Easy Innocence (26 page)

“Maybe sixteen.”

Red blew out a breath. “How’d you get involved?”

“It’s one of those long stories.”

Red looked over. “I’d invite you over just to hear it, but I get the feeling you have things to do.”

“You’re right. But thank you for everything. You had no reason to help me, but you did. You could have been fired.”

“All in a day’s work.”

“I owe you.”

“Just my luck,” Red smiled wryly. “To be owed by a straight woman. And a former cop.”

It was Georgia’s turn to smile. “How about dinner when this is over?”

“It’s a date.” Red slipped a hand into her bag and fished out a card. “Tell you what.” Her smile widened. “You take
my
card this time.”

Georgia slid it into her jacket pocket. She started to walk away, then retraced her steps and gave Red a quick hug. As she exited the corridor, she saw Red shaking her head.

***

Georgia drove Jasmine to her home in Niles, leaving the girl to explain to her parents what had happened. She was no longer responsible for her and didn’t want to be involved further. She did get a description of the john, though. She would call O’Malley tomorrow. She wanted to nail the bastard.

Lauren Walcher, however, was a different story. She was sitting in the passenger seat as they headed north. Georgia checked her watch. Almost midnight, but Lauren’s parents were probably used to her staying out late. She cut back east, taking side streets to avoid the lights.

Many of the houses were decked out for Halloween. As a kid, the holiday used to be Georgia’s favorite: no gifts, no church, just costumes and bags of candy. She was a fairy princess one year, a fireman the next. One year her father, a battalion chief in District Three, brought her a real fire hat. Her mother stuffed tissues into it so it wouldn’t fall off.

Now though, as she passed homes festooned with ghosts, ghouls, and monsters dripping blood, she was creeped out. Some of the decorations were more elaborate than Christmas, but they all looked bizarre and sinister, as if neighbors were competing for the most gruesome display on the block. How had people become so attracted to the grisly and the morbid? Whatever happened to smiling jack o’lanterns, candy corn, and friendly ghosts? If people knew what real darkness was, they’d flock back to Casper in a heartbeat.

She stole a glance at Lauren. The girl was leaning against the window. Who knows? Maybe it all contributed to a lawlessness, a rebellion against morality that allowed kids like Lauren to operate at the margins. She doubled back to Oakton and crossed over the Edens. When she looked over again, tears were rolling down Lauren’s cheeks.

Georgia pulled to the side of the road. “What’s the matter?”

Lauren shook her head and started to sob.

Georgia waited, watching the play of light and shadow on Lauren’s face. The girl continued to cry, long wrenching sobs that tore her heart out. Georgia leaned across her, opened her glove compartment, and pulled out some tissues.

“What’s going on, Lauren?” Georgia asked softly.

“You remember what you said about secrets?”

Georgia tipped her head. “You mean how sometimes you can be a better friend if you tell someone about them?”

Lauren nodded. “I—I can’t do this anymore.” She sobbed. “It’s all coming apart.”

“I know.”

“No. You don’t.” She turned a tear-stained face to Georgia. “You don’t know anything.”

“Then tell me.”

The girl swallowed a sob. Her face filled with fear. “I think whoever killed Sara wants to kill me next. And I don’t know why.”

JUST OFF
Willow Road between Northbrook and Glenview is a shopping center with a Steak-n-Shake that stays open until one in the morning. Relentlessly cheery and clean, the décor tries hard for an art deco look, but its black and white striped awning is too modern, its red accents too bold, and the obscure Indian sign lit up in red neon too bewildering. Still, it is one of the only places on the North Shore where young and old, monied or not, can gather for late night snacks. Georgia pulled into the parking lot and slid out of the car. The spill of artificial street lights buzzed with an electric tension, rendering the dark into faux brightness. Lauren sat in the car, not moving.

Georgia leaned back through the open door. “Is there a problem?”

Lauren folded her arms. “This place is a stoner’s paradise. Half of Newfield hangs here. We’re bound to run into people I know.”

“And that’s a problem because...”

She looked down. “People know who you are,” she mumbled.

“Which means you’ll be branded a snitch?”

Lauren didn’t say anything.

“Why don’t you just tell them I’m your dorky cousin from Oklahoma?”

Lauren almost cracked a smile. “Georgia’s more like it.” But she opened the door of the Toyota and slid out.

Inside, a middle-aged waitress in a white-collared t-shirt, black slacks, and a hat that looked like something a short order cook would wear led them to a small table. She slapped two menus down. “Something to drink?”

Lauren nodded as she sat. “Coffee.”

“Two coffees, please.” Georgia sat down, too.

“Coming right up.”

When the waitress brought their coffee, Lauren grasped hers in both hands. Georgia scanned the menu. “Order something if you want. I’m going to.”

Lauren swiveled around and gazed at the back wall where three huge colored photographs hung. One photo was of a banana split, another a milk shake, the third a hot fudge sundae.

“Can I have a banana split?” Lauren asked.

“Why not?”

“With hot fudge on top?”

Georgia waved the waitress over. “A banana split with hot fudge sauce. And a burger—rare. With fries.”

The waitress scribbled on her pad and went away. Lauren looked around and promptly slumped in her seat.

“Incoming?” Georgia asked.

Lauren nodded. “I know those kids.”

Georgia twisted around. Four kids, three of them boys in sweat shirts and jeans, and one girl conspicuously chewing gum, shot curious glances their way. They looked away when Georgia glared at them. She swiveled back to Lauren. “Problem solved.”

Lauren arched her eyebrows but did sit straighter.

Georgia pulled her coffee cup closer. “Okay. The way I see it, you’ve got a choice. You cooperate with me and I’ll protect you as best I can. But you have to tell me everything. And you have to shut down your—business.”

“You know about that?” When Georgia nodded, she asked, “How?”

“I
am
a PI.”

Georgia could see possibilities being pondered, choices being made. Finally, “What about the police?” Lauren asked in a low voice.

“What about them?”

“Are you going to turn me in?”

“If you cooperate, no.”

“What if I don’t?”

“Then we’re out of here. And I take you in tonight.”

“You can’t do that. I won’t let—” Her expression hardened. “I’ll call my father.”

Georgia sighed. “Daddy can’t get you out of this one, Lauren. You broke the law. Repeatedly. And the two people who broke it along with you are dead. You either talk to me, and we buy ourselves some time to figure this thing out together, or I go to the police.”

Lauren’s spate of overconfidence vanished. “How much time?” Her voice was meek.

Georgia thought about it. It wasn’t her job to find out who killed Sara Long. All she needed to do was to raise enough reasonable doubt that Cam Jordan did. Exposing Sara as a prostitute would do that. And yet, Georgia realized, that wasn’t enough. She needed to find out who was preying on these young girls. She needed to make it stop. “As much time as it takes to find Sara Long’s killer.”

Lauren eyed Georgia. “You don’t think the crazy guy did it.”

“No. And, apparently, neither do you.”

Lauren leaned forward to say something but was cut off by the arrival of their food. Georgia sliced her burger in half and wolfed down the first half. Lauren scooped up a tiny piece of banana, carefully spooned ice cream and sauce on top, swallowed it, then did the same thing all over again. Georgia remembered how as a kid she’d try to make it all come out even. Is that what Lauren was doing?

As if reading her mind, Lauren flashed an embarrassed smile. Georgia recalled during the interview at her house, how she dangled her leg over the side of the chair, as overbearing and arrogant as her mother. Trying to show everyone how tough she was. This wasn’t the same girl. Had Georgia finally broken through?

She bit into the other half of her burger, then wiped her hands on her napkin. “Let’s start at the beginning. When did Sara start hooking?”

Lauren gazed at Georgia in the antiseptic light. The last trace of resentment disappeared off her face. She must have come to a decision. “Six months ago. I recruited her.”

“Not Derek?”

“The whole thing was my idea.”

Georgia hid her surprise. “You?”

“I’d had—a few encounters,” Lauren said.

“You were hooking?” Georgia hoped her face was impassive.

Lauren nodded. “Strictly freelance. It was—well—I liked it. It made me feel—well—like I meant something.”

Georgia stared into a face that was barely past childhood. A face that had seen every advantage, been given every benefit, and yet found it all lacking. What—or who—had made her feel that way?

Lauren must have seen something on Georgia’s face. “You don’t get it, do you?”

“Get what?”

“What an amazing feeling it is to see a man want you—in—that way.”

Georgia didn’t answer. She picked up her fork. “When was the first time?”

“The first time I fucked for money, I was fifteen. It started out as a lark,” she said around a mouthful of ice cream. “I met this guy at the mall. He was from out of town. He bought me a necklace. I knew I shouldn’t accept it, but I did. He called that night and asked me to have lunch with him the next day at the Hyatt.”

“Did he know how young you were?”

“How could he not? I probably told him at some point.”

“Go on.” Georgia dipped a few fries in ketchup and stuffed them in her mouth.

“I ditched school, and we had a nice lunch. Afterwards he told me he had to get something from his room and did I mind coming with him. I knew what the score was. I wasn’t a virgin. Not since I was thirteen. When we got upstairs, he locked the door and started groping me.”

She stopped and eyed Georgia.

“I pushed him away but I could see it in his eyes. He’d just had lunch, but he was—hungry. Just—hungry. I knew from that moment I was in control.”

Suddenly Georgia lost her appetite.

“So I stripped for him. One piece of clothing at a time. First my shoes, then my jeans. Then my jacket. My tank.” She smiled. “His eyes got huge. His cock too. He started to groan and stroke himself. Then he told me to stroke him.” She paused. Then she giggled. “Then we fucked. It was a real high. Talk about leading a man around by his—well, you know. Afterwards he slipped two hundred dollar bills into my purse.” She picked at the banana split with her spoon. “Shit. I would have done it for free.”

“So it’s all about power?”

“Men are so—predictable, you know? They think they’re in control. But we’re the ones who choose it. No one’s making us. We’re getting paid.” Lauren put the spoon down. “I just can’t understand why women have problems with men. Like my mother. I can’t believe she can’t handle Gumby.”

“Gumby?” Georgia called up a dim memory of the rubbery cartoon character.

“I call my father that because he bends over and stretches in any direction just to keep the peace. Even with all that, my mother still fights with him. All the time. She ought to be fucking his brains out.”

A shrink would have a field day with this kid
, Georgia thought. Aloud, she said, “Let’s get back to you. What happened after that first time?”

“I decided I wanted to do it again. But I was careful. I only chose guys who looked nice. Family guys who looked like they weren’t getting any at home.”

“Where did you find them?”

She smiled. “Everywhere. It’s easy. Hotels. Restaurants. The mall. They’re all over.” She dug into her ice cream. “A few months later, I was so busy I couldn’t keep up. Then one day last winter, I ran into a woman in a chat room who—”

“A chat room?”

“Yeah. Sometimes I’d meet guys in chat rooms, you know?”

Lauren was talking freely now. Georgia had seen it before. There was comfort in confession. Relief that everything was now in the open. And there were some people who needed to be praised for their accomplishments, no matter how criminal or grisly. People so hungry for praise even a cop’s would do. Truth be told, Lauren
was
shrewd. It wasn’t easy to pull off a business—any business—whether you were a kid or an adult. Georgia wondered how much she was raking in.

“Anyway, this woman—at least I think it was a woman—said I could make a lot more if I recruited girls myself. I thought about it and decided she was right.”

“You weren’t worried it was wrong?”

Lauren shrugged. “It’s a great way for girls to make money. Men get their rocks off. Everybody wins.”

“What about the fact that it’s against the law?”

Defiance lit the teen’s face. “Why do adults always get down on us for wanting to make something from sex? Isn’t it better than a woman being raped? Or priests doing it to little boys? That’s against the law, too. This is just sex for money. A business transaction. Everybody knows what they’re there for.”

Georgia folded her hands. This wasn’t the time to be judgmental. “How did you recruit Sara?”

“Last winter Sara was complaining about her job at the bookstore. She was making minimum wage. Hardly anything. And her parents couldn’t afford to buy her things. She’d seen my stuff for years—I know it bothered her. I mean, I’d lend her my music, my makeup, even clothes sometimes, but it wasn’t the same.” She took another bite of banana and ice cream. “So I told her I might know a way she could make some real money.”

“She wasn’t bothered by the idea?”

“No.” Lauren’s face filled with insolence. “She knew her way around. At least that’s what she said.”