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The arrest was on the news the day after Harry found Estelle. She found out from Briggs later that the girl was transported to a hospital psychiatric ward for severe PTSD that bordered on Stockholm Syndrome.
"Absolutely not," Briggs ordered when Harry brought up sharing the good news with the shelter. "First of all, how would you even know it was this girl unless you were there? You're shooting yourself in the foot here, Thresher, and you know it."
"She has friends," Harry reminded her, tapping the boot across her knee with one finger. "People who care about her who deserve to know she's alive."
Briggs gave her a stony look. "They weren't very good friends if they let her get involved with a pedophile cult leader."
"I don't think that's fair..." Harry started, but Briggs held up a hand to silence her.
The captain took a deep breath in through her nose and held it with her mouth clenched tight. Then she let it out and sat back in her chair. "I know that you think it will help things to tell these kids that their friend is okay, but I think you'll find that as the members of his little group start to trickle back into the shelter, everything will be revealed. Surely one of those kids knew who was with him when he was caught, so it stands to reason that word would get out that she is alive, if under police supervision until the trial." Briggs regarded Harry for a long moment. “We found the Kyson girl’s purse in the woods by the playground. The two cases may be linked, but we won’t know until we get a chance to question Gray further. As of now, he’s lawyered up.”
Harry uncrossed her legs and stood up. She strode over to the door, stuck a finger into the closed blinds, and peeked out. It was life as usual at the precinct, with or without her.
"I know you miss it," Briggs said softly. "And, I won't lie, it's tough learning to deal with cops who work by the book."
"Too slow," Harry said.
Briggs let a grin slip onto her lips. "Expedience is definitely your strong suit."
"Too bad the police board doesn't feel the same way I do. We would have an answer by now if they did."
"There's sometimes wisdom in waiting, Thresher. Not everyone shoots from the hip like you, and it's for the best. Sometimes you have to carefully consider everything before you make a decision."
"Or you have to let red tape melt around you and try to slog through it like toffee," Harry replied, and turned to face Briggs. "They drag their feet because their pay is the same no matter what. Whether they get to my case this year, next, or never, no one is holding their paycheck over their heads. None of them ever worry about an empty belly."
"You sound just like your grandfather," Briggs told her.
Harry smiled. "Yeah, well, he raised me. Imagine that." She nodded her thanks to the captain and put her hand on the doorknob. "Thanks for keeping me in the loop. I hope the police board rules on my case before I have to watch the trial on the news next year."
Briggs barked out a laugh. "This is going to be a media circus. We've already had calls coming in from Louisiana, Arkansas, New York... This won't stay small long."
"Have a good day, Captain," Harry said, and walked out of her office. She shut the door behind her and made her way out of the building and onto the street. It was a beautiful day, and she didn't intend to waste it sitting inside buildings.
––––––––
JANUARY PASSED QUICKLY enough. Harry was in and out of the shelter helping with projects, setting up field trips, and promising self-defense lessons to anyone who wanted them. Some of the kids from Gray's cult had indeed started to come back, as Briggs had anticipated, though they were reluctant to talk about what went on in the meetings. For her part, Harry tried to help keep the other kids off their backs.
Sanura, of course, had them in an out of her office as often as she had when Hardy had been arrested with the scalp of Marlee Platt in his hand. They spent hours in her office, and Harry imagined them pouring all their fears and nightmares out onto that pristine desk. It didn't seem right, but Harry couldn't say she was a bad counselor. On the contrary, most of the kids seemed happier and more at ease when they left her office, whether it was for a mandatory session or they wandered in on their own. She knew firsthand how easy it was for the woman to tease out things you never wanted to tell her; she could do it so quickly that you wouldn't know you had confessed anything until it was all over.
Harry kept her master list of the teens who were unaccounted for on her person. Anytime she saw an unfamiliar face, or a kid she had only met once or twice, she struck up a conversation. There was work involved with those who had been gone longest, and so had no idea that Harry wasn't another cop there to hassle them. Harry put all her effort into gaining the trust of newcomers and crossing names off her list. Altogether, by the end of the month, ten of the newer kids had been crossed off her list as having returned after benders, binges, or failed attempts to find happiness with other kids. A few more never were on the list at all, and she added them to the master list that she kept in her car. But that still left quite a large number unaccounted for, and it gave Harry a heavy feeling in the pit of her stomach.
––––––––
HARRY FLIPPED THROUGH the channels and sighed. There were hundreds of channels, movies and regular shows alike, on demand and premium and music and local news... But there was never anything to watch. She promised herself she would call and cancel her cable the next day, still flipping, and took a bite of her sandwich. She almost choked on the too large bite as the headline caught her eye. The channel wasn't local, but the news was, and she turned the volume up to hear what the anchor had to say.
"Cameron ‘Ronnie Deuce’ Gray, the man accused of recruiting at-risk teens into a sex cult, and 18 counts of murder, was found dead in his cell this afternoon. Local police report that he hung himself with cloth strips cut from his own jumpsuit. They have no comment on how this high profile inmate was left alone long enough to undertake what our experts say was probably a long term project. In other news..."
Harry muted the television again. Her brother was dead. One more pedophile in a long list of them who swamped Texas prisons was out of commission, and it gave her a little jolt of happiness that dimmed quickly. The penal system was already under attack over the events of the previous year; to have him commit suicide in his cell would cost some people their jobs.
And, of course, there was the issue of their relationship. She knew it wouldn’t take long for someone to realize that the brother she never talked about was adopted by his maternal grandparents and given the surname Gray. Would they also realize that it had been her to find him out and take him down?
She picked up her phone and clicked out a quick message to Busy, then erased it and put the phone away. Sure, she felt like celebrating, but she couldn't call her. Not yet. What would she even say? 'Hey, I heard my murderous pedophile brother killed himself today in his cell. Want to come over for some sex to celebrate?'
"Pathetic," Harry said aloud, and stood up from her spot on the sofa. She stretched, pushed some hair that had escaped her ponytail back behind her ears, and walked into the fridge for a drink. Nothing but water greeted her, and she didn't feel like eating her sandwich anymore. Sleep would have to do.
