Kevin stared at the screen of his laptop, reading through the Cabrini Ghost hashtag. He’d first heard the rumor in the tiny, cramped lobby outside his probation officer’s broom closet of an office. Stories of a vigilante in the South Side intrigued him mostly because he was bored while waiting for his appointment. The idea that Point Sable had its very own urban legend amused him, especially such a melodramatic one. His first night at the shelter, he’d overheard a group of kids talking about the Ghost in hushed, awed tones. They believed the Ghost was real. Kevin had believed they wanted the Ghost to be real. A bedtime story about a boogie man who went after the bad guys, something to offer comfort to people who spent much of their time trying to stay safe from those same bad guys.
But the Ghost wasn’t just some urban legend. She was real, and she’d saved his life.
The person running toward him from the shelter had been Thorpe. Kevin had spent the rest of the night in the emergency room, hoping no one called his family. But of course someone put his name and face together and ratted him out. Olivia tried to get him admitted but he refused, threatening to walk out before he could be stitched up. She’d relented and called a plastic surgeon friend to stitch the cut on his forehead.
In addition to that and other cuts and scrapes, he had more bruises than he could count, plus two broken ribs and a mild concussion. With slow, ginger movements he got up from the desk and made his way to the kitchen. A bottle of prescription pain pills and a bottle of ibuprofen sat on the bar next to a stack of hand towels and an empty glass. He filled the glass with water from the fridge door and swallowed one of the prescription pills, then pulled an ice pack from the freezer and wrapped the towel around it. He held the pack against the middle of his chest, cringing at the cold seeping through the towel to his bare flesh. Studiously avoiding mirrors, he walked to the living room and lay down on the sofa.
He’d lied to the police. As many times as he’d gotten in trouble over the years, he was an old pro at it. The trick to lying, especially to authority figures, was to be brazen about it. Maintain eye contact, have your story together beforehand if at all possible, keep it close to the truth, and never hesitate. That’s what he’d done last night, first with Thorpe, then the cops, and finally his family. None of them had shown any signs of not believing him. He’d left out all mention of the Ghost and his spare phone that she’d run away with, and stressed that he’d been able to see very little once he lost a contact.
How had a lone woman been able to fight off so many attackers? Kevin cursed his lousy vision and wished to hell he still had that phone. He’d give anything to see the video he’d taken of the fight. Dark shapes backlit by yellow haze from sporadic streetlights – that’s all he’d been able to make out when it was happening.
Unable to relax for long, he left the sofa and tossed the ice pack, towel and all, in the kitchen sink. Once settled back at his desk, he logged into his cell phone account and checked the GPS location on the spare. It was turned off, and he was pretty sure he hadn’t done that. He also hadn’t bothered to password protect the damn phone, so she could have easily done it. Cops could still track it but he had no interest in getting them involved, especially when it could mean a charge for filing a false report while already on probation.
The pill was finally kicking in, relieving some of the pain in his chest and everywhere else. Kevin had been in more than his share of fights but this was the worst beating of his life. Throwing a few quick, sloppy punches didn’t prepare a person for fighting off half a dozen or more assailants.
Which brought him back to the question – how had the Ghost been able to do it? Why did she even bother? The questions circled in his head, a pair of songs on repeat.
She’d probably dumped the phone right away. Smashed it to pieces and left it in alley somewhere in Cabrini. But it wouldn’t hurt to try calling. He picked up his little-used landline and punched in the number.
***
The stolen phone in Dani’s pocket buzzed with an incoming call. She ignored it and huddled into a tighter ball. A steady rain pattered outside a broken window of the abandoned building she was crashing in tonight. She pulled her hoodie around her tighter to ward off the damp chill.
Six dollars and change was all she had left. Going back to the shelter was out. She couldn’t risk encountering that guy again. The best thing to do was leave town but she needed money to do that.
No answers presented themselves. Tired and hungry, all she wanted to do was sleep but she was too nervous to do more than doze. She’d already had to leave one building tonight to avoid trouble. If one person could video her, another just as easily could. She couldn’t risk something like that getting posted online.
They would find her. The longer she stayed in Point Sable, the more likely it was that would happen.
Just enough money to get out of town, as far away as possible. Beyond disappearing, she had no plan. No wish, other than a good meal and a safe place to sleep. No hope for the future, other than to never go back to that lab again.
It was true she’d had friends there. No freedom, but a few friends. The traffickers who’d sold her to the lab’s first director also sold three other girls. One of them didn’t survive that psychotic bastard’s experiments. Dani had never learned all the details but Cassidy’s death had a lot to do with that director being replaced with someone more science-oriented and far less bloodthirsty. For the rest of Dani’s time in the lab, she’d stayed close with the other two girls, Angel and Nicole. Even now she missed them.
The phone buzzed again. She really should ditch the damn thing. She’d already turned off the GPS but she was pretty sure cops could still trace it. The owner would have to have reported it stolen, though, and from what she’d read online earlier it didn’t look like he had.
Kevin Moynihan had foolishly neglected to password protect his phone. Dani discovered that when she turned the GPS off. Then she deleted the video, watching only enough to confirm it was the right one. She’d intended to smash the phone and toss the pieces, but instead she took advantage of the data plan and went online. A news item gleefully identified the phone’s owner, a rich playboy doing court-ordered community service at the shelter. There was no mention of anyone but Thorpe coming to his rescue, so either the guy was too embarrassed to have been helped by a woman to admit it, or…or she didn’t know what.
There was no embarrassment in his face those few seconds they’d stood close. Instead, she’d seen shock, gratitude, and something that might have been curiosity.
Now her own curiosity was up and running. Why didn’t he include her presence in his statement to the police? At least report his phone stolen? He’d taken it out of his car so it was likely a spare – maybe that’s why he didn’t mention it. But that didn’t explain why he’d kept her secret.
Dani took the phone out of her pocket and checked the display. Two missed calls and a voice mail.
Toss the phone, or sell it for cash. That’s what she needed to do. She had no business listening to that voice mail.
She did it anyway.
“Uh. I don’t know if you still have this phone. I assume you probably got rid of it. In case you still have it, and are inclined to check my voice mail, I thought I’d leave a message.”
He paused and she could hear him drinking.
“Thank you for what you did last night. I’ve exchanged punches a few times, one on one, but I’ve never had anything like that happen to me.”
Something about his tone suggested that he wasn’t always so formal when speaking. An undercurrent of nervousness that she found intriguing.
“I don’t think it was a routine mugging. I think it was a gang initiation. The way the older one talked…I think they meant to kill me.” He paused for several seconds. “I mean, I don’t know. I could be wrong. But there were six or eight of them.”
Nine. All with weapons. Kicking him while he was curled up in a ball on the pavement was just a start for them. They were part of a crew so dangerous, other bad guys in the South Side were scared of them. She’d seen them do a lot of damage in her short time in Cabrini.
“I do know I’m lucky to just have a couple of broken ribs.”
That was an understatement.
“Anyway, thank you. You probably saved my life, and I wanted to thank you for that. So I hope you still have this phone, and that you listen to this message.”
Something warm and golden like sunshine pierced the worry and exhaustion and hunger that had wrapped around her like a sweltering blanket she couldn’t escape from. It lit her up inside, however briefly, and she let it.
“I saw you at the shelter. I don’t know what your circumstances are, but if you need any help, please let me help you. It’s the least I can do. Just call me back. If you have to leave a message, I promise I will get back to you.”
It was a tempting offer. She could damn sure use a break. But she didn’t want to risk leading anyone from the lab who might be searching for her to an innocent.
“Oh, my name is Kevin, by the way.” He cleared his throat, and she was positive it was a nervous gesture. “Again, thank you. I hope you get back to me. I’d like to thank you in person.”
Message over, Dani put the phone back in her pocket. It was so, so tempting to accept help from this guy. He didn’t have to know anything about her, even her real name. It would get her out of Point Sable much sooner. Depending on just how much help he offered, it might get her to the other side of the world. From what she’d read online, it sounded like the guy had an obscene trust fund.
But was it right to take payment for helping someone? Even though she probably had saved his life – the Dogtown crew killed as easily as other people changed their clothes. It wasn’t like she’d be handing him an invoice. He’d offered any help she might need. He knew she’d been at the shelter, so he knew she had nothing. And while he may not have specifically mentioned money, that’s what he meant.
The rain intensified, coming in hard enough that she had to move further away from the window to keep from getting soaked. She didn’t like being too far from an easy exit, but she didn’t want to spend the night in sodden clothes either.
God, she hated being on the streets again. Kevin’s offer of help stayed in her mind all night.