Brian Freeman - The Cold Nowhere

‘You didn’t get a name?’

‘I got nothing. Never saw the guy, never saw the driver.’

‘So how’d you set it up?’

‘For posh jobs like that one, I get a text with the specs. What kind of girl, where she gets picked up, what sort of entertainment they need. I text a photo back for approval. If it’s a go, an envelope with cash shows up in my PO box. I get the girl where she needs to be, end of story.’

‘You don’t know who’s texting you?’ Stride asked.

‘It’s a different number every time. I figure they’re using pay-as-you-go phones. No tracks.’

‘What about the limos?’

‘Always unmarked. Smoked windows. Mud over the plates. I can’t tell you who’s behind it, because I don’t know.’

‘Did you get any details from the girls? Where they went, who they saw? Any faces they recognize?’

‘As far as I can tell, it’s never the same place twice. Hotels, motels, resorts. Whoever’s running this is careful, and I don’t ask questions. As for the girls, nobody ever came back and started bragging about whose mushroom they swallowed. I don’t have any names.’

‘How often do you get a job like this?’ Serena asked.

‘Not often. Wish I got more, the money’s great. It’s only been six, eight times in a year. That guy with Cat, he was one of the first.’

‘How come you didn’t mention this to me a couple days ago?’ Stride asked. ‘You talked about bachelor parties and bald Swedes, not limos and secret cash. You’ve been holding out on me.’

‘Come on, you think I’m going to get any more calls if people know I’m talking to you? As it is, I’m probably screwed. My phone hasn’t rung all weekend. And hell, I never thought anybody would wind up dead.’

‘If you get another text, I better be your first call,’ Stride said.

‘Yeah, sure, whatever.’

‘I’m hearing about STDs making the rounds among the Duluth one-percenters. Any of your girls need a doctor?’

‘You think they’d tell me about it?’ Dickes asked. ‘Most of the girls insist on condoms, but some of them will go bareback for a few extra bucks. I don’t want to know the gory details.’

‘I need names of the girls who went on the posh jobs,’ Stride said.

‘You already got two. Cat and Brandy. The other two are real private. College girls who don’t want to advertise, you know?’

‘Names,’ he repeated.

Dickes swore. He gave Stride the names of two more girls. ‘Are we done?’

Stride gestured at the cell phone in his pocket. ‘Your phone, too. Give it to me.’

‘Fuck, no! Are you crazy?’

Stride looked at Serena. ‘Did you hear him admit to solicitation a minute ago?’

‘I did,’ Serena said.

‘Hey, come on, you said you didn’t give a shit about that!’ Dickes protested.

‘I changed my mind. Now give me the phone.’

Dickes yanked it from his pocket and slapped it on the bed. ‘Here, fine. You’re killing me. Now get out of here while I still have a job.’

Serena sat down on the other side of him. ‘Not quite yet. We’re not done. First tell me what you know about Margot Huizenfelt.’

‘I had nothing to do with that! I don’t know what happened to her!’

‘You ever talk to her?’ Serena asked.

‘Yeah, once. That was months ago.’

‘What did she want?’

Dickes hesitated. He bit his lip.

‘Don’t start having memory lapses, Curt,’ Stride told him.

‘Look, she was asking about the same shit as you. Whether I knew about rich guys looking for escorts.’

‘What did you tell her?’

‘I told her to get the hell out of my face. I told her jack shit, that’s what I told her.’

‘When did you last see her?’ Serena asked.

Dickes squirmed. The blanket on the bed was wet now, because of his sodden clothes. ‘I don’t remember.’

‘Do you not get what’s going on here?’ Serena demanded. ‘Margot’s missing. She may be dead. If we find out you know something, and you didn’t tell us, do you have any idea what trouble is going to rain down on your head? It’ll make solicitation look like shoplifting a candy bar.’

‘I told you, I don’t know what happened to her.’

‘You know something.’

Dickes’s nervous eyes flicked to his cell phone. Stride didn’t miss the glance. ‘Who’d you talk to, Curt?’

The kid was sweating. He smoothed his hair, and it popped back up. ‘It was the truck, man! I saw Margot’s truck! I just wanted to make sure he knew who she was. That’s it. He told me not to worry.’

‘Who?’ Stride asked.

‘Lenny! I saw Margot driving a new SUV from Lowball’s place on Miller Hill.’

Stride looked at Serena, who nodded. ‘Margot bought a new Explorer a couple days before she disappeared. I talked to the woman who sold it to her.’

‘Well, we better talk to her again,’ Stride said.

‘I’m telling you, it’s nothing!’ Dickes insisted. ‘Lenny told me not to sweat it! Margot bought a truck. That’s all. She didn’t ask anything about hookers!’

‘So I take it Lenny is a regular client of yours,’ Stride concluded.

‘Oh, shit. Oh, shit, I am so screwed.’

‘Focus, Curt,’ Serena told him sharply. ‘When did you see Margot in the new truck?’

‘Like a month ago? I don’t know. It was a Saturday, I think. There was a big concert at the DECC. Lots of business.’

‘Jason Aldean?’ Stride asked.

‘Yeah, that was it.’

‘Where did you see her? What time?’

Dickes rubbed his face in frustration. His sweat mixed with his cologne. The combination was lethal. ‘I don’t know, in the evening. Six, seven o’clock? I was coming out of the Duluth Grill. I saw her in the parking lot, and I made myself scarce, you know? I saw the dealer sticker, though, so I called Lenny.’

‘Was Margot alone?’ Serena asked.

Dickes shook his head. ‘No, she had a woman with her.’

‘Who?’

‘Do I know every fucking woman in the city? I don’t know! She was short. Skanky. Fake blonde hair.’

Stride was pretty sure he knew who it was. He stared at Serena.

‘Dory Mateo,’ he said.

Dory slid her naked body into the bathtub until the scalding water reached her chin. Her skin felt like flame. She gripped the porcelain sides of the tub and endured the heat as sweat poured down her face. When she inhaled, moist steam coated her nose and throat. She kept the lights off in the tiny Seaway bathroom, and there were no windows to the outside. She liked to bathe in the dark. When she was there, she could have been anywhere. A fine hotel. A cruise ship. A house of her own. Not a flophouse toilet.

She pushed her fingers around the edge of the tub until she found a wafer of soap. She extended her arm and ran the soap along her skin, making it slippery. She did her other arm, then her legs, her breasts, her stomach, and her mound. Touching herself brought no arousal. Her desires were long dead.

The water slowly cooled as she lay there. She shivered. She wished Michaela were here with her, so they could talk. So she could explain. In the darkness, she imagined that she could hear the sound of her sister breathing. Her soft laugh. The rustle of her clothes.

‘I betrayed you, bonita ,’ Dory murmured to the dark room.

Her sister spoke.

‘You? You could never do that.’

Dory was silent. She couldn’t say it, not even to a ghost. The secret was toxic. She’d confessed to Margot, and now Margot was gone, as if the truth were a deadly virus, killing everyone it touched. She half-wondered if it was Marty. Even dead, he was still destroying lives. Controlling those he hated. Wreaking havoc.

‘I wanted to tell you back then, bonita , but I was too ashamed. And then it was too late. You were gone.’