The Guardian (19 page)

“Why’d they get you in this?” Ross said.

“They say I’m Boston Police’s best undercover officer.” Byrne grinned. “They’re right.”

“So we’re going looking?”

Byrne nodded. “Yeah. They figure that the mother back at the house with the FBI will be the most likely to be able to convince the woman to bring Janine in.
If the
woman calls, which I guess could happen. So their job is to sit tight—mine is to go find her, and the guy who’s doing all the shooting.” Byrne opened a pack of gum and handed Ross a stick. “Plus Olsen and Turner figured you’d tell me whatever you’re holding back because I’d scare the hell out of you. How am I doing so far?”

“Pretty well, actually. Five years is five years.”

The detective shrugged. “Look, I felt bad about what happened to you. I talked to that girl’s fiancé.… Dermott was his name, right? I, for one, bought your testimony about how it was her who put the coke on your sailboat. I know you were just trying to help her out of a jam. But with the mandatory sentencing and some of the shit going down in Boston that year there was no choice.”

Ross looked at him carefully. The detective took off straight past the industrial park, toward the highway. He said, “I figure we might as well get out of here. The last we saw your niece was in Boston.” Byrne looked back at him appraisingly. “You got any objection to heading back?”

“No.”

“So how about you do it again from the top for me?”

Ross told what had happened since Greg’s first phone call, leaving out Crockett, T.S., and the liquor store robbery. Byrne’s semiapology seemed a bit too pat. Ross did tell the detective about Teague—but not about holding Teague at gunpoint.

“You beat the guy?” Byrne raised his eyebrows. “What’s your background with him?”

Ross told him about his fight with Teague at Concord.

“How long ago was this?”

“About three months ago.”

“Threw him over the rail, huh? You picked up some nice tricks in there, I guess. What’d you get when you went by his place this time?”

“He didn’t break down and confess, if that’s what you mean.”

“He certainly doesn’t fit the description of the guy who abducted Janine,” Byrne said. “And you haven’t had any contact with anyone else from the good old days at Concord?”

“No.”

Byrne’s eyes were on him. Ross was sure the police would’ve made it to Crockett already, what with his being Ross’s former cellmate. Ross was certain Crockett had said nothing.

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Byrne waited, and the silence lay heavily upon them until they reached Route 128 South. Byrne said abruptly, “Let’s go visit this Teague. I’ve got my doubts, but he’s got a motive to get back at you, and he knows about Janine. That’s enough for a talk with an officer of the law.”

Byrne had Ross stand behind him, to the side of the door. He took his gun out and held it against his leg and pounded on the door with the heel of his hand. “Teague. Boston Police. We’d like to talk to you.”

Ross heard movement in the apartment, a sound like a plate being dropped. Byrne pounded the door again. “Come on, come on. We can hear you in there.”

They heard muffled voices, one high, one low. The high voice sounded like a girl’s. Ross grasped Byrne’s elbow. The cop nodded and put his finger to his lips.

Teague called through the door, “What is this?”

“Open up and find out.”

“I didn’t do shit.”

“Just some questions, Teague.”

The door opened. Teague was wearing just a pair of jeans, and his huge white belly hung over his belt. “What is this?” he said again. And then he looked past Byrne and saw Ross.

“Ah, shit. This again.”

“This again,” Byrne said. “Let us in. I’ve got some questions.”

Teague scratched his belly. “I got nothing to say. And I can tell you that from here.”

“Who’s with you?” Byrne said, lifting his chin toward the closed bedroom door.

Teague kept his face straight ahead. “Nobody. You must’ve heard the radio I had on.”

“The radio?”

“That’s right. Turned it off when you knocked on the door.”

“That’s a fast answer, Teague.”

“Huh?”

“Most people wouldn’t figure it out about the radio so fast. Except when they’ve thought it up as a lie.”

“What do you mean?”

Byrne brought the gun from behind his leg. He didn’t point it at Teague but let him see it. “I want to meet whoever’s in your bedroom.”

Teague shook his head. “You can’t do this.” He pointed a thick finger at Ross. “And this guy, I want you to arrest him. He broke into my place with a gun. Threatened me with it.”

Byrne didn’t even glance at Ross. “And why did he do that, Teague? What did he want?”

Teague shrugged. “You know.”

“No, I don’t. Tell me what he wanted.”

“The kid. Said his niece had been snatched.”

“And why did he come to you?”

Teague waved his hand at Ross. “How the fuck do I know? He’s right there. Ask him.”

“I’m asking you.”

Teague shrugged.

“Get your shirt, Teague. You’ll gross everyone out at the station, that gut of yours.”

“Prison shit.”

“What’s that?”

“Some shit I said in Concord. Just a joke, saw her picture, made a little joke. The guy went all nuts.”

“That’s not the way I hear it. I hear you went all nuts.”

“Huh? Well, believe what you want, man. I’m the one that’s limping. Tore my tendons all to shit.”

“That piss you off?”

“What?”

“Walking funny. That piss you off, give you a reason to get back at him. And at her?”

Teague shook his head. “History, man.”

Byrne kept his eyes on Teague. “I want to meet whoever’s behind that door. Right now.”

“You can’t do that.”

Byrne sighed. “Teague, I don’t know you. So I don’t know how stupid or how smart you are. But I’m beginning to lean toward stupid. Because I’m investigating the kidnapping and ransoming of the same little girl you fought with Stearns about in Concord. And I hear a girl’s voice behind that door, and I have information you like them young. Whether I take you in for questioning right now or whether you let me in for a chat right now, I don’t care. But if I bring you in, I’m also bringing in the FBI. Once they’re in, we’re talking search warrant, the works. And if you’ve got so much as an ounce of pot, you’re on your way back to prison.”

“He assaulted me!”

“Teague, I’m a cop.” Byrne shook his head as if he were talking to a rather slow child. “What
I’m
interested in is all that’s important to you right now. And what I’m interested in right now is who’s behind that door.”

Ross’s heart was pounding. A trickle of sweat had just slid down Teague’s face.

“Right now, Teague!” Byrne snapped.

“Shit.” Teague swung away from the door and strode over to the bedroom. Byrne and Ross were close behind. Teague opened the bedroom door, and Ross saw a young girl with long blond hair pull a sweatshirt down over her bare breasts. “Getting a free look, guys?” she said.

“She’s a hooker,” Teague said.

Her name was Cyndi. She emphasized the correct spelling.

She told them she was eighteen but had no driver’s license or any other identification to prove it.

“I like to be driven,” she said, shrugging her shoulders.

“You’re not a day over seventeen,” Byrne said.

She shook her head. “Eighteen last May. The sweet sixteen bit’s just a look.” She tugged at her plaid skirt. “I can do twenty-five, too. All depends what my boyfriends like.” Her tone was light, cocky. But she looked scared to Ross.

“Your boyfriends, huh?”

She glanced at Teague, then back to Byrne. “All of them.”

“I don’t believe it,” Byrne said. “What do you think, Stearns?”

“I think she’s fifteen.” He noticed her head jerk slightly and felt sick at heart. Trading children for children.

“Yeah, I’d say you’re right.” Byrne took handcuffs from his pocket. “Turn around, Teague.”

“She’s a hooker!” Teague said.

“She’s a kid.”

“Ah, come on, guys,” Cyndi said.

“What do you want?” Teague asked. “Tell me what you want.”

Byrne handed them the sketches. “Give me some names here. You take a look, too, Cyndi.”

Teague looked at the man’s picture and snorted. “How the hell do I know? There’s not enough here.”

“Yeah, well, the cop who identified him didn’t have much time. This guy shot him.”

“Ah, Jesus, I didn’t have anything to do with that. You can tell enough from the sketch to know the guy isn’t me. You can tell that much.”

“So who is he?”

“Like I said, no idea.”

“And her?”

Teague looked more closely but shrugged. “No.”

“Her name might be Nat, or Natalie.”

“No.”

“How about you, Cyndi?”

The girl looked at both sketches for a long time, but Ross had the sense she was just going through the motions. “Nope.”

“Where were you on the evening of July eighth, Teague?”

“I dunno. Where were you?”

“It was a Tuesday night.”

Teague squinted. “Yeah, OK.” He looked over at Cyndi. “I was with Julia, wasn’t I?”

“Yeah,” Cyndi answered automatically, no thought included.

“She’s twenty-two,” Teague said. “Go ask her.”

“We will.”

“Can’t,” Cyndi said. “She’s on vacation.”

“A working vacation?” Byrne said.

“Is there another kind? Down in the Bahamas.”

“Where? Have you got a phone number down there?”

She laughed. “Be serious. We share an apartment, we don’t braid each other’s hair.”

“Who’d she go with?”

“I have no idea. Just a guy.”

Byrne took her phone number and nodded to the doorway. “Take off, Cyndi.”

She slid off the chair quickly, grabbed a schoolbag, and headed for the door. “Bye, guys!”
 

“She’s only fifteen,” Ross said.

Byrne shrugged. “What can you do?”

Chapter 33

Lunchtime, sleepyhead.”

The light hurt Janine’s eyes, and she turned her face away. Smelled mildew and grease. They were in an abandoned car.

“C’mon, baby, I’ve gotta go to work, if you can call it that. Look, I got you a chocolate shake, your favorite.”

The woman pulled at her arm, and Janine cried out. Moving made her head hurt terribly. It was as if somebody had clunked her with a rock. She asked Nat to leave her alone.

“Oh, baby, you think this is easy on me? I wish I could sleep the day away.” Nat’s voice had a funny singing sound to it. Janine kept her eyes closed. It still seemed like a dream, one of those where she was trying to run from something, but it was all in slow motion and she just couldn’t get away fast enough.

“Sleepyhead!”

Janine felt sharp pain inside her leg.

“Quit it!” Janine slapped the woman’s hand away from her leg.

“It hurts, doesn’t it?” Nat pinched her thumb and forefinger together. “But Miss Crabby got you up, didn’t she? Look, I got to go out for a while, and you can sleep when I do. But I just want to make sure you get something to eat.” She raised another bag from McDonald’s. “Chocolate shake, burger, fries, apple pie. The works.”

The sunlight coming into the car hurt Janine’s eyes. She felt sick to her stomach. The woman’s face scared her. She was wearing bright red lipstick and dark eye shadow. The makeup made her look pretty and mean at the same time. Nat leaned between the bucket seats to show Janine her clothes. They were different from before. She was wearing a tight red top, a black miniskirt, high heels, net stockings.

“Ta-da.” Nat gestured down at her body. “That should stop the boys at lunchtime, wouldn’t you say?”

“What’re you doing?” Janine looked out the window for the first time. She could barely remember what had happened after they ran last night. But her knees were scraped and her sweatshirt smelled bad. Then she had a quick flash memory of hiding behind a big Dumpster, and the woman crouching beside her as a car muttered outside the alleyway, a big old car with holes in the windshield. And Nat whispering, “I’ll do him if he comes down here. I will.”

But he hadn’t.

“Is that policeman dead?” Janine remembered his eyes opening.

“No, he’s OK. I saw a paper this morning. I saved his ass, too, I guess.”

Relieved, Janine looked around at the car they were in. It wasn’t too old-looking, but it was dirty inside, the window beside the steering wheel edged with broken glass. She could see the hood in front of them was all smashed up.