hikes through the woods... He taught me how to see things differently, to look at the colors and light. He made everything seem beautiful, magical.” She’d only been five or six, but she still remembered those days vividly—the enchantment, the wonder, the joy. They’d been the best days of her life.
“That camera...it meant the world to me.” It was her prized possession, her only link to her beloved father, and the only thing that had kept her sane. “Anyhow, I got it in my head to photograph an abandoned warehouse near Orleans Street. It had the most amazing historic details. And it...affected me somehow, how sad and ruined it was. I wanted to capture it on film.
“It was dumb. The C.D. gang owned the streets around there. The City of the Dead. They ran the heroin trade back then. Tommy tried to convince me not to do it. So did Haley and Nadine. But I wouldn’t listen. I thought I’d be safe if I went early enough in the day.
“I went the next afternoon. Nadine and Haley insisted on coming with me, even though they didn’t approve. But we’d gotten a late start. Haley had found a stray cat.” Even then Haley had been a nurturer, trying to rescue everyone in sight.
“And Tommy?” Parker asked, his voice unsteady.
“He wasn’t around when we woke up. I didn’t know where he’d gone. When we got to the warehouse, Haley and Nadine refused to go inside. They were smart.” Brynn stared, unseeing, at her glass, a cold pit forming around her heart. How many times had she wished she could relive that moment and listen to them this time? “I thought I’d be okay.”
She’d never been more wrong.
She drained her glass of vodka, set it on the coffee table and pushed it aside. Then she pulled the blanket closer around her in a useless attempt to warm up. “I started taking pictures. It was a big place, the walls all covered with gang tags.” Another warning she’d ignored. “I kept going in deeper, where there wasn’t much light. The shadows brought out the textures in the walls, little fissures and defects that the sunlight hid....”
Just like with people. Their real nature emerged in the dark.
Shivering, she pulled her mind back on track. “Then I heard voices. I thought it was just a drug deal. I should have turned around.” Another fatal mistake.
“The next room had a big window along one wall, the glass all busted out. It looked out at an inner courtyard. The voices were coming from there, so I went to see. A man was kneeling on the ground. He had his back to me, and I could see that his hands were tied. He was crying.”
She closed her eyes, trying to block out the memory of that horrific, high-pitched sound. A man reduced to his most primitive instinct, whimpering and pleading for his life.
“I couldn’t see his face, but he looked older, middle-aged. He had a bald spot, and he was wearing a blue plaid shirt and slacks. Not the kind of clothes someone younger would wear.”
“He was forty-five.” Parker sounded numb. “His name was Allen Chambers. He was a heroin addict from Dumfries, Virginia. His hands weren’t bound when they found him, but there were bruises on his wrists.”
Brynn nodded. Of course Parker would know the details. The dead man had been found near his brother’s body. “There were a couple of gang members with him. Two, for sure, but I only saw one man’s face. He was facing in my direction. He was Caucasian, with tattoos on his cheeks and neck. Crosses. He was in his early twenties, I’d guess. I couldn’t see the other person from where I stood, just his weapon. There was a pillar blocking my view. But they both had guns.”
She clasped her hands and curled forward, the terror of it flooding back. “I was so scared. I couldn’t move. I was just...frozen. I don’t know how long I stood there, probably only seconds, but it felt like hours. The kneeling man kept sobbing and begging for them to let him live.
“And then...they shot him. I’m not sure who fired the gun. I thought it was the other man, the one I couldn’t see, but it happened so fast I couldn’t tell. There was this enormous bang and the man flew back.”
She hugged her arms and rocked, trying to block out the images. The blood. The dead man’s vacant eyes. The dreadful silence of