Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 111860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
A man who’d been sitting on the couch with his back to them stood and turned the music down. “Hi. What can I do for you?”
“Are you Darius Finchem?” she asked.
“Guilty as charged.” The man smiled warmly, his teeth white and straight, long hair in dreads and gathered at the back of his neck.
“Yo, Darius, the cops are here to take you in? What’d you do?” one of the young men called, at which the rest of them laughed and snickered.
Darius walked over to Lennon and Ambrose and shook each of their hands in turn. “Officers. Or wait, detectives, right?”
“Inspector is the title the SFPD uses in place of detective, but yes. What gave us away?” Lennon asked. But she smiled after she said it. The atmosphere in here was anything but hostile.
“You stick out like a sore thumb. But that’s okay. We’re welcoming of everyone at the youth center.” The high-pitched squeal of brakes sounded right outside the door, and Lennon looked over her shoulder to see a bus pulling up out front. Darius leaned around Ambrose and addressed the young people lounging around. “Bus is here,” he said. “Go ahead and start lining up outside.” The men and women all got up and headed to the door, shooting Lennon and Ambrose looks that were only slightly curious as they passed.
“Field trip?” Ambrose asked. Darius moved aside as a couple more teens who had been somewhere in the back of the building headed out the door.
“Yeah,” Darius said, looking at Ambrose and cocking his head. “Mount Tam. We’re going on a hike, and then we’re heading over to Glide Memorial Church for dinner.”
“A hike?” Lennon was honestly surprised to hear that, but pleasantly so. “That’s great. Mount Tam is beautiful.” Lennon had hiked Mount Tamalpais several times with her brother. Amazing trails. Beautiful views. And less than an hour outside the city.
Darius smiled. “My dad always said that nature heals the soul.” He paused, glancing at the line of young people boarding the bus. “Most of these kids are wounded in some way or another, so we take as many field trips as possible. Last week we went to the beach. If nothing else, it exposes them to something other than these streets.”
Ambrose looked away, squinting in a manner that made Lennon think he was holding back some emotion or another. “Your father sounds like a wise man. When did he retire?”
“Just last year. Cancer. But he’s doing well, taking advantage of all that nature he loves so much. Anyway, hey, what can I do for you? I gotta . . .” He gestured toward the bus, only a few kids still left to board.
“Yes, sorry,” Lennon said, pulling out her phone. “Myrna Watts over at the Gilbert House sent us to you. She says hi, by the way. We’re trying to identify a couple of people who were, sadly, part of a crime scene. At least one of them frequented this area.”
She held her phone up to Darius, and he frowned at the photo of Anthony Cruz. “Cruz,” he said. “Yeah. He’s dead?”
“Yes, I’m sorry to say. Is there anything you can tell us about him?”
Darius thought about that. “Me and Pops help serve food at Glide on the regular, and Cruz used to stop by for a meal. But I haven’t seen him in months. Damn, he was a nice dude. What a shame.”
Lennon ran her finger over her screen to the next photo of the older woman, and then the other victims found at the earlier scenes. Darius glanced up at the bus and raised a finger to indicate to the driver he’d just be a minute. Then he studied the photos. After a few moments he shook his head. “I’ve never seen them.”
Lennon swiped to the final picture, the young woman who’d been clutching the teddy bear, even in death. “Aw, shit. Yeah, I know her. She’s a prostitute who works over on Geary.” He met Lennon’s eyes. “Or worked. She’s dead too?”
Lennon nodded even as a small jolt of victory buzzed inside. Another ID. “What’s her name?”
“Cherish. I don’t know her last name or even if that name is real. But it’s what she went by. The women over on Geary will have more information, but you’ll have to pay for it.” His gaze moved upward for a minute. “She might have done gigs over at this basement club called the Cellar. Real sleazy. You can get whatever you want in the back rooms—and I mean whatever you want—but of course, that’s not advertised. You gotta know someone. Several of the girls supplement their income there, but a lot of them consider it too much. And if you know these girls, that’s saying something. The cops used to make busts, but they gave that up.”