I hang back with Charlie, as Arnold and Ariel hit the stairs.
“How cheap you looking?” Charlie asks, moving over to the light switch.
“Very. I’m just now back to work, so extremely low on funds.”
“I do some volunteering at the rec center,” Charlie says, flipping out the lights and herding me toward the stairs. “I’ve heard the kids talk about after-hours phones.”
“After-hours?”
“After closing hours. You’ll find a guy or two lurking outside the mobile carriers. They have old phones with new SIM cards. Now, I mean old phones. Flip phones, that kind of thing.”
I nod.
“Lotta kids pick those up. Can use them for a month or two, at ten, twenty bucks a pop.”
I’m thinking if I’m a teenage girl embarking on a secret life with limited funds, that’s an excellent price point.
I drop my voice in a pseudo whisper. “Do I ask for Marco or just look for the guy in the trench coat?”
Charlie grins at me. I like his beard. It fits nicely with his broad face, hulking build. He would make an excellent teddy bear.
“Little thing like you needs to be careful asking around. Some of these kids are in the life for sure.”
I’m assuming he means gangbangers. Which makes sense. Additional funding for illegal activities.
“I’m not threatening,” I assure him. “Any kid looking to build his rep is hardly going to bother with a scrawny middle-aged white woman. Frankly, it’d be too embarrassing.”
Charlie grins again. “Not so wrong, little lady. Not so wrong.”
“You work at the rec center?” I ask as we exit the church. He locks up behind us.
“Volunteer three afternoons a week. Try to do my part to set these boys straight. I’ve lived here most of my life. Seen the good, the bad, the ugly. I know what they’re going through.”
“Ever meet Angelique Badeau?”
“The missing girl?” Charlie stops, looks at me. “Why are you asking about her?”
“I heard about the case. It’s made me curious.”
“I saw her around the center,” Charlie says slowly. “But can’t say that I know more than that.”
“Could I stop by, look around?”
“Don’t see why not. Best time is after school hours or on the weekend. If you’re looking to see the kids.”
Charlie studies me. Maybe he hopes I’m looking to mentor girls or volunteer my time or talk responsible drinking with teens. He’s not sure about my questions, however, some internal radar clearly pinging to life. Liars are very good at spotting other liars. He doesn’t push it, though. Maybe the next time we meet.
We’re outside the church now, standing on a broad avenue. I have eight blocks between here and Stoney’s to cover. The first of those streets is bathed in streetlights but quickly fades into a tunnel of black. I stick my hands in my jacket pockets, square my shoulders. Now or never.
“I can walk with you,” Charlie offers.
I shake my head. “I’m good. I don’t have far to go, and I have a few tricks up my sleeve.”
Charlie is clearly torn on the subject. But we’ve just met and part of being an addict is learning the importance of boundaries. His job is to take care of him, just like my job is to take care of me. We will both be the better for it.
He finally shrugs, heading in the opposite direction. I let him go first, watching his bulk shuffle into the dark. Then I set off at a much more rapid pace.
The first block is empty of pedestrians. Just cars passing by, some slowing down, some speeding up, all of which I pointedly ignore. Off the lighted boulevard now, onto a smaller, darker residential street. No shadows peel off from the dark. No footsteps echo around me.
I keep hustling, block by block. Two streets from my destination I spot four figures ahead. They are clumped near a tree at the corner of an overgrown lot. Definitely men, but other than that it’s too dark to tell. Their attention is on one another, not seeming to notice me as I cross to the other side to put more distance between us.
There is something so furtive about the group that the hairs rise instinctively on the back of my neck. One of them has his pants down around his knees. I don’t want to see more, yet I can’t look away.
Then I spy it, faintly illuminated by a distant porchlight. A needle jammed into the inside of the man’s thigh. Followed by an ecstatic look on the man’s face. His companions shift closer, one already reaching for the needle, anticipating his turn.
I pass on by. They never notice. Just five addicts sharing a brief moment that four of them will never remember.
I make it to my apartment. Close the door behind me. And remembering to leave my socks on, finally crash exhausted into bed.
* * *
—
The low rumble of an engine. I hear it, followed by a weight, solid and warm on top of my chest.
“Good night, Piper,” I murmur.
More rumbling.
Then we both fall asleep again.
CHAPTER 10
In the morning, Piper has once again vanished off the bed. Not wanting to repeat yesterday’s mistake, I climb off the end of the mattress, taking as big a step as possible onto the floor. No claws lash out. I move gingerly around the bed to the kitchen area, and notice two things at once: The water bowl needs to be refilled, and there are two disemboweled mice in the middle of the ancient hardwoods. Viv hadn’t been kidding; Piper earns her keep.
“Am I supposed to be impressed?” I call out to my roommate. “And what do I do now? Throw away the corpses? Fashion the ears into a necklace?”
I find a plastic grocery bag in one of the kitchen drawers and reluctantly use it to pick up the remains. That still leaves me with a brownish red smear. Definitely gross. I jump quickly into the shower before my feline roommate can make any more statements.
Ten a.m. I have five hours before I need to report to work, and many investigative paths to pursue. I want to follow up on after-hours cell phones, though it sounds like that might have to wait for a free evening. I also have more questions for the family, now that I’m getting the lay of the land. I wonder if Guerline would let me go through Angelique’s room, till I remember Angelique doesn’t really have a room. But she must still have stuff in the living room, that sort of thing.
Most people don’t realize what a financial luxury privacy is. An individual bedroom, time alone, designated workspace—these things cost money. Angelique got to sleep in a shared family room, while probably doing homework on the kitchen table on a refurbished laptop after her brother had his turn.