Hard to Kill - Debt Collector 4 (A Jack Winchester Thriller) Read online

“Maybe.”

  He stared at her and tried to remember what they were like. He’d often wondered what had become of her. At times he’d regretted choosing Gafino over her. But he didn’t know any better back then. The crime syndicate had their claws deep inside him. Only those who had been a part of that lifestyle would understand. It was like coming out of prison after thirty years. People became institutionalized, and while logically they knew that freedom was not found behind bars, they got used to it. It became an inmate’s world. Crime was like syrup that stuck to your fingers. Once in, it was very hard to get out without having it affect who you were. Looking at Billy was like looking at a younger version of himself. He was stubborn, didn’t want to listen and thought he could figure it all out by himself. He respected that.

  “Jack,” she paused. “Don’t let anything happen to her.”

  “You have my word.”

  He could see the pain in her eyes, the thought of Ruby being hurt far outweighed what she had gone through.

  Jack left the hospital that day feeling as though he had just come out of surgery. His head was in a fog, his mind preoccupied with Theresa and his chest felt heavy from the weight of being told that he had a daughter.

  He glanced down at the photo Theresa had given him, trying to see the resemblance. The thought of harm coming to her was worse than any guilt he carried. He couldn’t walk away. He wouldn’t do it. Eddie had been there for him. How many times had he helped him at the expense of risking his own life? Jack felt a sense of anger in the pit of his stomach.

  Right then his phone rang. He looked down and saw that it was Judith calling.

  Shit! He had completely forgotten. They were meant to meet over an hour ago.

  He tapped accept and put the phone up to his ear.

  “I’m sorry, something came up.”

  She wanted to know if they could reschedule for the evening. He agreed to meet her just after five. He hung up and looked up to see the taxi still waiting there. Jamaican music blared out of the speakers and Jamaar was grinning while smoking what looked like a joint. He didn’t want to even think about how much he owed him. He slipped in and gave him the address in Covington.

  “You know this is going to cost you a pretty packet.”

  Jack glanced at the meter.

  “Looks like it already has.”

  As the taxi rumbled away, he leaned back and looked out the window before glancing at the photo of his daughter Ruby.

  Chapter Eleven

  Isabel had arrived the previous evening. For the better part of the morning she had been down at the main New Orleans police station relaying information on Jack Winchester. In many ways it was kind of useless as they seemed overwhelmed by the approaching storm and short-handed on officers.

  “Look, I’m not asking you to dedicate an entire task force to this. I just need to have your men keep an eye out for this man.”

  She handed him a sheet of paper with Jack Winchester’s mug shot. The overweight officer groaned as he looked at it. Everything about her exchange with him felt as though she was pulling teeth. Anyone would have thought she was asking him to do a hundred jumping jacks. She glanced at his belly that hung over his utility belt and shook her head.

  “Shaun, run off a few copies of this and hand them out to some of the guys. Also send over the details to those on patrol.” He looked back at Isabel. “Happy?”

  “Thank you,” she said before turning and walking over to the coffee machine. She pulled out the murky glass carafe and sloshed around what remained in the bottom. She brought it up to her nostrils and winced at the smell. How long had that been there? Did they ever change it? One look inside the filter and the green mold on top of the coffee grounds answered that.

  “They haven’t changed it in over a month. There is a coffee store half a block down from us now. They all go there.”

  Isabel nodded to the woman officer jabbing at a keyboard. She checked her phone to see if Cooper had managed to get the address of Theresa Rizzo. There was nothing. She shot him a quick text telling him to speed it up. At the rate he was going Jack would be long gone. She didn’t expect him to stick around — if he was even in New Orleans.

  It was possible that Detective Banfield’s death had been a mob hit. His involvement in bringing down the Sicilian cartel would have sent shock waves throughout the crime syndicate families. Payback would have been a given. It wouldn’t have been the first time that the FBI had been called in to clean up after the mob had taken out officers and lawyers involved in putting away key figures. That was the danger that came with the job.

  Her phone vibrated and she glanced down. It was Cooper.

  Sorry, I had to go in to get medically cleared. They won’t clear me for field work. Can you believe that? Here’s the address for her workplace. Call me when you get a chance. I’m trying to fight them on this but Simon is being an asshole.

  She couldn’t help feel a smidgen of guilt over their decision. Ultimately it did come down to whether or not they felt he was physically ready to deal with fieldwork again. It wasn’t just about whether he could hold a gun, or fight his way out of a situation. They also tested you mentally to make sure you wouldn’t fly off the handle.

  Isabel didn’t wait around a minute longer.

  Inside the hotel it was busy. For someone who had ties to the mob, the work didn’t exactly fit what she imagined a former stripper would do. She figured it would have been a dilapidated old motel with bed bugs and roaches crawling across the floor. Theresa had certainly gone up in the world.

  She waited patiently behind a group of tourists from Ireland. They had obviously been drinking already. All of them were holding go-cups and they all smelled to high heaven of liquor.

  “I want to be upgraded to a better suite. That suite you have us in is shit. There are wires hanging out of the air conditioning unit and water on the floor. This is supposed to be a five-star hotel. I hope you are going to give us a better deal. Perhaps you can take some money off our bill?”

  Isabel tapped her foot hoping this wasn’t going to take too long.

  “We are very sorry. We’ll have you changed over to another room immediately.”

  “Yes, yes you will.”

  She stifled a laugh. It never ceased to amaze her how rude people could be when it came to travel. It was as if they expected to be treated like gold. Sure, they needed to be moved but they could have dropped the attitude. Since walking in she hadn’t seen anything that would suggest this place wasn’t up to standard. The floors were gleaming, there was a cleaner polishing the buttons on the elevator. There was free coffee and WiFi, comfy chairs to sit in and the small store on the first floor had a sign that read: FREE toothbrushes and toothpaste, just in case you forgot.

  Even as the clerk tried his best to deescalate the situation by promising to have them changed over to another room, they still didn’t let up. Filled with liquid courage, they were starting to become belligerent. Isabel slipped up beside them and pulled out her badge.

  “I need a word with you.”

  The clerk gestured to her to come around the side.

  “What the hell? We’ve been waiting here ages and you just barge in front of the line.”

  “Take a seat and cool off,” Isabel said as she came around the side. They cursed at her but she just ignored it. The clerk let her through a locked side door and she followed him into the back room. He looked nervous.

  “What’s this about?”

  “I’m trying to track down an employee of yours by the name of Theresa Rizzo.”

  “You are the second person that has been in asking about her. What is this all about?”

  “Second?”

  Outside the door the guests were getting even louder. One of them had decided he wanted his money back. They weren’t going to stay another minute in the hotel and demanded an immediate refund.

  “Yeah,” he replied, meanwhile casting a nervous glance around her.

  “Male, female?”
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  “Male.”

  “Can you describe him?”

  “About six foot, well built, dark hair, white.”

  It could have been any number of people. Isabel fished inside her suit jacket and pulled out a folded piece of paper with a mug shot of Jack. She handed it to him.

  “Is this the guy?”

  “That’s him. Yeah, without a doubt.”

  “When was he here?”

  “Maybe a few hours ago.”

  Isabel felt her pulse race a little.

  “What did he want?”

  “The same thing as you. He wanted to know where Theresa was. I told him she was over at New Orleans East Hospital.”

  She frowned. “Why?”

  “I haven’t a clue. We received a phone call from a friend of hers to say she had an accident.”

  “Do you have a pen?”

  The man looked around the room and pulled out a pen from a desk drawer. Isabel turned over the mug shot and scribbled her cell number on it.

  “Call me if he shows up again.”

  The clerk nodded and she made her way back out. By now the Irish tourists looked as if they were going to destroy some of the property if they didn’t get their money back. Isabel was about to leave when she walked up to the loudest guy and told him to show some manners.

  “This guy works hard. Probably holds down two jobs. Yelling isn’t going to get you that refund any quicker. So take a seat. Let him do his job and you can be on your way.”

  “Get lost.”

  He shoved Isabel as he tried to make his way back to the counter. Isabel grabbed a hold of his arm and twisted it around until the guy dropped to one knee in agony. The other guy and two women who were with him started protesting.

  “You are hurting him. Let him go.”

  “Back off.”

  “Now that wasn’t smart. You know it’s an offense to assault an FBI agent?”

  His eyes bulged. She let him go. “Now go take a seat.”

  As he shuffled back to his seat, his wife, or girlfriend tried to console him. That only angered him even more. He glared at Isabel as she walked out. Some things never changed. It had been a while since she had to get all up in someone’s face. It reminded her of her days on the force. She couldn’t count the number of nights she was called out to a drunken brawl. Those were some of the highlights of her career. She had the battle scars to show for it too. A scar on the right of her abdomen and a scar behind her ear were all a reminder of why she didn’t miss it.

  Chapter Twelve

  Fairland trailer park was located on the east side of Covington. The taxi pulled in and Jack handed Jamaar some cash to cover the trip.

  “You want me to stick around, mon?”

  “No, I should be good now.”

  “Well, you know where I am if you need me. Here’s my card.”

  He fumbled around inside the glove compartment and retrieved a business card. Jack looked at it. It was for some strip joint in the area. On the back was his number with the words Have a nice day scribbled across the top.

  Jack frowned, looked at Jamaar and he started laughing. “Day or night, I don’t sleep much. Give me a shout.”

  Jack shook his hand and the odd-looking taxi pulled away playing reggae music. A couple of neighbors sat in armchairs out front drinking beer. They eyed him skeptically, he gave a nod but they didn’t return it. A few steps and he knocked on a door. He could hear someone inside rushing around. He backed up and it creaked open.

  Ruby looked out.

  “Carla, it’s some man.”

  Whoever was caring for her must have not heard, as they never responded. Jack looked at her and smiled. “You must be Ruby?”

  “That’s right. How did you know that?”

  “Magic.”

  “Show us a trick.”

  He crouched down in front of her and he did the old pull your finger off gimmick. She grinned and shook her head.

  “You’re just folding over your finger.”

  “Smart kid.”

  She stepped out and took a seat on the concrete steps that led up into the trailer. From inside the smell of cooked sausages wafted out.

  “Who’s Carla?”

  “She’s a friend of my mom. Have you seen my mom?”

  “Yeah. Yeah I have.”

  “Where is she?”

  “She’s visiting family but she told me to let you know that she will be back in a couple of days.”

  “Do you want to see my bike?”

  “Um,” he looked at the door again wondering if this Carla girl was going to come out. “Maybe in a minute. I just want to check in on your friend.”

  Jack knocked a few more times on the door but there was no answer.

  “She’s sleeping,” Ruby replied. Jack pulled on the door handle and went inside. He cast his gaze over the state of the place. It was a shithole. Dishes lined the counter and filled the sink. The floor looked as if it hadn’t seen a vacuum cleaner and the curtains were yellow from smoke. As he walked back through the cramped living room area and passed the kitchen into the place where the beds were, he saw a young girl with dark hair laid out on a bed with a glass pipe beside her. He picked it up and smelled it. It was meth.

  Ruby came running up from behind him.

  “Hey, why don’t you go play outside for a bit? I just want to have a word with Carla.”

  Ruby nodded and shot off. He couldn’t believe Theresa would let her live in this state. It was disgusting. These weren’t conditions fit for any child. How could anyone allow this? He leaned over the girl and shook her a little. She groaned and muttered something that sounded as if she was telling Ruby to go away. Jack gave her another shake and her eyelids popped open. They widened fast and she let out a scream. He immediately put his hand over her mouth. She bit it and shoved him back. Like someone being jolted with an electrical shock, she bolted upright and was about to dart down the narrow hallway when Jack caught her leg and she tripped. She gasped as she landed hard against the floor.

  When he finally managed to get control of her and she promised not to scream, he released his hand from her mouth.

  “I’m a friend of Theresa’s. Jack Winchester.”

  “Jack?” Her eyes scanned the floor as if trying to process or remember what Theresa might have told her. “I don’t know you.”

  “Well, phone her and you’ll see.”

  He took a seat on the bed and waited as Carla made the call. He made sure she wasn’t going to dash off by closing the door that separated the corridor from the bedroom. A few minutes later she hung up.

  “The baby daddy.”

  “She’s not exactly a baby anymore.”

  Carla folded her arms across her chest and leaned back against the wall of the trailer. She blew out her cheeks then reached for a packet of cigarettes on the side table.

  “You think getting high when you’re supposed to be looking after a kid is smart?”

  “She’s old enough to take care of herself. I just said to Theresa I would keep an eye on her.”

  She blew out a puff of smoke and Jack fanned the air with his hand. “You want one?”

  He shook his head. “Trying to give them up.” He looked around. “If this is her room, where’s Ruby’s?”

  She grinned. “This isn’t Theresa’s place. Oh no, she lives down on Wellington Drive. This is Billy’s. He lets me stay here.”

  That was a relief.

  “What number?”

  “Sixty-two.”

  Jack rose up from the bed and walked back out into the living room area. The whole place made him feel down. He sighed heavily. “How long have you been on that stuff?”

  “Two years.”

  He looked at her face. She was beginning to show signs of meth usage. Her teeth were decaying, she was suffering from hair loss and her skin had a few open sores. It was sick to look at. Why anyone would pump their body with that crap was incomprehensible. Jack picked up a pipe that was on a side table.
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br />   “You do know there’s chemicals and shit in this,” he said.

  She lifted up a cigarette between her two yellowed fingers. “So? There is in this, and it doesn’t make me feel as half as good as meth does.” She gave a toothy grin and took a seat at the table. She was wearing a skimpy stained top with no bra, and a pair of cut-off jean shorts. On the table in front of her was an ashtray that hadn’t been emptied in god knows when. She picked up a cup that looked as if it had cold coffee in it and downed it. He grimaced.

  “Listen, I can look after Ruby for now.”

  “You can?” She almost sounded relieved. Probably wanted to get back to her pipe. Within seconds she was up and gathering together Ruby’s bag. It was a backpack that was partially open. Inside were coloring books and a soft bear. Jack shook his head at the thought of her life. Kids had no idea. All they wanted was to be loved. He knew by the way Theresa talked about her, that she cared deeply for her daughter. But it was Billy that worried him.

  Carla handed off keys to him.

  “It’s a red brick house, number sixty-two.”

  She tapped her cigarette again on the side table and ash scattered. He was going to tell her to use an ashtray but he didn’t bother.

  “Thanks.”

  He let himself out. Outside Ruby was riding around on a red bike that had tassels that hung off the handles. She honked the horn and smiled, completely oblivious to the dismal life that surrounded her. In some ways that was a good thing.

  “You ready to go?”

  Her eyes darted to Jack and then Carla.

  “He’s going to take you home. Go on now.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Sixty-two Wellington Drive was three blocks from the trailer park. Along the way Jack couldn’t take his eyes off Ruby. The knowledge that she was his child hadn’t fully sunk in. He already regretted most of his life choices but now he felt a wave of shame. He wasn’t father material. With the FBI breathing down his neck, he knew he wouldn’t be able to stay in Louisiana long. Life on the road for a kid was no life. Besides, he’d been out of her life for eight years. She probably thought Billy was her father. He’d forgotten to ask Theresa about that.