Gang Land (The McKays Book 4) Read online

  Gang Land

  A.J. Carella

  PUBLISHED BY:

  A.J. Carella

  Copyright © 2014

  Author’s Note

  This is the last book in the McKay series and before you say goodbye, I would like to say thank you.

  Thank you to you all for choosing to spend your time with the McKays and for all the wonderful feedback you have given me along the way.

  Writing is a scary business. Every time I hit the publish button I worry that it’s not good enough and that you will be disappointed. Instead your response has been overwhelming, your support unfailing, and I love you all for it!

  So thank you. Thank you for sticking with me and I hope you will choose to spend time with me again when I release my new series. (For pre-order details please see the end of the book.)

  AJ x

  One

  The laughter rang in her ears, nothing more than a low rumble, really, but it washed over her completely and filled her head, the sound seeming to contain the very source of all evil. She knew it was futile, that her time on this earth had come to an end, but still she tried to get away, pulling herself as best she could over the dry and broken earth, the leaves that carpeted the ground crackling beneath her.

  She sobbed as she thought of her family and the last time she’d seen them. She’d had yet another fight with her parents and had stormed out of the house, leaving her little sister crying in her wake. What had they even argued about? Something petty, she was sure. She realized now, in her final moments, that what had once seemed incredibly important to her was laughable. Why hadn’t she listened? Listened when her mom had tried to make her see that there was more to life than being a spoiled little rich brat.

  She’d covered a fair bit of ground and still, he just stood and watched—and laughed. He knew she wasn’t going to be able to get far, not after he’d taken the knife and sliced the Achilles on each of her ankles.

  “Now you’re hurting my feelings.”

  She heard the crunch of leaves as he came after her and desperately tried to move faster, sobbing as she scratched at the dirt with her fingers. “Please, please don’t hurt me! My parents are rich, they’ll pay you. Just please don’t hurt me!” she begged, hardly recognizing the voice that came out of her mouth, it was so distorted with terror.

  She felt him grab her by the hips and flip her over onto her back, standing over her with a foot on each side of her waist. She sobbed as his hand reached for his belt buckle and he leered down at her as he undid his pants. Maybe he’ll just rape me and it’ll be over.

  She squeezed her eyes tightly shut as he lifted her dress and prayed harder than she’d prayed in years as he did what he wanted to do to her, biting her lip to stop herself crying out in pain. Time seemed to stand still, dragging out her torment, and it felt like he was on top of her for hours, although she was sure it was just a matter of minutes.

  “Roll over and get to your knees,” he instructed when he was done and she thanked God. He was going to let her go. Using what little strength she had left, she leveraged herself back over onto her stomach and pushed herself onto her elbows. Before she had the chance to try and get to her knees, she felt him grab a handful of her hair and yank her head back, exposing her throat.

  She knew it then. He wouldn’t be letting her go. There would be no joyful reunion with her family, no second chance to become a better person. With tears streaming down her face, she silently said goodbye to her family and told them that she loved them just as the blade sliced across her throat. Darkness came in a matter of seconds and she was dead before he let her drop to the ground.

  Two

  Sam had no idea how long his phone had been ringing before it finally penetrated through to his sleep-deprived brain. With considerable effort, he reached for it and brought it to his ear without opening his eyes.

  “ ‘lo?” he answered, his voice thick with sleep. As he listened, he woke up fully and sat up, swinging his legs to the floor.

  “Where?” He flicked on the bedside lamp, illuminating the room as the voice on the other end of the phone answered his question.

  “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” Sam disconnected the call without another word and checked the clock on the bedside table. No wonder he felt as if he’d only just gone to bed. It was four in the morning and he’d only finally managed to get to bed the night before at just past midnight. Moving quietly so he didn’t wake the rest of the house, he went into the bathroom and freshened up before getting dressed, grabbing the first pair of clean jeans and t-shirt that he could lay his hands on. Leaving his bedroom, he walked down the corridor to where his daughters slept. Quietly pushing open the door, he smiled as he looked at them both sleeping soundly. Ava, the quieter of the two, was curled up on her side with her thumb in her mouth, her blonde, curly hair fanned out on the pillow under her head. Her twin, Andrea, had kicked off her covers and was asleep with her head down at the wrong end. Andrea was the more chaotic of the two and it always made him laugh to think that she was even like it in her sleep.

  Careful not to wake them, he crept into the room, picked up Andrea’s covers and gently placed them back over her before, with a last look, he left the room and closed the door.

  Before leaving the house, he stopped by the kitchen and quickly penned a note to Maria, their live-in help, letting her know he’d been called out. Not a day went by that Sam didn’t say a little prayer of thanks that they’d found her. She had become part of the family in the five years she’d been with them and he honestly didn’t know how they’d cope if she ever left. He chuckled to himself at the ridiculousness of the thought. She loved those girls as much as he did and he knew she’d never leave them.

  He’d met her purely by accident at the local supermarket, not long after his wife had walked out on them without a backward glance. He’d been struggling with his groceries and two screaming six-month-old babies when she’d stepped in and offered to help. Immediately able to calm them, she’d stayed with him until he finished his shopping and had loaded the car. He’d called later that day after the twins had gone to bed to thank her and they’d got to talking. She’d told him that she was a widow and mom to two grown-up kids that had moved away and, until recently, had worked as a secretary in a law firm. That firm had moved to a different city and she’d been left without a job. He hadn’t even had to think about it and had immediately asked her if she’d like to come to work for him and that was that. She’d been with them ever since.

  Leaving the house, he got into his car and his thoughts turned to the phone call that had woken him, his jaw clenching. Usually, the detectives in the department worked on a rotation system and whoever was next in turn got the next call. This was different, though. Every department across the city knew to call him if they came across a scene like the one he was on his way to.

  There had been four victims so far. All young, white rich girls. And all had had their Achilles tendons on both ankles sliced before they were raped and their throats slit from ear to ear. He’d gotten the first case through chance, it had been his turn, but now he didn’t care what he was doing. If another body appeared he wanted to know about it.

  The first hint of the approaching dawn was apparent in the lightening of the sky as he pulled into the car park, the other cruisers and unmarked cars leaving him in no doubt he was in the right place.

  Despite the mild autumn, the nights were chilly and he grabbed his leather jacket from the passenger seat, pulling it on as he closed the car door, looking around until he spotted who he was looking for.

  “Steve,” he called out, walking over to where a group of people stood at the edge of the lot where it bordered a copse of trees.
“What have we got?”

  A man detached himself from the group and walked towards him, meeting him halfway. At first glance, anyone would be forgiven for mistaking him for a tramp. His clothes looked like they hadn’t seen a washing machine for some time, if ever, and the long trench coat he wore over them was spattered with questionable-looking stains. He wore his greasy hair long and tied back in a loose pony tail. On closer inspection, though, his nails were clean and trimmed, his teeth were white and straight and there was an alertness in his eyes that was completely at odds with the rest of him.

  “Sam,” Steve stuck out his hand as he got close. “How’s it going, man?”

  Sam took the hand and gripped it firmly, grinning. “Please tell me you’re still undercover and that you haven’t just given up on personal hygiene.”

  “I decided since I wasn’t having much luck with the ladies as the old me, I’d try a new look. What do you think?” Steve grinned back.

  “I think you need to consider internet dating, my friend. “Anyway,” he became serious once more, “talk to me.”

  “The body was found by an early morning dog walker.” Steve turned and started walking towards the copse of trees and Sam fell into step beside him. “Seems she’d barely opened the car door and the dog ran off and wouldn’t come back. She got the shock of her life when she went to find him.”

  Sam glanced over to where a young woman was sitting in the back of a patrol car with the door open. An officer, obviously trying to comfort her, was crouched down in front of her.

  “She okay?”

  “Yeah. She’s very shaken, but she’ll be fine.”

  “Are we sure it’s the same guy?”

  “See for yourself,” Steve replied as they drew to a stop.

  The area in front of them was lit by overhead lamps put in place by the CSI techs. A cordon had been placed around the body and the immediate surrounding area, and the only people inside the cordon were dressed in full-body, white protective suits. They were busy collecting evidence and seemed oblivious to the woman lying in their midst. The bright lights on her pale, white skin gave her an almost ethereal quality, but that illusion was quickly shattered by the signs of the violence inflicted on her. She was laid on her stomach, with her legs stretched out straight behind her. It wouldn’t be confirmed until he got the report from the medical examiner but, from the dark blood which covered her lower calves and feet, he was sure that he would confirm that her Achilles had been cut on both feet. She was wearing a bright yellow dress and it had been pushed up around her waist, indicating some kind of sexual assault had taken place. Though he couldn’t see her front, he was sure when they turned her over her dress would be soaked with blood from having her throat cut.

  “Dammit. That’s five now in as many months.” Sam let out a sharp breath, his frustration obvious. “Mind if I take the lead on this one?” It was a formality, really, but he had to ask.

  “It’s yours. I only got it as I was nearby when the call came in and volunteered to hold the fort until reinforcements got here.” He shrugged. “I’m probably gonna get my ass reamed for it, anyway. I am supposed to be undercover, after all.”

  “Well, you’d better get yourself out of here, then.” He shook his hand once more. “Be safe out there, man. The girls would be devastated if anything happened to their ‘Uncle’ Steve.”

  He watched as Steve shuffled off before turning his attention back to the scene in front of him.

  “We got any I.D.?” he called out to one of the Tyvek suit clad techs.

  The tech walked over and handed him a plastic evidence pouch containing a driver’s license. “Have we confirmed this is the girl?” he asked, looking at the picture showing a very pretty, blonde teenager smiling for the camera.

  Without a word, the tech walked over to the body and gently lifted her so that her face was visible. Despite her injuries, there was no doubt it was the same girl. “You got anything so far? Don’t suppose the perp left his I.D. behind, too, did he?”

  “No, nothing. Same as all the other scenes, clean as a whistle.”

  That came as no surprise. He’d never left anything behind so far, so it was wishful thinking that he would this time, either. “Keep looking. This guy’s got to make a mistake some time.”

  “We will.”

  Sam nodded his thanks, and without another word turned and walked back to the parking lot. The officer who had been comforting the witness saw him coming and walked over.

  “She’s a bit calmer now. Do you want me to take her back to the station and take her statement there?”

  “Yes, please. I take it she didn’t see anything?”

  “No. From what she’s said, the parking lot was empty when she got here and she didn’t see anyone around, so it looks like he was long gone by then.”

  “Okay. Well, if she remembers anything else, let me know.” Sam looked around. “Where’s your sergeant?”

  “Over there.” The officer pointed to where a man stood, talking to the canine unit officer with his back to him.

  “Thanks.” Sam crossed the lot. “Hey, Joe.” He spoke as he approached.

  “Hey, Sam. Saw you arrive. You got this one, too?” Joe had been a fixture of the department for as long as Sam could remember and had been his training officer when he’d first gone on patrol as a rookie. He hadn’t changed much, apart from the fact that the bushy mustache was now streaked with gray although his hair still looked suspiciously black.

  “Yep. It’s the same as the others, so it makes sense. Look, I’m going to do the death message. Can I leave you to supervise things here?”

  “No problem, but are you sure you don’t want me to get one of the patrol guys to do it?”

  “No, I’ll do it. Thanks, Joe.”

  It was almost completely light as he got back into his car. No matter what anyone said, this was the hardest part of the job. Going to someone’s home and telling them that a loved one was dead killed a little part of you each time. And yet, Sam took a certain amount of pride in the fact that in his entire career he had never let anyone else do it for him. The main reason was because he thought of it as his duty; he owed the families that much. But partly, it was also to gauge reactions to the news. Whilst it was not an exact science, Sam could usually tell if someone had something to hide, though he didn’t expect that to be the case this time.

  Pulling out of the parking lot, he couldn’t help but hope that they’d get lucky and get something from the crime scene this time. In each of the other cases, by the time they’d gotten to the bodies, the scenes had already been contaminated. This time, though, the woman had called it in, stayed in her car and Steve had been there within minutes. It was their best hope, so far, of finding something this maniac might have left behind and without it, who knew how many more bodies there would be before they stopped him?

  Three

  Drake watched as the girl on the couch opposite him pushed the needle into her vein and pushed the plunger down, injecting the heroin, and tried not to let the revulsion show on his face. He couldn’t take his eyes off her as her face went slack and her eyes glassed over. Letting out a sigh, she let her head fall back until it rested on the back of the couch and stayed there, the needle still hanging out of her arm.

  It was something he’d seen many times before but it still intrigued him. He’d never tried drugs, had never seen the attraction. Even as a naïve fourteen-year-old runaway, alone on the streets of LA, he’d managed to avoid being sucked into that world, somehow instinctively knowing that it would be the end of his hopes and dreams. And he did have hopes and dreams, despite where his life had led him.

  The house he was in was the headquarters of the local chapter of MS-13. It had long been abandoned before they took it over and now it was used as their base of operations. Deep in the heart of their territory, they were safe here from attacks from the other gangs that roamed the city. MS-13 had taken on a life of its own since its conception in the 1980s as a way of protect
ing Salvadoran immigrants from the other gangs in the city. Nowadays, its tentacles had spread around the world and members were renowned for their use of violence and their strict code.

  “Drake, you like her or what? Help yourself, man. She’ll never know,” a deep voice boomed from the doorway behind him.

  Drake let out a short laugh. “No, man, you know I wouldn’t touch that.” He turned and smiled. Juan didn’t look at all like you would expect a gang leader to look. In fact, if you saw him on the street, you wouldn’t look twice. He was older, for a start, in his early forties, and he didn’t have the shaved head and tattoo-covered body that seemed to be the standard look for most gang members. Instead, he had a head full of dark brown hair that he wore neatly combed, and the tattoos that he did have were covered up by his clothes.

  “Yeah, I know. You’re a strange one.” He chuckled and clapped Drake on the shoulder before coming to stand in front of him. “Have you seen Angel around?”

  Angel was Juan’s number two, his right hand man. And Drake despised him. The feeling was mutual, though, and had been since the first time Juan had introduced them. He’d first met Juan about six months after he’d arrived in LA. In that six months, he’d toughened up, gotten street smart, but he was still a kid.

  He’d been making his way to the homeless shelter early to try and get a spot when he’d seen an SUV with blacked-out windows slow down across the street and the back window lower, revealing the muzzle of a gun. The gun was aimed at a man walking ahead of him, head down, fiddling with his cell, and he knew he was completely unaware of the danger. He’d reacted instinctively, knocking him to the ground with a rugby tackle just as the gun fired. The car had sped off leaving him lying on top of a stranger, wondering what on earth he’d been thinking. The stranger had been Juan and he’d glared at him, his face thunderous.