by Nicole Maggi
The passenger-side door of the Escalade opened and a hulking figure with a mop of white-blond hair stepped out. He just stood next to the car, but the bulge of a gun was clear through his suit jacket. Nate shifted so that he was in front of me.
Jules laughed. “Yeah, real brave, man. You know what they say about the brave, right?” He stepped toward us. “They die young.”
The blond guy reached into his jacket. I grabbed Nate’s arm.
“It wasn’t him,” I said before I could think. “I told him to bring me here. I wanted to help him.” I walked backward, dragging Nate with me. “I’m sorry. It was a really bad idea. We’ll just leave now, okay?”
“Not okay.” For every step back we took, Jules took one forward. He pointed at Char without looking at her. “She wouldn’t be standing here if it was okay. She’d be off making me money.” He swung his arm so that his finger pointed directly at me. “You’re costing me money, bitch. That is definitely not okay.”
The air around all of us froze, tension thick as ice. I tried to swallow but my throat was stuck. The silence stretched on and on as Jules and I stared at each other. Finally, he broke the world’s longest minute with a cold laugh.
“Hey,” he said, shrugging his shoulders, “I’m a reasonable guy. You get one get-out-of-jail-free card. But…” He stepped in close, so close that his breath was cool on my face. I was right; there was no soul heating his insides. I willed myself to not look away as his eyes stabbed into me. “If I ever see you again,” he went on, like honey dripping with poison, “I will hurt you. I will hurt your little boyfriend here, and I will hurt whichever of my girls you are trying to help. Got that?”
I tasted blood in my mouth as I bit the inside of my cheek. He held my gaze until I nodded once, short and quick. His lips curved into a smile. “You know, you’re kinda cute,” he said. “Let me know if you wanna make some extra cash.”
Nate’s hand tightened on my arm as I shuddered. The big blond guy ducked back into the Escalade. On his way back to the car, Jules said something in Char’s ear and slapped her hard on the ass.
The Escalade revved its engine as he climbed in. Nate pushed me out of the way as the SUV zoomed by us, and the three of us stood frozen until the sound of the car faded. Nate cleared his throat. “Char, you know where to find me if you need help.”
Without waiting for an answer, which she didn’t seem inclined to give anyway, he propelled me across the street. “He’ll be back to check that we’re gone,” he told me. “Let’s make sure we are.”
“You think?” I said. My whole body shook. The reality of this street, of the place it had held in Jane Doe’s life, crashed through me. She’d been a prostitute. I felt like I might throw up. I pulled my arm out of Nate’s grip and backed up against the nearest wall. “I…need a minute.” I slid down until my butt hit the ground and dropped my head onto my knees.
Nate squatted in front of me. “Take deep breaths.”
I concentrated on counting my inhales and exhales. With each breath, I felt Jane Doe subside. I was becoming Georgie again. Whoever the hell Georgie was now. The old Georgie would be at home, practicing her oboe until she sounded better than a recording. I pinched my forehead together. What the hell was happening to me?
“Feeling better?”
I looked up. I’d almost forgotten Nate was there. “Yeah,” I lied and pushed myself up to stand. The instant my legs straightened, I fell back against the wall, dizzy. “Whoa.”
“‘Whoa’ is right.” Nate took my elbow. I didn’t have the strength to shake him off. “Let me get you someplace warm.”
A chill ran through me, from the inside out. Chills, dizziness…rejection. With shaking fingers, I touched my forehead. My skin was cool and dry. No fever. Still… “I have to get home.”
He helped me along the sidewalk. “Is it nearby? I’ll walk you.”
I shook my head. The motion made me stumble. “I need a cab.”
Nate looked sideways at me. “Yeah, you don’t really seem like you’re from around here.” He raised an eyebrow. “What were you doing out here?”
“Looking for—never mind.” I tugged away from him and stopped at the curb, looking up and down the street. It was deserted except for the flickering pools of light given off by the street lamps. I reached into the front pocket of my bag and pulled out my phone. I could feel Nate’s eyes on me as I found the number of the cab company I’d used to get to this corner of hell in the first place. I edged away from him as the line picked up.
“Forty-five minutes?” I repeated in a high-pitched voice when the receptionist told me how long it would be. “Seriously?”
“Sorry, hon. All of our drivers are out. Where are you, exactly?”
“I’m—” I turned a half-circle and stopped when the movement made me dizzy again. “In the middle of nowhere. I don’t know. Somewhere in Mattapan.”
“I need an address, hon.”
“Tell them All Saints on the corner of Almont and Nashua,” Nate said. “It’s nearby.”
I kept my eyes on him as I spoke into the phone. The receptionist confirmed it. “Keep your phone on you. We’ll call you when they’re out front.”
“Okay. Thanks.” I hit End, my eyes still locked on Nate’s face. He returned my gaze, but his eyes were full of questions and suspicions. Questions I couldn’t answer and suspicions that were probably nowhere near the truth. “Um, so where’s this All Saints?”
“It’s just around the corner.”
He walked slowly for my benefit. I ignored the way he kept glancing at me out of the corner of his eye. Everything about him was familiar. What the hell was Jane Doe doing to me? I had never been in love before, but I could feel the knowledge of that emotion in the blood that Jane Doe’s heart was pumping through my veins. I turned my head away from Nate so my hair fell over my shoulder and shielded my face from him. It wasn’t fair. I wanted to fall in love in my own way, not have it thrust upon me. She was taking over everything. She owned not just my physical heart but my emotional one too.
“Here we are.”
I looked up at an old stone church, towering over the block like a giant gargoyle. I started up the steps but Nate touched my arm. “Not that way.” I followed him around the side of the building and down a short flight of stairs to a little red door. Nate dug into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys. I glanced up at the eave that hung over us as he unlocked the door. This felt familiar too. Had Jane Doe also come to this place?
He swung open the door, reached to his left, and flicked a switch. The fluorescent lights illuminated the green linoleum floor and the mismatched tables and chairs. The Catch echoed inside me. Yes, Jane Doe had come here.
“Do you want some tea?” Nate didn’t wait for an answer and headed over to the little kitchen on the other side of the room.
“Yeah. Tea would be great. Thanks.” I followed slowly, running my fingers over the edges of the furniture I passed. With each touch, a new memory of this place blossomed. Laughter. Warmth. Safety. This had been Jane Doe’s refuge.
Nate pulled two mugs down from the cabinet and filled them with water from the water cooler against the wall. “Black or herbal?”
“Herbal, please.” I perched on the table closest to the kitchen. “Do you, like, work here?”
“Sort of.” He put the mugs in the microwave and set it for a minute. “I volunteer for FAIR Girls. They run a chapter out of here.”
“What’s fair girls?”
“It’s an organization that helps trafficked kids.” He pointed to a poster on the wall. “TRAFFICKED CHILDREN ARE HIDING IN PLAIN SIGHT,” it read beneath a picture of a young girl surrounded by shadowy adults. “FAIR GIRLS” was emblazoned in yellow across the top.
“Trafficked? Like—”
“Sex trafficking? Yes.”
The microwave dinged. I watched him take the
mugs out and dunk a tea bag into each. When he turned and held a mug out to me, I took it and our fingertips grazed. My heart jumped a little, but who the hell knew if it was my own reaction or Jane Doe’s?
“I, um, didn’t realize that happened here in Boston.”
“A lot of people don’t.” Nate half smiled. “That’s a lot of what FAIR Girls does. Educate the public.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “I’d like a little education here. You still haven’t told me your name.”
It seemed odd that he didn’t know when I knew everything about him. I took a sip of tea and let its heat burn through me. “I’m Georgie.”
“Okay, Georgie.” He was watching me over the rim of his mug but I kept my eyes trained on the floating tea bag in my own cup. “What the hell is a Beacon Hill girl like you doing on this side of town?”
I lowered my mug. “I’m from Brookline, not Beacon Hill.”
Nate shrugged. “Same difference. What are you doing here?”
I swallowed. I wasn’t about to tell him the whole truth, but I wanted whatever clues he had about Jane Doe’s life and death. “I was looking for…the other girl. The one who used to work that corner before Char.”
A shadow darkened Nate’s face. “Why?”
“I just wanted to…find out about her.” I swallowed hard under his intense gaze.
“What for?”
My hands tightened around my mug. “Why are you getting so defensive?”
“Why are you so interested?” Nate shot back. “FAIR Girls is here to protect these girls.”
“Well, you certainly failed in her case,” I said, banging my mug down on the counter. My tea had gone cold.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
I froze, looking at him. Did he not know? I stood there, unable to move or even breathe. Nate’s brow furrowed. “Georgie? Are you okay?”
The sound of him saying my name softened something in me. I sank into the closest chair and raised my face to him. “You don’t know, do you?”
“Know what?”
I tasted tears in my mouth. “Nate, I’m so sorry. She…she’s dead.”
Chapter Seven
Nate fell back against the kitchen counter. “What? When? How?”
“A few weeks ago. She…fell. From a balcony not far from here.” I had to look away from him to say the next words. “They say it was suicide.”
Nate’s body seemed to crumple. He turned away from me and bent over the counter, his face buried in his hands. I kept my eyes averted and picked up my cold tea. I barely knew him; it seemed way too personal to watch him cry.
After a few minutes, I heard him clear his throat. He moved closer to me and dropped into the chair closest to me. His eyes were red-rimmed but dry and clear. “Suicide. God.”
I watched his jaw work up and down; he was still fighting tears. “Does that happen…a lot? With…girls like her?” I asked.
“Girls like her…” he murmured. “There were no girls like Annabel.”
I gasped and almost dropped my mug to the floor. The name uncoiled a dozen memories inside me, snatches of images: Annabel on the street, here at All Saints, in her dank little bedroom. Annabel. “That was her name.”
“Yes.” I started at Nate’s response; I hadn’t realized I had spoken out loud. “But not her real one,” Nate went on, his eyes unfocused. “That was just the name she used on the street. I never knew her real name.”
My shoulders deflated a little. But at least I’d gotten something. And now at least I could stop thinking of her as Jane Doe. Annabel. “What did you know about her?”
Nate’s eyes slid back into focus and his expression tightened. “Why?” He leaned forward, his body knife-like. “And why were you looking for her if you knew she was dead?”
“I wasn’t looking for her. I was looking for information about her.” I squirmed in my chair.
“And again I ask, why?” His voice rose. I flinched. Nate softened a little. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to yell.”
“I wasn’t doing anything wrong.” I got up and went to the microwave under the pretense of reheating my tea, but really I was covering. I hadn’t thought this far ahead. How was I supposed to know that I’d run into the boy that Jane Doe—Annabel—had loved? I pressed my hand to my heart as the tea rotated inside the lighted microwave. What other secrets were contained in this vessel she’d given me?
The microwave dinged. I took a long time getting my mug out and turned around to face Nate. “I’ve been working on a piece for my school paper,” I said. “About teen suicide. And I stumbled across a mention of a Jane Doe suicide on the police precinct website. It had the address of where she’d jumped, so I came over here to see if I could find out anything more about her. That’s when I bumped into Char, and she mentioned the other girl who used to hang out there.”
“How’d you know that was Annabel?” Nate demanded.
“I didn’t,” I stammered. “It was just a hunch. Char said the other girl was dead, which seemed a pretty big coincidence, so I was asking her about it, and then you showed up, and then Jules showed up and…now we’re here.”
“Uh-huh.” Nate’s eyes searched my face. I tried to keep my face as guileless as possible. I wasn’t skilled in the art of lying; I’d never had to be. “You’re writing an article?”
“For my school paper.”
“What school?”
“Hillcoate Prep.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Really.”
“So?”
“That’s a nice school, from what I hear.”
“Yeah, it is. Our paper competes for a national award every year.”
As soon as it was out of my mouth, I knew it was the wrong thing to say. He stood up so fast his chair wobbled. “You want to use Annabel’s death to win an award?” He flung his arm toward the door. “Get out. Get out now.”
The darkness in his eyes chilled me to my veins. I grabbed my backpack off the table and clutched it to me. But I couldn’t just leave. He was the only connection I had to Annabel. I could feel him everywhere in her heart. Even the timbre of his voice squeezed my insides. I looked up into his face.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know. When I went looking for her, she was just research. But after learning…what she was…and meeting you…she’s not.”
Heat constricted my throat. I swiped the tears at the corners of my eyes. It wasn’t an act. She wasn’t just a heart anymore. She wasn’t just some inconvenient echo of a ghost who was stealing my memories. She had become a mystery I had to solve.
“That’s what I want to write about now. About these lost girls no one ever finds.”
Nate held my eyes with his own for so long that I could count the little gold flecks in each of his blue irises. “You shouldn’t write about teen suicide,” he said finally. His voice crackled. “You should write about FAIR Girls. About human trafficking. About how it’s happening around the corner from your fancy private school. You could open people’s eyes to that.”
We stood there for a long moment, frozen in stillness, our eyes melded to each other’s. In the silence that stretched between us, I heard the Catch so loudly that it bounced off the walls. Without breathing, I asked him, “Will you help me?”
Without hesitation, he answered, “Yes.”
• • •
When I got home, all I wanted to do was head upstairs to the privacy of my room and think about everything I’d learned. But my family had other ideas.
Grandma blocked my path the instant I walked in the door. “Where have you been?” she demanded. “Do you have any idea what your parents have been through?”
“I—”
My mother emerged from the living room into the hallway, the phone in her hand. “Georgie!” She lifted the phone to her ear. “She just got home. Thanks, Bill.”
Bill was Ella’s father
. Crap. I was in for it now.
Mom tossed the phone onto the bench in the hallway where all our hats and gloves and scarves seemed to congregate. “Where the hell have you been? Your father and I have been worried sick.”
As if to reinforce this, Dad appeared behind Mom, his face a mask of concern. “Georgie, you nearly gave us a heart attack.” He looked stricken. “Oh jeez, you know what I mean.”
Grandma took my elbow and led me into the living room. “Explain yourself, young lady.”
“We know you weren’t at that rehearsal tonight,” Mom said. “So if you weren’t with Ella, what were you doing?” She sounded like she was fighting very hard to stay calm.
I looked from her to my dad to Grandma and started a little when I noticed Colt sprawled out in the armchair in the corner. He was scribbling in the margins of a thick textbook. “I told you she’d be home,” he said without looking up.
Dad glanced at him and back at me. He folded his arms over his chest. “Look, we’re not mad, Georgie. We just want to know what’s going on with you.”
I loved how adults said they weren’t mad when they clearly were. I heaved a sigh. “I’m really tired. Can we just talk about this tomorrow?”
Dad looked inclined to allow this, but Mom crossed the room until she stood right in front of me. “No. We’ll talk about this now.” She stared at me for a moment, her jaw working hard. “Do you have any idea what it was like sitting in that hospital room? Watching you almost die? Do you?” Her voice had tipped over the edge into hysteria now. “And this is how you repay us? By running around God-knows-where with God-knows-who at all hours of the night?”
I looked at my watch. “It’s nine-thirty.”
Grandma threw her hands up. “Georgie! Just answer your mother.”
“Fine. Can I sit down first? I did just have a heart transplant, you know.”
From his corner nook, Colt laughed. No one else looked amused, but they waited until I had taken my coat off and settled myself comfortably on the couch. “Look, I’m really sorry I’m late,” I said. “I didn’t realize it would take so long.”