“The girl with me confirmed it,” I said. “She said her handler answers to Nixon.”
“That’s good news,” Carter said, sounding relieved. “A couple of men are headed to him as backup. They should reach him soon.”
I breathed easier knowing he wasn’t handling it alone.
“Skeeter said you were going to take the girl somewhere out of Little Rock.”
“Yeah. We’re at the Lucky Days Motel in Benton.”
“Thanks for lettin’ me know,” he said. “Have you figured out what you’re going to do with her?”
“Not yet.” That was my next worry. “She’s starting to trust me, so I’m hoping to find out more about her home life. Ideally, her family comes and gets her. But if they’re trash…” I ran a hand over my head. “I don’t know yet.”
As a cop, I’d call child services and they’d put her in foster care. But there weren’t a lot of great foster home options for a thirteen-year-old, and if they sent her to a bad one, it could possibly land her right back on the streets.
I needed to talk to her first.
After we ended the call, I went back inside.
Lexi had settled on SpongeBob, and my stomach dropped when I thought about the situation I’d pulled her out of less than an hour ago.
Her gaze lifted to mine, apprehension filling her eyes. “Do we need to go back?”
I shook my head. “Nope. We’re staying here for now.”
She seemed to relax.
She trusted me. Would she trust me when she found out I’d lied?
I closed the blinds, then sat on the other bed, propping the pillows behind me and stretching my legs out.
“In the mess at the truck stop, I told you I’m pretty new,” I said, trying to sound conversational. “How many girls do you have staying with you?”
She kept her gaze on the TV. “There’s five girls in our house right now.”
“It changes?”
“Once we had seven. And sometimes we only have three or four when girls move on.”
“To places like Memphis?” I asked, keeping my tone light.
“And other places,” she said, suddenly hesitant. “Maya says some girls get to have special assignments. She says they don’t want to keep us in one place for too long.”
I didn’t want to ask too many questions at once and make her anxious or suspicious. Instead, I glanced at the food spread across her bed, and said, “You gonna eat that other fry?”
She stared at me, wide-eyed, her body going still.
“Don’t get weird,” I teased. I planted a foot on the carpet between our beds, then reached for the fry container. I leaned back on the bed and flashed her an exaggerated grin.
A slow smile tugged at her mouth. She glanced at the TV, then back to me. “Do you wanna watch something else?”
“Nope.” I said insistently. “You watch whatever you want. I bet you don’t get to pick very often.”
She blinked, confused. “How’d you know?”
“Well…” I plucked a now cold fry from the carton. “I’m guessing you’re the youngest in the house, and the older girls think they run everything.”
Her face scrunched. “Yeah.”
