, shaking the dead man gently. “Wake up, man. You gotta stay awake. Cam, you gotta call someone.”
I dropped Omar’s hand. It fell to his side. “There’s nobody to call,” I said and stood up. “Can’t fix him now.”
“No,” Linc said through his teeth. “Fuck. Omar.” He stood up, gun clutched between his hands.
I grabbed him by the arm. “We have to go,” I said.
“That girl,” he said. “She knew this was going to happen.”
I took a deep breath and stared at him. “Maybe you’re right,” I said. “What do you want to do about it? Go in there and put a bullet in her face?”
“Yeah,” Linc snarled. “I do.”
Sirens blared in the distance.
“Go ahead,” I said, releasing him. “You go kill that girl. Then you can spend the rest of your life in prison, you stupid fuck.”
“She can’t get away with this,” Linc said.
“She won’t. We know where she lives.” I looked over his shoulder to where a pair of terrified eyes peered out at me through the blinds of the first-floor apartment. “We’ll be back.”
Linc helped me drag Omar’s body onto the sidewalk. I crossed his hands over his chest as the sirens got closer. Irene sat in the passenger seat of the truck and stared out the windshield like she’d gone blind.
I drove away with Linc cursing in the back.
Irene’s hand found mine as we drifted through the city and away from Omar’s body.
