Thread of Hope

disappeared inside the house.

“You didn’t answer my question,” her mother pressed, her arms folded across her chest, every protective instinct she had radiating from her posture.

“Just talk to your daughter, ma’am,” I said, backing away from the door. “She needs you.”

“Who are you?” she asked again.

“Nobody,” I said, turning back to the street. “Nobody.

FIFTY-THREE

We were about five minutes away from Kristin’s house when Derek woke up from his fist-induced nap.

He pushed himself up in the seat. “Where are we?”

“In a car,” I said.

The blood had dried like smeared lipstick around his mouth. I threw a box of tissues at him. “Clean your face.”

He fumbled with the tissues, pulled down the sun visor and muttered something at his reflection.

I watched him out of the corner of my eye as he tried to clean up his bloody face. I was done trying to understand the rationale behind a high-school prostitution ring. After talking to both Derek and Kristin, it was clear to me that I wasn’t going to find a reasonable explanation for what they were doing. Whether it was because I was that out of touch or because this was an entirely different type of group of kids I was dealing with, it didn’t matter. I wasn’t there to solve their problems or help them realize how screwed up they all were. Their parents could deal with that.

I was there to find Meredith and to help Chuck.

“Let’s get one thing clear,” I said to Derek. “You mention my daughter again and you won’t walk normally for a very long time. I don’t care who you are or how old you are. You even think about making a remark about her, you won’t know what hit you.”

He flipped up the visor and dropped the tissue into his lap. He shot a quick glance in my direction. “Okay.”

I let that hang in the air between us, as much to settle myself down as it was to reinforce it with Derek.

“Do you know where Meredith is?” I asked.

“No. I swear.”

“Last time you saw her?”

“At school.”

“When?”

“Two days ago.

“When exactly two days ago?”

He threw up his hands. “Dude, I don’t know.”

“Think. When exactly?”

He let out a frustrated sigh and turned toward the window. I waited him out.

“Fourth period,” he finally said. “Government class. Right after lunch. She was waiting for me. Walked to my locker with me, then she went to English. That was the last time I saw her.”

“Talk to her after that?”

“No.”

“Emails? Texts? IMs?”

“No. Nothing.”

I stayed quiet for a moment as we drove, waiting to see if he offered anything else. He didn't.

“You guys fight a lot?”

He shrugged. “Not really.”

“Not really?”

“We argued, I guess. But nothing that wasn't normal.”

“What's normal?”

He sighed. “I don't know, man.”

He massaged his cheek where I’d hit him the first time. His nose was red and swollen where I’d hit him the second time. He had to be hurting, but it seemed as if he was thinking about something other than his face.

“What happened in the pool house that day?”

He jerked in my direction.

“I know her father didn’t touch her,” I said. “You went in there after him, but he hadn’t touched her. You hit her and then lied to Matt and Megan, telling them she’d already been hit when you got in there. Why?”

He shifted in the seat again, so he was looking straight ahead. I let him get his thoughts in order.

“She said she was going to quit,” he said slowly. “She was done. I said that was fine. Honestly. But then she said she wanted me to be done with it.” He shook his head. “I said no way. I was making too much money. I was staying in.” He glanced at me. “So she said she was going to tell everyone about the whole thing. I snapped. I slapped her in the face.”

There was no reason for him to lie to me at this point and I believed him. He was scared of me, he had nowhere to go and there was something different in his voice now.

“I apologized about a hundred times,” he said. “I’d never hit a girl before. And I haven’t since. I just freaked out. Took the whole weekend before she said anything to me again. She said she forgave me, but I’m not sure she really did.”

I stopped at a red light. “I’m confused. So she quit then?”

He shook his head. “No. That was the weird thing. When she started talking to me again, she said she didn’t really want to quit. I was afraid to argue with her anymore, so I let it go. She’s been working since then.”

The light turned green and we started moving again. There was something about the last thing he said that made me think he hadn’t finished his thought.

“Derek,” I said. “No more lying. Remember?”

“I’m not lying.”

“Then what aren’t you telling me?”

He pulled his hand away from his face and took a deep breath. “I’m not lying. She’s been working again ever since that day. She’s never said anything again about quitting.” He paused, glancing in my direction. “But she started working for someone else, too. She went from wanting to quit to working nearly every night.”

My jaw tightened. “What the hell are you talking about?”

His facial features softened. He didn’t look like the mastermind behind a prostitution ring. He just looked like a confused teenager. “She was freelancing.”

FIFTY-FOUR

“Jon’s getting impatient,” Gina said as we walked up the stairs to Meredith’s bedroom.

I’d dropped Derek off at home the night before with a stern warning to keep his mouth shut and to not get cute and try to disappear. He’d rubbed the last spot on his face where I’d hit him and promised he wouldn’t do anything stupid. Then I’d called Gina and arranged to meet her at the Jordan residence early the next morning.

“I’m sure he is,” I said to her. “He can always go to the police, like I told him initially.”

“I think he already has.”

“Meaning?”

“Not officially. But he’s got some friends. I think he’s put out some quiet feelers, asked them to keep an eye out.”

I immediately wondered who he’d gone to. Meredith was eighteen. Normally, the cops would take a report and wait a few days before they moved on it. Maybe with Jordan’s name, though, they might move a little quicker.