While waiting for Geoff, I checked Kit’s tracker, and a shiver ran down my spine to find it offline. Fuck.
Geoff was prompt, already getting into his car when I backed mine out of the garage. I sped off, checking once in my rearview mirror that he was keeping up.
Come on, Kit. Where the hell are you?
None of my attempts to call him were successful.
When we arrived at the apartment building, EMTs and the police were there, but no fire department. I signaled to Geoff to search the parameters for any sign of Kit as I walked up to one of the police officers, who seemed in charge.
“Excuse me, Officer.” I held out my hand. “I’m Sullivan Matthews, and I own this building.”
“Mr. Matthews, I’m Detective Barone.”
“Is it true someone died?”
“Yes, other people have sustained multiple injuries from the stampede down the stairs when they tried to evacuate. Someone pulled the fire alarm, but there was no fire. The fire department already checked, then left.”
“About the man who died. Do you have an identification for him?” Getting the words out hurt. What if it was my Kit?
“Sure, the man is Nolan Clarke. Mr. Clarke isn’t a stranger to us. He’s a notorious pimp who we’ve been trying to put away for a while now. Looks like he met his unfortunate end today.”
What the hell had Nolan been doing here? Had he learned about what Kit was doing for the sex workers?
“Excuse me a moment, Mr. Matthews, but I’m needed. We’re still processing the scene.”
“I understand.”
The detective left, and I stared at the building, my throat thick with emotions. Seeing how hard Kit had worked to house the sex workers he’d been rescuing, I’d bought the apartment building and had been doing repairs on it. He didn’t know I was the one who owned the building, but none of that had mattered. Seeing the look of joy on his face each time he took a boy away from Nolan and found them somewhere to live was enough for me.
Had his kindness gotten the best of him?
My phone rang, and an unknown number popped up on the screen. I swallowed hard and answered.
“Hello?”
“Sully? Oh, thank god, Sully. I couldn’t remember your number and tried so many times to recall it.”
“Kit?” My heart pounded so hard, like it was going to burst out of my chest.
“Yes. I had to get out of there, Sully. Nolan was there and…and this other man. They know about—”
“Kit, where are you? Who’s phone are you using?”
“I’m at a diner on Ward Avenue. The Blueberry Shack. I didn’t know where else to go, but I think someone may have followed me here.”
No, no, no.
“Hang tight, baby. I’m on my way. Can you hold on to that phone for me?”
“I don’t think so. The lady I borrowed it from is leaving now.”
“Shit. You keep your head down, Kit. I’ll be there.”
Geoff walked toward me, shaking his head.
“I know where he is,” I said. “The Blueberry Shack. Let’s go.”
We found The Blueberry Shack quickly. It was a small brick diner with a red canvas awning around the front. I parked in the parking lot, checked my Glock, and loaded a magazine, then got out of the car.