No Room For Dead Boys

By Tom Booth

Vanessa is an orphaned woman who turns her life around as she reaches her college graduation. Her future looks bright until she receives an unexpected visit from the police who need her help solving a missing persons case. She doesn't want to help until they reveal that the missing boy is her half-brother. She soon becomes a detective of the past that she has tried so hard to forget, finding her own life in danger as she gets closer to the truth.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pettway Publishing
• Release date: Jul 13, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201785819

Book preview

NO ROOM FOR DEAD BOYS

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TOM BOOTH

TABLE OF CONTENTS

NO ROOM FOR DEAD BOYS

ONE DARK PARTY

Vanessa felt her eyes grow moist as she read over her email from Wayne State University for the fourth time that morning. The black text grew blurry, but she could recite it by heart. Congratulations on your impending graduation from Wayne State University. In order to receive your diploma, please review your plan of work with your designated counselor by May 15. Spring commencement will be on June 30 at 10 AM. Never in her life did Vanessa imagine such a formal, mass produced letter would bring her such joy. She sat at the fountain, nestled in the heart of campus. The morning air was crisp and cool against her wet cheeks, but the sun was bright as it climbed up the sky. It was going to be a beautiful day.

Vanessa smiled as she sat at the gray stone edge of the fountain, listening to the wind whip through the budding trees surrounding her. She had already submitted her plan of work to her counselor, and she reveled in the idea that at any given moment she could receive another life changing email—a seemingly innocuous and nondescript letter that would state that she would be graduating college, she would have a Master’s degree, she would have a future filled with promise, prosperity, and paychecks. Vanessa swiped away at her tears as another gust of wind rushed past the fountain, whipping her long brown hair along with it. Soon, she would be an employed art therapist. Soon she would be able to help children in a way she was never privy to.

Excuse me, miss?

The voice, low pitched and incredibly close, startled Vanessa out of her reverie. She jerked her head up from the letter to find two Detroit police officers standing in front of her, with their hands resting on their belts. The first officer, a large black man with broad shoulders, looked at her with a stoic expression, but his partner, a red haired man with a smaller frame, gave her a polite smile.

Yes? Vanessa murmured, blinking up at them with startled green eyes.

Are you Vanessa Stevens? the large officer asked.

It felt surreal, hearing her name said in such an official manner. Vanessa felt her heart falter within her ribcage as she racked her brain for something—anything—she had ever done that would cause a police officer to know her name.

Yes, I am, she replied. Her voice was shaky and uncertain in the chilly morning air.

A incident at the Methodist Children’s Home has been brought to our attention, and we could use your assistance in the matter, the red haired officer told her, and shifted on the balls of his feet.

Vanessa glanced between the two officers and felt trepidation swell within her stomach. Methodist Children’s Home...she hadn’t heard anyone say those words in five and a half years. She had spent that time trying to eradicate every emotion, ever association she had ever had with those three words. Still, there seemed little point in denying her connection with the orphanage. It seemed the officers were well acquainted with her life story.

I haven’t been back to the orphanage in several years, she shook her head. I’m not sure I’d be of any real use to you.

The black officer cleared his throat—the only indication that he was uncomfortable with the conversation. I’m afraid you are directly linked to this incident, hence why we have tracked you down. We could really use your help.

Vanessa blinked, uncomprehendingly. A montage of memories played in her mind like a movie as she tried to make sense of what the officer said. Her time spent at Methodist had not been happy, but she wasn’t one of the individuals who acted on her anger and disappointment, as so many other children had. She had kept her head down, expectations low. Trish, her roommate during freshman year, took several abnormal psychology classes and was always watching television segments about criminals, and life in prison. Vanessa remembered listening from her desk, hunched over her homework. How many prisoners had made comments about bidding their time, attempting to immerse themselves into the background? She had felt just like them as a child. She remembered perpetually trying to blend with the proverbial curtains.

And now there were two police officers standing in front of