Page 44 of Dark Side of the Cloth (The Righteous 1)
With the little bit of information that Mabel had provided, Dean had easily tracked down his prey. He sat in the Hummer parked a few alleys down from the shithole Jeremy was currently calling home. According to the receptionist working the homeless shelter, he’d left his bed a week ago, and they had to fill the spot with someone that really wanted it.
A bad move for Jeremy, but a good situation for him.
“Hey Sexy, schematics and heat signatures of building 6969.”
Dean smirked at the address number. He’d definitely preferred to be in the ‘69’ position than the one he was in now. He adjusted his pants at the thought of Yasmine screaming his name as she came on his face but quickly shook his head. He needed it in the game, not daydreaming about a sweet pink pussy.
“There are nine heat signatures spread out over the three floors,” Sexy said. “There is structural deterioration in several key areas, and there are no cameras in the vicinity.”
“Are there any phones with video capability?”
“Thirty-three phones in a two-block radius have video capability.”
“Shut them down.” Dean adjusted the lens over his eye. “Color map and send to my helmet.” He got out of the truck and closed the door. “Initialize lockdown, code word Ginger.”
“Lockdown initialized. Mapping has been sent.”
Dean walked to the end of the alley and peered around the corner. There was a man standing on the same side of the street smoking a cigarette and whacking his cell off the palm on his hand.
I guess the cameras were shut off.
Dean jogged across the road, avoiding the street lights and sticking to the shadows—his black fatigues would be hard to spot. Not that there were very many people around to spot him. He picked up the pace and ran down the alley that had definitely seen its share of piss. The entire length stank of ammonia even with the cold snap. The end of the alley spit him out on a rundown residential street. Fortunately, the houses all faced the other direction and had tall fences, like even the builder didn’t want the houses to be subjected to the things that went on one road over.
A homeless person’s tent set-up slowed Dean’s pace. There was one heat signature inside, but they seemed to be sleeping the way their forms were curled up, so he silently slipped by them. Dean gave the back door a gentle pull and was pleasantly surprised to find it unlocked. It made a bit of a squeal as he opened it enough to fit, but as he inspected the dots indicating people, no one seemed to be heading his way.
He took a moment to look around the stairwell. The stench of body odor, old grime, and rotting food was plentiful while graffiti covered every wall. On the ground, Dean saw dirt, cardboard, and a slue of random items. He couldn’t take a step without crushing some form of garbage.
Pulling the knife from his vest, he spun it in his hand as he picked the least obstructed way to enter. He knew that Jeremy was in the building, but he had no idea which one of the dots was his target.
Deciding to check the left first, he headed straight for the person sitting in the hall on some cardboard. As he drew closer, it wasn’t difficult to determine that this woman wasn’t going to notice him. The female was alive, but her eyes stared blankly at the wall, and a band was wrapped around her arm, with a needle sticking out of her vein.
Dean stared down at the young woman and shook his head.
He’d seen a lot of this. His father loved keeping the women that serviced his guards and workers very compliant. Force-feeding them drugs was an easy way to make them dependant and coming back for more, even if the men treated them like a slab of meat to abuse.
Moving on, Dean looked into the next room, and there was a man lying on his side facing the door, but his face was too old, and the beard was a giveaway that he was not who Dean was seeking.
Room after room was the same, people high and staring blindly at nothing or rocking back and forth as they came down off their high. Either way, none of these individuals were able to think clearly enough to remember him being there. So, Dean jogged up the stairs to the top floor, where the last heat signature in the building was located.
Unlike the other people he’d found so far, this individual was moving around. He could hear the distinct sounds of mumbling and shuffling of feet. Dean leaned in closer to the entranceway and saw this person’s shadow on the hallway wall.
“What have I done? What have I done?” a male voice moaned.
Dean watched and waited until this person's shadow stopped moving and peered around the doorway into the room. There Jeremy was in the same black hoodie and ripped jeans, smacking himself on the head. “What have I done? Oh god, what have I done?”
Quickly assessing the space, Dean spotted the gun Jeremy had used to rob Mabel. It was lying on an old sleeping bag. Unfortunately, Dean had no way of knowing if it still had rounds in it from earlier or if Jeremey had reloaded the weapon.
Jeremy stopped pacing, and Dean held his position. When he turned his back to Dean, he grabbed the rotting frame around the window and continued ranting. “What have I done?”
Like a shadow of death, Dean stepped into the room and again stood perfectly still. Jeremy’s fist slammed into the wall beside the window, causing small bits of rotted drywall to scatter around the floor, and Dean pounced. He grabbed Jeremy around the waist and lifted his thin frame easily, slamming him onto the sleeping bag.
Jeremy grunted with the explosive impact as Dean quickly pinned him with his knee on his chest and one boot on his arm. His wide, bloodshot eyes stared up at Dean and then glanced toward the gun.
“Do it, and I will slit your throat before you can even get a grip on the gun.” Jeremy’s hand shook, but he laid it flat on the floor. “Good choice. Considering you’ve made some very terrible ones this evening.”
Jeremy’s eyes blinked, and then his mouth dropped open a little. “You’re the-the p-priest,” Jeremy stuttered. “But you look like a super-soldier in a movie.”
“What I am is the man that is holding your life in my hands. What you choose to do next is going to determine if you live or die tonight. Do you understand me?” Jeremy licked his lips and nodded. “Very good. Let me be clear with you, so we don’t have any mixed signals. I want to kill you.” The body under his knee shook a little harder. “And if it weren’t for the sweet old woman you stabbed and robbed tonight, we would be having a very different conversation right now.”
