The Schwarzschild Radius (16 page)

“It’s late in the day,” said the young man in a blue suit.

“Yeah. Been a long day.”

“I noticed you as soon as I reached the top of the stairs. You’re new, aren’t you?”

“First day.”

“You have a fresh face.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m just making an observation. What’s your name?”

“Lisa.”

“I’m Michael. Pleased to meet you. I know you must be tired, so I won’t take up too much of your time. I know you hear this twelve times a day, but I was wondering if you’d like to have lunch with me tomorrow. I’m single, thirty-six, and solvent. And I’m told I have a nice smile.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I have a boyfriend.” Now she waited for the humiliating requests.

“It’s just that I’m a big concert and theater goer and I’m looking for someone to share that with.”

“I’m going to ask an obvious question. Why would you come here looking for a concert-lover?”

“It’s one of the few places you can ask a woman that question without her walking away two seconds later. Are you a concert-lover, Lisa?”

Talking beats stripping
, thought Rachel.

“It so happens I love classical music, especially sacred music as ironic as that may sound. As for theater, I guess you’d say I’m involved in the performing arts.”

That made them both laugh and the partition came down at precisely that moment as if it were the end of act one. It came up again.

“I’m back,” said Michael.

“Good to see you again.”

“Where were we? So do you go to shows like Jersey Boys?”

“I love Jersey Boys, but I don’t do much of that. It’s pretty expensive.”

“Ticketron sells those half-price tickets, but you have to go on the same day you buy them. And there are clubs you can join that get you pretty good discounts. Or you can go with me next week and it won’t cost you a thing.”

She laughed.

“I find you not only attractive, but interesting, Lisa.”

“I appreciate that, but really, I can’t.”

“Well, I don’t want to be insistent. In case you change your mind, here’s my card. And this is for you. Good night.”

It was fifty dollars.

Rachel opened her purse and stared at all the money. She couldn’t bring herself to count it, but it had to be at least four-hundred dollars. She killed another fifteen minutes in the booth and went to the ladies’ room. By the time she emerged, she just had to stand outside her booth for another ten minutes before quitting.

“I see you got the customer-of-the-month,” said a Puerto Rican girl in the dressing room. “I think he splits his time between here and Lincoln Center.”

“Ever go out with him?”

“Never asked me. I guess I don’t strike him as a Mozart-lover.”

“I’m Lisa.”

The other girl didn’t mention her name, but Rachel had heard her called Tanya. She had small scars all over her face covered with heavy makeup.

“You just starting?” asked Rachel.

“My shift or this career?”

“Your shift.”

“Yeah. Eight to midnight. That’s a sorry-ass shift. Not too many Wall Street types at that hour. More like the Hospital/White Castle types. But I’m not a day person anyway.”

“And when did the career start?”

“Probably the day I came into this world. But I remember walking in here two years ago and actually filling out the application, fulfilling destiny.”

“You don’t believe this is destiny, do you?”

“What then?”

“I kind of think we put ourselves here.”

“Like hell we do. This shit’s the wheel of karma running over my face.”

Rachel was too drained to pursue this. She finished dressing and tied her hair back.

“How much do I tip the bouncer?” asked Rachel.

“Twenty’ll do. You can pay that in various coins, if you know what I mean.”

“I’ll pick greenbacks.”

“And don’t forget the jizzmeister.”

“I feel for him. What does he get?”

“Ten will do.”

Tanya went off to her booth before Rachel could ask anything else. It was just as well; she was spent.

It was going to be a long ride back and an even longer night. She felt like she had a tumor in her stomach. She took the express at Penn Station, then transferred at Ninety-Sixth Street to the Number One Local to One hundred and Sixteenth Street, the Columbia stop.

In her room, she looked around for a place to hide the cash and settled on the battery compartments of her PC speakers. Grabbing a towel and a change of clothes, she slipped into the bathroom at the end of the hall, praying she didn’t run into anyone who would want to engage in conversation. After soaping herself twice in the shower, she knelt down and let the water pour over her as she cried.

Over the years, she had acquired the skill of putting things out of her mind. To what extent was it justified to abase yourself when you’re trying to do something good? She could inform Joules that the parallel dimension was no paradise. Somewhere out there, the real Rachel Wallen was still untouched. She wanted that Rachel back, and yet she knew that tomorrow she would go through it all again.

Men’s needs were horrible. Perfectly normal and accomplished men harbored unspeakable desires. Now she was being pulled into these desires as Olivia was. Rachel was retracing her sister’s steps all too well. What was at the end of that road?

She called her mother to tell her everything was okay. There was no news, of course. These calls had always been awkward. Hers was not an affectionate family. Her father had a great sense of responsibility toward Rachel and Olivia, and her mother was dutiful, but it just didn’t work the way she’d seen in other families. When she had gone to summer camp one year, she often heard her friends end a call with, “Love you, Mom.” With her it was always, “Okay, glad everything’s okay. Bye now.” It was different with Olivia. She gave more love to her parents than Rachel, and Rachel knew that they loved her more. How could it be otherwise?

Rachel lay in bed reviewing the day.

Day one: She had thirty-three customers. That’s nothing to be proud of, but it was more than any of the other girls and it probably generated some jealousy. That’s the last thing Rachel wanted. She wanted to blend in and disarm them all, so they would open up to her.

Sonia had better show up soon. She had to get Sonia to like her and get her to confide. She
had
to know something more about Olivia. Why would she confide in the police? They had to be close to make porn movies together. It was still hard for Rachel to believe that Olivia did all those things, but then Rachel was on the same path. You give someone the right reasons and they’ll do anything. Anyone can be blown off course. Olivia had to have been doing it for Achara. None of this would have happened if her parents had tried to get her out of that brothel. Everything would be like before.

And what was Rachel going to do about Achara? She promised to help, and she had to keep that promise. Did Olivia really request a passport for her? What if she didn’t get around to it before she disappeared? What would it cost to get a fake one? That’s much harder because of all the security now, the holograms and such. Achara had it much worse. Rachel could walk away anytime she wanted. She had to keep that in mind when things got bad.

In the meantime, she’d gotten to know two girls, somewhat, but was getting strange looks from Mr. P
. Looks like he’s got a whole career path planned out for me
, she thought. He must know more than he was letting on, too.

Rachel didn’t want to be a hero. She just wanted her sister back. She thought of that middle-aged man in the plane that plunged into the Potomac years ago. When the rescue helicopter arrived, he kept passing the rescue line to the next person and the next until he was the last, and then he drowned.

cKenna had gotten nowhere with Sonia. Today, he had called the Pleasure Palace to get her phone number. What he really wanted was her phone records to see if she and the priest were in contact. But she used disposable cell phones, according to her. Great. So there was no way to confirm if Massey was lying about knowing her. None of the kids at the shelter were much help either. They all just said they loved Olivia. She was good to them.

Two girls from Transcendence House end up stripping in the same joint. Coincidence? McKenna didn’t believe in coincidence. When the National Guard was ordered to stand down in Dallas on the morning of November 22, 1963, that was no coincidence.

He had put that to Father Massey and the priest just dismissed it, saying that recidivism was the norm, not the exception. There weren’t many sex emporiums left in New York, so it didn’t strike him as unusual that two people who were connected with the same organization at different times might end up working in the same place.

The detective continued combing through the Transcendence House records Massey had turned over when he was first questioned about Olivia. They were pretty thorough. All the counselors and all the kids were there, going back five years, even if they just stayed for one night. Lots of notes on each kid, too. Kirsten Schrodinger wasn’t on the TH list, so no connection there.

McKenna had no suspects at this point, but anyone who had prolonged contact with a murder victim or a vanished child was a person of interest in his book. Rachel seemed convinced that Massey was lying about Olivia being in the stream at the retreat. McKenna didn’t want to bring that up yet. He had no comeback if the priest just dismissed it.

He wondered if other youth shelters kept records as detailed as Massey’s. He googled “youth shelters in NYC” and got about a half dozen hits. Covenant House, Trinity Place Shelter, Safe Horizon, MCCNY, and others.

That afternoon he made the rounds and collected soft copies of personnel records from all these shelters. They had a right to ask for a warrant, but they cooperated, given that it was a missing child case.

McKenna entered his two-bedroom apartment in Kew Village, Queens. In the three years since he had moved here, he had yet to have a guest sleep in the other bedroom. For that matter, he had yet to have anyone stay in his bedroom either.

He threw a packet of macaroni and cheese in the microwave and sat down with his laptop. He had a database of all the children who had disappeared or had been murdered in New York City in the last year and was cross-checking it against the list of kids who had stayed at all the shelters.

The macaroni and cheese was hot, so he put it aside. Pretty soon it was cold, and McKenna was still cross-checking. After two hours and the third reheat of the noodles, he noticed something.

Belinda Knights was a thirteen-year-old who had disappeared for about two weeks six months ago. She was then found under a bridge, slaughtered, tortured and missing her hands, eyelids, and lips. The photos taken at the scene made McKenna throw his dinner in the trash.

She had stayed for two weeks at the Metropolitan Community Church of New York Youth Shelter. In her profile, it stated that she had previously stayed at other shelters, including Trinity Place Shelter and Transcendence House. McKenna went down the list of kids in the TH records.

Belinda wasn’t there.