SK01 - Waist Deep (17 page)

30

By the time I got home, I was shivering violently again.
It took me three tries to slide
my key in
to
the door lock to open it and get into my apartment.

Once inside, I stripped off my clothes and stood under a warm, then hot, shower.
I stayed there until the shivering had stopped and
a dull, painful throb
returned to my fingers and toes.
I only turned it off when the water finally turned lukewarm.

After toweling off, I examined the injuries on my body.
The bruises from Mullet-man at the
hockey game were turning yellow.
I could see the faint outlines of new bruising where Leon had kicked me.
The back of my head had a small lump
from the brick wall in the alley. T
he muscles in my stomach were tender where Grill had drilled me with his foot.
The blisters on my feet from all the walking I did in cowboy boots were the size of quarters. My shoulder and arm ached where my old gunshot wounds were.
Not surprisingly, though, the jagged, tearing pain in my knee was the worst of all.

I popped three
pain relievers
and collapsed on my bed,
hoping sleep would
come
.
When it didn’t right away, I
tried to wrap my mind around
the case but t
he weariness of the day, the beating and the long walk distracted me from any critical thinking.

Instead, a mish-mash of images swam through my tired mind in no particular order.
Mr. Jenkins and his arrogance.
Rolo.
Katie.
Kris Sinderling.
Grill’s fury.
The kindly features of
Marie
Byrnes. Leon and his flat eyes.
Kris again.
Gary LeMond and the unsettling feeling he gave me.
Tiffany the hooker and the fire she’d raised in me.
Dookie.
Clell and the odor of Old Spice and coffee.
Then Kris
again. A
lways her again.

She floated before my eyes, her eyes nineteen, her body twenty-one, her heart and soul only six years old.

Six.
Just like Amy Dugger.

I pushed all of them away and
eventually
let s
leep take me
.

3
1

The next morning at the Rocket,
Cassie’s mysterious smile
lifted my spirits a little. I smiled back, then settled into a corner seat to mull over my next move
.
The answer came immediately, like I knew it would.
I was just tired of asking for help.

I sat with my coffee and waited for Adam.
He almost always came by, even if it was just to get a cup to go.

When he arrived, I was only half a cup down. He gave me a quick grin and ordered before he sat down.
Then he noticed the cut and the puffiness on my eye.

“That looks new,” he said, pointing.

“Didn’t your mother teach you it’s not polite to point?”

He dropped his index finger and snapped out his middle one.
“Nope.”

Cassie brought his latté and he tipped her a dollar.
She smiled and said thank you.
Her smile was genuine, but not the same smile she gave me
.
I was almost sure of it.

“A little table generals?”
Adam
asked, motioning toward the chess board.

I shook my head.
“Not this morning.”

Adam shrugged and sipped his drink.

I leaned forward.
“Adam, I need some help with something.”

He wiped some white froth from his lips with a napkin.
“Sure.
I mean, it’s legal, right?”

I pressed my lips together and tried to grin.
“Well, it’s like your
gu
y sings in that song.”

“My guy
?” Adam asked but he knew
what
I meant
.
Adam was a bona
fide Bruce Springsteen nut
.
For the most part, I
wasn’t much into the guy, but Adam was a rock solid fan
.

“Yeah,” I said.
“Your guy
.
From the tape you made me last summer.”

“You actually listened to it?”

I shrugged.
The truth was, I’d let it sit for several weeks
, but eventually I gave it a
listen.
Some of the songs were okay, which made sense, since Adam had compiled the tape to try and win me over.
Or maybe convert me is a more accurate way to put it.
But
there was one song I’d liked
in particular, a subtle one
that resonated with me
.

“
It was nothing illegal
,” I quoted, “
Just a little bit funny.
”

“The Big Muddy,” Adam said automatically.
Then his face pinched
and he looked at me for a long while.
Finally, he said, “You know, if you’d
spring for
a CD player, I’d burn you a bunch more.
Even some bootleg stuff.”

“Isn’t
that
illegal?”

Adam shrugged.
“It’s only live shows.”

I shrugged back.
“Either way, I’m good with the radio, you know?”

We sat quietly for a minute or two.
This was uncharted territory for us both.
I’d nev
er asked Adam for anything before. A
year or two after I left the job, he stopped offering.
We picked up our own tabs at the Rocket.
I didn’t talk about how light my pockets were after I made rent every month and he didn’t talk about the new toys he bought with the nice income he had.
A few Christmases, he’d had me over, but we’d agreed in advance to keep the gifts modest.
Adam had been a good friend.
He’d never fl
aunted his own good fortune. He
never blamed me for my mistakes.
He also never tried to convince me that they weren’t mistakes
or
that I shouldn’t feel guilty.
He didn’t judge.
He was just there.
And that’s why I never asked him for anything.

Until now.

“I can’t promise,” he finally said, his
voice lower even though
he and I were the only
people
in the Rocket
besides Cassie
.
“But I’ll listen.”

That’s what I told Matt Sinderling, I thought, and look where it got me. But I didn’t say it, only nodded my thanks.

Adam leaned in and I told him everything.
Told him about the hockey game and Officer Glen Bates being a jerk (“
no
big surprise there,” he’d
muttered
) and Matt Sinderling’s request.
He raised his eyebrows when I described Kris and again when I said I took the job, but said nothing.
I related my trip to Fillmore, but when I got to Katie, I stumbled a bit.

“Was she okay with you calling her?” he asked.

“I think so,” I answered, my voice a little thick.
I swallowed and went on, “I mean, she showed up.
She
helped me
.”

Adam was watching me carefully.
“But…?”

I shrugged.
“There’s still some…hurt there.”

He nodded.
“You know, you could have asked me for that information.
The stuff on your complainant and the runaway.
I use the database all the time.”

“I know,” I said.
“I guess I just…”

“You wanted to see her.”

I nodded.

“Okay.
Go on.”

I told him about th
e FI report in Katie’s file,
how I contacted Tiffany and got Rolo’s name.
Once I was past Katie’s part, it tumbled out in a rush, unedited.
Adam listened, nodding sometimes, wincing when I mentioned Leon’s punting drill and waited for me to finish.

“You’re lucky you didn’t freeze to death or lose a finger or something,” he told me when I was done.
“That security guy did you a solid.”

“Yes, he did.”

We were quiet again for a bit and Cassie re-filled my cup.
Adam watched her go, then looked back at me.
“How do you rate re-fills in an espresso bar?”

“Dude, it’s Americano.
It’s basically drip coffee.
It costs like, three cents.”

He shook his head.
“You go ahead and believe that.”
He pointed to his own cup.
“See that?
Two-thirds empty and likely to stay that way, unless I want to part with another two-fifty.”

I didn’t answer but smirked and
blew on my coffee instead.

Adam watched me a moment, then leaned in.
“Okay, I’ll say it.
I’m glad you’re doing something.
You’ve been spinning your wheels ever since—”

He stopped.
I don’t know if he was going to say ever since I quit the job or eve
r since I got off
the tranks
and the booze
, but either way,
he was right. I
t had been a long time.

“Well,
for a lot of years
,” he finished
.
“
It’s good to see you with a purpose.
But, Jesus, Stef…couldn’t you have just gone back to school or something?
This is some dangerous stuff you’re involved in here.
You could’ve been killed out there at The Hole.”

“You think I can’t handle it?”

“That’s not it, and you know it.”

“Then what?”

“You shouldn’t have to handle it, that’s what.”
He drummed his fingers on the table.

I knew he only believed part of what he was saying.
And I think he knew that I needed this.
That it was worth the stretch for me.
Besides, I was involved now.
I’d bled a little on this one.
I was seeing it through.

“Like my grandmother used to say,” I said. “In for a penny, in for a pound.
”

Adam heaved a sigh, looking over my shoulder at the selection of pastries listed on the wall.
Then he said, “
All right.
What can I do?
What’s not illegal, but just a little bit funny?”

It was my turn to lean in.
I pulled out Kris’s photo and slid it across the table to him.

He picked it up.
“This is her?
The runaway?”

I nodded.

Adam gave a low whistle.
“Trouble,” he muttered.
“This one has trouble written all over her.”

“She’s
sixteen
,” I said, bristling a little.

“I know.
You told me.
That’s the problem.”

I couldn’t argue with that, so I pressed on.
“Look, Rolo said that she was hooked up with a guy who makes sex movies here in River City.
I want to find that guy.”

Adam shook his head.
“That’s a crock.
Unless he’s making hand-helds in a basement somewhere, there’s no professional porn filmmakers here in town.
Plenty of sellers, but no filmmakers.”

“Rolo said he made them for the Internet.”

The word hung in the air.
Adam looked at me and paled.
“Oh, no.”

I didn’t respond, just looked at him.

“Hell, no,” he said, his voice pleading.

“Hell, yeah,” I said.
“That’s what I need.
I need to know about porn sites originating in River City and then I need to know which one is featuring Kris.
And where to find the guy who runs the site.”

Adam plopped backward in his chair, his mouth hanging open.
“That’s impossible.”

“Impossible?”

Adam sighed.
“Well…v
ery, very difficult.”