Chapter 13

The next day Cecelia took Darlia to school, came back and worked out in her shed, got a shower, and cooked burgers for lunch. I had done some studying, working on a question someone at church had asked me about John 15:26, and then gotten dressed, all but my boots and hat. I was sitting on the sofa reading, with Thelonious Monk on the CD player, when she got back.

I stayed there while she cooked, for the unspoken rule is that if I don't help in the kitchen, the food will be wonderful. I'm as good a cook as I am a pilot – and I've never been in the cockpit in my life.

We ate at the dining room table, not saying much, thinking about what was coming. On the way back from dropping Darlia off Cecelia had stopped at the office, and had signed for the thick padded envelope of photos. They sat on the table while we ate – a tangible reminder of the spiritual darkness that we were delving into. Some would say it was a purely psychological darkness, that the evil of it was all in people's minds, that it sprang only from human beings. I don't deny that human beings can be supremely evil on their own, but I can't believe that forcing a little girl to lie down on a bed while men do beastly things to her, and filming the scene, and then selling the pictures, doesn't have a component outside humanity. An atheist would think I was just incapable of dealing with the reality of human evil, but I firmly believe that sometimes what people do to each other originates, at least in part, in another intelligence, one who takes delight in training people in worse evil than even they could perpetrate on their own.

But that was abstract theology. When we finished eating and the dishes were draining, we went out to do something practical.

We had enough photos to leave them here and there. We didn't always – there's no point in leaving a picture with a guy who, when he finds out that you're looking for a child who's doing porn against her will, almost literally drools. That guy isn't going to show the picture around, except maybe to those he thinks can help him find a DVD of the girl. But where there was a positive reaction we left pictures. Even among those who make and sell porn there are divisions – not all of them think it's all right to commit rape, especially when the victim's a child. In prison one of the worst things you can be is a baby raper – such a convict almost always has to go into segregation just to keep him alive. The most depraved monsters in the joint hate people who molest children, and will gladly shank such a person in the exercise yard.

It was a long afternoon. I hadn't realized there were so many people in Albuquerque selling or making porn. Granted that a lot of it was one or two people, working out of a bedroom in a house, or the trunk of a car, but it was still a larger "business" than I'd understood. And it was discouraging. We'd been at it for nearly a week, and the list of possible subjects for an interview was actually longer than it had been when we started. For every name we scratched off the list, two or three more would go on. And so far, none of them had known anything about the girl we were looking for – and what was worse, I believed them when they said it. I would have paid good money for just one liar I could lean on.

As the sun was going down we leaned against the passenger side of the Blazer, sweaty and tired and frustrated. Cecelia spoke first. "Darvin, as much as I dislike the idea of accosting these people on my own, we must divide our efforts."

"I don't want efficiency," I said, knowing as I said it that I was being churlish, and irrational too.

"In a sense I don't desire it either," she said. "I prefer to conduct these interviews at your side, in my role of your assistant, Ms. Johnston." Using her maiden name worked so well that we both had taken to doing it automatically. "But even granting that I am neither as skilled as you, nor as likely – due to my gender – to elicit willing and informative responses, if we split up we shall be able to cover more ground in less time."

"Cecelia," I said, "I am very deliberately going to change the subject here. What did Darlia have to say this morning?"

She grinned a little. "She advised me that both Letty and Sara were more than willing to take on the role of surrogate mother, but that Sara's employment prevents her from doing it on a constant basis." Sara works for Kim Il-chae, the best female PI in town ... whose stated goal is to become the best PI in town, period. She might could do it, too. She's certainly better at it than I am.

"So Letty's the best bet, according to Darlia."

"Yes, that was her wish. I have not yet spoken with Letty myself, but I do not doubt Darlia's honesty nor her interpretation of Letty's utterances."

"But you will talk to Letty."

She glanced at me. "Of course. I am responsible for Darlia, and that includes – at this time, anyway – looking over her shoulder to be sure that she does not unintentionally mislead me. She would not lie about this, but her eagerness might lead her to exaggerate Letty's willingness."