Hush Hush Erik Carter (read any book txt) 📖

case. Plus, they might confuse the horn’s beep with the activation of an alarm system, which he didn’t have—added security.

As he crossed the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street, there was the sensation of crossing a border, a boundary, a demarcation line. The further he ventured into the crumbling blacktop, the more degraded it became, the more weeds materialized, more trash. People gave him strange looks from their huddled positions next to steel drums and half-broken lawn chairs.

It occurred to him that he didn’t have a plan. All he had was a word—refined. Who was he going to talk to? What was he going to ask?

His path pulled him toward the building in the back. Something told him that was where the action was.

A man in a bright green sweatshirt leaning against the concrete pillar closest to the building watched him approach. The man’s build was hulking, and the thick, dark beard covering his cheeks was unkempt. Nonetheless, he was a bit cleaner than the people around him, and his shoulders weren’t hunched with shame. He seemed like the right person to query, and when the man gave him a knowing grin, Gavin’s suspicion was confirmed.

“Whatcha looking for, man?” the guy said as Gavin approached.

Gavin took a breath. Steadied himself. The point of no return.

“Refined,” he said.

Gavin expected a knowing nod, maybe a coy grin. Instead, the man’s eyebrows raised. “You’re looking for refined? Here? This is more the place for crude, don’t ya think?”

Gavin hesitated.

Maybe this was a mistake.

But he had to go with it. What choice did he have?

Point of no return indeed.

“You heard me,” he said.

The other man hesitated before he responded. “You know that’s not how it works, right?”

Gavin shrugged, casually, in character—the confident, composed yuppie, wondering why he was here, losing patience with a slob.

The guy stared at him for a moment, gnawed at his chapped lower lip. Traffic whizzed by above. A woman cackled in the distance.

“Give me a sec,” the guy said.

He stepped away, going to the building.

The man disappeared inside. As the door shut behind the man, Gavin saw a flash of the interior—a hallway and artificial lighting. The place looked deserted, and yet it had working electricity. It was then that Gavin understood the humming sound he’d been hearing echoing off the concrete—an electric generator.

Gavin shoved his hands in his pockets. He could feel the eyes of the homeless upon him, more of them, surrounding him. Whispers. Little snickers.

The door squeaked open, and the guy returned and walked past Gavin as he headed to his original position by the concrete post. He motioned with his head toward the building. “Go on in.”

Gavin stepped past him, past more people staring at him, most of them sitting on the ground, knees to their chests, lots of them, more snickering.

He forced himself to take hold of the doorknob, which was sticky in a motor-oil-and-dust sort of way, a human grime sort of way. He twisted, pushed. The hinges squeaked.

He stepped inside.

The interior was a stark contrast to the outside. The place was no five-star hotel, but it was … clean. It looked like the inside of a construction site trailer. Fabricated walls with molding. Indoor/outdoor carpeting. It even smelled clean, like air freshener or Lysol.

As soon as he entered, a man emerged from a door off the hallway. White, forties, pale complexion with dark hair, a prominent Adam’s apple, and eager eyes. His bright blue suit fit too baggy but looked new. The shirt beneath was dark blue and had a shine to it, satin perhaps, unbuttoned, no tie.

He walked within a couple feet of Gavin, smiling. “So you’re looking for some refined?”

Gavin nodded. “That’s right.”

The suited man’s grin went sideways. His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Coming to the source, huh?” He chuckled. “A man of discriminating taste. Well, please forgive the outside ambiance.” He motioned toward the windows, the slum surrounding them visible through the thin drapes. “We usually deliver, as you know.”

“My eyes aren’t so delicate,” Gavin said.

The suited man grinned broader. “My man.” A discerning pause as the man stroked his short beard, still smiling, but his eyes narrowing a bit. “There are only two available. I mean, you didn’t give us any notice.”

“It’s fine.”

Another pause. “Well, come on, then.”

The man put a hand on Gavin’s shoulder, led him down the dark hallway, opened the last door, and motioned for Gavin to step past him into the room, which he did.

A stark office with a cheap desk, befitting the construction site trailer vibe. Lining the walls were simple steel chairs with brown cushions.

Two of the chairs were occupied—women dressed in expensive but quite short, quite revealing dresses. Immaculate hair. Perfect makeup. Every bit of them was ready for a sophisticated cocktail party, their sultry opulence glaringly out of place in the surroundings.

Refined.

Gavin wasn’t being sold refined drugs.

He was being offered high-end prostitution.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Kim Hurley stood a couple feet away, not looking at them, twisting a ring around her pinky, chewing on her lip.

“Talk,” Silence said.

She looped the ring over her finger once more, then glanced up at him. “I, um, followed you here earlier.”

“I know.”

She wasn’t nearly as good at following someone as Mr. Accord.

“I saw that it was Ray Beasley you were talking to here.” She pointed to the townhouse. “You need to know something. He wasn’t involved in Amber’s death.”

Silence’s suspicion was confirmed.

There had been something about Beasley when Silence first met him, something in his demeanor, his appearance that said the man wasn’t connected to Amber’s demise.

But somehow Beasley was involved in the big picture.

Silence turned to Jonah, found his eyes waiting on him.

Jonah then inched closer to Kim. “How do you know that?”

Kim went back to twisting her ring. Her attention drifted away from them again, to Beasley’s townhouse. “I know because I was involved in her death.”

Silence didn’t turn to look at Jonah, but he heard his reaction, an audible gasp.

“Look, C11 is corrupt,” Kim said. “Everybody knows that. But it’s not just another