by Stacy Green
“I know. I’m just hoping my honesty will appeal to you. I’d just be more paperwork.” Todd rolled his eyes, but I knew I was right. Every cop detested paperwork, and he was no exception. He didn’t want to mess with arresting me for theft–not unless he had ironclad evidence on a bigger charge.
“The only reason I’m not charging you is because you’re too good of a source if this trafficking thing turns out to be the real deal. And I can get the information from the Senator. Petty theft isn’t worth my time. But I can’t make any promises the next time this happens.” He tapped his pen on the table. “What information did you get off the phone?”
I’d come prepared. As long as I didn’t give Todd Riley’s name, he wouldn’t be able to track the kid. And I needed an olive branch. “Unfortunately, not much. Sarah used a coding system in her calendar to indicate the kids’ appointments.” My mouth curled up in distaste. “She used the initials of both the client and the kid. The Rattner Hotel is a known meeting place. That’s as far as I’ve got.”
Todd scribbled the information down, barely acknowledging the phone. “I assume Senator Coleman knows you lifted the phone?”
I shrugged.
“I’m surprised he’d take it if it were stolen.”
“You’d have to ask him about that. But given the information it had on it, Sarah’s right to privacy was probably low on his list.”
“Because you stole it,” Todd said, “the phone is inadmissible in court. Not to mention any information gained from it. This situation seems very familiar.”
Referring to me and Chris breaking into Mother Mary’s house last fall and busting that case open–with information we couldn’t exactly use. I ignored the bait. “The task force is still going to move more quickly to save kids and catch these people,” I said. “They’re dedicated.”
Todd looked like he wanted to argue the point, but thought better of it. “I’ll have to contact the Senator’s office about the phone. What did Sarah do when she discovered the phone was missing?”
“She confronted me.”
“Is that when the two of you had your altercation?”
As expected, he’d already interviewed the other employees. “I wouldn’t call it an altercation. We had some civilized words and then took the conversation into her office.”
“What happened?”
“I told you once that I know how to manipulate people.” My detachment surprised me. All my life, I’d fought against becoming my mother. But now I’d begun to embrace it without even realizing it. But I use it for good, I reminded myself. I’m trying to help people. “It was obvious Sarah was just a worker bee, and I wanted the top guy. So I conned her into thinking I’d help her blackmail him. We met up at Maisy’s and discussed it.”
Todd jammed his tongue into his cheek, obviously wanting to rail on me for my choice of action. I appreciated his thinking better of it. “Did Sarah admit her involvement in this alleged ring?”
“I got the distinct impression she didn’t go into it willingly.” I recounted my conversation with Sarah, including the information she’d given me about Preacher. “Honestly, I think there’s more to her story with him. She might have been in financial trouble, but that didn’t strike me as the reason she started working with him.”
“So he’s the link between her and the big boss of this trafficking ring?” Todd asked.
“According to her,” I said. “He recruits the kids and the clients. Preacher was scheduled for a money drop the next day, and she agreed to approach him with me. I didn’t expect her to go through with it. Anyway, he showed up and she didn’t answer. Maybe she called Preacher and tried to play both ends, and it backfired on her.”
Todd lazily tapped his fingers on the file. “Perhaps. But Sarah wasn’t the victim of a hit.”
I waited. As we talked, the heat had kicked on, bringing the smell of stale air into the room. The back of my throat itched. I cleared it and wished I had a glass of water. But I didn’t want to look nervous.
“No signs of forced entry to the salon,” Todd said. “And using your theory, I’d expect Sarah to have a single bullet wound to the head. Easy and out quickly. One second.” He stood and crossed the room, popping his head out of the door to talk to someone. I cleared my throat again and hoped I didn’t have to sneeze. A minute later he sat a bottle of water in front of me and then opened one for himself.
“The vents need cleaning,” he said. “Every time the thing runs I feel like I haven’t had a drink all day.”
I caved and eagerly took a long drink. “Why do you say Sarah wasn’t the victim of a hit?”
“Because–going by what you’ve told me–this Preacher appears to be an enforcer type of guy. If Sarah broke the rules or threatened him, he’s not going to waste time on her. He’d do the job and get out. That’s a hit.”
Chewing the inside of my cheek, I debated. Todd was a good enough cop to hang me with the right information, but I wanted to be cooperative. “Well, I showed up for the money drop yesterday, and I waited in the car, trying to decide if going in alone was the right idea. I wanted to check Preacher out for myself.”
“What time was this?”
“Around 4:30. Traffic was thick.”
“And?”
“Preacher sauntered to the door and expected it to be unlocked. It wasn’t. He knocked for a while and then left pissed.”
Todd rolled his eyes, already figuring out where this was going. “Where did you follow him?”
“The subway. He headed into North Philly. He was greeted by the same kid I intercepted at the Rattner. I also saw her working the street last month. No doubt in my mind he’s her pimp.”
Todd regarded me in silence, looking for telltale signs of dishonesty. Another reason to tell a version of the truth when it counts: much easier to get away with omitting information than completely altering it. He grunted and slid the file toward me. “Just for the record, I’m not playing the whole cop trick of looking for a reaction when you see the pictures. They’re gruesome, but you can handle it. And showing them is the best way I can explain why she wasn’t the victim of a hit.”
I wanted to be repelled, to tear up and slam the folder shut. I pinched my inner thigh until tears welled in my eyes and then briefly closed them for good measure.
“Wow.” I looked at the wall beyond Todd, counting to ten. Then I took a deep breath and grimaced as I looked back at the pictures.
Sarah had been beaten and stabbed. Most hits were made by some sort of long object and seemed to center on her once beautiful face.
I covered my mouth with my right hand.
“As you can see, whoever killed her was pissed. Hit her hard on the face and back of the head, enough to daze her but not to lose consciousness. She was alive when she was stabbed.”
So she’d suffered, which likely meant her killer knew her. Preacher certainly knew Sarah, and if he thought she’d given him up, he might be capable. Still, the idea felt wrong. This looked more personal. But maybe their relationship was more complicated than I’d realized.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said. “Hopefully there’s some physical evidence.”
“We’re working on it,” Todd said. “Lots of hair and various fibers, as you can imagine.”
The air in the room changed. Not the air we breathed but the atmospheric energy that lingered around us, feeding off whatever emotions we emitted. The stuff that caused butterflies in the stomach and put the weight on our shoulders or made the hair on the back of our necks rise. I took another drink. “Tough to use hairs found at a salon.”
His mouth twitched. “A long red hair was found near the body.”
I glanced back at the pictures. Sarah lay prone less than a foot away from the receptionist’s booth. Given the blood on the corner of the booth, the killer had probably slammed Sarah’s head against it. “I imagine so. That was my work station until a few days ago. I shed.”
My explanation didn’t seem to affect him. “We’ve
got witnesses who claim to have seen you two arguing pretty heatedly at Maisy’s. Sounds like things might have gotten a bit physical.”
“Sarah was leaving, I grabbed her wrist to make a point,” I said. “She told me to get my hands off her, and I did. That was the extent of it. Like I said, she agreed to stand up to Preacher with me.”
“I see.” He stared down at the file as if the grisly photos would start talking to him. “Coroner puts her time of death as early Friday morning. Where were you between the hours of 4 p.m. and 7 a.m.?”
“At a friend’s.” Lie. This one so easily told it came out before I considered it.
“I need a name.”
“Chris Hale.” Stupid, stupid. Chris would back me up, but his high rise in Center City had about a dozen security cameras. Todd would know I’d lied in a couple of days, if not earlier. Too late now. Chris and I would have to think of something better.
“Really?” The detective laughed. “Seems like you’ve used Chris as an alibi before. He wasn’t your boyfriend then, either.”
“He’s not my boyfriend now.” I didn’t elaborate. Todd didn’t press me.
“I’ll have to confirm that with him.”
“He’s on shift right now.” Chris was a paramedic with the Philadelphia Fire Department. If I got lucky, he would get my cellphone message before dispatch put Todd through to him. “Until midnight, I think.”
“Good to know.” Todd put his elbows on the table, letting his chin rest on his interlocked hands. He stared back at me the way a cat watches an intruding mouse, biding its time until the mouse got close enough. Then the cat would launch its attack.
“You know I think you’ve got a screwed up sense of justice,” Todd finally said. “And someone like Sarah is right up your alley.”
I said nothing. Todd had gotten everything he would from me. He realized this and nodded. “I’ll check into this Preacher, see if I can get some information from SVU or Vice. But in the meantime, I’m just going to be honest: you’re on the suspect list.”
“I’m sure you’ll eliminate me quickly.” I reached for my things, making sure to stuff the water bottle into my purse. “Did you need anything else?” Todd wouldn’t put much effort into finding Preacher. He already believed–and rightly so–that I’d killed Brian and Cody Harrison for molesting kids. He’d love the chance to hang Sarah’s murder on me. Then he’d be able to have the other murders re-opened.
Todd shook his head. A lock of his hair brushed his eyebrows. He’d grown it longer, I finally noticed. I liked it. “I’ll be in touch.”
Forcing my mouth into my tightest smile, I nodded and then escaped the room. Head up and calm, I kept my pace even as I walked through the station. Cold night wind smacked my cheek until I fell into my car seat. One glance at the station told me Todd’s department had a full view of the parking lot. My fingers itched to call Chris, but I waited until I merged into traffic.
His voicemail picked up immediately. “It’s me,” I said. “I just lied to Todd Beckett and told him I was at your place Friday morning between 4 p.m. and 7 a.m., So yeah, call me.”
My stomach growled. I hadn’t gotten around to eating any of my mother’s subpar dinner. But dinner would have to wait. I needed to find out what Kelly had on Preacher. Hopefully her kitchen was stocked.
12
Kelly had given me the code to her building a long time ago, but I still buzzed to let her know I was coming up. Although she’d made huge strides since I’d first met her as a badly abused child, Kelly still had serious social anxiety. Showing up and banging on her door felt like tormenting her.
She answered right away as always. “Please tell me you have an alibi for Sarah’s murder.”
I didn’t answer right away. The pink streaks in her raven-colored hair distracted me. “Wow.” Each streak was carefully blended into her natural color. “Did you do that yourself?”
Kelly beamed. “Nope. Went to the salon this morning.”
“That’s amazing.” Kelly had been going out more and more on her own, but this venture was her biggest yet. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Thanks.” She blushed and looked down. “You like it?”
“I love it. It’s a great look for a new beginning.”
Her smile accentuated her delicate, birdlike features, making her even more beautiful. “If you’re hungry, I’ve got some pizza left over. Help yourself.”
I grabbed a slice of sausage and green olives and then followed her into her work area. Two large monitors came to life, along with the quiet buzz of her computer. “First, what does Todd have on you?”
“Nothing.” My voice sounded harsher than I intended. I took a deep breath. “Employees knew we argued. A red hair that’s probably mine was found near the body, but that’s a joke. My desk was right there, and he’ll never get that to stand up in court. Someone at Maisy’s saw us arguing. But,” my nervous stomach rolled, “as long as Chris cooperates, I’ve got an alibi.”
Kelly twirled a pink-tipped lock of hair. “You think he’ll lie for you?”
“I don’t know.”
“His building has cameras.”
My shoulders lifted and then fell limply. “I’ll think of something. And I didn’t kill Sarah, so he’s not going to pin it on me.”
“The suspicion might be enough to get the Harrison brothers re-opened.”
“Let’s worry about that if it happens.” I pointed to her now glowing monitor. “What did you find out?”
She curled her legs beneath her in a way that looked miserable. “Since we really didn’t want to call the number and ask for information, I had to go old school,” Kelly said. “I searched the white pages, and then two different search engines, and then an invisible web search. That’s basically a search engine that goes a lot deeper. I also went on Facebook. The number doesn’t come up in any public databases, which means it’s a cellphone like we thought.”
“How can you trace a mobile number back to its owner?”
“There’s a reverse call lookup, but you’ve got to pay, and we don’t want to put in any identifying information.”
“What about cell phone pinging?” I asked. “You said you were going to look into that skip tracing company that helps private investigators ping.”
“I didn’t want to use it unless I had to,” Kelly said. “Even if it’s not illegal, it’s unethical. You’d lose your license if you were caught.”
“So would half the PIs operating in this country.”
Kelly nodded. “Anyway, since it’s winter, I decided to go with the weather alert. Remember how pinging works?”
I rubbed my temples. “You send out an alert to a mobile number. It pops up on the phone and continues to pop up. Then it asks the user if it wants to opt out of receiving alerts. When they do that, their location is sent to you.”
“As long as the cell user has their location services turned on–which most people do so they can use GPS–then yes.” Kelly made technology sound so simple. I wish I understood it half as well as she did. “It goes to the server owned by the skip tracing company and they’ll process it for us.”
“And they got a hit.”
Kelly tapped her keyboard, bringing up a Google map. “You’re going to love this. 2021 Lehigh Ave. In Strawberry Mansion.”
“You’re kidding me.” I sagged down into the straight-backed chair. “Preacher is operating out of the most dangerous area of Philadelphia?”
“He’s a sex trafficker,” Kelly said. “Are you really surprised?”
“He’s making some serious money,” I said. “His clothes were nice. Expensive suit and shoes–business dress. Not the kind of thing you’d see in that area. I can’t see him strutting around looking like that without getting his ass kicked at the very least.”
“Maybe he changes before he gets home. His subway stop was away from Strawberry Mansion, right?”
“It was. But what’s keeping him there?” I tapped my chin. The sociology of poverty-stricken
areas is complicated. Preacher was likely loyal to some sort of family, perhaps supporting many family members with his earnings.
Kelly seemed to read my mind. “I know there’s all sorts of murder and violence there, but it’s sort of one side of the neighborhood against the other, isn’t it? It’s about being poor and drugs and vendettas. I can’t see something like trafficking being tolerated.”
I decided to address the elephant in the room. “Riley is white. But the latest research into human trafficking shows that 40% of victims are African Americans. And black children make up 55% of the prostitution arrests in this country.”
“So in an area like Strawberry Mansion where a lot of kids are unsupervised, Preacher’s got options.”
Adrenaline pumped through me. “You need to dig into the statistics in the area over the last few years. How many kids have been reported missing and not found?”
“How many do you think were actually reported?”
“Depends on why the kid went missing. If the mother didn’t suspect anyone in the neighborhood, she’d call the police. You got any contacts at that precinct?”
Kelly worked as an independent contractor for the Philadelphia Police Department. “That’s Central District, Precinct 22. I might know a woman in records, if she’s still there. I can see what I can find out.”
“Do that.” I thought of Riley standing on the street corner on Kensington Avenue, recruiting. Had she been ordered to look for desperate young girls who needed a savior? She’d known exactly whom to choose. Kensington Avenue wasn’t all that close to Strawberry Mansion. “My gut tells me Preacher isn’t going to poop where he eats, but there might be kids in the area who’ve been propositioned who have some idea what’s going on.”
“And you think you’re going to waltz in and chat with them?”
“Not by myself. First things first, I’ve got to find out if Preacher’s in the area. Get a lay of the land.”
“Chris is working, right? You’ll have to wait.”
I didn’t want to wait. The urge to act surrounded me. I wasn’t good at sitting around and waiting. I wasn’t powerful or in control. Waiting put me at someone else’s mercy.