Bad Moon Rising (25 page)

“Have you any idea—either of you—what that woman did,
not just for the agency, but for this country? Thanks to her, we cracked the
biggest drug ring in the United States, if not the world. And that’s only the
tip of the iceberg. There was gambling and racketeering—”

“And for that she would have gone to prison?” He
glared at her.

“No way. Shana Corvasce would never have seen the
inside of a prison. But we weren’t above twisting her arm a little and making
her believe she was looking at a stretch if it meant she would talk. It didn’t
take much, believe me. Hey, you and Jerry were the masters of arm-twisting, so
don’t look at me so sanctimoniously. You do what you got to do, or have the two
of you become amnesiacs since you left the D.A.’s office?”

She shrugged and poured herself another coffee. “Getting
her off would have been as simple as her declaring self-defense. If anyone
deserved the right to put a bullet in Cortez, it was Corvasce. The stories she
told us of his treatment of her would blow your mind, and even if we had
contemplated the idea that she was making up his perversions to justify her
actions, the proof she gave us obliterated our doubts.

“Unknown even to us, Cortez had established a very
lucrative sideline. Prostitution. Not your typical hooker-call girl kind of
thing. This might better be termed slavery. These girls were special, appealing
to certain tastes. Children.”

She stared down into her coffee as silence filled the
room. “Kids,” she finally continued in a tight voice. “He plucked them from the
streets, from school yards, from mommy’s backyard, smuggled them like stolen
cattle out of the country where they were housed in bordellos throughout Mexico, Columbia, Germany, and the Philippines. They were used for sex and pornography.”

Clearing her throat, she put down her coffee. “When
Shana found out about it, she snapped. Not surprising, considering her own
background.”

Frowning, Anna shook her head, swung her gaze back to
J.D. “Where is she?”

He felt cold suddenly, the impact of what she had told
him slugging him like a fist. “I don’t know.”

“Well, we better find her. Once word is out that she’s
in New Orleans, Shana won’t last twenty-four hours.”

Dawn was just breaking as J.D. pulled his car
to the curb outside his
apartment. Anna and Jerry parked behind him and together they mounted the
steps, J.D. hesitating as he discovered the front door ajar.

Anna stepped around him as she slid her gun from the
holster, cradled it in both hands, and toed back the door.

“FBI,” she shouted as she shouldered her way into the
apartment, gun extended and prepared to fire if necessary. She made a sweep of
the apartment before relaxing and allowing J.D. and Jerry to enter.

“Ah God.” His heart climbing his throat, J.D. groaned
as he appraised what was left of his apartment. The place was in shambles,
furniture overturned, photographs and papers scattered.

Anna holstered her gun. “I’ll phone the agency. Jerry,
you call Killroy.” Turning to J.D., she forced a reassuring smile. “Try to
think positive, Damascus. Maybe Shana wasn’t here.”

“She was here,” he said, looking into her eyes. “The
cat is gone.”

“Oh
my
God. Shana?” Honey’s sunken
eyes widened
in
shock.

“Surprise.” Holly hoisted her purse higher on her
shoulder, causing Puddin’, his head jutting out of the bag, to meow pitifully
and squirm with discomfort. “Got a cup of coffee for an old friend?”

“Yeah. Sure.” Honey stepped back and opened the door,
her gaze still reflecting her bewilderment to find Shana Corvasce on her
threshold.

Shana moved into the cramped, unkempt efficiency
apartment and put down her bag so the cat scrambled for freedom. The air
smelled heavily of incense and the dozen or more burning voodoo candles lent a
yellow glow in the predawn darkness.

“Like, I thought I was hallucinating when I saw you on
the news. I thought, no way. That ain’t Shana with Damascus. No way would you
blow your cover, much less come back to New Orleans.”

Shana needed no reminders of the precarious situation
in which she now found herself. Since the airing of the six o’clock news, she’d
spent the last long, frightening hours loitering in alleyways and looking over
her shoulder, expecting to discover Tyron or one of his bullies prepared to
sweep down on her—or worse. Indeed, Tyron’s threats seemed almost
inconsequential compared to Cortez’s associates, who put a bounty on her head
after her testimony not only royally screwed their drug business but also put
many of them in prison for the rest of their lives.

Shana moved to the kitchen alcove and shifted aside
the cluster of canned soups in the cupboard until she located the coffee. “I’m
looking for Melissa.”

“You and everyone else. Tyron is major pissed. You
know how he gets when one of his girls takes off.”

“I was hoping you might know something. Maybe you saw
her or spoke to her?”

“Nope. Not since a couple of days before she disappeared.”

“She give you any indication that she might be leaving
town?”

“Right. Like she would be stupid enough to risk Tyron
finding out.” Honey moved up beside Shana and leaned against the countertop,
her overly thin arms, bruised from needle marks, crossed over her chest. “So
what were you doing with Damascus?”

Shana’s chest constricted. She wished Honey hadn’t
brought up J.D. Damascus. The ache was too keen each time she recalled the pain
and disillusionment in his eyes when she confessed her identity. She didn’t
want to think about the idiotic little fantasies she had harbored while in his
arms—fantasies that had disintegrated like her heart when he turned away from
her, shadows of his reputation as the by-the-book and
to-hell-with-justification prosecutor he once had been.

But not only that. She may have put his life in
jeopardy as well. The men who had put a price on her head would stop at nothing
to find her, even if it meant nailing Damascus.

“We’re
...
acquainted,” she said. “Let’s leave it at that.”

As Shana filled the coffeemaker with water, she
glanced at Honey, her gaunt face and hollow eyes smudged by deep purple
discolorations. The woman’s entire body trembled.

“You hurting?”

Honey averted her gaze, hugged herself more tightly as
she nodded. “Things are a bit tight right now. Hey, you wouldn’t have a few
bucks on you, would you? I’ll pay you back.”

“I’m busted.”

“Johns have been scarce lately. They take one look at
me and run.”

Shana lay a compassionate hand on Honey’s arm, a
dreaded realization making her heart skip a beat. “You sick, sweetie?”

Her eyes tearing, Honey looked away. “I told you. I’m
hurting.”

“That’s not what I meant. Are you HIV positive, Honey?”

“Is it that obvious?”

Shana swallowed, her voice growing tight as she asked,
“How bad?”

“Full blown. Doc gives me six months.”

“Oh God. I’m so sorry. You’re under treatment, right?”

“What’s the point? If AIDS doesn’t kill me, the heroin
will.”

Honey moved away, raking one hand through her lank
hair. “I called my folks when I found out. You know, just wanted to make peace
just in case...  Wanted to apologize for all the pain and embarrassment I’ve
caused them. Mom hung up on me.”

“I’m sorry.”

She shrugged. “Doesn’t matter.” Forcing a smile, Honey
turned back to face her. “Hey, you look great. Obviously, the straight life
suits you.”

“Life’s good. Or it was.” Shana retrieved a coffee cup
from the cupboard, noting her hands were trembling, the old fears looming and
settling in the pit of her stomach. “I blew it big-time coming back here.”

“So you go back to the agency. They’ll take care of
you, right?”

“I’m not going anywhere until I find Melissa.”

“Guess you heard about Tyra and Cherry.” Shuddering,
Honey sank into a chair. “Maybe I should be grateful the dudes want nothing to
do with me. Girls are freaked. I mean, like, how are we supposed to work when
there’s some creep out there wanting to cut off our heads? The freakin’ cops
are doin’ nothing about it.”

“That’s going to change now.”

“Yeah, like they put away the wrong guy the last time.
So where are you hanging since you’ve been back?”

“Here and there. Melissa’s place occasionally, but
that’s too risky. By now I’m sure that Tyron is aware I’m in town. Melissa’s
would be the first place he’d look for me. I thought.
..
maybe you’d let me crash here for a few days, until I can
think of what to do next.”

“Here?” Honey shrugged, her gaze intense as she regarded
Shana. She hugged herself as she was racked by a fresh onset of pain. “Why not?”
Honey finally replied. “Just like the good old days, huh?”

“Yeah.” Shana glanced around the shabby apartment, the
memories tumbling over her like a load of bricks. “Just like the good old days.”

Tyron was fully aware that
he
was risking
pissing off DiAngelo by coming
to his knockoff Graceland. While DiAngelo tolerated Tyron’s presence at the
Lucky Lady—after all, Tyron’s laying down a smooth ten thousand dollars a month
for the Lady’s penthouse was enough to make even the dead Elvis shake, rattle,
and roll—DiAngelo didn’t care to be associated with Tyron in public, must less
having his top pimp seen visiting his home.

Since Damascus had come a gnat’s ass-hair close to
convicting DiAngelo of racketeering, among other things, he’d become greatly
paranoid of doing anything in this city to raise eyebrows. Not that the chief
of police was going to bust the fat little bastard when he was one of

Tyron’s and DiAngelo’s most esteemed clients—along
with Jack Strong and every other elected official in the state.

Therefore, Tyron had begun to sweat profusely as he
paced the Jungle Room, waiting for DiAngelo to join him. He had convinced
himself that this meeting was necessary, and if the mountain wouldn’t come to
Mohammed, then Mohammed was forced to come to the mountain, although Tyron was
certain that the mountain hadn’t been decorated with life-sized velvet
portraits of Elvis. The King stared down at him from every wall, as did posters
of every movie Presley had ever made—all autographed, of course.

“What the hell are you doing here, Tyron?”

Tyron spun around to find DiAngelo entering the room.

“You seen the news?” Tyron asked.

DiAngelo curled his lip. “I seen it. What about it?”

“Then you seen Shana.”

“Is that what this business is about? Shana Corvasce?”

“She’s back.”

“Stupid bitch.”

“I wanna find her.”

“So find her.”

“I need your help, Mr. DiAngelo.”

“Look, I already told you, Tyron. I ain’t stickin’ my
nose into this Corvasce business.”

“My brother is in prison, thanks to her.”

“I repeat. That
...
ain’t.
..
my
...
problem.”

“She was with Damascus. Somebody on the force has got
to know where she is.”

“Try askin’ Damascus
...
real nicely.” He chuckled.

“I went to his place early this morning. He wasn’t
there and neither was she.”

“Obviously or you wouldn’t be here now, would you?
Which brings me to the matter of your bein’ here at all. What have I told you
about that, Tyron? Hey, haven’t I helped you in the past—stuck out my neck for
you when
I
shouldn’t
have?”

“Just a few phone calls. Maybe put a few of your men
on it.”

“Why should I?”

“Because
...
”

“Because why? She ain’t nothin’ to me.”

“Just because.”

“That ain’t no reason. Because.”

“Think of it this way
...
That bitch has got a price on her head that would put the Lucky Lady in the
black for the next year even after splittin’ it fifty-fifty with me. There’s a
lot of influential men who would be very grateful. They might start lookin’ at
you with new respect.”

DiAngelo’s eyes narrowed as he contemplated. Good. No
better way to pique the squat bastard’s interest than the idea of him rising in
the ranks among the mob bosses who considered him little more than a pissant.

Finally, he nodded. “Maybe you ain’t as stupid as I
thought, Tyron. Maybe you’re on to something. Tell you what. You get out of my
house and I’ll think about it and let you know.”

Hefting himself out of his chair, he started toward
the door, paused, and looked back. “One more thing. If you ever show your face
here again, I’ll cut off your nuts. Understand me, Tyron?”

“Right. Sure, Mr. DiAngelo.”

Tyron stared after DiAngelo as he left the room, the
smile melting from his lips. “Fat prick,” he sneered.

Tyron drove back to the Lucky Lady at breakneck speed,
Snoop Doggy Dogg blasting from ten stereo speakers while a pair of fuzzy
purple dice gyrated from the rearview mirror.

He formulated his plan and stewed as he thought of
DiAngelo’s calling him stupid. Yeah, well, the pudgy little gnome was in for a
surprise. A big one. He was going to realize very soon just how unstupid Tyron
Johnson was.

DiAngelo had greatly underestimated Tyron. Had underestimated
his craftiness and desire to get somewhere in this world. No way was Tyron
Johnson going to split that bounty with anybody. Soon as he got his hands on
Shana Corvasce, he was going to do two things. No, make that three.

First he was going to make that two-faced little bitch
regret the day she was born. She was going to suffer for what she had done.
Big-time suffer. Not just for fingering his brother for his involvement with
Cortez’s prostitution ring, but for breaking Tyron’s heart. He had loved Shana.
Actually loved her. Even promised to let her out of hooking if she would marry
him. But no. Thought herself too good to marry him. Even laughed in his face.
Nobody laughed at Tyron Johnson.

Then, he would enjoy himself a little. Take pleasure
in her body, and when she least expected it,
whack, slam, kapooie.

He would rough her up a bit. Maybe even carve up her
pretty face a little. Make her beg for mercy.

Finally, he would take care of DiAngelo. Pop him right
between the eyes with a bullet. As DiAngelo’s number one man, Tyron would
easily step into DiAngelo’s shoes and take the necessary measures to turn over
Shana and collect the bounty. There wouldn’t be a mob boss in the country who
wouldn’t respect Tyron for his slick method of connivery.

“Stupid, huh?” Tyron cranked the stereo up a few more
decibels. “We’re gonna see about that.”

Chief Killroy’s face resembled raw, red meat as
he crushed out his cigarette
then gulped down cold coffee, his bloodshot eyes furious as he looked at Anna
and J.D., both sitting in chairs before his cluttered desk. Playing on a small
television in the corner of his office was a video of Anna’s earlier press
conference. A horde of reporters shouted questions while Anna remained
unperturbed and matter-of-fact as she discussed the ongoing investigation.