Harlan Coben - The Innocent

Was one of these girls her daughter?

She looked at their faces for any sort of resemblance and saw none. That meant nothing, of course. She knew that. The waitress delivered the Coke. Olivia just let it sit there. There was no way she'd drink from any of these glasses.

Ten minutes later the girls rotated again. Another new girl. Probably running a five shift- three girls on, two girls off, fairly steady rotation. Could be a six shift. She wondered about Matt, about how he'd find his way out here. He had seemed so confident that he'd be able to make it, or had that been false bravado for her sake?

The dancer in the two spot worked some guy with a toupee so bad it looked like it had a zipper. Probably handing him that old favorite about working her way through school, Olivia thought. Why guys got off on the idea that a girl was a student always amazed her. Did they need a spot of purity to offset their filth?

The girl who'd been in the one spot when Olivia entered came out from the back. She approached a man who had a chicken wing sticking out of his mouth. The man dropped the chicken wing, wiped his hands on his jeans. The girl took the man by the hand and disappeared into a corner. Olivia wanted to follow her. She wanted to grab all of these girls and drag them out into the sunshine.

Enough.

She signaled to the waitress to bring over a check. The waitress broke away from a bunch of laughing locals. "Three-fifty," she said.

Olivia stood, reached into her purse, and took out a five. She was just about to hand it to the waitress, just about ready to leave this dark, awful place, when the dancers shifted again. A new girl came out from the back.

Olivia froze. Then a small groan, a groan of quiet, strong anguish, escaped from her lips.

The waitress said, "Miss, you okay?"

Walking on the stage, taking the number three position.

It was Kimmy.

"Miss?"

Olivia's legs almost gave way. She sat back down. "Get me another Coke."

She had not touched her last one but if that bothered the waitress, she hid it pretty well. Olivia simply stared. For several seconds, she let the swirl of emotions twist through her. Regret, of course. Deep sadness to see Kimmy still up on that stage after all this time. Guilt for what Olivia had been forced to leave behind. But there was joy too at seeing her old friend. Olivia had visited a couple of Web sites in recent weeks, trying to see if Kimmy was dancing. She'd found nothing, which, Olivia had hoped, meant that Kimmy was no longer in the business. Now she could see the truth: Kimmy had just been too low-level to earn even a mention.

Olivia could not move.

Despite what one might think, it was not hard to forge friendships in that life. Most of the girls genuinely liked one another. They were like army buddies, bonding while trying to stay alive. But no one had been like Kimmy Dale. Kimmy had been her closest friend, the only one she still missed, still thought about, still wished that she could talk to. Kimmy had made her laugh. Kimmy had kept her off cocaine. Kimmy had even kept the gun in their trailer that ended up saving Olivia's life.

Olivia smiled in the dark. Kimmy Dale, the clean freak, her sometimes dance partner, her confidante.

And then the guilt and sadness roared back.

The years hadn't been kind, but then again no years ever had been to Kimmy Dale. Her skin sagged. There were lines around her mouth and eyes. A pattern of small bruises dotted her thighs. She wore too much makeup now, like the old "hangers-on" they used to dread becoming. That had been their greatest fear: being one of the old hangers-on who couldn't see it was time to get out of the business.

Kimmy's stage dance hadn't changed- the same few steps, the moves a little slower now, more lethargic. The same high black boots she had always favored. There was a time when Kimmy would work the crowd better than anyone- she had a terrific smile- but there was no posturing anymore. Olivia kept back.

Kimmy thinks I'm dead.

How, she wondered, would Kimmy react to seeing this… this ghost? Olivia wondered what to do. Should she reveal herself- or just stay here in the shadows, wait another thirty minutes, slip out when she was sure Kimmy couldn't see her?

She sat there and watched her friend and considered her next step. It was obvious. Everything was coming out now. The pact with Emma was over. Yates and Dollinger knew who she was. There was no reason to hide anymore. There was no one left to protect and maybe, just maybe, there was still someone she could save.

When Kimmy was on the final leg of her rotation, Olivia waved over the waitress.

"The dancer on the right," Olivia said.

"The black one?"

"Yeah."

"We call her Magic."

"Okay, good. I want a private session with her."

The waitress cocked an eyebrow. "You mean in the back?"

"Right. A private room."

"Fifty bucks extra."

"No problem," Olivia said. She had picked up cash at the ATM in Elizabeth. She handed the girl an extra ten for her own troubles.

The waitress stuffed the bill in her cleavage and shrugged. "Go back and to the right. Second door. It's got a B on it. I'll send Magic over in five minutes."

It took longer. There was a couch and a bed in the room. Olivia did not sit. She stood there and waited. She was shaking. She heard people walking past her door. On the sound system, Tears for Fears noted that everybody wants to rule the world. No kidding.

There was a knock on the door.

"You in there?"

The voice. No question who it was. Olivia wiped her eyes.

"Come in."

The door opened. Kimmy stepped inside. "Okay, let me tell you the price-"

She stopped.

For several seconds, they both just stood there and let the tears roll down their cheeks. Kimmy shook her head in disbelief.

"It can't be…"

Candi- not Olivia now- finally nodded. "It's me."

"But…"

Kimmy put a hand to her mouth and began to sob. Candi spread her arms. Kimmy nearly collapsed. Candi grabbed her and held on.

"It's okay," she said softly.

"It can't be…"

"It's okay," Olivia said again, stroking her friend's hair. "I'm here. I'm back."

LOREN'S FLIGHT WENT to Reno via Houston.

She had bought the ticket with her own money. She was taking a huge chance- the kind of chance that might indeed force her to leave her job and move out to someplace like New Mexico or Arizona- but the facts were there. Steinberg needed to play it more by the book. She understood that, agreed with it on some level.

But in the end she knew that this was the only way to go.

Yates, a powerful fed, was up to something.

Her suspicions first took flight when Yates abruptly turned nasty after leaving Len Friedman's house. He had suddenly pretended to be an irrational ass- not an unusual thing for a big-time federal agent, she knew- but it just didn't ring true. It seemed forced to her. Yates feigned control, but she sensed a panic there. You could almost smell it on him.

Yates clearly did not want her to see or talk to Olivia Hunter.

Why?

And when she thought about it, what had brought on that hissy fit in the first place? She remembered something that had happened in Friedman's basement- something that had seemed small and unimportant at the time. Yates had gone out of his way to steer the conversation away from what Rangor and Lemay used to do that Friedman had referred to as "worse" than telling on their clientele. At the time she'd just been annoyed by Yates's interruption. But then you add in the way he threw her off the case and you had…

Well, okay, you still had nothing.

After visiting Mother Katherine, Loren had called Yates's cell phone. She had not gotten an answer. She had tried Olivia Hunter's residence. No answer there either. And then a report came over the radio, about a murder in Irvington, in a tavern not far from where the Hunters lived. There was not much yet, but there was some talk about a huge man running down the street chasing a woman.