A minute after Ramon and his partner enter the motel, the girl detaches herself from the side of the building at the corner and starts to make her way up the sidewalk.
She takes her time, repeatedly looking back over her shoulder like she’s being followed. The officer standing in front of the motel sees her coming but doesn’t seem to care. Then the girl, looking back over her shoulder one last time, steels herself and approaches the officer.
I can’t hear what she says to him, not from where I am in the Civic parked a block away, but it looks like she’s desperate as she motions frantically at the motel. She has something in her hand, I realize, and she tries to give it to the officer who shakes his head and waves her off. He’s not being very patient with her, and it only takes a couple more seconds before he snatches whatever it is from the girl’s hand, crumples it, and tosses it past her into the street. The girl screeches, staring at the crumpled thing as if it were her own child. She turns back to the officer, steeling herself even more, and it’s clear that she intends to do something stupid—strike the officer, maybe, or spit at him—but the officer isn’t having any of it. He rests his hand on his holstered gun without a word, but the action speaks volumes. The girl hurriedly retrieves the crumpled object from the street and starts back down the sidewalk. She’s facing me now, so I can see the tears streaming down her face, and she takes the crumpled object and tries to uncrumple it the best she can, but clearly the damage has been done.
I slip from the Civic and cross the street. The girl’s desperation has piqued my interest.
The girl is so shaken up that she doesn’t even see me until I’m a few feet away.
“Are you okay?”
The girl jumps, startled. She wipes at her eyes. She tries to speak but the words don’t come and so she just shakes her head.
We’re at the end of the block. I’ve stationed myself behind the corner of a building so the officer down by the motel can’t see me.
“May I see that?”
The girl holds the crumpled thing in her hands. It’s clear it’s a photograph. Despite this, I can’t see it from how she’s holding it, so I start to reach for it.
The girl shakes her head, snatches the photograph to her chest.
“It’s okay. I’m not going to make it worse. I just want to look.”
The girl still doesn’t look convinced. She’s in her early twenties, but she looks maybe ten years older. Thin and frail, she doesn’t even bother trying to hide the needle marks. Instantly I’m reminded of Rosalina and all the other girls who had been locked up at the ranch outside of Las Vegas. This girl is also a prostitute.
I keep my hand out, welcoming.
“Please, let me take a look.”
Up the sidewalk, Ramon and his partner emerge from the motel. Ramon’s partner says something quickly to the officer, who nods, and then Ramon and his partner climb back into their pickup truck and drive away. The officer climbs into his car a couple seconds later and drives around to the back of the motel, where he’ll no doubt pick up his partner.
It all happens within a matter of seconds, and while I watch them I’m also aware of somebody stationed up the block across the street. Another young girl, only this one doesn’t look like a prostitute. She has a cell phone raised up to her head, but it’s not to her ear. It’s clear even from this distance that she’s taking pictures.
Ramon and his partner have turned the corner two blocks up. I should be in the Civic right now, following them, but it’s at that moment the girl decides to trust me enough to place the crumpled photograph in my hand.
“My sister.”
Her voice is barely a whisper.
The photograph shows a girl about the same age as the one standing right here in front of me. In fact, they look almost like twins, though the one in the picture isn’t quite as frail. She wears short shorts and a halter-top that exposes her thin belly. She’s alone and smiling at the camera, a real sincere smile. The lighting was bad enough that the camera needed a flash, which illuminates her belly ring.
“Where is she?”
The girl shrugs.
“She did not come home this morning. She always comes home.”
“She was working last night?”
The girl nods.
“We both were. She was on this block.”
“That’s why you approached the police officer.”
The girl nods again.
“I was hoping he could help. I was hoping he saw her or knew somebody who did.”
I look once more at the photograph. The girl captured there looks happy. Hopeful. Excited at the prospect of life. I wish I could do something to help this girl find her sister, but right now there’s just too much on my plate.
I hand the photograph back to the girl.
“Good luck finding your sister.”
The girl doesn’t take the photograph. She isn’t even looking at me. Her gaze is directed at something over my shoulder.
I glance back to see an old BMW coming up the street, two men in front, both wearing sunglasses.
I turn back to the girl but she’s already moving away from me, hurrying up the sidewalk.
“Hey.”
The girl doesn’t answer, just keeps walking.
“Hey!”
The girl starts hurrying her pace.
Behind me, the BMW’s engine growls as it shoots forward.
The girl is sprinting now, turning into the alleyway beside the motel.
The BMW’s tires screech as it makes the hard turn into the alleyway, following her.
I shove the crumbled photograph in my pocket and hurry up the sidewalk. I notice that girl across the street again, the one taking pictures with her cell phone. Because of the commotion, her attention shifts toward me, and across the two blocks our eyes meet. She holds her phone up again, only for a moment, but I’m certain that she just took a picture. My picture.
Oh, hell no.
Part of me wants to stray off course, head directly to this girl and take the phone from her, smash it so hard the memory card shatters into a hundred pieces, but before I can, the girl in the alleyway cries out.
The BMW is parked at an angle, its front bumper kissing the side of the building and making it impossible for the girl to escape. Both men are out of the car now, and one of them has grabbed the girl, shoved her up against the wall.
I glance back once more at the girl across the street. This girl now looking up and down the street, as if looking for something, and then hurrying over to the other side. For some reason I think she’s coming to the prostitute’s aid—maybe she herself is a prostitute as well—but instead she climbs the steps and disappears through the motel’s entrance.
The girl in the alleyway cries out again.
I start down the alleyway, and don’t speak until I’m only a few feet away.
“Hey, do you guys smell something?”
Because of their sunglasses, it’s impossible to tell whether or not these men are glaring at me, but I’ll bet five bucks they are.
I take another step closer, overdramatically suck in air through my nose.
“Yeah, it definitely doesn’t smell good. Do you want to know what it smells like?”
Neither man answers.
I say, “It smells like two assholes.”
One of the men turns to me, his hands clenching into fists.
“Bitch, you better get the fuck out of here before we turn you out.”
I take another heavy sniff and then nod, pointing at the man.
“Yeah, you especially smell like a dirty asshole. When was the last time somebody wiped you?”
The man is clearly not used to having a woman talk back to him. His anger turns to rage, and he rushes at me at full speed. Which makes taking him out almost too easy.
I duck and move to the side when he comes at me, stepping behind him and grabbing the back of his head and smashing his face straight into the nearest wall. Blood geysers from his nose. He stumbles back. Tries to take a swing at me. I duck this attempt even more easily, grab his arm and twist it behind his back, pulling up hard enough that his body becomes mine, a simple puppet, moving in whatever direction I want.
The other man has let go of the girl. He pulls a switchblade from his pocket, starts toward us.
I jerk the man’s arm up and turn him toward his friend.
The man with the knife pauses, considering his options.
I say, “I’m going to dislocate your friend’s shoulder because nobody likes a smelly asshole. You want me to dislocate your shoulder too?”
The man with the knife snarls.
“Fuck you, bitch.”
“Suit yourself.”
I twist the man’s arm enough to hear something pop. The man screams. I push him forward. He stumbles a bit, almost falls into his friend. With the other man’s attention focused on his friend for that instant, he doesn’t see me coming. Within seconds, I’ve snatched the knife from his hand, stabbed him in the stomach, then grabbed his other arm and jerked it back until I hear that pop again.
He screams, too.
I look up at the girl, who’s staring at me in horror.
“Leave. Pack your things and leave town. Leave the city. Leave the state. Start a new life.”
“But—but—but my sister—”
“Is not coming back. You know that. Whatever happened to her, she’s gone.”
The girl again looks to be on the verge of tears. She stands frozen for an instant before shaking her head as if waking from a dream. Immediately she squeezes between the wall and the car and hurries down the alleyway.
The knife is still in the man’s stomach. I lean down and pull it out. Blood starts to ooze from the wound.
“Might want to put pressure on that.”
The man’s hand scrambles to find the wound.
I wipe the blade on the man’s shirt so it’s clean and then close the knife and slip it into my pocket.
“Think I’m going to keep this as a memento of our time together. Thanks, fellas. It’s been swell.”
Both of them swear and call me names, but it’s hard to take them seriously when they’re lying on the ground groaning in pain.
I reach the end of the alleyway just as the girl with the cell phone emerges from the motel’s entrance.
I step back before she notices me. Peeking around the corner, I watch as she looks up and down the block again and then hurriedly crosses the street. She goes up the block and climbs into a car. Fortunately, the car faces this direction, so once she has it out on the street, she heads my way.
I’m already halfway down the block when she passes. From the corner of my eye it doesn’t look like she sees me.
I cross the street and climb into the Civic, maneuver a quick three-point turn, and manage to catch up with the girl three blocks later.
I let her keep a two-block lead.
By now Ramon and his partner are long gone, but this girl, well, something tells me wherever she’s going could be just as interesting.