of her to pick up the bad-cop role at Scott’s house. Or had she realized she was doing it? He had his doubts.
She was a handful. But other things were bothering him.
Cassandra was. He hated seeing a kid that miserable. He wanted to get the bastard who’d exploited her, but in truth he was as angry at the mother as he was at the rapist.
Most of all, there was this Rhonda thing. The coincidence of her death was a bit too much to buy. Eddie had been a cop for a long time, and his cop’s belly told him one thing: Toes.
Maybe the kids weren’t lying about his identity— maybe they really didn’t know who he was. And maybe Cassandra told her friend Pamela that her mother was pulling out all the stops to find him, and Rhonda told Toes, who realized she was the only one who knew who he was, and he killed her. It was amazing how little regard some people had for human life. A guy who’d lure three fourteen-year-olds to his house and have sex with them was a monster by definition.
But taking it further— this was what bothered him the most— taking it further, maybe the others did know his identity. Maybe Rhonda was only the first.
This was why he was in no mood. He needed to figure out what the hell to do.
Okay. First call Scott and tell her to call all the other parents. That was obvious. But damn, he hated the idea of that call. Maybe Talba could make it.
Also, there was the question of telling the police the whole story. It was going to be a few hours before he could find out if anyone saw the hit-and-run. Maybe if a white woman were driving… nah, that was no good. No matter who was driving, Toes could be behind it. No question he had to warn Scott. Damn. He had to talk to her himself.
When they got back to the office, he said, “You take Rhonda. I’ll take the cops and Aziza,” and closed the door behind him.
His head pounded.
At this rate,
he thought,
I’m not gonna make sixty-five.
His birthday was two weeks away.
Chapter 6
Talba thought,
Okay, fine, if you want to be that way,
and closed her own door. That would mean he’d have to come to her and knock— or at least send Eileen. Anyway, she had some stuff to do she didn’t want him to know about.
But first the case. She hoped to hell Rhonda hadn’t been married— the hardest thing about the Internet was tracing people whose last names you didn’t know.
Well, there
was
a Rhonda Bergeron at the address they’d gone to to find Pamela— evidently she’d lived with her parents. She was eighteen. Damn. So far, Talba had been too puzzled and hurt by Eddie’s refusal to talk to feel much for Rhonda. But eighteen! She was starting to feel plenty, including an urgent need to get going on this. Come up with something. Goddammit,
protect
her somehow, though it was too late.
No newspaper clips. Hmmm.
Talba’s fingers flew like a flock of finches. Not much on the father, Lloyd Bergeron, except that he was married to a woman named Marilyn. Decent credit, good driving record. Nothing on Marilyn.
Johnson, as in Shaneel, wasn’t even worth trying.
Just for good measure, she put together a dossier on Aziza Scott and printed it out for Eddie, along with the tidbits on Rhonda. No surprises there either.
She needed to talk to people, to go back to Shaneel— the most likely whistle-blower— and threaten to wring her little neck if she didn’t talk. But Eddie’d wring
her
little neck if she did.
She went to lunch and lingered until she was bored. When she got back, she was faced with the same old empty in-box. She felt tense and frustrated.
And so she did what she always did to clear her head— started noodling on the net. Which reminded her— she was really going to have to set up a website for Eddie, and soon too. Her pride wouldn’t permit working in a place that didn’t have one. Besides, if she was going to be a rainmaker, it was probably the best thing she could do to bring in business.
She was on Eddie’s time, why not do it for him now?
She was a handful. But other things were bothering him.
Cassandra was. He hated seeing a kid that miserable. He wanted to get the bastard who’d exploited her, but in truth he was as angry at the mother as he was at the rapist.
Most of all, there was this Rhonda thing. The coincidence of her death was a bit too much to buy. Eddie had been a cop for a long time, and his cop’s belly told him one thing: Toes.
Maybe the kids weren’t lying about his identity— maybe they really didn’t know who he was. And maybe Cassandra told her friend Pamela that her mother was pulling out all the stops to find him, and Rhonda told Toes, who realized she was the only one who knew who he was, and he killed her. It was amazing how little regard some people had for human life. A guy who’d lure three fourteen-year-olds to his house and have sex with them was a monster by definition.
But taking it further— this was what bothered him the most— taking it further, maybe the others did know his identity. Maybe Rhonda was only the first.
This was why he was in no mood. He needed to figure out what the hell to do.
Okay. First call Scott and tell her to call all the other parents. That was obvious. But damn, he hated the idea of that call. Maybe Talba could make it.
Also, there was the question of telling the police the whole story. It was going to be a few hours before he could find out if anyone saw the hit-and-run. Maybe if a white woman were driving… nah, that was no good. No matter who was driving, Toes could be behind it. No question he had to warn Scott. Damn. He had to talk to her himself.
When they got back to the office, he said, “You take Rhonda. I’ll take the cops and Aziza,” and closed the door behind him.
His head pounded.
At this rate,
he thought,
I’m not gonna make sixty-five.
His birthday was two weeks away.
Chapter 6
Talba thought,
Okay, fine, if you want to be that way,
and closed her own door. That would mean he’d have to come to her and knock— or at least send Eileen. Anyway, she had some stuff to do she didn’t want him to know about.
But first the case. She hoped to hell Rhonda hadn’t been married— the hardest thing about the Internet was tracing people whose last names you didn’t know.
Well, there
was
a Rhonda Bergeron at the address they’d gone to to find Pamela— evidently she’d lived with her parents. She was eighteen. Damn. So far, Talba had been too puzzled and hurt by Eddie’s refusal to talk to feel much for Rhonda. But eighteen! She was starting to feel plenty, including an urgent need to get going on this. Come up with something. Goddammit,
protect
her somehow, though it was too late.
No newspaper clips. Hmmm.
Talba’s fingers flew like a flock of finches. Not much on the father, Lloyd Bergeron, except that he was married to a woman named Marilyn. Decent credit, good driving record. Nothing on Marilyn.
Johnson, as in Shaneel, wasn’t even worth trying.
Just for good measure, she put together a dossier on Aziza Scott and printed it out for Eddie, along with the tidbits on Rhonda. No surprises there either.
She needed to talk to people, to go back to Shaneel— the most likely whistle-blower— and threaten to wring her little neck if she didn’t talk. But Eddie’d wring
her
little neck if she did.
She went to lunch and lingered until she was bored. When she got back, she was faced with the same old empty in-box. She felt tense and frustrated.
And so she did what she always did to clear her head— started noodling on the net. Which reminded her— she was really going to have to set up a website for Eddie, and soon too. Her pride wouldn’t permit working in a place that didn’t have one. Besides, if she was going to be a rainmaker, it was probably the best thing she could do to bring in business.
She was on Eddie’s time, why not do it for him now?
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