Blood Storm Retribution by Ken Gardner

Author:Ken Gardner [Gardner, Ken]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-08-28T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 24

It was dark enough that I had to turn on the beater’s headlights, and it wasn’t even noon. The sky was disturbing enough to bring fear to the stoutest hearts. But when adding the river reflecting the blood red hues, it was enough to cause an unholy panic within. I tried to ignore the scene with no success.

At the intersection where Broadway turned from south to north by Kiener Plaza Park, I noticed a tall woman standing on the sidewalk by the park entrance. She looked my way and started mildly waving at shoulder height, as if she didn’t want anybody to know.

Although I figured she was a street pro, I stopped at the sign and waved her over, laying my gun in my lap and covering it with my jacket. Instead of coming to the driver's side, she crossed the car and got in the passenger seat.

“Detective Thomas, I am Kennedy Brown, Chief of Staff for Senator Jon Staeger. The senator requests your presence at Busch Stadium.” She looked forward like I’d follow instructions without question.

She was wrong.

“Requests my presence? This isn’t Philly, kid. And how do I know you’re telling the truth?” The red flags weren’t at full staff, just waving mildly.

She looked at me as if she didn’t believe I’d question her. “Detective Thomas, why would I jump into your car and make up something like this?”

“Any number of reasons. You’re homeless and need a ride to the closest shelter. Maybe a street pro looking for another John. How about a dumb kid playing a prank? Take your pick.”

The conversation was already annoying, and I was about to drag and drop her out the beater.

She sighed like a spoiled princess. “How would I know your name and occupation?”

“The internet is an amazing place. Some I.D. would help.”

She heaved a deep sigh and pointed at her forehead. The chip stuck out just enough to see, if you’re looking for it.

“No loyalty tattoo?” I snarked while pulling the trigger of the chip scanner.

I never got over the feeling of using a scanner to see a person’s life. All I could think of was her future. And it looked hellishly bright. Yet, something inside told me to trust her, but not too much. So, I decided to play her game but keep my cards, and gun, close.

“I haven’t decided what to get. A falcon for the Sovereign or a shark for me being in politics,” she said.

I couldn’t tell if she was joking.

The dash computer confirmed her identity. I accelerated toward the stadium.

Parking near the crime scene, I put my gun in my holster before I slipped on my jacket and clipped the senator’s machine on my badge and hit the button. As if knowing where the cameras were, she led me into the stadium through a slight maze of crumpled steel and broken seats.

The smell of hot dogs and popcorn floated around in my memory while we walked from the visiting bullpen, around the outfield warning track where

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