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After Miss Katrina Bolder had disappeared at the end of that pivotal school year, life had become even more intolerable. Survival meant fighting, and he’d gotten good at it. In fact, with his reputation for being crazy as a shithouse rat, he’d become so competent with his feet and fists that any chance of living in what one might consider a normal way disappeared. In those days, he’d only stuck around for his mom.
After one too many shit-kickings from the bastard she’d married, the only person who he cared about finally succumbed to breast cancer. Helping her through those last months had been some of the worst moments of his young life. Burying her ended his loyalty to remain. Sixteen and filled with righteous anger, he knew his options were limited.
Unable to stand his home life, he fled and found himself in the city. Nashville drew everyone who had a ruthless background, so he fit in well. For the next few years, he’d joined up with various groups of kids just like him… all searching for something to hang on to.
Finding he had a talent for singing, he taught himself to play the guitar, helped by one of the best performers in the city. He soon found himself taken in by different music groups, all living hard… drugs, booze, women, you name it. Even felt like he belonged, until one night when their drummer OD’d. Flying high on a new product he’d bought cheap from a street stranger, he’d reacted weirdly. The others, all partying themselves, left him in the alley behind the tavern, not really caring that one of theirs was in trouble.
Only Luke stopped to help, calling the ambulance, and then realizing he’d been too late. Personally, he’d seldom used drugs. He preferred being in control, and so drinking became his choice of shame. Once the police had finished wrapping up, he came to understand that the young idiot had paid with his life by buying his latest stash from some jerkoff working his product without a care to what it might cost the buyer.
Next morning, Luke came to and looked around the messed-up, dirty, stinking hole they called a home. Seeing the bodies of the rest of the band – either pitifully drunk or stoned – surrounded by naked girls of every age in the same condition was no different than any other day.
Only this time, he couldn’t shrug it off. Instead, for some strange reason, a memory of green eyes took shape. The soft words of praise… I’m proud of you, Luke filtered into his memory. Those words rang over and over, making the mist of the moment fade, leaving him a clear image of what he’d become.
That’s when he’d dressed, gathered his personal belongings into a garbage bag, slung his guitar case over his shoulder, and walked out.
Over the next few years, he’d worked like a slave, taking on contract work, firefighting, window-cleaning, anything he could get that would fill his bank account with enough money to get him through school.
Living in a broken-down old van, he’d survived on cold canned food, cereal, and apples. Though it hadn’t been easy, it had paid off. Now, at thirty-four, he ran with the good guys… the Federal Bureau of Investigations and hoped he’d finally made Miss Katrina Bolder proud.
Chapter Three
The next morning, Luke cornered Bill in the coffee room and got right to the point. “Fine. I’ll do it. What have you come up with?”
When Bill faced him, complexion pale, and eyes bloodshot, Luke took a step toward him.
“Hey, you okay? What happened?”
“The mayor’s daughter slipped into a coma last night. They don’t know if she’ll make it.”
“Christ… so we have no idea who sold her the drugs.”
“Jesus, Luke. The girl’s family is going through hell, and you’re worried that you can’t get a confession from her?”
“Hey, it’s their job to worry about her health. It’s ours to stop this shit from happening again. I’m sorry the kid got caught up in it, but there are a lot more of them on the streets risking their lives every day. School is out in a couple of weeks, and then it’ll be even crazier. Tell me what you got.”
For the next few days, Luke and his crew set up the sting where they could take him down publicly. They had the newspapers involved, and before he knew it, they’d caught him with a shitload of drugs, and he was out on his ass.
Alone again, feeling like a failure though he knew it was all a prearranged setup, he still had to fight off the hopelessness he experienced when he watched the news or scrolled online. The knowing that no one gave a good-goddamn about him settled in the pit of his stomach and refused to leave. Would it always be this way? Goddammit, would he never catch a break?
Needing to reach out to the one person who cared, he visited his old guitar teacher, Hamilton. That black man could play with the angels… he was that good. And the only person Luke had kept in touch with from the past.
Over the years, when Luke would get in the mood, he’d pull out his guitar and sing until he became hoarse. He had a love for most of the modern country music he heard on the local radio channels. Therefore, he had a good inventory of up-to-date songs he could use in this undercover assignment. Only thing he needed was an invitation to play in the club where they’d decided Annette had been last seen.
He pulled his truck up to the rickety ancient house that Ham still lived in. The old man had almost lost it a few years back but unknown to him, Luke had learned about his troubles and had come to his rescue, taking care of the bigger portion of his mortgage payments so Ham could cover the smaller amount left over. It had taken considerable efforts to get the bank to go along with this subterfuge, but his badge had finally gotten him what he’d demanded.
Because he couldn’t stay away from the nightlife scene, Ham often took a bus downtown and would jam with some of the bands playing the taverns that welcomed him. Luke knew that if anyone could get him a break, his talented friend had the best chance.
When Luke knocked at the door, he called out as well. “Hey old man. Get off your butt and answer the door.”
He knew Ham often ignored people knocking. Told him one time that the only people who come to visit were folks trying to sell him something or his brother’s family checking to see if he’d died yet so they could get his house.
The door opened faster than he’d expected. “You gonna stay out there in the hot sun all day, boy? Get your scrawny white ass in here and give me hug.”
Luke stepped forward and got swung up in arms still strong enough to make him wince. “Hey, man, watch the back.”
“What, you got skinny again? They got you working those undercover assignments that make you go all cold and hard, lose weight, and get meaner than you already are?”
