Sacrifice

He turned to the old lady. 'You tell the man now, missus.'

'He look like the police to me,' the woman said.

Jacques chuckled. 'Don't let that ugly white face fool you, lady. This is a very bad man.'

'He gonna help me?'

'We will see. First, you tell him what you tell me. Come on now.

The old lady gathered herself, her face turned toward me, her eyes somewhere else.

'I got a grandson. Derrick. My daughter's child. He almost four years old. My daughter on the Welfare, lives in that hotel out by the airport. Her man is a vicious beast. Beat her all the time, take her check. He beat my grandson too. For nothin'. Right in front of my eyes. I go to stop him once, an' he punch me right in my face. Broke this bone, right here.' Touching her face, eyes focusing on me now.

'Monday my daughter calls me. Says her baby run away. I tell her, how could that be?— he too small to run away. She cryin' and all, says the police there. Ain't nobody seen her man. My Derrick is gone.'

A tap on my shoulder. Jacques's man, handing me a pack of cigarettes. I slit the cellophane, took one out. The man handed me a paper packet of matches— I fired one up.

Jacques leaned forward. 'We found the man, Burke. Talked to him. He say he knows nothing. Okay. We talk to the girl too. Same story. It is a story, mahn. Finally, she tells us the man took the baby out of there, said he's going to give the child to another woman of his.'

I dragged deep on the smoke. Still waiting.

'What we need is a man to look, Burke. Look around.'

'Why me?'

'It's what you do, mahn. Your work, like I said. People know, word on the street— Burke looks for runaways, yes?'

'The baby didn't run away.'

'I know. This good lady here, she is one of us. Like a mother, always to help, that is the way she is. She wants her grandson back.'

'Why don't you ask the man? Ask him again.'

'He has vanished, mahn. We are looking for him, but…for now, until we find him…'

'It's a long shot.'

'I know, mahn, but…'

'Obeah,' the old woman said. Like it explained everything.

'Why do you say that, ma'am?' I asked her.

'That is what I heard, white man. You know them?'

'No.'

'Her man, Emerson, that is his name. He is with those people. I think that is where he take my grandson. To be with them too.'

'You take a look, mahn?' A soft undertone in Jacques's voice, the sun banked.

'A quick look,' I warned him.

'Clarence will go with you,' he said, nodding at the young man who met me in the parking lot. 'In case there is a problem with any of our people, yes?'

'So long as he listens.'

'Clarence, for this work, Burke is your boss, you understand? Like it was me talking. I told you about this guy. You listen, and you learn.'

The slim young man nodded agreement.

'We have anything else to discuss?' he asked. Meaning: how much?

'We'll settle at the end,' I told him. 'No guarantees. Clarence has all the information?'

'I have it all.' Clarence's voice, gentle and calm.

'Let's do it, then,' I said.

26

'We'll take my ride,' Clarence said, standing in the parking lot.

'I'm not hitting Queens in a posse car, son.'

'Posse? No, mahn, we will go in my car. A true West Indian car. Wait here.'

He pulled up in an immaculate Rover 2000 TC, British Racing Green. I climbed inside. The black leather smelled new, the walnut trim gleamed. Clean and spare, letting the craftsmanship show.

'Very fine,' I congratulated him.

'This is my baby,' he said, flashing a quick smile.

27

On the way over, I read through the contents of a thick manila envelope Clarence handed me. All the police reports, a complete package, even the SSC records. SSC, Special Services for Children, the agency that investigates