Echo's Crusade Part 1

Echo's Crusade.

JM Dragon.

Back of the Book.

Echo Radar is outgoing and happy, working as an advertising executive in a reputable firm with a bright future for promotion. Karen Thompson, from a poor unstable background, works at the same advertising firm as Echo. Where Echo prefers a relaxing environment in her free time, Karen helps others though the Greystroke Project, which caters to the very people she had once been - dest.i.tute and down on her luck.

Two women form a bond and look forward to the prospect of a romantic relationship when the disturbing events of a Thanksgiving holiday bring the walls tumbling down around them.

Echo is now on a quest, and with the help of Detective Roan Keating, searching for justice becomes Echo's Crusade.

Acknowledgments.

I'd like to thank Alice, Beth, and Gwen for their constructive and genuine help during the process of the story-it's the minor points, which might appear trivial to some, that can make all the difference.

To my readership on the Internet, thank you for your continued support enabling me to evolve, and at times experiment with my storylines, and thereby allow me to produce stories like Echo's Crusade.

Thank you, Mel, you know all the reasons why-the list is way too long.

Dedication.

To Teresa, for your courage and perseverance against, what seem at times, insurmountable odds. May your crusade in the future be equally as rewarding.

Prologue.

A small neon sign flickered hypnotically to the left side of the finger-marked window where a young woman peered. The third and sixth letter of the sign, which had once proudly announced the Capricorn Motel, refused to light up. It was in complete contrast to the larger and fully functioning sign to the right of the five-star Sapphire Hotel.

The woman watched them for a few seconds before pulling out a pack of cigarettes, lighting one and inhaling the smoke, which immediately induced the nicotine into her body. A poor woman's replacement for drugs, though it might have been cheaper to buy booze. However, booze had the ability to incapacitate her, and in her current profession, that undertaking wasn't conducive to being stoned. A few of her peers on the street differed in judgment. There were times at her bleakest of moments when the temptation called her name, and she'd overridden the appeal-for the time being anyway.

As the woman turned to appraise her inner surroundings, she blew out a swirl of smoke. A king-size bed dominated the room, leaving little s.p.a.ce for anything else. Crammed against the wall were a wicker chair and a low cabinet with two drawers that completed the picture. A nondescript dark green carpet with numerous stains covered the floor. A partially opened door revealed a tiny bathroom with barely enough s.p.a.ce for her bony frame to fit, but it served its purpose.

She stubbed out her cigarette when she heard a knock on the door. She adjusted the skimpy T-shirt that exposed more than it covered, walked the few steps to the door, and opened it while giving a false smile.

The figure in the corridor inclined his head, and she waved him inside. Few words were needed as the client ran sure hands over the full b.r.e.a.s.t.s that looked out of place on the skeletal body of the young woman.

Half an hour later with the sound of the door closing, the room took on the silence of emptiness, much like the woman's eyes that stared down at the bruises appearing just under her skin. This client liked it rough-she was the punching bag.

Touching a tender nipple that she was sure was hanging on by a thread, she pondered how life had taken her down this path. The biggest question of all was how to turn it all around.

What she needed was a miracle. It was a moot point. Long ago, she dismissed the idea of a knight in shining armor uplifting her from this h.e.l.l hole and dropping her gently into a fairytale ending. As she climbed out of the sweat- and blood-spotted sheets with more aches than she'd antic.i.p.ated, she entered the bathroom to wash away the evidence of her last client.

In an hour, she would be free-for a short time anyway-to dream of what could be, but who was she kidding? The stark reality was she wasn't a glamorous prost.i.tute like the one in that movie Pretty Woman. She'd continue and hope one day she'd make enough money to leave the city and move to a small town in the country and live a life of anonymity.

Chapter One.

"You can't save everyone, Karen." An upheld hand stopped the woman's reb.u.t.tal. "And before you say it...I know...I know you have to try." A pet.i.te brunette shook her head at her much taller friend languishing against the doorjamb of her office.

Karen Thompson, the senior executive at the large Austin Advertising Agency, grinned. Her eyes, the shade of bluebells, seemed to shimmer as she stared at her friend intently. "I understand your caution, Echo, and I'll take it under advis.e.m.e.nt. Ever since I told you what I did in my leisure time, you've been threatening to come with me...why not this weekend?"

Echo Radar shut her eyes in horror. She preferred the comfort of her own bed than any crusade of salvation. "No thanks, not this weekend...I have company, remember? What would my folks say if I ran off and left them to minister to the poor and needy? They'd think I'd been taken over by aliens."

Karen chuckled. "Oh, I don't know. Your folks are liberal-minded...they must be if they gave you a name like Echo."

Echo rolled her hazel eyes. "Look, I can't even be straight with them about not being straight, if you know what I mean."

Karen gave her friend a long hard stare. They'd gone over that issue several times in the years they'd been friends. Having begun at the firm at the same time, they'd struck up a mutually beneficial support system, which allowed them to reach the heady heights of senior executives in the agency.

"Your folks seem the decent type to me. They love you and want what's best for their only child. I think if they knew you were beating yourself up over this, they'd want to know and support you. You've never taken a male friend to meet them in the fifteen years since you came here. They must know that you providing them with grandchildren is probably not going to happen."

"They think it's the career and not that I've never had a man in my bed. You're right, though, it's time I came clean. I'm thirty- seven, for G.o.d's sake! You'd think I could stand up to my parent's disapproval by now. What did you say to your parents?"

Karen frowned slightly. "Got to go. Stan wants that new campaign for the Steer Corporation on his desk..." She glanced at her watch. "...like now. Call me if you have problems with your parents, okay? Have a great weekend." She waved and headed as fast as her long legs could take her down the corridor.

As Echo watched her leave, she shook her head at Karen's sudden departure. She wished she hadn't opened up that can of worms. Karen told her once that her parents threw her out of the house with barely the clothes on her back. She ended up on the streets when she was fifteen years old. Echo suspected it was the main reason Karen spent most of her weekends at the Greystoke Project.

"You're one h.e.l.l of a woman, Karen Thompson. I do wonder what your real story is. I suspect you've only told me the edited version." The phone ringing on her desk brought her thoughts back to her work.

Karen parked her ten-year-old Ford in one of the poorer areas of the city before sliding out from behind the wheel and locking it. In the two years that she'd been attending the meetings, there was only one incident of vandalism. Once the people in the neighborhood found out why she was there, no one touched her car except for occasional graffiti written on the door panels or the trunk when it was dirty.

Her well-toned body, clad in worn denims and an equally worn jacket over her sweater, gave her the appearance that wouldn't draw attention to her good fortune in life. Not so were her natural attributes-short sable hair, remarkably flawless skin that her mother used to say was all in the genes, and full lips that readily tugged into a smile. She was a genuinely beautiful woman inside and out with an honest appreciation of life.

Karen could have left it all behind when she moved her life out of the gutter. Instead, she elected to embrace it by making it her mission to help others who were less able to pull themselves out of the spiral of depravation.

She walked a few yards to the disused church where the meetings took place. The homeless, drug-addicted, alcoholic, prost.i.tute, or anyone in between was welcome. Pulling a large solid door open, she slipped inside, and the smell of damp and decay invaded her nostrils. The smell was the one thing she hated about the place.

"Hi, Karen," a guttural voice called as she walked down the narrow s.p.a.ce between a couple of rotting pews.

"Jamie, how are you doing? We haven't seen you in a couple of months." Karen scanned the woman's features. She looked haggard, and Karen suspected that she'd fallen off the wagon again.

The woman with heavily stained teeth and bloodshot eyes grinned. "I figured it was time to start again...I need help...I tried, but it was hard alone out there."

Karen nodded in sympathy. "No problem...we'll try again. Have you seen Layla?"

Both women glanced around, and finally, Karen caught the blond head of the woman who ran the project, Layla Greystoke. She was a woman on a mission. For over twenty years, she'd been a Christian missionary traveling the world working for charitable organizations. Returning to her roots with the help of a meager grant from the government, her project was under way. In the two years since its inception, she'd done so well that there was talk that several wealthy benefactors in La Toura were interested in setting up a trust. That would mean the project and its values would be taken to other cities that needed help.

Karen walked over to the slightly older woman and appraised her friend. Her weathered skin had slightly harsh features that gave an initial impression of unease until she spoke. Her pa.s.sion and compa.s.sion for people generally shone out. Karen smiled as she thought about Layla's nickname-white knight. Earlier travels into the interior of Africa resulted in the name, and it stuck.

Karen was taken aback to see Layla administering to a young woman who couldn't be much more than eighteen. Her body was emaciated and from what she could see, filled with bruises and welts from head to toe. As she approached, the young woman shrank into a ball behind Layla.

Gently disengaging her hands, Layla stood up from her hunched position and smiled at Karen. "Good to see you, Karen. We've a mixed bag today. Would you believe that potential benefactors of the trust have invited me to an impromptu meeting at ten this morning? I can't say no...it's way too important. I kind of accepted knowing you'd show." She lowered her head. "I know it's kind of selfish on my part, but I figured you'd understand the potential."

"Hey, I'm cool. It's great...we have to do anything we can to help those that are struggling. Besides, I'd have called you if I couldn't make it. I was hoping to bring along a friend, but she has other commitments." Karen's mind wandered to Echo as she wondered how her first few hours with her parents had been since she confessed her s.e.xuality.

Layla watched a tender expression cross Karen's features as she spoke of her friend. "Echo, I take it...she's been promising to attend for months now. I'll be happy to meet her one day."

Karen grinned and shrugged. "Yeah, Echo. Her parents are here this weekend, and they only visit here twice a year. It wasn't a good time, maybe next week."

"Maybe...I hope she does visit. We're always in need of good volunteers. We have a new member. Karen, meet Shelby." Layla turned back to the young woman.

Karen smiled at the woman sitting on the cold hard floor who looked like a frightened bag of bones. "Hi, Shelby, I'm Karen." The young woman peered at Karen and didn't speak. After a furtive meeting of their eyes, she returned her gaze to her tightly clutched hands and the knuckles that were turning white.

Layla bent to speak with Shelby for a few moments. Then she took Karen by the arm as they moved away from the girl and looked over their current regulars.

"Jamie's back. I found her slumped in a drunken stupor beside a dumpster outside the building she once managed. The current manager used to work for her and called me. Apparently, when Jamie left us last, she went to have coffee there and told the manager how we'd been helping her. Seems he took pity on her predicament and employed her as a waitress. Unfortunately, she only managed to stay sober a month and he fired her. I guess she hasn't quite made it yet." Layla gazed at the woman and shook her head.

"Jamie will get there, I know it...we just have to be patient," Karen said. As they discussed several others in the room, Karen cast furtive glances at the newest member.

Layla wasn't surprised that Karen was fascinated with Shelby. At one time, she would have felt the same. Just like with all the youngsters on the streets, the girl was another tragic case. She no longer had the luxury of a one-to-one mentorship of the girl. She now had to leave that to others like Karen.

Layla continued, "...that brings me to Shelby. A friend of mine at Scott General called me when another prost.i.tute took her to the emergency room about five hours ago. No insurance, of course, but they patched her up as a favor to me. Apparently, her last client beat the h.e.l.l out of her and didn't even pay her for the apleasure'. Instead, he stole her money. She's in shock, hurting, and generally s.p.a.ced out. Right now, she needs a friend and I can't think of a better role model than you. What do you say...will you help her?"

As Karen looked at the young woman, a glow filled her face. "Sure."

Chapter Two.

Echo stood for a long time gazing silently at her unaware friend's countenance before she stepped forward and touched her shoulder.

Karen's head jerked upwards in surprise, then warm eyes settled on her friend. "Hi, I didn't know you'd be back today. I figured you'd take the rest of the day off to travel to your folks."

"Nope, I decided to try again to persuade you to come with me. It's Thanksgiving, and I know how you love my mom's cooking. I've even managed to hold a ticket on the same flight as me if you decide you'll go with me...please say you'll go," Echo said in an even tone.

The undercurrents of her concern for her friend, however, churned away at her stomach. It had been four months since she'd spent any leisure time with Karen. She knew exactly when that was. It had been when her folks visited her earlier in the year. Karen had been conspicuous in her absence socially in the evenings and she gave the same old excuse-the project.

Karen smiled up at her and she shook her head. "I'm sorry, Echo...I promised someone that they could come over to my place for the holiday. I can't break it." She shrugged and gave her friend an apologetic smile. "Not even for your mom's cooking."

Echo's mind ticked over all the possible scenarios, and it dawned on her that maybe those dark circles under Karen's eyes might be from late nights with a new lover. Irrational jealously chipped away at her mind. "You've never mentioned a new person in your life....don't I get a chance to meet her?"

Karen swiveled her chair around, leaned back, and rocked. She clenched the end of the pencil she was using between her teeth as she pondered what to say next. "It isn't a new person in my life...well, it is, but not the way you might think. This is something I've promised to do, and you know I like to honor my promises. When you get back, we'll have dinner, my treat, okay? I'll spill all the beans then."

Not entirely convinced, Echo nodded. "Sure. By the way, you never asked me if I told my folks the last time they visited."

"Oh, G.o.d, I'm sorry. Did you?"

"No problem, you obviously have other things that are more important on your mind. We'll have that dinner when I get back and talk. You have a great Thanksgiving, and I'll see you on Tuesday." Echo left her friend's office and headed for the elevator.

With a swift movement, Karen was out of her chair, and she caught up with Echo as she jabbed the elevator b.u.t.ton. Her hand went around Echo's arm. "I'm sorry, Echo...truly I am. I've neglected our friendship, and I promise when you get back, I'll change."

c.o.c.king her head, Echo looked at Karen and mentally shook her head. You can't change, Karen, it's who you are, and that's why I adore you. "Hey, no foul...you have your secret and I have mine. It should make for a great dinner date." The door to an empty elevator opened, and Echo made a split-second decision. She craned her neck and planted a soft kiss on Karen's lips. With a saucy wink, she entered the elevator, and the doors closed before Karen came out of her astonished stupor.

In a happy daze, Karen headed back to her office. She needed to tie up some loose ends before leaving for her weekend with Shelby.

Shelby Cameron felt like a caged animal as she walked behind Karen in the woman's comfortable apartment. She existed only in a hostel and the impoverished conditions suited her mental state. For over six years, she'd been on the streets in one way or another.

Her meager belongings consisted of the clothes on her back and a small suitcase of mementos of a life she craved. Now she actually felt like a normal person with a home to go to, even if it was only temporary.

Karen's invitation to spend Thanksgiving at her apartment was a surprise for who'd want a dropout in their home. Her thoughts turned dark. No one wanted to help without getting something in return, and that usually meant using her, then casting her aside.

When they stopped and Karen gestured to a beautifully decorated guest room, Shelby saw the friendly expression on the woman's face. Maybe I'm wrong. Her eyes mooned as she took in the adjoining bathroom. It was larger than the motel rooms she used in her old business. She had always dreamed of this kind of life and a room of her own, even if it was only for a few days.

"Shelby, I'm off to the market. Is there anything I can pick up for you?"

With a look of grat.i.tude, Shelby said, "No."

"Okay then, I'll be back soon. Remember, you shouldn't go out alone."

Shelby heard the door close and looked at her surroundings. Now that she was ensconced in Karen's apartment, she had to consider what price she'd have to pay. Karen hadn't asked her for anything, but she knew it was only a matter of time. Shelby walked over to the window and looked down at the leaf-strewn pavement where several figures laden with packages scurried by. She imagined that they were people bent on enjoying the holiday as a reprieve from their hectic normal lifestyles. The florist shop on the corner caught her attention.

For the first time in what seemed like forever, an unselfish thought invaded her negative thoughts. She headed for the case that held her mediocre money supply and ten minutes later, dressed in the warm clothes Karen had given her, she checked out the flowers in the shop.

A rotund man with a ready smile greeted Shelby. "Can I help you? We have some wonderful displays for table decoration if that's what you need."

Shelby shrugged. "No, I just want a bunch of flowers. I have fifteen dollars." She dug a rough hand into the pocket of the out- of-fashion coat she wore and pulled out a fistful of crumpled bills.

The man blinked rapidly as he forced a smile before looking at the crumpled bills in disdain. "I'm sorry, we don't have anything in that range. The market three blocks down would be the best place for you to go."