5. Tell

5

TELL

I 'm standing awkwardly in the only precinct in Sanctum still operating at any kind of standard capacity. The upper district of the Hills sure has its benefits.

Even so, I can tell it’s tense. No one is acting normal. No one wants to be here, including the officers who work in the building.

It’s a stop off on my way to my parents’ place, a delay I need to get my head straight and find some executable information about what’s going on with the law enforcement side of Sanctum.

Vinny is a sleazy C.I. persona I use to gather information down in the lower district and a go-between for some of the cops on the ‘nicer’ side of town. He’s a snitch, basically.

Because even the cops in Sanctum are classist.

It makes my hands itch, my blood boil a little.

But not Vinny’s. He’s used to the grind. He wheels and deals and does what he must to get by.

He’s always been a familiar face in both areas of town, so I am hoping to use his reputation, the normalcy of seeing him around, so I can get a bead on what’s going on in law enforcement. City Council’s been closed up, almost invisible.

So I have to approach things from another angle.

On top of that, I need to know if my cop contacts have had interactions with the Ghosts and Marco’s men. Rumor has it that people are switching sides.

The distrust and paranoia are real.

Which has led to several of my covers, faces I have used for years, being outed or cut off.

That’s the problem with being a little mysterious, popping in when I need things. When things get scary, those peripheral contacts are the first to shut down.

Worse, several of the gangs Devonde brought under his umbrella have suspiciously vanished overnight.

“It was that giant, Bull, I swear!”

“Nobody’s seen that freak in weeks, Vinny. And why would one of the scariest thugs in dockside be knocking over a gas station in the Hills?” Sloane shakes his head, rubbing his temples.

“I know what I saw, and dat’s what I’m trying to figure out. It’s like every fool down here’s gone nuts. Fuckin’ bonkers.”

“Yeah, well, crime is at an all-time high. We’re overrun, understaffed. It’s like somebody pulled the plug on our resources. Maybe it’s the same for the street level spooks to run the show, every man for himself, huh?” He raises an eyebrow at me, the implication clear on his face.

“Fuck, Detective, you’re not wrong, there. A guy’s gotta eat.”

“You look like you never eat, Vinny. You should lay off the drugs.”

“You should lay off the booze and donuts. You look like shit.”

“Don’t knock it ’til you try it. Diet keeps me focused .” Sloane slips back into our old interplay, not quite friends, but the Detective always loved to gossip, catch a smoke out by the dumpsters. He loves a dirty joke and looking at women in short skirts. Simple guy.

Now he seems strung out. Nervous.

Cops in Sanctum have always been malleable. Some are dirty. Most are just looking for a little extra on the side, but not anything outright illegal.

Which is why so many of them take side gigs working for rich families, running security, bailing their spoiled kids out of trouble. But so many of those families are bailing on the town, running, or just locking up the gates to their mansions and hiding.

Which leaves those cops to sell their loyalty to whoever they think may come out on top.

“You heard anything about a guy named Vice?” I whisper, getting close.

Sloan visibly flinches, either from the name or my breath, hard to tell.

“Shut the fuck up!” he hisses, dragging me away from his desk and toward the back door.

“You wanna get yourself tossed in a cell and forgotten about?”

“So you have…”

“Half the precinct has done a lot more than ‘hear’ about him,” he mutters.

“But not you, huh?”

“Look. They got families. I understand. I got a kid myself. But no way I’m throwing my lot in with an obvious mobster from who the fuck knows where.”

Huh. Go figure. Sloane’s got a pinch of integrity, after all.

“Why isn’t anybody pushing back?” I ask, offering him a smoke as we lean against the side of the building, trying to put him at ease.

“Look, we're going to have a full government shutdown from the way things are going. Never mind the gangs. There are rumors trickling down from on high that several prominent members of our city have gone bye-bye overnight.”

“Like who?”

“Simmons. Weller. Half the staff from city hall have come around looking for work. Funds are drying up. I’ve heard rumors of the electric and water offices talking about going on strike.”

“Shit … we lose power, there’s gonna be riots.”

“You don’t have to tell me that. Regular folk need paychecks, so most people are still showing up for work, but it’s only a matter of time.”

“Nobody signing checks…”

“Means nobody gets paid.”

“I remember what that’s like… getting paid.” I snicker.

Sloane huffs a laugh, takes a drag. He’s probably worried more about his own paycheck than anyone else, but at least he’s still here trying.

Problem is, no money inevitably leads to civil unrest, desperation of an entire displaced population. Mass exodus. I hold those thoughts back, staying in character.

Vinny’s world view is a little smaller than that.

“Fuckin rich assholes always leaving the rest of us to starve, huh?”

“Something like that. This is more, though. Worse.” Sloane flicks his cigarette away.

“You heard anything out of the Block?” I toss out, wanting to keep him talking.

“Why, you wanna buy a motorcycle all of a sudden?” He sniffs. “I’d stay clear of those thugs if I were you.”

“Nah, just used to get the odd job outta them too, and I ain’t heard anything in a while. Same with the Ghosts. Like I told you, I seen a few of them shaking down regular folk for chump change, but not much else. That’s some scary shit, you know? Where’s the old order, the Sanctum I grew up in?”

“You want my honest advice, Vinny? Get the hell out of Sanctum Harbor before it burns. Half of our squads are just not showing up for work. The mayor needs to call in the National Guard if he knows what’s good for us.”

I bite my tongue, almost remarking that Sanctum has always resisted that sort of government influence. He might be right, though.

My dad should be calling for help.

Or doing anything at all.

“Except…” He cuts off, shaking his head.

“Except what?”

“Nothing. Just a rumor. Probably just dramatic, scare tactic trash.” He looks around like someone might hear us. “Some people are saying Mayor Vanderberg is gone. Or missing or something.”

A little thrill of panic rushes through me. I might hate the guy, but he’s important. And he’s still my father.

More than that, if something happened to him, it could mean something bad happened to my mother, my sister.

“Look, Vinny, take this.” He hands me a fifty, shrugging. “It’s not much, but it’s the last I can offer. Thanks for the intel on the petty thefts. I’ll send some guys to look into what’s bringing the “less desirables” to this side of town. But you shouldn’t bother coming back. Not for a while, maybe at all. Take care of yourself.”

“Hey, you gotta do whatcha gotta do, Boss Man. Appreciate you.” I bump his fist.

Sloane huffs off.

Not as useful as I would have liked, but now I know what state the cops are in. And before things get too hot or the whole system shuts down, I needed to get a link installed in a few of their computers so I can monitor everything moving forward.

Eyes and ears are going to be everything in the days to come. And communication’s already a problem.

Most troublesome, however, is the rumor about my dad.

My next stop weighs on me, an eagerness to get it over with and a nagging urge to avoid it fighting for dominance in my head. I wish there were a better way than going there, but I need to know, and if they are fine, I can get Dad to let me in on what’s happening with the city council.

A little twitch shivers through me as I hop back in my ratty car. I need to go change, become the version of myself that they’ll expect at home.

And hopefully, Dad will have some answers for Tyler Jr.

I’m pulling around the corner when I slow down, catching a glimpse of a mangy looking kid, no more than fourteen, easing out of the shadows between two buildings. “The fuck…?”

Pulling over, I wave him over, rolling down my window.

“Clarence, what are you doing in the hills? This close to a police station, you trying to get nicked?”

“No sir, mister Vinny. I was lookin’ for you. Hadn’t seen you at the dockside, so I know you come up here sometimes…” I know he’s lying, or at least not telling me the whole truth.

“You need a ride? Hop in.”

He flashes the briefest little grin, never a real smile. Kid’s lived on the streets most of his life. A necessity of growing up in a trailer park with a druggie grandmother. So I throw him a bone whenever I can, put him to work so he can buy food.

It’s one of the things that’s always bothered me about Sanctum. The fact that there is some overlord group and a government to boot, both of them allowing a large portion of the population to live in squalor.

Dad calls it the ‘natural order’.

I call it fucked up.

“Why the fuck you lookin’ for me?”

“Um… it’s just, I heard some news, and you know how things are down by the water.”

“You can’t even find a moldy loaf of bread out back of the pub right now, huh?” Vinny can’t coddle Clarence, but I almost flinch at his shameful glare, staring down into the floorboard.

“We have to be careful, the other kids and me. Some of them have gone missing. So we can’t get any work. Mee-maw isn’t doing so good, Mister Vinny. I know it’s not your problem, but?—”

“Hey. I always got a use for some good intel. I always taken good care of you, right?” I smack him in the arm, distracting him from the tears forming in his eyes. “You tell me what you know.”

He swallows hard and nods. “I overheard Billie Dee talking to a stranger, someone not from here, the way they talked.”

“And?”

“And I seen guys like that around, whispering to people. A lot of them saying the same thing.”

“You gonna fill me in, or am I gonna have to slap the shit out of you?”

Clarence chuckles, knowing I’m teasing.

“Someone, whoever they work for, is looking for somebody. Like big time. Like they’ll pay for info, pay to find them.”

“Who they looking for?”

“I don’t know, but it’s not just them. Ever since they showed up, the Drug King’s guys have been whispering about the same thing, like they’re trying to find the person first.”

Drug King.

Clarence doesn’t like to name names, probably doesn’t know Devonde’s actual name, just that he runs the drug gangs.

“How much, and who?” I’m starting to get impatient, a pit forming in my stomach.

“Fifty thousand.”

“Holy shit, kid. Who’s worth that? They trying to find the head of the Block?”

Or one of the Sinful, maybe …

“No. It’s a woman. With dark hair. That’s all I know.”

My chest falls. They’re looking for Hellena…

“That’s it? They didn’t say anything else?”

“Uh, wait, I think they did say something else, like a name, but more like a, you know?—”

“Last name? Title? Job?”

“Yeah! I think they said it was Hara, no, maybe Hair Doll?”

“You mean Herald?”

“Yeah! Like my Uncle.”

“Not Harold, Clarence. Herald, with an ‘a’. It means speaker, or announcer.”

“Oh! Like the newspaper.”

“Yeah, like The Daily Herald .” I sigh, some of it relief that they aren’t looking for Hellena, some of it another feeling, hard to put my finger on. Clarence is bright. Makes me wonder what he could be if he had a better lot in life.

“That’s great news, Clarence. But you promise me you don’t go looking for this person or get involved with the Drug King’s guys or these newcomers. They won’t pay you that money, you hear? A kid like you, they’ll kill you to keep the info and the cash.”

“I … I know.” He looks crestfallen.

“BUT. If you get wind of anything, you leave me a note at the usual spot, right? And I promise you that if I track her down and get that reward, you’ll get a cut, no doubt.”

“Really?”

“Fuck yeah. You deserve it. Now get the fuck out of my car and get home.”

“Yessir, Mister Vinny!” He scrambles for the door.

“Oh, and Clarence?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t go disappearing on me, alright? Stay safe. And get yourself something to eat.” I toss him the fifty Sloane gave me and another twenty.

Clarence’s eyes bug at the cash, and he only hesitates for a second before snatching it and vanishing into an alleyway. Good luck, kiddo.

Heading toward Tyler Jr.’s place gives me time to mull over what I learned.

Vice is looking for Rachelle.

If Devonde wants her too, it must be to make a deal with Vice, to use her as leverage. Or to give him access to Sinful resources. Hard to say.

Either way, Rachelle is the only person any of us know in regard to the Sinful. We need to be careful that no one but us knows where she is and pray that she wakes up soon to tell us what she knows.

I let the squeamish feeling building in my gut guide my character change back into my old self—the glasses, the ponytail, the ill-fitting clothes. Tyler Jr. spends most of his time indoors. A little foundation pales me to the right tone.

The smart car he drives is a piece of junk, but why would he need anything else?

It also adds another layer to the way Dad treats me when I’m him. He thinks anything less than our family’s generational status is cringy and trashy. Elitist garbage.

The mansion is quiet when I arrive, and the automated system is on. The guard house is empty.

Not a good sign.

I dig out my gate opener and let myself in, driving around back.

The house is dark, forlorn. More so than how it always appears to me, a place I never really felt at home in growing up.

My key opens the back door, but I already know what I’m going to find. No guards. No maids.

And no Mom or Shannon. The place is semi-packed up, like they left in a hurry and someone threw some sheets over furniture the next day. Probably one of the service staff.

Why would they not tell me?

Unless it was under duress.

Or my father had them leave to keep them safe. I hope that’s the case.

Heading out back, I open the guest house where my father usually spends most of his time. Again, empty.

“Come on, Dad. What the fuck is going on?” I try his cell, my mom’s. No answer.

Shannon’s too. That girl is on her phone twenty-four, seven. No way she wouldn’t see my call.

And knowing I’d never call unless it was an emergency. Even so, I would think news that the mayor vanished would be all over the news and police scanners.

Maybe they left me out on purpose. An old, hurt-kid part of me winces at that.

“You left home for a reason, Tell,” I coach myself, heading up the stairs.

A slice of light hits the wall as I turn the corner, coming from dad’s office. Someone’s here…

I ease up onto the landing, shuffling quietly to the door to peek inside. There, behind his desk, stuffing papers into a briefcase, shredding others…

“Selena.” I announce softly, opening the door. My dad’s secretary looks up, a wild look in her eyes.

“Fuck. Sorry. Tyler. You’re… still here. Of course you are.” She almost looks guilty as she says it.

“Selena, what's going on?” I don’t have to fake the nervousness in my voice.

“Your father emailed me out of nowhere, telling me to clear everything out of his office, to burn everything of legal importance. He said you’d have backups of everything if they need them.”

“I … well, yeah. But what? Where are Mom and Shannon?” I’m not surprised by the contingency. I am surprised that he was that worried over this.

Something must have happened.

“He sent them out of town two days ago.”

I stare, dumbfounded at her for a moment. “And Dad?”

“No one knows. He didn’t show up for work this morning. No one has heard from him.”

“Did he say anything else?” I let my face go slack, distant.

“Just that I should run. That we all should. And that you shouldn’t go looking for them. Or him.”