Chapter 17

We didn't say a word all the way from the private place, on Pennsylvania just north of Candelaria, to Harry's, which is at Montgomery and Tramway. I parked in back, for over the years Cecelia's turned the back door, which is supposed to be just for employees, into our own de facto private entrance. We went in that way, missing the hostess in front, and the first waitress we ran into recognized us. "Your usual table is open," she said. "It's Brandi's station tonight."

We thanked her, and sat where we do when we can – which isn't always, since Harry's is a popular place. Our place is a table by the window, big enough for a group, though this evening there were just the two of us. It looks out on Tramway, and the McDonald's and Smith's across Tramway to the east – and above that rise the Sandia Mountains, though that close you see more of the foothills than the mountains themselves.

Brandi came along after a bit – a waitress I didn't know, though Cecelia seemed to – and we put in our orders. Cecelia ordered something French-sounding, while I went for a burger, which they'd build to my specifications – Swiss cheese, bacon, avocado smeared and mashed across it, lettuce, tomatoes, onions, and mustard. I sometimes vary the exact ingredients of my favorite burger, but it's always got the Swiss and the avocado. I came up with it while I was a cop in Red Hawk, and whenever I've come across a place that'll cook to order, I teach it to 'em.

Once we had our food, and had made a bit of headway – Cecelia seeming surprised at how hungry she was – I acknowledged the elephant in the room. "That tore you right up, didn't it?"

She nodded, and put down her fork – what she'd ordered had turned out to be chicken breast fancified some way with a creamy sauce – and nodded. And then the tears finally rolled down her cheeks. She looked straight at me, making no attempt to hide her tears or wipe them away. "That child is a slave, Darvin, and that putrid oaf doesn't care!"

"You're right, he doesn't. To him she's 'product.' As long as she looks good enough to keep people buying, he's happy – or, in this case, happy to sell her to someone who paid him big bucks. That's life in the big city."

"I hadn't thought you would be so callous."

"I ain't. But I gotta be if you're gonna survive this. Cecelia, if you get into this business I hope you'll do like I do, and spend your time hunting lost dogs and missing wallets and kids who ran away to a friend's house after an argument with their parents. There's a reason why I do that puny work. There's a reason I do a lot of bail skips, and process serving. I don't like swimming in filth, and it would kill me if I did it all day every day. I've told you why I quit being a cop, you know." I paused. Having to talk to Cecelia this way was hurting me too. "But we're on this case, and you can't work it if you're going to come apart in the middle of it. That child depends on you to hold yourself together. She doesn't know you're looking, but she's hoping – every day – that someone is looking for her, that someone will come and rescue her from a pure living hell. And if you're going to be the white knight riding in to do that, you've got to keep yourself in one piece. Cecelia, I've offered you the out – but if I see that you can't do this, I'll take you off the case myself."

She was, by now, biting her lip with the pain of it. When she spoke I could barely hear her. "You once asked me why I had to be 'so blasted right.' I want to ask you that question."

"It hurts, doesn't it?"

"It hurts, Darvin, worse than anything I've ever felt, almost."

"That's right. And it's going to hurt – it's going to hurt while you're looking for that girl, it's going to hurt when you find her, it's going to hurt you for the rest of your life. And what I'm saying hurts too, I know that. But in my considered opinion if I don't hurt you like this, the hurt you'll get from this case will destroy you – and I couldn't live if I let that happen."

"You can't act against your nature either, can you?" She finally wiped away her tears with a savage gesture. "How dare that pompous donkey speak of her like a piece of furniture!"

"You know more about that, maybe, than I do. Remember your great-grandfather."

She nodded. "I can never forget him, though he died before my birth. They sold him, they beat and whipped him, they owned him the way I own my sewing machine. And that's exactly the case with this child, isn't it?"

"Yeah." A thought came to me. "And whoever her parents are, they don't seem to care much. We haven't heard back from Rudy."

She shook her head. "I'd forgotten about that."

"Yeah, there can be a lot to distract you in an investigation. But that's a fact that means something. Probably it wouldn't do any of us any good to adopt her..."

She gave that serious consideration, as I'd known she would. "The thought is a great temptation, I must confess – she is very beautiful, and in other circumstances would, probably, make Darlia a wonderful sister. But we are not equipped to deal with the vast emotional harm she has surely suffered."