When I’d finished, a full minute passed. I was certain Anne would ask me to take her home.
“I’m a shoo-in for the world’s most worthless goat turd.”
“Don’t say that, Anne.”
“While I’m mooning about not heading up God’s arrangements committee, these kids have been living a nightmare.” She turned to me. “What kind of testosterone-crazed dickhead could find pleasure in hurting young girls?”
“Don’t feel pressured to go with me. I’ll understand if you want no part of this.”
“Not a chance, sweetie. I want at this dogball.”
“That’s exactly what you’re
“Piece of crap went dead when I tried phoning you this morning.” Anne patted her shoulder bag. “But I’ve got Mace.”
I gestured at my purse. “Dig mine out.”
As I turned onto de Sebastopol, Anne did as I asked.
I parked opposite the stable. Before cutting the headlights, I saw the mongrel uncurl and slink across the yard, eyes glinting, snout working the air.
Anne and I peered the length of the street. To our right, a lone bulb threw a cone of yellow on the stable doors. To our left, the rail yards yawned dark and empty.
“Stay in the car,” I whispered, depressing the handle on the driver’s side door.
“No way.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Yes,” I hissed.
I heard a swish as Anne’s arms locked across her chest. I turned sideways. Silhouetted in the stable light, I could see her upper teeth clamping her lower lip.
I took Anne’s hand, and forced a wasted smile.
“I need your help, Annie. But it has to be from a distance. These women have been isolated for years. The world terrifies them.” I squeezed gently, and softened my whisper. “They don’t know you.”
“They don’t know you,” she mumbled.
“They reached out to me.”
“What if this asshole Menard is in there?”
“There’s a phone in the house. If I don’t ring or signal within ten minutes, call Ryan. He’s on my speed dial.”
“If Ryan’s not available?”
“Call 911.”
When I alighted, the stable dog trotted to the fence. He followed as I picked my way along the street, rose up and snarled when he reached the end of his enclosure. For reasons of his own, he chose not to bark.
The night air smelled of horses and river and impending snow. Overhead a wire groaned, one bare branch tapped another.
At the turnoff I heard a metallic grinding and darted into the recessed entrance of the last row house. Frozen in the shadows, I strained to pick out the slightest human sound.
Nothing.
I crept from the alcove and peeked around the corner.
A brown bottle lay on the walk.
Budweiser, some irrational brain cell offered.
A gust nudged the bottle. It rolled, scraping gravel and ice.
Squaring my shoulders, I sidestepped the Bud and headed up the walk, careful not to stumble or twist an ankle. The trees and shrubs were like shape-changers, bobbing and morphing in the darkness around me.
I made the turn. The house loomed black and silent, not a pixel of light seeping from within.
I stepped to the stoop, twisted the bell, waited. I twisted again, body coiled for a backward sprint.
The chain and lock rattled. The door cracked. I moved forward, adrenaline-wired like a soldier in combat.
Death mask face. Wide, blinking eyes.
I felt myself breathe.
“It’s Dr. Brennan, Anique.”
Pomerleau’s gaze swept over my shoulder.
“I’m alone.”
