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When they got back to her apartment, Harry started toward the entrance, but Busy hesitated in the parking garage. Harry stopped a few feet away from her, turned, and held out a hand. Busy clutched her purse to her chest.
"I think I need to go home," she said.
Harry dropped her head. "Are you sure? I won't try anything."
"I need to think, and get some sleep." She laughed, but it was slightly off-kilter. "Or try to. I need to figure this out."
Harry stuffed her hands into her pockets and stared at Busy. She didn't want her to go, but she couldn't force her to stay. Maybe it would be better if they were both left alone with their thoughts. At the very least, Harry could make some uncomfortable but necessary calls. She had to find out the last time Selena was seen... And which girls among them could have been pregnant.
"Let me drive you home," Harry said, and stretched out a hand.
Busy's eyes locked on her hand and watched it in horror, as if it were a rattlesnake playing a deadly tune with its tail. "No. I'm fine. My car is right here." She backed away, then stumbled, turned, and walked quickly to her car.
Harry watched her get in, start the car, and nearly spin out on her way out of the parking garage. She watched the back lights as they faded until she couldn't see them anymore, then she walked upstairs to her apartment, where the remnants of a night spoiled too soon gaped back at her.
She turned around, closed the door behind her, and went back out to the street. She wanted to walk this time. A little fresh air and time to think would do her some good after a night like this. She would go to the corner store, pick up some overpriced beers, and walk back. Drink, pass out, and wake up tomorrow with fresh, if bleary, eyes and a renewed conviction to find out what had happened to another young, missing girl.
At that, she turned around, went back upstairs, and headed to the kitchen. She grabbed a box of kale crisps from above the refrigerator, reached inside, and pulled out her gun. It was old, and had once belonged to the first Harry Thresher, her Pops, the gun connoisseur. It made her feel like she was back in control as she headed back downstairs into the night.
As she walked, Harry watched the people milling around her. There were a surprising number of teenagers and young adults out on the street, she thought, then realized she was showing her age. Once upon a time, she was one of the late night roamers, having spent many nights and days out hustling, trading drugs and favors for cash and sustenance.
If she hadn't been taken in by an old friend of the family at sixteen, her life could have ended up a lot like the girls whose faces were growing pale in the thoughts of their friends and loved ones. The missing kids were out there somewhere. Whether they were alive or not, Harry knew she had to find out. She might not have her badge, but that didn't mean she had lost her heart; it was still in the same place, even if the means to her end weren't the most legal or ethical.
"Hey, Mama, you lookin' for a good time?" a boy asked as she walked by.
She leveled a gaze on him that she knew would be understood. He hadn't pegged her for a cop as she walked by, but he backed off and scrambled off into an alley beside the old, moldy brick building. The alleyways in this city all led somewhere and nowhere; he would be out of her reach before she even spun on her heel, if she chose to do so. She didn't. Not her department, no longer her job.
Her phone rang in her pocket, and she pulled it out to see who was on the line. Briggs. She answered with a gruff, "Thresher."
"Did you touch anything at either scene?" Briggs asked in a hushed whisper.
Harry grunted the negative. She listened as Briggs breathed a sigh of relief. "At least two dead, huh? Maybe three."
"That's what it looks like. The infant was small; Dr. Nettle says it was likely premature and stillborn, but we'll know more once he gets it on the table. Do you know anything about the other?"
Harry wanted to lie, say she didn't have a clue, but it wouldn't do any good. They would find out soon enough, and it would be helpful to Selena—if she was still alive—to be forthcoming. "You're looking for a Selena Paterno. She's one of the shelter kids. She has two missing friends, Carmen Delgado and Estelle Vega. Maybe Dru, too. I never got her last name."
Briggs paused, and Harry knew she would be carefully weighing her words. If there was anything the captain hated, it was being misunderstood. "Thank you for finding this and calling me, Thresher. I regret that I may have been harsh before."
"I get it," Harry said. She was nearing the corner store, and hung back as two girls the same age as Doll Barbeaux stood outside the store snickering. "I'm not going to screw this one up, Captain."
"Try to keep your nose clean," Briggs answered.
Harry agreed to stay out of it, knowing she wouldn't, and hung up the phone. She opened the door for the two girls, who gave her dirty looks, then walked behind them into the dimly lit one-room affair. She grabbed a six-pack of cans, then walked toward the register, but paused at a display of winter gear. A cotton facemask in woodsy camo stood out. She plucked it from the display, paid, and was back out on the street before the teenagers even made it to the register. Instead of heading home, she walked toward the scene of the crime. She would keep a wide breadth, but she had to know what else was secreted away in that dark woods.
––––––––
HARRY SAW THE LIGHTS and avoided them. If anyone saw her, she would be screwed, and her case would likely be decided long before she ever saw the police board. Instead she kept to the side streets and alleys with her head ducked and her hair tucked away in the itchy ski mask. As she wound her way around the city in a loop-de-loop that would lead her back to the far edge of the woods, she drank.
With every sip, she tried to put Busy's disgusted face out of her mind. She didn't want to think about how she had definitely screwed that one up beyond repair. What was important now was that it wasn't all a waste. She had to know what was going on. She had to know it was worth risking everything she cared about to find out what was happening to the missing kids, and who was behind it all.
She tossed an empty at a trash can and it clattered in the desolate street. A quick glance around showed her she was alone, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Fatigue was starting to set in; after the adrenaline rush, she was always tapped out, and the beer wasn't helping. She opened another, and stuffed the last unopened can into the pocket of her coat for the long walk home.
The woods were dark, but she had the flashlight on her phone to use once she was into the woods far enough that the light wouldn't tip off the horde of cops working the scene nearby. Anytime now, they would probably start to prowl into the woods, at least as far as any sign of blood went. But Harry hadn't seen any blood except for at the sites that were now taped off in a wide berth. It was as if the gore had been dropped there by someone whose feet didn't even touch the ground. The body of the fetus was less concerning to Harry on that point; it was small, and well contained in its purse-shaped coffin. But how did all that blood end up spewed in such a small area?
A twig snapped beneath her boot and she froze. Her eyes darted around her, to each side, and behind. She studied the darkness to be sure she was alone. No movement caught her eye. Nothing was out of place.
She slipped on the ski mask she picked up in the convenience store as a hat, then pulled out her cell phone and fiddled with the screen until she had the flashlight app on. She dragged the beam across the dark thicket of trees. Nothing. No one. She dropped the flashlight down to her feet and took a long drink from her sweating beer can.
Intuition told her to keep going, to push farther into the trees as they grew thicker; in the center, it was almost impassable. The wood was only a few miles from one end to the other, but those unfamiliar with the landscape could easily become lost if they didn't keep their wits about them. She glanced up to catch a glimpse of the stars, but they were clouded over. The meteorologist on the local news forecasted rain. Whether he was right only time would tell. So near the Gulf of Mexico, one could never truly be sure whether a flash flood would pour into the foundation of the house and flood your carpet out from under you. Then again, it went weeks without rain sometimes, and the ground would crack and splinter under your feet. People moaned and groaned either way. No one was ever happy.
A murmur caught her attention. The whisper sounded young and scared, and it came from somewhere close. Harry turned off her flashlight and stepped forward, careful not to put her weight on sticks or branches, and inched her way toward the sound.
In the center of the thicket, where the trees grew gnarled and confused and on top of each other, Harry saw two shadows standing near one another. One was dark, and one was light. They were young, barely teenagers, and as Harry watched, one pulled away from the other and was rewarded with a slap to the face. She winced, but kept her eyes on them.
"You're going. It’s too late to back out of this. Would you rather be a willing servant or a sacrifice?”
Harry wet her lips with a tongue like sandpaper. She finished off the beer, then tucked the empty can into another jacket pocket. She pushed forward far enough that she thought she might be able to see their faces, and immediately recognized Brenda's sister, Laurie, as she cowered beside an angry boy twice her size. He grabbed her by the arm and shoved her down, and the girl disappeared. He looked around, and Harry ducked beneath the thick limb of a deformed tree. He glanced her way again, then he climbed down into a hole that looked like a hollow stump.
Harry waited a few moments before she walked over and looked down into the hole. He had covered it from the inside with refuse, and if she hadn't watched them climb down, she would never have guessed that anything untoward was beneath her feet. The children had a secret hideout. They were making each other go into... What? The boy had mentioned servitude. Who was this leader, and why did he need the children? And what did any of it have to do with the bloody mess in the park?
With no other option, Harry pulled the ski mask down until it covered her face, pushed the refuse of leaves, twigs, and thick moss through, and squeezed herself into the lair of the missing children.
