Page 91 of Concealed in Death

“I don’t remember doing anything of the kind. How did I help her leave there?”

“Forged documents. It’s something you do.”

“I may or may not forge documents. I’ll tread softly there. But I never did so for Shelby. Not of any kind. She wouldn’t have asked me.”

“Why?”

“First, because she knew better than to offer her usual bartering system to me. I don’t touch the girls sexually, despise any man who would, and she knew my line there. Second, it would have implied she needed me, and she was always out to prove she needed no one.”

“Did you teach her how to forge official documents?”

“Not directly, as again, she’d have never asked me to teach her any skill. It’s certainly possible she picked a few things up. She knew how to pay attention.”

“Shelby planned to get her own place and had one in mind. A born leader, in your own words, she might’ve taken a big chunk of girls with her, threatening your operation, cutting into your profits.”

He drank some water, watched her steadily. “I imagine you’ll have to explore that possibility. I’m outside your lines for one, and connected to at least some of those poor girls. But you know, as I do, Mavis is a very sharp judge of people. She knows I’ve never hurt a child in my life, never could or would.”

Now he leaned forward. “I don’t have the inclination and you haven’t the time to hear my long, sad story, Lieutenant. I’ll just say that while we have different methods, even opposing methods, our goal is the same. To help those who’ve been hurt or discarded. Because of that, I’ll do anything I’m capable of doing to help you find out who killed those girls.”

He paused a moment, leaned back again, drank again. “Some of them were mine,” he said quietly.

It pissed her off that she believed him. Saying nothing, she reached in her file bag, took out a photo, and set it on the table between them.

He nudged it closer and, brows drawing together, studied the face.

“Yes. Yes, I know this face. She came in—was brought in—by one of the others. With... give me a moment.”

He frowned at the photo, then closed his eyes. “With DeLonna, of the siren’s voice.”

“DeLonna Jackson?”

“I don’t know if I had DeLonna’s full name as she wasn’t really with us. Came and went, one of Shelby’s friends. But it was DeLonna, I’m certain, who brought her to me, after she’d found the girl being hassled by some older boys. Some will always prey on the smaller and weaker—and though DeLonna was small, she was fierce.” He laughed a little, at some memory. “In any case this girl... yes, Merry, but not the traditional spelling. She was very specific, M-e-r-r-y. Again, I don’t know the last name. She only stayed a handful of days.”

“Why?”

“I don’t remember, right offhand, the particulars. I do remember her now. I remember her face. Do you have more? More photographs?”

“Not yet. What about girls who left during this time period. You said some came and went. Who went.”

“Actually, there is one. After I spoke with Mavis, I thought of her. Iris Kirkwood. She’d been with us about a year. All too typical story. Father gone, abuse and neglect from the mother. In and out of foster homes, some of which were no better than the parental home, then back with the mother who simply walked out one day. Iris opted not to go back in the system, but went on the street. She was a terrible thief, clumsy fingers. I used her primarily as a pickup, or on the Lost and Found grift, something simple. She was... a little slow, if you understand me. A sweet smile when she used it, but far too eager to please. She liked to sit in church.”

Eve’s eyes sharpened. “What church?”

“None in particular. She said she liked them because they were quiet and pretty and smelled good. Is it important?”

Eve pushed past the question. “She was with you for a year, then she wasn’t. You didn’t think anything of it?”

“On the contrary, we looked for her. One of the girls told me Iris said she had a secret, but she couldn’t tell or it wouldn’t come true. Secrets are stock and trade for girls of that age, so I didn’t think anything of it at the time. She had a stuffed dog she’d found somewhere. She called it Baby. She was very young for her age and circumstances. She took Baby with her when she left, and as she left during the night, after curfew—”

“Curfew?”

“There are some rules,” he said again. “Since she left on her own, I had to believe she’d chosen to leave us. Still we looked.”

“Back in a minute,” Eve said to Roarke, and strode out of the bar.

“I believe I’ll have that beer.” Sebastian cocked an eyebrow at Roarke. “Are you sure you won’t have one?”

“Yes, I’m sure, but thanks.”