had once been a high school custodian in Portland with a wife and daughter. But as far as the volunteers could ascertain, Marlon had been off his meds for at least a year. And nobody was looking for him anymore.
The young woman with the old face sat at the table nearest the restroom. Her name was Marie, and she was a prostitute, thief, and crystal meth addict. For twenty bucks, Marie would tell you anything you wanted to know about her life, and for another twenty, she’d throw in a blow job. She’d been pretty once, a runner-up in the Miss Teen New Mexico pageant when she was sixteen, but looking at her in this place, her hair greasy and sticking to her pimply forehead, it was hard to believe.
Ethan had talked to Marie every week for the last four weeks and she’d agreed to be one of his long-term case studies. He was planning to follow her progress—or lack thereof—over the next year as he finished his master’s thesis. Assuming she stuck around St. Mary’s long enough. You never knew where these people would be from one week to the next.
Marie’s eyes finally shifted toward Ethan and he locked his gaze on hers. It was hard for her to stay focused for more thana few seconds. The meth made her twitchy. Ethan jerked his head in the direction of the shelter’s side door. She sighed, but made no move to get up. Finally she nodded.
Glancing at Abby, Ethan asked another volunteer to man his green bean station. His girlfriend was engrossed in conversation with the head coordinator, but she favored Ethan with a smile as he passed. Abby knew all about his interviews with Marie, and it didn’t matter to her that he was here for reasons unrelated to any sense of humanitarianism.
Ethan smirked inwardly. Humanitarianism. Please . He didn’t give a rat’s ass what happened to anyone at this shithole beyond the scope of his thesis. But he admired Abby’s enthusiasm—it set her apart from Sheila. He couldn’t imagine his professor ever showing up and getting her pretty little hands dirty. Especially now that she had a massive fucking diamond hanging off it.
Marie. Focus on Marie . The homeless woman was inside his circle of control. Sheila, at least for the time being, was not. There was plenty of time to deal with his former lover later.
He watched as Marie exited the room through the back door. Really, who would notice if Marie disappeared off the face of the earth? She had no permanent home, no job, no skills. Both her parents were dead and her brother in Albuquerque wanted nothing to do with her. If she went missing, if she was kidnapped and murdered and cut up into little pieces and buried in a place where nobody would ever find her, who would care?
Nobody.
The thought excited him.
He found her standing several feet into the alleyway between St. Mary’s and the army surplus store next door, which was closed for the night. The air was warm but Marie lookedcold. A fresh cigarette dangled between stained fingers, and one skinny arm was wrapped around her body for warmth. The light was dim and kind to her. She almost passed for pretty.
“What now?” Marie’s voice was flat. “I told you everything last week.”
“That’s the point, Marie,” Ethan said patiently. He glanced up and down the alleyway. They were alone. “We’re supposed to talk every week, remember? That’s the deal.”
“Fuck that.”
“You don’t want the money?” Ethan reached into his pocket and took out a thin wad of cash. He peeled off a crisp $20 bill, waving it in her face. “All you have to do is talk. A lot easier than some of the other shit people ask you to do.”
She snatched the money and stuck it into the pocket of her jeans.
“What did you do this week?” he asked.
“Scored, got high, scored, got high . . .”
“What about your kid?” Ethan’s eyes searched her face. “Did you call him like you said you were going to?”
“I was high when I said that.” Marie flicked ashes onto the cement. They burned
The young woman with the old face sat at the table nearest the restroom. Her name was Marie, and she was a prostitute, thief, and crystal meth addict. For twenty bucks, Marie would tell you anything you wanted to know about her life, and for another twenty, she’d throw in a blow job. She’d been pretty once, a runner-up in the Miss Teen New Mexico pageant when she was sixteen, but looking at her in this place, her hair greasy and sticking to her pimply forehead, it was hard to believe.
Ethan had talked to Marie every week for the last four weeks and she’d agreed to be one of his long-term case studies. He was planning to follow her progress—or lack thereof—over the next year as he finished his master’s thesis. Assuming she stuck around St. Mary’s long enough. You never knew where these people would be from one week to the next.
Marie’s eyes finally shifted toward Ethan and he locked his gaze on hers. It was hard for her to stay focused for more thana few seconds. The meth made her twitchy. Ethan jerked his head in the direction of the shelter’s side door. She sighed, but made no move to get up. Finally she nodded.
Glancing at Abby, Ethan asked another volunteer to man his green bean station. His girlfriend was engrossed in conversation with the head coordinator, but she favored Ethan with a smile as he passed. Abby knew all about his interviews with Marie, and it didn’t matter to her that he was here for reasons unrelated to any sense of humanitarianism.
Ethan smirked inwardly. Humanitarianism. Please . He didn’t give a rat’s ass what happened to anyone at this shithole beyond the scope of his thesis. But he admired Abby’s enthusiasm—it set her apart from Sheila. He couldn’t imagine his professor ever showing up and getting her pretty little hands dirty. Especially now that she had a massive fucking diamond hanging off it.
Marie. Focus on Marie . The homeless woman was inside his circle of control. Sheila, at least for the time being, was not. There was plenty of time to deal with his former lover later.
He watched as Marie exited the room through the back door. Really, who would notice if Marie disappeared off the face of the earth? She had no permanent home, no job, no skills. Both her parents were dead and her brother in Albuquerque wanted nothing to do with her. If she went missing, if she was kidnapped and murdered and cut up into little pieces and buried in a place where nobody would ever find her, who would care?
Nobody.
The thought excited him.
He found her standing several feet into the alleyway between St. Mary’s and the army surplus store next door, which was closed for the night. The air was warm but Marie lookedcold. A fresh cigarette dangled between stained fingers, and one skinny arm was wrapped around her body for warmth. The light was dim and kind to her. She almost passed for pretty.
“What now?” Marie’s voice was flat. “I told you everything last week.”
“That’s the point, Marie,” Ethan said patiently. He glanced up and down the alleyway. They were alone. “We’re supposed to talk every week, remember? That’s the deal.”
“Fuck that.”
“You don’t want the money?” Ethan reached into his pocket and took out a thin wad of cash. He peeled off a crisp $20 bill, waving it in her face. “All you have to do is talk. A lot easier than some of the other shit people ask you to do.”
She snatched the money and stuck it into the pocket of her jeans.
“What did you do this week?” he asked.
“Scored, got high, scored, got high . . .”
“What about your kid?” Ethan’s eyes searched her face. “Did you call him like you said you were going to?”
“I was high when I said that.” Marie flicked ashes onto the cement. They burned
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