Kjel removed his pack of smokes from his breast pocket and tapped one out. “That was rough. I’m sorry. But see? I know yous seen that tat before, because I’s seen those photos back at Harbor House of you and Faith, looking all buddy-buddies. One was taken pretty recently, too, with alls her new pearly whites and her nice new hairdo and sharp clothes.” He offered her a cigarette as he spoke. She glanced up at him, then took the smoke. Cupping the flame with shaking hands, she allowed Kjel to light it for her. Shivering, she dragged hard on the cigarette and then blew out a long stream of smoke, relaxing just a fraction. Leo was on the money. She smelled rank. She was wet, too thin, obviously cold, and probably in need of medical attention.
“When did you last see Faith?” he said softly.
She sucked deeply on her smoke again, as if it were a lifeline. Her gaze returned to the mug shot. “What’s in it for me?” she said.
“We don’t bust your skinny ass,” Kjel said.
“Go to hell, PoPo.” She jabbed her cigarette toward him. “You don’t got shit to bust me on.”
“Okay, okay.” He held up both hands, the pack of smokes still in one. “You gots me. I’m gonna leave now.”
She eyed the pack of smokes in his hand. He turned as if to go. “Hey, you guys still, like, you know, pay CIs for info?”
“You wanna be a confidential informant, you gotta come down to the station so we can set up some paperwork. What’s your name, sweetheart?”
“Nina.”
“Nina who?”
“Just Nina.”
“Tell me when you last saw Faith, just Nina.”
“She’s really dead? You really get that tat photo in the morgue?”
Silence.
She looked down, shifted from foot to foot. “Where’d you find her?”
“Floating in the Gorge.”
“Fuck, man, fuck. Fuck, no ...” She rocked backward and forward, wrapping an arm over her chest, then she kicked at the curb, eyes glittering. “The Cemetery Girl also drowned. Was the same done to Faith as to that cemetery girl?”
Kjel eyed her for a moment but didn’t reply.
“Fuck. Fuck it. Fuck.”
“We need to find her friends, family, tell the people who cared about her what happened. And we need to find the guy who did that to her.”
Fear flashed into her eyes. “She don’t got no family. No one that I know who cares.”
“No one who cares, eh? So Faith makes this big-ass jump from meth-head and street pro to fast-food chain worker all on her own? Then suddenly she’s sporting these real pretty chompers, capped all nice and pearly white, no more meth mouth. Where’d she get those teeth done, huh? How’d she fund fixing them chompers?” He tucked two twenty-buck notes into the box of cigarettes as he spoke, his back to Leo, ensuring his action went unobserved by his partner.
She wild-eyed the box, the money sticking out, and she scratched at her sleeve. “Pastor Markus helped Faith detox. Helped her get a regular job, like he did with some others.”
“Pastor Markus help pay for her new teeth, too?”
“Don’t know where she got dough for that. I ain’t seen her in a while.”
“How long?”
“I don’t know. Lose track of time.”
He nodded, handed her the box of smokes. She snatched it and squirreled it away inside her grubby denim. Her gaze jerked nervously up and down the street, as if someone might come and steal her score off her.
“Here’s the thing, Nina,” Kjel said. “If we want to get this killer dude off the streets, we need to know more about Faith—like where she was living, who she was hanging out with. You can help us. You can help Faith get justice.”
Conflict warred in her face—raw fear, street loyalty, a desperate drive to score cash for more drugs fighting with an urge for justice for her friend. Kjel could read it all. Heknewit.
