“Not a problem,” Rodney said. “I’m here to help.”
And he gave her that big, affable overgrown-boy smile. She shrugged and not knowing what else to say, said, “Good. There’s lots to do. And someone I need you go pick up for questioning.”
*
Simon knew hewould pay for his actions. “Everything had gone sideways,” he muttered over a glass of scotch, sitting on his couch, trying to enjoy the view from his penthouse. He slowly swirled the drink in his hand, as he thought about the repercussions of calling in the little girl’s location. Then the gambler’s suicide. It had been a hell of a night.
He had connections on all levels, and murmurs in the underbelly had reached him.
An underground group of pedophiles—who passed children between themselves—had alerted the others in the group, when the cops got too close. So far, locations of those bastards eluded Simon. As soon as he had his hands on one, he could break the chain, could share some concise information with the detective then, but finding the weakest link was so much harder now. They closed ranks to keep their little hobby going. They were depraved excuses of humanity.
He took a sip of his scotch and leaned his head back to let the hot liquid burn its way down his throat. He was cold; he was tired, and his mind kept going over and over the fact thatshehad been there.
The detective shouldn’t have been there, but he knew in his heart of hearts that, of course, she was there. She’d become his nemesis. At the same time, she’d also become that magnet he couldn’t resist. Like a moth to the flame, he knew he would get burned the closer he got, but he just couldn’t stop getting closer. In his mind, he could try to convince himself that it was all about the children, all about redemption for the past, but that wasn’t even working for him anymore.
Something was magnetic about her. Yet she was abrasive and didn’t suffer fools. More than didn’t suffer fools, he highly suspected she didn’t suffer very much at all in the way of human weakness. But everybody made mistakes, including her. His mind said that if he could find her mistakes, he could use it against her, but his heart told him not to. If it had been anyone else, he wouldn’t care.
He stared down at the scotch, remembering the promise he’d made to his grandmother to not head down the same direction a friend of hers had, supposedly a no-good drunk.Ne pas y aller. Simon had no recollection of him whatsoever. For that matter, Simon had no recollection of his birth mother either. Yet he vividly remembered his grandmother, who was with him for such a short time, following the abuse with his foster father, only to be yanked into that system again upon the death of his grandmother.
Leaving a ten-year-old boy alone in the world. Vulnerable. Innocent. A victim to be preyed upon. Again. Just like those other kids the detective tried to save.
Ne pas y aller. Simon’s promise to his grandmother had been easy to make at the age of eight, after suffering at the hands of his abusive foster father. Who knew that decades later, as Simon learned more and more, it was that much harder to separate right from wrong? And, for him, it was almost impossible anymore. The line had become such a knife-edge that he bled every day with the need to stand on that point. He did as much as he could on the right side to make up for every boy, like him, who had been wronged.
He leaned against the window and stared out at the bright morning. The city was stunning in its beauty, the sunrise scene absolutely glorious and rivaled any major city in the world, but, for him, this was home, the only place that felt right. He’d been home in the underbelly, and he was at home in the richness of the world above. The latter he’d worked long and hard to get to. And he had no intention of giving it up. Living behind bars was not for him either. Intriguing detective or not. One last flick of his wrist to toss back the last of the scotch in his glass, he prepared to get through the rest of his day.
*
He stared atthe TV image of his China Doll. How had they found her so soon? He’d thought about a dumpster, and he’d thought about the water. Then he’d decided the back alley was probably better. He studied the school photo on the TV. She looked so happy and so young and innocent. He smiled. “She’d been such fun. But she hadn’t lasted. She’d been damaged,” he murmured, as he studied the blond curls. He gave a hard laugh at that. But still, there was the missing Leonard, and that little boy was fresh and young, might be a really good replacement for Jason. He’d love that.
They flashed a picture of Leonard up on the TV.
And his heart gave a happy sigh. “Now, all I have to do is find you, Leonard. I’m working on it.”
His group had made a pact a long time ago to share and to share alike, but they never actually had. It was like an open rule, where anyone would share, as long as you don’t ask to share. But, in this case, he wanted that little boy, and he had no intention of sharing. But he had to find him first. As he stared out the curtained window, he wondered which one of his so-called cohorts in crime had Leonard. And what would it take to buy Leonard.
He wanted him badly. Especially after missing out on the toddler. Why was there no news coverage for him? Was somebody else holding out on him? Because he hadn’t heard of Leonard being a guest with any of them.
And that made him angry. As he looked down at his fingers, clenched into balls, he was ready to punch a wall. He’d promised that he would keep the violence down, according to the landlord’s dictate that he’d have to leave if he couldn’t control himself. He should ask his sister for money again, so he could buy a small place, but she’d already told him no, that she had no money. Maybe that had been true before, but she was pulling in good money now.
At least he thought she was, just no way to tell. He didn’t get to go to her place, and she never came to his. That was also one of those unspoken rules.You’re part of my world, only as long as you stay outside of my world.That he was confined to his little apartment worked most of the time, and only now did he realize that he needed to reach out to grab what he wanted, and he didn’t have another place to do that. This was the one place he had that was safe. Sometimes he wished he had a playroom somewhere else. But that took money. At least for something fancier.
He sat down with a pad of paper and wrote down a bunch more thoughts and tidbits to feed his sister. It was important that he keep up their relationship. The only way he could do what he was doing and survive was that tenuous connection to her. Sure, they were blood, and they were connected by his deeds, but, more than that, it was by her curiosity. And he knew to keep feeding it. He’d been doing this for years, for decades, so it was easy to keep going on and on in circles, as if trying to confuse her.
She usually saw through it, but the fact that he was even doing it, he knew that she was puzzled by it. And that was fine. He needed her. And Leonard. He didn’t really care about his sister, as long as he could find another way to get a hold of that little boy. Then he was his. He didn’t care what pedophile already had Leonard; he would make sure he took him. Now he had to find Leonard before the cops did.
So which of those assholes should he shake down first?
Chapter 12
Friday Midmorning
“How is itthat possible?” Kate sat here at her desk, in the early morning, sipping her coffee. The selfishness of people stunned her. “An Amber Alert goes out, and people pitch a fit because they were woken up by a text about a child gone missing,” she said, shaking her head, staring out the window. It was a dreary Vancouver day, the coastline weather having hit and hit hard.
“Children go missing every day of the year,” Lilliana said. “If they aren’t personally affected, they don’t care.”
“Isn’t that the truth.”
“Don’t you have something to work on for the meeting?”