Rachel’s shoulders sagged. “That just reinforces what the police think. The Rangers are white. It was one of their members.”
“No,” he hissed. “This guy didn’t have no flag.”
Rachel sat up straighter and frowned. “He wasn’t wearing gang colors?”
“No. If he been a Ranger, he would’ve been proud of the hit and woulda been showing ’em off.”
Rachel thought about that for a moment. What he said made sense. “Then who do you think he was?”
“Ain’t got no idea. But like I said, I been thinkin’. The popo ain’t questioned why they so many deaths of gang members in Lake City all of a sudden. They say that just no-goods killin’ each other. What if somebody who ain’t in a gang’d like to see the two go head-to-head in a war? So he starts killin’ Vipers and Rangers, hoping that’ll happen.”
Rachel’s eyes widened. “A vigilante? You think there’s one on the loose in Lake City?”
“Now you catchin’ on.”
“But why are you telling me this? Why not go to the police?”
A laugh rumbled in the man’s throat. “I can’t do that ’cause we don’t talk to no popo. They wish we’d all disappear from the face of the earth anyway. I expect they figures if we kill each other off it’ll just make their job easier.”
Rachel’s breath caught in her throat. A vigilante? She’d never thought of that. “What do you want me to do?”
He leaned closer, and she could feel him pressing against the back of the bench. “I’m tired of the killin’. I wants you to write a story ’bout what I told you. Then see what happens.”
Rachel shook her head. “I can’t do that just because it’s what you believe. I need some kind of evidence.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw an arm appear next to her shoulder. A piece of paper dangled from long brown fingers before it fluttered to the bench beside her. “This here the name of a cop on the take and where he meets up with a Ranger for his payoff. He’ll be there at midnight tomorrow night. Check this out first. See if I’m tellin’ the truth about this. Then maybe you’ll believe me about the vigilante.”
Rachel reached for the paper. “Okay. How do I get in touch with you if this lead proves true?”
The man laughed. “Don’t worry. I be watchin’, and I gonna be callin’ you ’cause there’s somethin’ I want out of this.”
Goose bumps raced up Rachel’s arm. “And what’s that?”
“I wants you to help me get outta town. Start a new life somewheres else.” He was silent for a moment. “I know the gang life ain’t for me no more. I wish things would change, but I done decided ain’t nothin’ gonna change where I live ’til Jesus comes back.”
A gasp escaped Rachel’s throat. “Are you a believer?”
He exhaled a long breath. “My mama taught me lots of stuff. Don’t think she’s too proud of me now, though.”
His words felt like a kick in the stomach. She knew what it was like to disappoint your mother. “If you’re really serious, I’ll help you whether or not the story pans out.”
“I knowed you was a good woman. I be talkin’ to you.”
“Wait! Don’t go!” she said. However she sensed no one stood behind her any longer. She counted to ten before she slowly turned and stared at the tree line behind the bench. Again she was alone in a deserted park.
She grabbed the piece of paper, stuck it in her pocket and ran toward her car. Once inside she locked the door and leaned her head against the steering wheel. Tonight she’d been more scared than at any other time since she had begun working at the newspaper.
She straightened in the seat, pulled the paper from her pocket and stared at it. Walters and Branson. Another street corner on the run-down south side of town.
Her hand shook and she jammed the paper back into her pocket. She had no idea what would happen tomorrow night, but she did know one thing. She’d be there to witness whatever took place.
TWO
Matt Franklin glanced at his watch as he walked down the hallway at the Lake City Youth Center. 1:00 a.m.? Where had the time gone? When he’d dropped by after the Bible study, he’d only meant to stay a few minutes, but he’d soon lost himself in planning next week’s activities for the young boys he mentored. A light in the staff break room caught his attention and he stopped at the door.
David Foreman, the center’s director, sat at the round table in the middle of the room. He sipped from a cup of coffee but looked up and motioned for Matt to enter. “What are you doing here so late? You had a busy day with this latest murder. You must be dead on your feet.”
Matt walked to the table and pulled out the chair across from David. “I didn’t mean to stay so long. I thought you’d already left. I heard you go out the back door several hours ago.”
David nodded toward the counter where the coffeepot sat. “I wanted some coffee and there wasn’t any left in the canister. I went down the street to that all-night market and got some. I knew the staff wouldn’t like it if they didn’t get their fix tomorrow morning.”
Matt couldn’t suppress the yawn that overwhelmed him. He tried to cover his mouth. “Sorry about that. I guess I’m more tired than I thought. But I’m used to missing sleep. It seems to go with my job.”
“You need to take care of yourself, Matt.” David regarded him for a moment. “Don’t you have a life outside of the police department and the Center? I appreciate your help, but you spend most of your off-duty hours here. Isn’t there some nice woman that you could take out every once in a while?”
Matt chuckled. “I haven’t found one yet. Maybe I will.” He swallowed before he dared voice what he’d wanted to ask David for several days. “I have met an interesting woman, though. Rachel Long. I think you know her.”
David’s eyebrows arched. “Rachel? She’s my goddaughter. I’ve been a friend of her mother’s since we were children. In fact, I helped Rachel get her job at the Beacon. So you’re interested in Rachel?”
Matt straightened in his chair and clasped his hands on top of the table. “I don’t know. She just seems nice. I thought she might come to the Bible study tonight, but she didn’t show up.”
David shook his head. “Sounds like her. She hasn’t gone to church much since she got out from under her mother’s influence. I guess it’s a kind of rebellion for being made to go all the time when she was younger.” David paused and ran his index finger around the rim of the coffee cup. “All she thinks about is work and how she wants to make a name for herself at the paper.”
“I’ve noticed she’s really dedicated to her job.”
David chuckled. “Dedicated is hardly the word for it. Obsessed describes it better.”
Although Matt had talked to Rachel several times, he’d never suspected she might be so driven to succeed. “But why?”
“It has to do with her family.”
Matt nodded. “Oh, I see.”
If there was anything he understood, it was how a family could influence the way a person approached life. He should know. His life was the perfect example of what a dysfunctional family could do to a person. Thankfully, he’d escaped them and found God in the process.
Matt pushed back from the table and stood. “Maybe she’ll get active in the church.”
David picked up the cup and took a sip. As he put it down, he smiled at Matt. “Or make new friends there that will occupy