Rory wrapped her arm around Cindy and stepped up with her to the edge of the garbage chute. The first thing she saw was little Moses with his face upturned toward them, his shock of sun-bleached hair and his hands over his eyes. Then she saw Ret’s face in the plastic bag, his mouth open as he died gasping for air and his eyes wide open in shock. It was an ugly sight, one Moses and Isiah should never have seen.
Moses was sitting right on top of the head, as it was turned sideways. Ret’s shoulders were wedged in the garbage chute, wrapped in plastic as well. Rory could just barely make that out. Cindy started shaking so much that her entire body sagged. The light went all over the place. Rory caught the keychain before itbounced down the chute. She helped Cindy to sit to one side of the opening. Isiah rushed to his mother and burst into tears as he circled her neck with his arms and buried his face in her neck.
“Janice, do you think you can reach him?” Rory asked. Janice had peered into the chute as well.
Janice nodded grimly. “Pam stepped out and called the police. They’ll be here soon. We want Moses out of the chute and both boys in their apartment with their mother by the time the cops get here.”
Rory took a breath and let it out. “That’s good. Little Moses can’t handle much more.”
“I’m coming for you, Moses,” Janice called down to the boy. “You don’t have to do anything but reach your arms up very, very high when I tell you to. Otherwise, hold really still until you hear me tell you to reach up. Can you do that for Auntie Jan?”
“Yes,” Moses’s shaky voice answered. He sounded even quieter than he had the first time.
Rory could barely hear him. She was suddenly afraid for him. She didn’t know that much about children, but she did know trauma could wreak havoc on victims. If Moses became so traumatized that he couldn’t deal with the reality of the situation, it would be much more difficult getting him out of the chute.
“Hold the light to the side so I can still see down into the chute, but keep it out of his eyes.”
Janice climbed onto the chair, positioning herself directly over the middle of the garbage chute, and leaned in. Pam had returned, and she quickly anchored her ankles. Rory held the light aloft and to one side, making certain that Janice could see the little boy but the bright light wouldn’t hurt their eyes.
“All right, Moses, reach up for me. Stretch as far as your arms can go. Don’t try to stand up,” Janice instructed. “Let me catch your wrists, and I’ll pull you up and out of there.”
For a moment, Moses sat very still, almost as if he didn’t hear Janice or he was too terrified to obey. Then his little arms began to rise slowly into the air. Rory’s breath caught in her throat as Janice strained to reach him. It looked as if she might tumble into the chute, but Pam refused to allow her to fall, holding her firmly. Cindy added her strength to Pam’s, both women anchoring Janice as she stretched toward the little boy.
Rory willed Janice’s efforts to be successful. The woman took her time, murmuring softly to the child, letting him know she was close. Then her fingers managed to wrap around the boy’s little wrists. Rory wanted to cheer, but she kept silent, not even telling Cindy that Janice had the child. He still had to be pulled out.
Rory glanced over to Sally and Lydia. They had to help Janice out of the chute. Pam and Cindy didn’t dare let go of her. She might end up headfirst inside the garbage chute right on top of Ret and Moses. Sally and Lydia didn’t need a verbal command. One circled Janice’s hips and the other her waist, and they began to slowly pull her back out of the chute while Rory kept the light steady.
Janice finally emerged, and then Moses did. Cindy gave a small, inarticulate cry and gathered the little boy into her arms, holding him tightly against her, paying no attention to grime or smell.
“Get the boys to your apartment,” Rory advised. “The cops will be here any minute. You don’t want them talking to the kids, especially Moses.”
Cindy nodded, reached down for Isiah’s hand and hurried away.
5
Rory recognized three of the four detectives who came in to talk to her and her friends. Detective John Westlake had been the partner of Peter Ramsey, the detective who had been killed. Westlake had been grim-faced and abrupt to the point of rudeness, but she hadn’t blamed him. He was visibly upset and had left the room several times to go outside, where she’d observed him with his head down and his hand over his eyes.
Westlake was a man of about forty, very fit, with shrewd blue-gray eyes and dark closely cropped hair. Although he wore a wedding ring, he clearly was a breast man, because his gaze dropped to Rory’s chest often when he questioned her. He didn’t ogle her the way some men did, but it was still disconcerting. She worked out every day, but that didn’t mean she was thin by any stretch of the imagination. She had breasts and she had hips and a butt. She wasn’t huge, but she wasn’t the accepted slim model figure one supposedly aspired to be.
Detective Warren Larrsen was a bit younger, perhaps thirty-five, with a headful of dark chestnut hair, dark brown eyes, a trim mustache and no wedding ring. He was very pleasant and often said things to reduce the tension. He didn’t look at any of the women’s breasts, but he did look at Lydia out of the corner of his eye when he thought no one noticed. Rory was a bartender. She noticed everything. The detective was very interested in Lydia, although he was careful not to let the other detectives see.
Detective Leo Carver was the oldest, a man pushing fifty or already there. He was married, as evidenced by the ring he wore. He also wore glasses and seemed kind when he asked questions of them, especially when he was asking after Westlake snapped something harshly. It was difficult not to like him.
Detective Miles Abbott was quiet, allowing the others to ask the questions, standing back, observing more than anything else. He was a thoughtful man of about forty-five, clean shaven, sandy- colored hair. His shrewd cop eyes seemed to notice everything and everyone. Of all the detectives, Rory thought Abbott was the one who appeared to take in every reaction and gesture of everyone in the room.
Rory was uneasy in their presence. She didn’t like questions. She didn’t like anyone prying into her life. She moved around, and it was clear these cops already knew that she did. The fact that she moved continually appeared to be a red flag to them, although she couldn’t understand why. They kept coming back to that fact. Westlake played bad cop, and Carver or Larrsen would play good cop, soothing her ruffled feathers when Westlake would demand to know why she picked up and left a perfectly good job to move to a new location.
The other women stayed close even when they were told they could leave. Lydia scowled at the detectives, and twice Janice had to stop her from snapping at them when they pointedly questioned Rory.
“When was the last time you saw Harvey Matters and Jarrod Flawson?” Westlake barked at her.
Rory considered giving him a smart-mouthed answer, saying both were hiding out in her closet, but she didn’t think any of the detectives had a sense of humor, with the exception of Larrsen. He might still have retained his ability to laugh.
“I think it was the day before the detective was shot. They came into the gym when I was working out.”
“What did they say?”
“I left without speaking to them. We aren’t friends.”
