“She stays in an apartment.”
Adrenaline spiked in him. “Where?”
“Esquimalt. A block up from the water, place called MontBlanc Apartments—can see the mountains across the water from there.” Sadness washed over her face. “Real nice.”
“You been there?”
“I heard.”
“From who?”
She looked away.
“Pastor Markus, he tell you?” Some guys were approaching down the street. It made her even more squirrelly.
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
“Was it some john setting her up in a love crib—all for himself?”
“I gotta go.”
Kjel watched her scurry off into the rain, Christmas lights flicking in the thrift store nearby. Wind gusted, and the sky darkened with lowering cloud. Daylight hours were short this time of year. Life on the streets could be real rough. Cold. Not like rest-of-country-cold, but nevertheless.
Leo rejoined him, and Kjel filled his partner in as they retraced their route to their vehicle.
“What did she mean when she said that she’s seen your ass around?” Kjel asked as he opened the driver’s door. Pallorino might never have relinquished the wheel, but Leo was happy to sit back in the passenger seat and let him drive. He kinda liked that.
Leo met his gaze over the roof of the sedan. “I’m a cop. I’m around.”
“She got something on you?”
Leo held his eyes. “What the fuck are you asking? You want to know if I come down here for a blow job? What is wrong with you?”
“Wanna call it in—tell Buziak we got us a domicile for our vic?” Kjel said, getting into the car.
In silence they drove to Esquimalt, to MontBlanc Apartments.
From the shadows, Nina, shivering, watched the detectives drive off. She needed to find her supplier, score now that she had some cash. But she was scared. She’d seen the newspapers in Harbor House, and she knew what had been done to the girl in the cemetery. The rape. The crucifix. Merry Winston’s byline was on that story. She’d also heard about the female floater in the Gorge.Faith?Christ.
She ducked back into the rain and made her way quickly through the city streets to the stone building near the inner harbor that housed theSun. Heavy fog roiled off the water and fingered into the cobbled streets and brick alleys. Foghorns sounded out at sea. She pushed through the revolving glass door and made her way over the gleaming marble floor to the reception desk.
The woman behind the desk told her to get lost or she’d call the cops.
“I got information. For a story,” Nina replied, scratching her arm nervously. “Gotta see that reporter, the one who wrote the story on the Cemetery Girl.”
The receptionist looked doubtful but paged Merry.
Merry came down. Shock registered on her face. “Nina? What the fuck? What’re you doing here?”
Nina’s eyes flickered around. She had noise in her head suddenly. She pressed her hands to her temples.
“Come, I’m going to get some coffee and hot food into you. Let me fetch my coat.”
Merry came back downstairs with her coat on and a spare jacket in her hand. “Get that wet denim off you and put this thing on.”
Nina acquiesced. The jacket was dry and warm, filled with padding, and she was grateful. “You can keep it,” Merry said as she took her around the corner to the entrance of a little pub.
“I don’t want to go in there.”
