Andrew Vachss: Sacrifice

"I got an idea…something that might work."

Wolfe flashed her trademark smile— the one that made defense attorneys think about switching to real estate work. "And all you need is the defendant's address, right?"

"You misjudge me," I said, trying for an injured tone. "It's nothing like that."

"What do you need?"

"How about a look at the courtroom?"

Wolfe looked across her desk. Lola nodded. "It's after hours," she said.

10

We moved through the marble corridors in a loose diamond-shaped cluster: the thug taking the point, holding Bruiser on his leash. Me to the right, Lily beside me. Wolfe and Lola to the left, Rocco bringing up the rear.

In the center of the diamond, Mary Beth.

Courtroom K-2 was one floor up from the DA's basement. Empty.

Lily escorted Mary Beth to the witness chair. Lola took her place at the prosecutor's table. I sat in the defendant's spot, Rocco next to me. Wolfe stood by the jury box, one hand on the railing. The thug stayed by the door with Bruiser.

"It's your show," Wolfe said.

I took a breath, pulling up the calm, centering…so my voice would carry without cutting.

"Hi, Mary Beth," I called out. "Can you hear me?"

She nodded her head. If she said anything, I couldn't catch it.

"Let's play a game, okay?"

Nothing.

"Okay, Mary Beth? Come on, it'll be fun."

Lily leaned over and whispered something to her. The little girl giggled.

Lily nodded at me. I took a roll of bills out of my pocket, handed some singles to Rocco. He took them without a word, going along.

"Now, Mary Beth, my friend Rocco is going to hold something up. If you can guess what it is, you can have it, okay?"

"Okay." Soft, but audible.

"Don't hold up the whole fucking roll," I whispered to him. "One at a time."

He held up a dollar bill.

Mary Beth said something I couldn't hear.

"What was that, baby?" I called out to her.

"Money."

"That's right. You win."

"And you lose," Rocco said, jumping to his feet, walking over to the girl, handing her the cash. Making a production out of it, like a game-show host. Faint trace of a smile on the child's face.

"This is too easy, huh? Okay, Rocco, you stay there. Let's try something harder. Mary Beth, tell me how many fingers I'm holding up and you win again, okay?"

She nodded.

I held up three fingers.

"Three." A little girl's voice, faint.

Rocco bowed deeply, presented her with another dollar.

I tried again.

"One." Her voice stronger now, hint of a giggle underneath.

"Damn! You're good at this, Mary Beth. One more time, okay?"

"Okay." This time, I didn't have to strain to hear her answer. None of us did.

I tried two fingers. She was right on the money. Rocco made the delivery, happy to be spending my cash.

I took a breath. "Mary Beth, take off your glasses, okay? Let's try it that way.

She whispered something to Lily. I saw a grin spill across Wolfe's face and instantly disappear. The glasses came off.

I held up two fingers again.

"I can't see," the child said, her voice clear and firm.

"Try again," I said, holding my hand high above my head.

"I can't see anything."

Wolfe stepped away from the jury box. Walked around until she stood behind me. "Can you see me, honey?" she called.

"No. It's all a blur."

"Then you won't be able to see him either, Mary Beth. You won't have to see him, baby!"

The little girl's smile lit up the room.

11

Back in Wolfe's office, waiting for her to come back. Rocco waited with me, suspiciously patient.

"That was a slick trick, man," he finally said. "Where'd you learn stuff like that?"

"From them."

"Who?"

"The freaks. Child molesters, rapists, pain players…like that."

"You studied them."

"Up close," I said, giving him my eyes.

Wolfe walked in with Lola, another man next to her. Slim, handsome Spanish guy. Wolfe signaled to Rocco to take off. He acted like he didn't see the gesture— kept his eyes on me. "What's your name, man?"

"Juan Rodriguez."

The Spanish guy laughed. "So where's your cross, homeboy?" he asked me.

I held my hands out, showing him the backs were clean, no tattoos.

Rocco looked over at the Spanish guy. "What is this?"

"This cholo is fucking with us, bro'. He was a Mexican, he'd be a pachuco."

Wolfe sat down behind her desk, in command. Lit a cigarette, motioning for everyone to sit down.

"These are my people," she said to me. "I trust them, you understand?"

I nodded, waiting.

"I'm not going to be here forever. Things change, I want them to stay the same, you following me?"

I nodded again. No DA's office is free of politics. Wolfe had made a career of mashing rapists and molesters but she wasn't connected. So she wasn't protected. If she had to go someday, her crew would carry it on. The boss couldn't fire the whole lot of them.

"In or out?" she asked me.

"Do it," I told her.

She dragged on her cigarette. "Mr. Burke," she said, tilting her head in my direction, then toward each member of her crew, "this is Lola, my deputy [Cleopatra with the ankle bracelet], Amanda [the redhead], and Floyd [the Spanish guy]. Rocco's just come with us, a transfer from the Rackets Bureau. You've already met Bruno— he'll be back soon. The Spanish guy nodded in my direction— the others just waited.

The Rottweiler made a noise.

"And Bruiser." She laughed. Nobody else did.

"Mr. Burke has worked with this office in the past. Before some of you came." Looking at Rocco.

He snapped at the bait. "When?"

"Bonnie Browne," Wolfe answered, combing back her thick mane of dark hair with one hand, posture challenging.

I'd been looking for a photograph then. A picture of a little kid. He wanted his soul back. The photo was in a luxurious house in Wolfe's territory, the headquarters of a kiddie-porn ring run by a husband-and-wife team. Wolfe wanted the team— I wanted the picture. Her surveillance crew was on the job the night I went inside. When I left, there was a fire. They found the husband at the bottom of the stairs, his neck broken. The wife was lying on her bed upstairs, still dazed from the ether I'd rubbed into her evil face. The old bitch lived, and she'd ratted out a dozen others. A big case.

Rocco nodded his head. "That was you?" he asked me.

"Mr. Burke assisted in the investigation," Wolfe said, cutting him off. "He has a… limited relationship with this office. We understand each other."

Rocco wouldn't let it go. "You're a PI?"

"I'm just a working man. Once in a while, like Ms. Wolfe said, our paths cross. That's all there is."

Floyd's eyes found me through the cigarette smoke. "Burke. I heard about you."

"Did you?"

A faint smile played across his mouth. He bowed his head slightly in my direction.

I got up to go. "I'll fill them in," Wolfe said.

12

Balanced. Centered, back to myself. Back from the sweet illusion of family I left in Indiana. No more part of Virgil's family than I was blind.

Illusions can make you jump to conclusions. Like off a bridge.

I have no home. I pitch my tent on rocky ground, a nomad, never planting a crop. I live by poaching. Stinging, scamming, stealing. Always ready to move along when the herd thins out.

I walk the line, but I draw my own. Hit and run. I've been a ground-feeder ever since I got out of prison the last time. A small-stakes gambler in crooked games.

No more hijacking, no more gunfighting. The scores are richer in the penthouse, but it's safer in the basement.

That's what I want— to be safe. When I was younger, I waded in, throwing hooks with both hands, looking for that one shot that would take out the other guy. TKO in the first round. I thought that would give me strength, then. Keep me safe.