Unspeakable

'He'screepy.'

'He's very sick, that's all.'

'No,' said Daisy, emphatically shaking her head. 'He'screepy.'

They crossed the hospital parking lot to Holly's car. As they did so, Holly saw Doug's green Pajero pull up outside the main entrance. Doug climbed out, although he didn't see Holly. He walked around and opened the passenger door. He helped out a woman in a brown suede coat.

Holly hesitated, holding her car keys in her hand. The woman turned around and she saw that it was Mrs. Beale.

Mrs. Beale hesitated, too, and looked around, as if she could sense that Holly wasn't far away. Just as Doug laid a hand on her shoulder to guide her inside, she caught sight of Holly and stared at her. As she did so, five or six black birds suddenly fluttered off the roof of the hospital and circled around, their feathers ruffled by the wind.

'Mommy?' asked Daisy.

'It's nothing,' said Holly. 'I thought I saw somebody I used to know, that's all.'

In the Japanese Garden

Friday afternoon was sharp and sunny, so Holly drove up to the West Hills and went for a walk in the Japanese Garden, which had always been one of her favorite places to relax: five and a half intricate acres of pathways and bridges and stepping-stones that led between ponds and iris beds and formal gravel gardens. And Mount Hood, in the distant background, like Mount Fuji.

There was hardly anybody else around, and the fall sunshine glittered on the weeping willows. The chilly air was filled with the earthy smells of a gradually dying year. She walked through the five-tier stone lantern that led to the Strolling Pond Garden, and crossed the Moon Bridge over the upper pond. Farther down the garden, by the Zig Zag Bridge, she could see two Japanese men standing by the railings, talking, while a young Japanese girl of about fifteen was kneeling on one of the stepping-stones in the lower pond, wiggling her fingers in the dark green water to attract the koi carp.

Holly made her way down the mossy steps to the opposite side of the lower pond. Under the water the carp flickered like animated slices of orange peel. The girl looked up at her and smiled shyly. She wore a fleece-lined denim jacket and embroidered jeans and her hair was tied up in Pokemon-style bunches. Holly smiled back and gave her a little finger wave.

She sat down on a carved stone bench. She had needed an hour of reflection like this, a time to heal her hurt and her disappointment. She also felt that she had to make some decisions about herself. Was she really going to quit the Children's Welfare Department forever? How was she going to feel about all of those children out there who still needed her help? And what was she going to do about Mickey? Was she going to allow him to get closer? Did she trust him? Did she trust herself? She was always pleased when she saw him, and there was no question that she found him attractive, even though he wasn't handsome and even though she had witnessed how violent he could be.

She thought to herself:You're afraid, aren't you? Why don't you stop being afraid? Next time you meet Mickey, show him that you're interested. See where it goes from there.

A few curled leaves dropped from the trees onto the surface of the pond, circling around and around, and the carp came up to nibble at them. One of the Japanese men took off his white fedora and leaned forward on the railings, looking intently at the young girl.

'You don't think she'd give me any trouble?'

'Of course not. Her father brought her up to be obedient.'

'Well, I could offer you a lot of money, depending on what she does. We have a new studio now, and a much more professional cameraman.'

The man with the white fedora was about thirty- five, smartly dressed in a navy-blue blazer. The other man was about ten years older and dressed in a green weatherproof jacket. He took off his glasses and polished them on a crumpled shred of Kleenex.

'So how much are we talking about?'

'Two thousand. More, if the sales are good. She's pretty, and she's very young, and this time we hope to have more than thirty-five men.'

The older man half-turned his back, so that Holly could no longer lip-read him, but she could still see the man with the white fedora. 'It's our biggest seller now,bukkake. It outsells everything else we do by ten to one. I've even seen Americanbukkake.'

Bukkake. Holly felt cold. Even here, in this tranquil Japanese garden, the world was poisoned. She hesitated for a moment, and then she stood up and walked around the edge of the pond until she came to the Zig Zag Bridge. The two men stopped talking, obviously waiting for her to pass. But she came right up to them, and smiled, and held up her cell phone.

'Pardon me, but I was wondering if either of you two gentlemen could help me. You see, my battery's dead and I have to call my daughter to tell her where to meet me.'

'Ah,' said the man with the white fedora. He reached into his blazer pocket and produced a tiny Sony cell phone with a shiny chrome cover. 'Here, please, be my guest.'

'That's so kind of you. I didn't knowwhatI was going to do.'

'Please, no problem.'

Holly went across to the other side of the bridge and punched out Mickey's number. When he answered, she quickly texted him:

'NOTE THIS NO. HOLLY.'

'??' he texted back.

'XPLN L8R.'

Then she said loudly, 'Okay, honey, I'll meet you at Janine's in fifteen minutes. That's great.'

She handed the phone back. 'Thanks again. Some people think I'm overprotective when it comes to my daughter? but you know, you can't be too careful, can you, not these days?'

'Absolutely right,' agreed the older man.

'Is that your little girl down there?'

'My niece.'

'Well, you must be very proud of her.'

The two men exchanged a quick, enigmatic look. 'I am,' said the older man. 'Very proud uncle indeed.'

Text Message

In the parking lot she texted Mickey again and explained what she had lip- read. She watched as the girl and her uncle and the man in the white fedora came out of the Japanese Garden and stood talking for a while. Then the uncle and the man in the white fedora shook hands and bowed to each other before they went off in opposite directions. The girl took hold of her uncle's hand and swung it as she walked.

Mickey replied that the cell phone had already been traced to Butterfly Motion Pictures with an address on Boren Avenue in Seattle, Washington. 'Ill put Det Nelson on it pronto.' Holly wouldn't have known whatbukkakewas unless she hadn't been involved in another Japanese sex- abuse case last November, when more than 60bukkakevideos had been confiscated from a video rental store downtown. It was the latest rage in Japanese pornography, in which dozens of men climaxed over the upturned face of a single young girl until she looked as if she had been frosted, like a cake. Sometimes it was done with her eyes held wide open. Other times she was given pints of semen to drink, out of a flask, to see if she could manage to keep it all down. That was what the proud uncle on the Zig Zag Bridge had been offering for $2,000.

No Daisy

Holly drove home. The afternoon was growing overcast now. When she let herself in, Marcella was in the kitchen, rolling meatballs on a floured board.

'Hi, Marcella.' She looked at the coatrack. 'Daisy not back yet?'

Marcella shook her head. 'Maybe she go to see her friend.'

'She didn't say anything about it this morning. You couldn't give her a call for me, could you?'

'Sure thing.' Marcella smacked the flour off her hands and picked up the phone from the kitchen wall. She dialed and waited, but after a while she shook her head. 'Her phone is switch off.'

'That's odd. She told me she'd be home by five for sure.'

'Don't you worry, Ms. Summers. She forget what time it is, that's all.'

Holly went to the window. 'I don't want her out too late?. It looks like there's a hell of a storm coming over.'

When the kitchen clock crept to six- thirty and Daisy still hadn't come back, Holly had Marcella call Daisy's best friend, Tracey Hunter. The sky was the color of slate, and raindrops began to measle the window-panes. Tracey's mother said that Daisy had left their apartment shortly after four and that as far as she knew she was coming directly home.

'I'm worried now,' said Holly as Marcella hung up the phone. The Hunters lived only three blocks away, over the Columbia Valley Travel Office. 'Try calling the Williamsons.'

Marcella phoned all of the friends that Daisy might have gone to visit, but none of them had seen her. She also called Tyrone, in case she had stopped by the gallery, but he hadn't seen her, either. 'But call me as soon as you find her,' he said.

Holly put on her raincoat and said, 'Listen? I'm going to go look for her. If she comes home just give me a buzz, okay?'

'Sure thing, Ms. Summers,' said Marcella. 'Don't forget your hat. It's a rain like drown rat.'

When she stepped out into the street, the rain was cascading from the yellow-and-white-striped restaurant awning and flooding the gutters. People with umbrellas and newspapers over their heads were running for shelter. She turned up her collar, thrust her hands into her pockets, and stepped out quickly in the direction of the Hunters' home.

Halfway along Thirteenth Street she saw a small figure running toward her holding a pink cotton jacket over her head, and with relief she called out,'Daisy!'But the figure wasn't Daisy at all; it was a little Chinese girl, and she ran past