The Filthy Few: A Steve Nastos Mystery by Richard Cain

refused to love him back. I refused to let him in. I treated him like garbage and now he’s gone. He died trying to deal drugs so I wouldn’t have to do this anymore.”
    Karen wrapped an arm around her. “Here, take a nice warm bath. Between bottles of alcohol I actually managed to wash the bed sheets last night. Have a nice bath then get some sleep. When you wake up we’ll put a plan together. There’s all kinds of places that can help you get off of the drugs and start over.”
    An expression crossed Falconer’s face that Karen read as hope.
    Falconer stood, turned her back and took a sip of water. She rested the glass on a table where condensation dripped down and began to pool. When she turned again it was like she had become a different person. “Have you not heard a thing I said?”
    Karen asked, “Sorry?”
    â€œYou think this is all because of drugs? You think this is
about
drugs?” Her grip tightened on the glass and she lifted it up again.
    Karen became concerned that Falconer was about to throw it at her. “Ann?”
    â€œDo you not place any value upon what I
went
through, what they
did
to me?” Falconer’s fingers clenched around the glass again. She raised her arm and tossed it through the air. It struck the patio door smashing it into a thousand pieces, the water and the glass itself disappearing in the explosion.
    Karen expected a vacuum to suck everything out of the room like in the movies — instead it was just noisy as the fragments littered the floor. Before she could react she heard, “And I’m taking my life back.”
    Karen glanced back to see Falconer gripping her laptop.
    â€œAnn, put it down, I need that for work.” She took a step forward but Falconer moved back and lifted it over her heard.
    â€œYou think you can rewrite my life, tell my story better than I can?”
    Any sympathy she had felt for Falconer was gone. She had crossed an invisible line and was no longer worth the aggravation. Karen lunged at her, kicking her in the stomach and knocking her backward. The laptop fell back with Falconer, who tossed it sideways. After she collapsed to the ground she sprang after it. She raced around to the dining room with Karen following. She stopped near the window and she tossed the computer over the balcony. All Karen could do was watch.
    â€œYou fucking bitch, you drug-addicted fucking psycho!”
    She thought back to the interviews with Falconer, the rapes, the food-for-sex program that the traffickers had used on her before they upgraded to getting her hooked on OxyContin pills. It was the first time it occurred to Karen that it could all be an orchestrated lie, developed or more likely stolen and repeated until she thought it was true. Falconer was just a user who had turned her condo into a brothel and led her on some drug-induced stage show for little more than free food and lodging while she banged her way from one hit to the next.
    Before Karen could lay into her, Falconer ran for the bedroom and locked herself in. Karen banged on the door. “What are you doing in there?”
    â€œGetting my things.”
    If anyone could help her get the bitch out of her life it was Nastos. She picked up her phone and sent him a text.
Nastos, I need your help fast. It’s Ann. Come over now.
    As she was hitting Send, the door swung open and Falconer charged out with a small bag bulging with stuff.
    Karen forgot about the phone and blocked the hall. “You’re not going anywhere.”
    Falconer punched Karen in the face and charged past. Karen recoiled from the strike, feeling hot liquid pouring out of her nose and down the back of her throat. She raised both hands to her nose as she hunched forward and spat out a mouthful of blood that sprayed on the walls, her pants and the floor below. With her airway clear she lunged after Falconer, one hand plugging her nose. Falconer reached for the door and was