“Yo, B, you’re not trying to cut in on my action, are you?”
Hannah swallowed the acid in forming in her mouth, and it burned on the way down. “No. That would take longer than I probably have.”
“What do you want to do, buy some clothes?”
She shook her head. “More.”
“How much more?”
“Think...car, rent.”
“You looking to move out? Why, when you have free rent and food?”
“Maybe,” was all she said.
He grinned. “You’re pretty cute,” he said. “Ever think of, you know, renting out?”
“Excuse me?”
Hank put up his hands. “I’ll take that as a no. Just a suggestion!”
“No.”
“Okay, your loss. But if you change your mind, there are plenty of old men out there that would think you were really cute.”
Hannah was repulsed but curious. “How old?”
“Any age you could stand, babe.”
“Yeah, swell,” Hannah muttered. “Just tell me when I can get that phone and how much it’s going to cost.”
Chapter Seven
“What the hell are you doing?” Josh shouted when he found Hannah in the basement after his shift.
“Shut up down there!” their mother shouted from the living room.
Josh walked toward the computer where Hannah was sitting and pushed her out of the way. He scrolled through the images for a minute before he closed the windows, sickened. “Why are you looking at kiddie porn?”
“Because I’m trying to see if I can find anyone my age. It’s hard, but I think I have some good leads.”
“Leads on what?!” Josh shouted, but more quietly this time. “Do you need money, Hannah? What do you need money for? I hate them too, but I will lock you in this basement for the rest of your life before I let you do something that stupid!”
“Calm down, Josh!” Hannah hissed. “This isn’t for me, it’s for Mariela.”
Josh turned red. “You think getting her into porn is a step up from what’s going on now? When did you go crazy?”
“No, not her. Me. And not me, at least not the way you’re thinking.”
“Do you know how illegal this is?!”
Hannah grinned. “Yeah, I do.” She walked back to the computer and pulled up another window. “I’ve been reading all about what happens when someone is caught with underage pornography. Even more fun than sex with a minor.”
Josh skimmed over what he could. “You are not thinking what I think you’re thinking, because you are not that stupid.”
“Why is it stupid?”
“Because people who like looking at pictures of naked kids or want to have sex with them are dangerous by definition. You think those kids do it because it’s fun?”
“The dangerous people are the ones who take the kids and take the pictures in the first place or pimp them out,” Hannah said. “I’ve been reading about it. I’m not inviting any of those people over. I’ll be a free agent.”
“So you don’t care if the whole internet sees you naked?”
“Oh, I’m not going to be naked. Just show enough skin for people to think I’m worth buying.”
“And then what?”
“And then they’re going to pay a little more than they thought they would, and they’re going to be buying something else.”
~~~
Hannah stopped by Mariela’s stand that week and dropped off food in a bag. “You should really eat that soon,” she said.
Mariela nodded as if she understood, then gestured at the other bag in Hannah’s hand. “What did you buy?” she asked softly.
Hannah pulled out a blue and green bikini. “What do you think?”
Mariela was puzzled. “It’s February. Are you going on a vacation?”
“Not exactly.” Hannah squeezed Mariela’s arm before she left. “Talk to you soon.”
Hannah received a text message an hour later.
This is mine to keep?
‘Yes. It’s small, so you can hide it.’
Thank you.
‘Josh misses you.’
I miss him too.
‘His number’s on your phone too.’
I know.
~~~
Hannah might have been too smart for her own good, but she wasn't stupid. She wasn't going to do anything until she knew exactly what she was doing. And that meant research, hours of stomach-churning research.
The good stuff seemed to be on message boards. There were boards for kids who "liked" older men (and women, though very infrequently), boards where adults who like kids could talk to each other, and boards where adults picked up kids.
Maybe she wouldn’t have to use that bikini after all.
Hannah opened an account on the adult message board before she went near any of the others. Seemed like a lot of people were calling themselves "Humbert Humbert," "Humbert," "HH," or "H2." She did some research and figured out that was the name of the "hero" of a famous book about a pedophile. She grimaced. Everybody thought they had a sense of humor.
She read the synopsis, then smirked. She canceled her account—HBinM—and created a new one. "Quilty," the guy who took everything from Humbert Humbert...before Humbert killed him. Was the joke on them or her?
She skimmed everything she could read before she introduced herself. She was a fifty-two-year-old divorced man who liked girls between twelve and fifteen. She didn't have as much experience...because she'd been married for so long. However, right before her divorce, she convinced the neighbor's eleven-year-old to give her oral sex, and now she was plotting a way to go all the way. She rolled her eyes as she typed that, but it would be enough to let her stay for a day before people got suspicious.
This wasn't where adults went to trade kids; this was where they went to trade stories: how they found someone (they liked to call it "picking up," like they were in a bar filled with teenagers, and younger); how impressed the kid was with what they could do (because they had so much experience to pull from); and how they were progressing in their "relationships."
Some of them passed on techniques, and some of them passed on pictures of themselves screwing someone young enough to be their daughter or granddaughter. They liked to brag, and Hannah could tell how frustrated most of them were that only this small little group of other men they'd never meet were the only ones who would ever know how awesome they were.
I can fix that.
People who posted a lot were sometimes challenged to prove it if their bragging got out of control, and some of them seemed to think videos would do the trick to prove they'd earned their street cred.
Hannah viewed a video of a thin, grey-haired guy feeling up a naked redheaded girl he said was twelve, though Hannah was pretty sure she was older. (Is this when people start lowballing their ages?) She alternated feeling sorry for the girl in the video and feeling like this was the most pathetic guy she'd ever heard of. And as the scene progressed to the girl going down on the guy (yeah, everyone would know I was really cool if they saw me getting oral sex from someone who couldn't say no), Hannah thought she saw something. She backed up and looked again. Yes, she hadn't been imagining it. She watched through the girl moaning as he penetrated her (Jesus, I hope he paid her for this, if only for the acting job) just to make sure.
She downloaded the video and found more of his posts. Same living room, same marker. She grinned as she downloaded everything.
"This is so fucked up and you know it!" Josh exclaimed when Hannah sat him down to watch her finds.
"Yep. Now look at this."
"Ugh! I don't want to."
"Then stop staring at her faking it and look at this!" She pointed to the screen.
Josh leaned forward. "Hey, wait a minute..."
"Yeah, exactly. Now look at this." She pulled up another video. Same marker. "We know where this is."
"Hold on. There are a lot of buildings in that area."
"Look at the view.
That's got to be at least a third story apartment, and there are only so many buildings on that corner that are that high. And we know what the guy looks like."
"So? They don't put people's pictures in the White Pages, even on the web."
"Guess I'm going to have to do some research."
"When? You're working when you're not at school." Josh's phone beeped, and when he looked at it, his face lit up. He texted back, then after another beep, walked away. Hannah was grateful both that Mariela was okay and that Josh was distracted.
The next day, Hannah got on the train to Boston thirty minutes before school was supposed to start. She had pulled her hair into a ponytail and hid it under a cap. She also put on some eyeliner and lipstick so she'd look just a little older. The conductor frowned at her but didn't give her a hard time when she bought her ticket.
An hour later, she was at the Starbucks on the corner of Beacon and Charles. The seat she found was at the window facing the building she knew her Humbert Humbert lived in.
Using the online White Pages, she'd narrowed it down to two people: Charles Gusterson, age fifty-two, and Morris Winston, age forty-eight. There were other people who fit the age profile who lived on the third floor and above, but they didn't live alone. This guy's videos had been taken not only during the day but also at night; they also seemed to be taken at different times of year. A wife at work or on vacation might have let someone get away with that for two weeks at the most, but not throughout the year.
Charles Gusterson was a freelance writer who did work for ad firms and public relations companies, and Morris Winston was a painter who had shown some works in galleries on Newbury Street a decade and a half ago. Of course, none of these people had pictures on the web.
Hannah nursed a hot chocolate for an hour and a half before she reluctantly went up to the counter to order a refill. The woman at the counter smiled as she wrote out her cup, then charged her a dollar. "Call it a refill, honey," she said with a wink.
"Thank you," Hannah said, grateful that she wouldn't have to dig into all of her cash.
She walked to the other end of the counter to pick up her drink when she heard the other woman say, "Good morning, Mr. Gusterson. The usual?"
Hannah held her breath and pulled her hat down low over her eyes as she turned around. Charles Gusterson was balding with glasses and had a pot belly she would not have missed in all of those videos. He also had kind eyes, something the man in those videos didn't.
Hannah made a show of adding vanilla and chocolate powder to her hot chocolate until Charles Gusterson had taken his double-shot latte and left the cafe. As soon as she was gone, she ran back to the counter.
"Did you finish that already?" the barista teased.
"No," Hannah said firmly, then took a deep breath. She didn't have anything to lose yet. "Do you ever have a customer named Morris Winston?"
Chapter Eight
Ava Eldridge had never thought much of her brother Charlie or his daughter Meg, and she thought even less of Meg's husband Jerry, but she was very fond of Meg's children. Nature was full of surprises, and Joshua and Hannah were obviously brilliant. She'd agreed to let them rent out her house in Wakefield so they could go to the schools. She'd sighed whenever they were late with their rent, but she had expected it. She made a show of putting on that she needed the rent only because she didn't want the children to think they could get through life without working. Perhaps if their parents had learned that when they were younger, things would have been different.
She couldn't get around as easily as she used to, but when the children were younger, she'd taken them as frequently as she could for little trips into Boston. They liked the circus and musicals well enough, but what they always asked to do, no matter what time of year, was go to the Swan Boats in the Public Garden and play by the large Kentucky Coffee tree at the corner of Beacon and Charles Streets. Hannah would climb on Josh's back to try and touch the top.
Hannah was back in the same Starbucks a week later. From where she was sitting, she could see the tree, and from every video Morris Winston had posted on the internet, she could see it too. She had never loved her Aunt Ava or that tree more.
Josh came with her, but he reluctantly agreed to sit on the other side of the cafe. She didn't want Josh to scare him away before she got what she came for.
She'd been there for ten minutes reading the Wall Street Journal when Morris Winston showed up. He was sweating, and that made her smile.
"Hey, Morris," she said brightly. "Have a seat."
He looked around nervously, then sat down. She nodded almost imperceptibly when Josh stiffened, hoping he understood that he should stay where he was.
"Thanks so much for coming," she said once Winston was seated.
"You didn't leave me a choice!" he hissed. "This is a violation!"
Hannah pulled out a large envelope from her bag and started taking out her printouts. "That's a funny word for someone like you to use."
He tried to grab at her papers, but she shook her head. "Mine. And it wouldn't matter if you did take them, because I have copies." She winked. "And I have your videos." Josh stayed in his seat, but he was ready to pounce.
"What do you want?" Hannah thought it was weird that he was so angry and repulsed by her. Was it because he liked girls that were younger? Was it because he wasn't used to being in this spot? Or was it because he was very used to it?
I don't want you to ever touch anyone else again. "What have you got?"
"I don't have anything."
Hannah leaned forward. "Morris, in addition to being a pervert, you are also a liar, and I hate being lied to. I can't work with you if you're not going to work with me."
Winston gripped his coffee. He was angry. "I have some paintings I can sell—"
"They're not worth enough. Don't waste my time."
He was seething. "How much do you want?"
"I did a lot of research this week," Hannah answered calmly. "You know what happens if these little home movies of yours get out? If you get really lucky, you'll get twenty years and then you can go before a parole board and tell everyone you're a changed man. But if you're not—and there's no reason you would be—you're looking at life." She folded her arms. "I've got to ask you: do you think there's a big difference between being in jail until you're sixty-eight and being in jail until you're dead? Don't you think you'd die in prison either way?"
He sneered. "So how much time would you do for blackmail?"
She grinned. "Guess what? I looked that up too. Basically, I could either go to prison for fifteen years, or I could go to prison for two and a half years and pay five thousand dollars. Crazy, right?" Hannah laughed while Winston seethed. "But since I'm a minor—I'm sorry, juvenile—I think there's a good chance I'd be out before my eighteenth birthday."
The message was loud and clear. "All I have is my home," he said at last. "I can get some money out of it, but it's going to take time."
Hannah had guessed he was going to say that, but she let him think she was mulling it over. "No, that won't work," she said a full minute later. "I'm going to want this over with more quickly."
"I can't make banks work any more quickly—"
"But you can," she said. "You can give me the deed to your house right now."
"The...deed?" he spluttered. "I can't turn that over to you! There's a mortgage."
"Stop. Lying," Hannah hissed. This wasn't fun anymore. "You do not. I checked. You got that apartment from your mother, who got it from her aunt. You don't have to worry about paying rent, so that's how you can afford to pretend you're an artist. So stop lying to me. If you're not going to give me what I want, then I am going to take this to the police. Got it? One of those things happens right now, and it's up to you which one."
Winston seemed to stop breathing. "You can't transfer property that quickly!"
"Yes, you can," Hannah said. "Like I said, I did a lot of research this week. There are three forms we have to sign in front of a
notary, and then we're all set."
Winston froze. "Where would I go?"
"The YMCA should have some rooms."
"What about...all my furniture?"
"Try Craigslist."
~~~
Hannah couldn't speak while they drove out of Boston. She'd never felt this way before, and she didn't know how to put it into words.
"I think everything's going to be okay," she murmured to Josh.
"You just let a pervert go," Josh said.
"I just took away his house."
"And why did you do that again?"
She turned in her seat and smiled at him. "Don't you see? We can sell that place. We can sell it tomorrow! And then we can buy another place. We can get a big house somewhere. Remember when we visited Aunt Ava in Andover? What if we lived there?"
"Who's 'we'?"
"You and me and Mariela," Hannah said softly. Josh looked away, but he didn't say no. That let Hannah back into her feeling that everything was going to be okay.
Chapter Nine
Mariela stopped Hannah when she dropped by the next time. "It's okay?" Hannah whispered.
Mariela looked around and nodded. "It's okay," she said. "He hasn't been coming around as much. He has other things to check on."
"Good," Hannah said. "I've missed you."
"I missed you too, and I'm worried about you. Josh is worried about you, too."
"What did Josh tell you?"
"He said that you met with a man who had done very bad things."
Hannah couldn't hide her disgust. "He wasn't dangerous because I'm not twelve and I'm not for sale."
Mariela grabbed Hannah's arm. "Hannah, promise me you will never go near him again."
"No problem; he's going to run away any time he sees me."
"Stay away from people like him. They're dangerous and this isn't a game for them."
Hannah felt the hair on the back of her neck rise up and she tried to shake it off. "How do you know?"
Mariela let go of her arm and began to organize her stand. "I think you should go," she said. "He might come back."
Hannah came closer to her. "How do you know?" she repeated.
Needs, Wants and Other Weaknesses (The New Pioneers Book 6) Page 7