“I don’t think so.”
“It went on for about a week, until we had enough money to move on to another city, a bigger one. But Howard couldn’t make a connection. The man who was supposed to be in that city and willing to help him get set up was gone. He had to go out and spend money to get to know people who would introduce him to the people he needed to meet.” She sighed. “And the money ran out.”
“He turned you out again.”
She nodded. “This time it was different. The first time, we were both out, and I was dressed up and made up, and we would see a man and Howard would ask me if that one was okay, and I would either say, ‘Please, not that one,’ or ‘Okay.’ If I said okay, then he would ask the man if he was interested, and they would talk prices. Then I would talk to the man and take him up to our room. Howard would follow and stand outside to make sure nothing terrible happened. This time he set it up differently. I had to go out alone on the street where the men came to find girls. I didn’t want to. I was cold. I was scared of the men and the cops, and the other girls out there who looked like they wanted to beat me up or chase me off.
“Howard told me that if I didn’t go with anybody who didn’t have a really nice car and nice clothes, I would be safe. I turned a few down, and then a man came by in a Jaguar. He was maybe sixty years old and dressed in a black sport coat and blue jeans. When he held the steering wheel with his left hand, the coat sleeve slipped down a little and I could see a fancy watch. He leaned over to talk to me through the open window on the passenger side. He said, ‘Miss? Are you working tonight?’ I remember how polite he was. I was amazed at my luck. I could get into the car and off the street and not be cold or afraid for a while. I was so relieved that I really did have feelings for him, a little bit. I got in and he drove to the place where I was staying, and we went in. When we got there, I expected Howard would be around, but I didn’t see him. I had to unlock the door and turn on the light so we could go in. But Howard had been in the room, looking out the window and waiting. He had heard us come along the hall to the door, heard me get the key out to unlock it, and then hid. I locked the door after us and started to do my job, what I had promised this older man.
“All of a sudden, out of a closet came Howard, holding a knife. He scared the man with it, stole his wallet, his watch, and his car keys, and left him there tied up. Howard took me with him, drove out of that town to the next one. He stripped the car and left it, used the credit cards for a few hours to buy stuff, and kept the cash. The next night, when he got a room and sent me out on the street again, I went out and just kept going.”
“You ran to Las Vegas?”
“Not at first. All I did was get out of that city and go to another one. I got a job in a women’s clothing store. After a couple of months, I came home one night and I saw that the lights of my apartment were on. I saw him in the window, waiting. He was sure I was stupid enough to go right in. I wasn’t.”
“What did he want? Did you figure that out?”
“Me. Sometimes I thought he wanted me back, and sometimes I thought he showed up only after I’d been on my own for a while because he knew if he gave me a couple of months I would save some money and he could take it.”
“He doesn’t seem to have found you after that. What happened?”
“Ann Delatorre. We got to be friends. We told each other everything. After about a year, she gave me a present.”
“The name?”
“It’s more than a name. It’s a life. She stayed in that apartment building for only a few months. By the time I met her, she had already put a down payment on this house. She was getting ready to move in. She brought me with her.”
“Just like that?”
“She knew I had to have a place to live where he wouldn’t look for me. This is Ann Delatorre’s house. We both knew that if he thought I might be in Nevada, then a suburban tract in Henderson wouldn’t be the place. He’d think I would be in a crummy part of the city turning tricks.”
“How did the two of you get by?”
“She set up the name and used it for a while, bought this house, and let me stay with her. She started a mail-order business that she ran off the Internet, selling overstocks of name-brand clothes. I worked with her, handling the packing and shipping and a lot of the hours online. We never said it was permanent, either of us. But we both knew that staying safe meant staying hidden, and that the longer we lived quietly in this neighborhood running a mail-order business, the less likely we’d be found.”
“And then she just walked away from it, didn’t she?”
“You think she wouldn’t do that?”
“I know she would. She did it once before.”
“I think she just got anxious, worried that she hadn’t run hard enough, or far enough. She gave me everything: the birth certificate, her credit cards, the deed to this house, the incorporation papers for the business. She withdrew the money from the business account at the bank and helped me start a new account at another bank that would know me as Ann Delatorre. She went with me to New Mexico so I could apply for a driver’s license in the new name. Then she left.”
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know.”
“She gave you her name. You know that somebody is after her, too, don’t you?”
“Of course. We told each other everything.”
“But you kept the name, anyway—Ann Delatorre. That was part of the deal, wasn’t it? You could have the house and the mail-order business, but it had to stay in the name Ann Delatorre. You’re her early-warning system. If somebody came for her, the mostly likely way they would do it was the way I did—by tracing the name change and then finding this address. If anyone came here, you would warn her.”
“It’s not like that. Neither of us believed anyone would ever come.”
“I mean nobody any harm. I’m only trying to save her best friend from going to trial for her murder.”
Ann Delatorre looked defiant. “He’s not her best friend anymore. I am.”
“Then you’ll let me talk to her. Where is she?”
“I don’t know.”
“You do know, or you could never warn her. You’re here for that. You have something. Is it just a phone number?”
Ann Delatorre looked at him, puzzled. “You’re so smart, but you’re not so smart.”
“No?”
“If somebody comes for her here, either they’ll kill me, or I’ll kill them. Either way, it will be in the newspapers, won’t it? All she needs to do is type the name Ann Delatorre on the Internet once a day, to see if it’s been in the news.”
He stared at her. She was still holding the gun on the arm of the chair. It was not aimed nearer to his heart, but no farther away, either. “You aren’t going to trust me.”
“I can’t.”
“I’m going to stand up now.” He leaned forward slowly and raised himself from the couch without making any rapid or abrupt movements. Ann Delatorre rose, too, and retreated around her chair to keep it between them. As he walked toward the door, he said, “You’re a good friend. I can see that. But somebody else is searching for her now. The man who’s after her hires people to do his killing. They’re pros, so as long as he can pay them, they won’t stop looking. Sooner or later, they’ll trace her this far. Expect them.”
As he opened the door, he turned to look at her. She still held the gun on him. “I do.”
15
IT WAS NEARLY ten o’clock in the evening when Paul Turner drove the rental car to the corner of the street where Ann Delatorre lived. “He’s gone. He’s been to that house twice today,” said Paul. “I’ll bet he set this up six years ago: If he ever needed to get in touch with Wendy Harper, he would come here, and Ann Delatorre would know where she was.”
“Till’s amazing,” Sylvie said. “He never let anybody know that he had even met Wendy Harper, let alone taken
