The Other Path Chapter 83
Cronut yips as a man bearing a remarkable resemblance to a turtle appears behind the Senate's podium and begins to speak. "He's lying," Rick informs the canine. "That's what humans look like when they lie – except they usually look a little more human." Cronut whimpers. "Uh-huh, I'm not crazy about listening to him either. But he is exactly what I need. He's been pulling strings for years so his people can get what they want, even if most of the country is against it.
"Hmm, let me check something." Rick opens the laptop resting across his thighs. "Let's see. He makes $194,000 a year. That's less than me but more than Mama Kate. But he's worth $134 million. I know dogs don't do arithmetic. But trust me, that doesn't add up. He may be pulling strings, but whoever is pouring money into his accounts is pulling his. And the guy at the top of the money chute is the person – and I use the term loosely – that I need as the model for my villain.
"But I'll have to do some research. The big-money bosses stay behind the scenes and let guys like that yapping turtle do the talking. Usually, I write my alter-ego, impetuous investigative journalist Jameson Rook, so that he channels me. But I think now I'll have to turn the tables and channel him. If I can find the true puppetmaster and get inside his head, I can write my villain with the evil attributes he needs." Cronut looks up questioningly. "Yes, that would be a good thing. All right, back to the salt mines." Cronut trots off to get his leash. "Fine. Walk first, then salt mines. You know, I should have gotten a dog a long time ago. You're an impeccable excuse for procrastination."
"What do you think?" Kate inquires as she and Miriam continue to watch the attempted interview of the young sex workers.
Anger flashes in Miriam's eyes. "I think those young women are scared that they'll get beaten or worse if they say anything about their traffickers."
"I agree," Kate declares. "And there's no way they'll open up to a man. You and I may have more luck. But whether we do or not, we've got to get in there." The detective strides into the box with Miriam right behind her. "You and your guys take a break, Feeney."
The veteran vice officer turns hard eyes on the women he clearly views as intruders. "Yeah. Sure. I can use a cup of joe. But you're not going to get anything out of these hookers. The only way they'll open their mouths is to get them around something warm and hard – if you know what I mean."
Kate's teeth bite into her lip. "Very subtle, Feeney. Get out of here. Go get your coffee." As Kate and Miriam take seats, the detective is inclined to let the social worker take the lead, until she notices the fear in some young faces at the sight of the older woman. Have you ever met any of these girls before?" she queries.
Miriam shakes her head. "No. But I caught their response to me," she whispers. "Perhaps I resemble a woman that frightened them. I'll step out. You should try to talk to them."
Several gazes follow Miriam out of the room before staring at Kate. "I'm Detective Beckett," she explains. "And I'm here to make sure no one hurts you, and I mean no one inside this precinct or on the street. But I'm going to need your help. I need to know if anyone forced you to do the, um, the kind of work you're doing."
While the girls remain silent, Kate notices one of them lean slightly forward. "OK. We can drop the questions for a minute. But it's been hours since you were brought in. You must be hungry or thirsty, maybe want to go to the bathroom. I can take care of all of that. Anyone here like pizza?"
The girl who Kate saw regarding her slowly raises her hand. A few other hands follow. "Great. I can order whatever you want. And we have water and sodas or something hot. Who needs to go to the bathroom?" Again, several hands go up. "We can take care of that right now. Then I'll put in the pizza order and get you your drinks."
Miriam watches through the glass as several girls tentatively nibble at pizza before diving in. They're beginning to relax, but they still had a problem when they caught sight of her again. She remembers being told once that she "looked like the bitch who recruited for an asshole." At the time, she'd taken it as a run-of-the-mill insult that scared girls throw around when they're trying to look tough. Now she's not so sure. Could her double be bringing in girls for a pimp or trafficker? It's worth trying to find out.
Kate swallows the last of the orange-carrot juice for which she's developed a craving and notes the pizza boxes contain nothing but crumbs and very few of those. "Does anyone need anything else?" When none of the girls speak, Kate decides to try to work up to some questions again. "Some of the cops around here aren't very happy. That's because the district attorney, the guy who decides whether to charge someone with a crime or not, doesn't want to go after people in your job. So, no matter what Detective Feeney or any other cop here told you, you're not under arrest. No judge will have the chance to send you to prison.
"But there are still people the district attorney wants to send to prison. And I want to send them there too. They're the people who promise young women like you that they'll have good lives, a place to stay, and enough to eat. And then they force you out to – I don't have to tell you what they tell you to do. You understand it in a way I never can. But I do understand pain and desperation. And I understand shame. I understand them well enough so that I don't want you to ever have to go through all of that again. And I don't want anyone else to suffer the way you do.
"But if I'm going to put a stop to it, I need someone to tell me their story. And I promise that no matter what you say, I won't judge you. But I will protect you. You don't have to be afraid."
"We've heard about protection before!" a girl with dark hair and a fading bruise on her cheekbone spits out. "A woman who looked a lot like the one who left told us all we'd have to do is give a massage to some rich old guys, and we could have anything we wanted. But everything she said was a lie. How do we know you're not lying too? We talk to you, and the next thing we know, you lock us up."
"You want proof I won't lock you up?" Kate questions.
"F***ing right!" the girl retorts. "You have us all in here, in a building full of cops, and you can do any kind of sh*t you want."
"So what if I take you somewhere there aren't any other cops?" Kate queries.
"We're not getting in no cop vehicle again," the spokesgirl declares.
"All right," Kate agrees, we'll walk, all of you and just me."
