The Other Path Chapter 84
Eyes widen as Kate leads the group of girls into the loft. Curious Cronut pads over to regard the visitors, followed by an equally curious Castle. "Keep that dog away from me!" the dark-haired girl demands, throwing her hands in front of her face.
"He won't hurt you," Rick promises, grasping Cronut's collar as reassurance. "He loves everyone. But I can put him in my office."
Rick leads the disappointed dog away but grabs a treat from a box on a shelf to offer as consolation. "Some people have been hurt so much they're afraid of everyone, even the world's most huggable fur-shedder," Rick explains to the mournful canine. "But Mama Kate will try to make them feel better and so will I. You want me to put on Scooby-Doo for you?" Rick picks up the remote control as Cronut's tail enthusiastically expresses his anticipation.
"This is my husband, Richard Castle," Kate explains to the group of young women when Rick returns to the great room.
"Why's he got the same name as that mystery writer?" one of the girls' queries.
"Strangely enough, I happen to be that mystery writer," Rick explains.
The girl shakes her head. "No way!"
Rick fetches the nearest copy of one of his books and holds up the cover picture next to his face. "See, it's me."
The dark-haired girl snorts. "Maybe you in the 1990s."
"The picture's only seven years old," Rick protests.
"Hey, look"! Kate interrupts. "You all wanted to talk in a place where there were no other cops. This is it." She gestures toward a furniture grouping that can accommodate all her charges. "And sitting here will be a lot more comfortable than at the precinct. So let's settle in and we can talk about the asshole that put you on the street."
"I'll leave you to it," Rick says, heading back toward his office.
The girls hesitantly perch on the edge of two couches while Kate pulls a nearby easy chair closer. "Let's start with names. If you want, you can call me Kate. So, who am I talking to?"
"I'm Chloe," the girl who'd first leaned forward in the box responds. In a verbal cascade, the visitors identify themselves as Libby, Cara, June, and Lynette. Finally, the dark-haired girl begins to drop her guard. "Mikaela, but I never let anyone except my nana call me that. I'm Mike."
"Mike it is," Kate accepts. "So, Mike, tell me about the woman who told you you'd give massages to fat old men."
"That bitch! Like I said, she looked a lot like the woman who was with you, but richer, you know? She didn't get her hair cut at no Supercuts. And she had these pearls she was always putting her fingers on. She used to hang around the school, you know? Sometimes when men did that the teachers called the cops to chase them away. But they didn't care about a woman."
"Why did you talk to her?" Kate asked.
"This food truck showed up. And it had really good sh*t, burgers, fries, tacos, fried chicken, those folded pizzas, you know? The bitch told us that she was surveying teens for a psychology study. If we'd answer her questions, she'd give us a paper that let us get anything we wanted from the truck. I didn't have much to eat at home. My mother's boyfriends drank the money she said she was going to spend on groceries. And school lunches suck. I really wanted that paper, so I answered the bitch's questions. So did a bunch of other girls. Then she started coming around with stuff she'd give us if we answered more questions."
"Stuff like drugs?" Kate queries.
"Nothing like that. If someone narc'd to the school, they would have called the cops. Cute necklaces, perfume, packs of makeup, that sh*t. It was cool and all we had to do to get it was throw more BS at her."
"And then what?" Kate prompts.
"Then she told us if we'd do easy jobs for her boss, we could have much better stuff, great food, whatever we wanted," Libby interjects. "I lived with my uncle. He wasn't into filling the refrigerator either. And he never stopped smoking. Everything in the apartment, all my stuff, always stank. I wanted nice things, clean things."
"So you went with that woman? All of you?" Kate probes.
All the young heads bob.
"Did she ever give you her name?" Kate continues digging.
"She called herself Viveca," Chloe offers.
"And how about Viveca's boss? What was his name?" Kate presses.
"Viveca called him Brix," Libby recalls.
"Did any of you hear Brix's last name?" Kate inquires.
"I think I heard it once when Viveca and Brix were talking to one of the creepy ones, a guy called Donny who liked to do it in this chair that was covered in gold, like a throne or something. Donny called him Borstein," Chloe remembers.
Kate nods. "Brix Borstein. And where did Vivica and Brix have you bring your customers?"
"Different hotels.," Mike responds. "But Brix has a place somewhere for parties with the weirdos like Donny that Viveca called VIPs. It's a big house."
"Where?" Kate asks.
"We don't know," Chloe explains. "Viveca would drive us to a dock and make us get in a boat. We couldn't tell where it was going."
"And the house was right on the water," Libby adds. "So there were no street signs or anything."
"So it was on the ocean or the river," Kate considers.
"Ocean, I think," Chloe offers. "The water had waves and the air smelled salty."
"Were you in the boat in the morning or at night?" Kate asks.
"Morning," Chloe replies.
"And where was the sun? Behind the boat, to the left or right or in front of you?"
Mike closes her eyes. "Kind of ahead and to the right."
Kate nods. "Sounds like you might have been going to Long Island, maybe the Hamptons. Do you remember anything else about the house? How many rooms it has? What color it is?"
"It was purple!" Chloe exclaims. "I heard Brix tell Donny that it was the right color for kings."
A smile tugs at Kate's lips. "There can't be too many water-accessible purple mansions in the New York Area. You all did great. And you won't believe how much ice cream my husband keeps in our freezer. Anyone interested?"
"Only if you have chocolate," Mike insists.
Kate starts toward the kitchen. "I'm sure we do."
Rick stares at his computer screen. The last thing he wants to do is intrude on Kate's interview with the young victims. Her rushed text told him she was bringing them to the loft, and why. But he can't imagine his presence would be helpful, particularly if the girls are fearful of Cronut's return. And Rick has work of his own. He's been going deeper into the background of the turtle, better known as Senator Hitchcock Fleming, or Hitman Hitch. The Senator is infamous for going after his enemies and either keeping them from being reelected or blocking them from any positions of power. And over the years, he's consolidated his own power. But it wasn't always so. He came from humble beginnings but did develop an unusual talent: marrying rich women. In following that thread, Rick finds himself both fascinated and sickened. But he's hoping that exploring Hitch's history will lead him to an even more repugnant character.
