Stone Kiss (45 page)

“I hate it!”

“Then why don’t you quit?”

She couldn’t look at him. “You wouldn’t believe it if I told you.”

“He won’t let you?”

“No, not at all. I don’t think he’d care. He’s got others to take my place. And this is actually a
paying
job.”

“Unlike the other assignments he’s given you?”

“Mr. Donatti has been nothing but wonderful to me.”

Staunchly loyal. Go figure. Decker said, “Then why don’t you quit?”

“You’ll think I’m horrible.”

“Nah, I’ve heard it all.”

She didn’t answer.

“Hey, try me!”

She sighed. “I love my husband, I really do. But he’s fifty-six, Lieutenant. And he’s not a healthy fifty-six at that. He’s
had a difficult life. His first wife died after a ten-year battle with breast cancer. He has chronic heart problems… high
blood pressure. We don’t do too much… obviously, we do something. We have a son. But it’s not… you know. And after what I’ve
gone through… that’s really okay with me. But still, there are times…” A pause. “Mr. Donatti… he comes here occasionally…
to check up on what’s going on. He’s… he’s a good-looking guy. I’m still young, you know.”

Her eyes begged to be understood.

Decker smiled. “Got it.”

Her voice got tiny. “It’s just that I feel comfortable with him. Protected. I know he uses me—that’s what those guys do—but
he’s been okay about it.” Silence. “Not a lot of choices for a fifteen-year-old on the streets. I’ve heard some real horror
stories. I turned out okay considering…”

No one spoke.

“We’re not that different, you know—me and Mr. Donatti. I’m a user, too.”

Meaning her husband. Decker said, “I understand what it is to feel… indebted. I’ve got a few buds like that myself. One of
them… helped me out in Vietnam. Saved my life actually. No matter what he does to screw himself up, I always feel obligated
to pull him out of the muck.”

“You’re a real good listener, you know that?” She pulled her legs straight out, yanked down on her nonexistent skirt, and
laid her head on his shoulder. “Sure I can’t do anything for you?”

“You can do a lot for me, and I don’t mean sex.”

She sat up. “So… you really want information only?”

“Yes,” Decker said.

“Your wife must be amazing.”

“She is. Tell me about Merrin.”

“Horny old goat. Looks the other way when it comes to this place.”

“Donatti pays him off?”

Her shrug told him he was on the right track.

“Does Merrin look the other way with other things?”

“Like what?”

“Like if I wanted to score ecstasy, would I go to Merrin?”

“I have no idea.” She faced him. “That’s the truth. I only know Merrin as a client.”

“Well, who would I go to?”

“I don’t know. I don’t do drugs.”

“What about some of the other girls? I know you have a few here who also work at Tattlers.” Decker took a stab in the dark.
“I’ve heard you can get a variety of pharmaceuticals over there.”

“Plunkett, right?”

“Right,” Decker lied.

“Figures. He’s a real jerk, but he’s a good source for referrals.”

“So maybe those girls would know about scoring… the ones who work at Tattlers?”

“You’d have to ask them. We don’t have anything on the premises, that much I know.”

“Anyone here from Tattlers that I can talk to?”

“Maybe Angela. She’ll be free in a half hour or so.”

“Could you set that up
without
calling him first?” A smile. “Please, Jen?”

She looked at him and shrugged.

Decker didn’t push her. “So you know the people in these townships pretty well?”

Jen laughed softly and bitterly. “I know the horny ones.”

“What about the boys?”

“Lots of horny boys.”

“Ryan Anderson and Philip Caldwell.”

Her face darkened. “I know Caldwell. He came in about two months ago. Right when he turned eighteen. Rich threw him out.”

“Who’s Rich?”

“The bouncer.”

“The one who’s behind the paneling in the lobby.”

Her expression was stunned. “You don’t miss a trick—oh, that’s right. I went there to phone Mr. Donatti.”

“Yeah, but I figured it out before. You kept looking over your shoulder. So Rich threw Caldwell out. Why?”

“He was roughing up the girl. It was Angela, come to think of it. Rich got to her before the little prick could do real damage.
All the rooms have video cameras.”

Decker laughed. “Oh really?”

She pointed to the crystal chandelier.

“Rich must like his job,” Decker said.

“He’s gay and all business.” She looked down. “Everything’s being recorded. Eventually, Mr. Donatti’s gonna see the video.
He’s gonna hit the ceiling.”

Decker patted her knee. “Look, Jen. He wanted you to pump me for information using whatever means, right?”

She was quiet.

“He knows me. Sex wouldn’t be an option. That means he knows you’d have to feed me info to keep me talking. My questions will
tell him a lot. Was he pissed, by the way… Donatti?”

“What do you mean?”

“That this punk Caldwell was roughing up one of his girls?”

“He didn’t find out about it until way later… when he reviewed the tapes. Mr. Donatti doesn’t like problems. That’s why we’re
here. So he doesn’t have to deal with problems.”

“I see. What about Anderson? Ever come across him?”

She thought a moment. “If I did, I don’t remember. They’re all the same, these rich-kid brats. All swagger, all bravado. Each
one thinking they’re the biggest, baddest dude on the block. They deal in drugs; they show off their guns and knives; they
think they’re real tough. They think they know what it’s like on the streets, but they don’t know shit. They don’t know how
good they have it. They don’t know what’s important. They have it all, and yet they have nothing.”

The tears had come back in slow, steady droplets, but she didn’t appear to notice.

“Sometimes… sometimes God is just so unfair.”

H
e had about fifteen minutes
to kill before Angela from Tattlers was done with her “massage” client. Stepping outside into the bracing air, Decker tried
to clear his mind. The slashing rain had turned to steady globules of water, the woodland foliage melding into a thick curd
of grays and browns as the daylight dimmed. He tightened the scarf around his neck and dug his hands into his pockets, feeling
the jolt of iced steel on his fingers. He had forgotten about the snub-nose. He took it out, opened the chamber, and peeked
inside. Four bullets. He snapped it shut, then secured the safety latch.

It would have been a perfect time for a smoke and a shot of scotch. He was cold and thirsty and could have used a kick to
the system. He was sure that the place had a stash of stag toys, and with Rina absent, he didn’t have to worry about his breath
or his bad behavior. That was the attraction of whorehouses. Guys could be swine and that was not only acceptable but also
expected. Donatti was a down-and-dirty psycho, but the bastard understood married men. It wasn’t just a sex issue—though that
played a big part—it was a control issue. Men prized freedom. Married men got tired of dealing with their wives because wives
were constant reminders of their lost liberty.

In this seedy house of ill repute, he wasn’t as alienated as he should have been. In ’Nam, he had frequented brothels, but
once he returned
to the States, he didn’t need to pay for it. It was the 1960s and he was working in a college town. Free love was plentiful,
although he frequently lied about his job when he went to bars. Cops were part of the military-industrial complex (whatever
that was), pariahs with the flower-power generation. So instead of telling the girls that he was a vet and a cop—hence the
short hair—he told them that his hair was short because of lice he had picked up in the Amazon jungle. They bought it hook,
line, and sinker.

Sometimes, after he screwed them, if he was feeling particularly mean—and back then he often felt
very
mean—he told them what he really was. Far from being turned off, the women were excited by his profession, as if they were
cavorting with the enemy. Jan had been one of those types. He had arrested her at an antiwar demonstration. Two nights later,
they were humping like rabbits. Three months later, they were married. Six months later, Cindy was born.

Yadda, yadda, yadda.

Then there was that interim period after the divorce. Five years of being single before he had met Rina. The first couple
of years were heaven—lots of sex with no emotional entanglements. The years that followed were absolutely dreadful—lots of
sex with no emotional entanglements. Somewhere between the job and the sheets, he realized that the good life wasn’t endless
sexual encounters and a fourteen-hour workday. He knew he was in serious trouble when he preferred his horses to his dates.

Thank God for Rina.

He suddenly missed her terribly, missed her and Hannah Rosie and his routine back in L.A. He wanted to go home. Instead, he
was out here, freezing his balls off, trying to help a family that despised his intrusion. But it was too late for him to
backtrack. He thought of the Liebers, of the hell they were going through. He wondered if Jonathan could be objective enough
to give them pastoral comfort.…

Jonathan…

He’d been out of contact with him for the past hour. Maybe it would be a good idea to touch base. He turned on his phone but
couldn’t bring up a dial tone. He walked back inside, shaking the cold from his bones.

Jen looked up, then at her watch. “Shouldn’t be too long now, Lieutenant.”

“Could I borrow your phone?”

She pushed it toward him, her chest stretching over the desk, giving him a full view of cleavage. Maybe Donatti had instructed
her to give it one more try.

Decker averted his eyes. “Thanks.” He dialed up Jonathan’s cell phone. It connected but was full of static. “Jon! Can you
hear me?”

“Where the
hell
are you?”

Through the electronic noise, Decker could tell his brother was yelling. “Is something wrong?”

“Is something
wrong
? Everything is
wrong
! I’ve been trying to get hold of you for the past half hour! I’m driving through the woods here, getting lost—”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“Akiva!” he said sharply. “Where…
are
you?”

He turned to Jen. “Could you give my brother directions to the place?”

“It’s off the highway between Quinton and Bainberry.”

“I know that. What street does he take?”

“I don’t think it has a name.”

“Well, can he look for a landmark?”

She shrugged her shoulders helplessly.

Decker was miffed. “How do you know how to get here?”

“I just know it.”

His irritation turned to frustration. “Jon, where are
you
?”

“I’m about a mile before the Bainberry Mall.”

“You’re too far.”

“Far from
what
!”

“From the access road.”

“
What
access road? I didn’t
find
any access road.” The tension cut through the line. “We have an emergency situation, Akiva. I need to find you
now
!”

Decker felt his pulse rising. “What emergency?”

“Chaim’s missing—” Crackle bit through the line. “I’m losing you!” Jonathan screamed. “It’s raining, the visibility is poor,
and it’s getting dark. Give me something to go on!”

“Hold on.” He put his palm over the receiver. “Jen, can someone drive me down to the highway?”

“Not now. Everyone’s busy.”

“How about Angela? You said she’d be done in a few minutes.”

“She doesn’t have a car. She gets picked up.”

“What about you?”

“I don’t have a car. I usually get picked up also.”

She wasn’t being helpful. Decker wondered if that wasn’t the idea. “Jon, I’m going to walk down to the highway. I’m closer
to Quinton than to Bainberry, but I don’t know how much closer—”

“You can’t walk down!” Jen interrupted.

Decker ignored her. “It’ll probably take me a good twenty minutes or so—”

“You can’t walk down in the dark!” Jen reiterated. “One wrong turn and you’re lost.”

“It’s not completely dark yet.”

“I’ll look for you,” Jonathan said.

“Bye.” Decker hung up.

“You can’t walk down the road,” Jen insisted. “I’m telling you, you’ll get lost.”

“I don’t have any choice.”

“What about Angela? Didn’t you want to see her?”

“She’ll have to wait.”

“You’re going to get lost—”

“You’re repeating yourself.” He started toward the door.

“Wait!” She kneaded her hands several times, then opened a drawer and pulled out a storage-size flashlight, a battery-size
square with a strong white beam on one end and a blinking red flare on the other. “Take this. Maybe it’ll help.”

“Thanks.”

She bit her lower lip and nodded. She wasn’t happy about this turn of events. Maybe she was enjoying his company. He smiled
at the ridiculous thought. “Bye, Jen. Good luck.”

“Same to you, only more of it.”

He laughed but took her words to heart. He walked into the stormy dusk, umbrella in one hand, flashlight in the other, and
began to
descend the steep pathway that led to the highway. The road was a swirl of rain and mud, which immediately drenched his shoes,
the muck rising to the cuffs of his pants. Because of the acute incline, he found that he had to crab-walk across the fluid
earth, sidestepping one soaked foot against the other, mud squishing out from under his soles. His toes and fingers tingled
with cold.

It was growing darker by the moment, but Decker kept the light off, wanting his eyes to adjust to the dusky conditions. Wasn’t
much around him to use for landmarks, just endless arms of foreboding copses. A couple of years ago, he had read a Stephen
King novel about a little girl alone in the woods. At least, she had the good fortune to get lost in the summertime.

No big deal, he assured himself, just follow the road. Which was quickly turning into a rapid downhill whoosh of silt and
slush. He had to walk along the rim, his feet snapping branches and twigs and sliding across the wet detritus that lined the
forest floor. As the road became even steeper, he lost his footing and fell unceremoniously on his butt. The good news was
he missed landing on the gun.