“She is. Tell me about Merrin.”

“Horny old goat. Looks the other way when it comes to this place.”

“Donatti pays him off?”

Her shrug told him he was on the right track.

“Does Merrin look the other way with other things?”

“Like what?”

“Like if I wanted to score ecstasy, would I go to Merrin?”

“I have no idea.” She faced him. “That’s the truth. I only know Merrin as a client.”

“Well, who would I go to?”

“I don’t know. I don’t do drugs.”

“What about some of the other girls? I know you have a few here who also work at Tattlers.” Decker took a stab in the dark. “I’ve heard you can get a variety of pharmaceuticals over there.”

“Plunkett, right?”

“Right,” Decker lied.

“Figures. He’s a real jerk, but he’s a good source for referrals.”

“So maybe those girls would know about scoring… the ones who work at Tattlers?”

“You’d have to ask them. We don’t have anything on the premises, that much I know.”

“Anyone here from Tattlers that I can talk to?”

“Maybe Angela. She’ll be free in a half hour or so.”

“Could you set that up without calling him first?” A smile. “Please, Jen?”

She looked at him and shrugged.

Decker didn’t push her. “So you know the people in these townships pretty well?”

Jen laughed softly and bitterly. “I know the horny ones.”

“What about the boys?”

“Lots of horny boys.”

“Ryan Anderson and Philip Caldwell.”

Her face darkened. “I know Caldwell. He came in about two months ago. Right when he turned eighteen. Rich threw him out.”

“Who’s Rich?”

“The bouncer.”

“The one who’s behind the paneling in the lobby.”

Her expression was stunned. “You don’t miss a trick-oh, that’s right. I went there to phone Mr. Donatti.”

“Yeah, but I figured it out before. You kept looking over your shoulder. So Rich threw Caldwell out. Why?”

“He was roughing up the girl. It was Angela, come to think of it. Rich got to her before the little prick could do real damage. All the rooms have video cameras.”

Decker laughed. “Oh really?”

She pointed to the crystal chandelier.

“Rich must like his job,” Decker said.

“He’s gay and all business.” She looked down. “Everything’s being recorded. Eventually, Mr. Donatti’s gonna see the video. He’s gonna hit the ceiling.”

Decker patted her knee. “Look, Jen. He wanted you to pump me for information using whatever means, right?”

She was quiet.

“He knows me. Sex wouldn’t be an option. That means he knows you’d have to feed me info to keep me talking. My questions will tell him a lot. Was he pissed, by the way… Donatti?”

“What do you mean?”

“That this punk Caldwell was roughing up one of his girls?”

“He didn’t find out about it until way later… when he reviewed the tapes. Mr. Donatti doesn’t like problems. That’s why we’re here. So he doesn’t have to deal with problems.”

“I see. What about Anderson? Ever come across him?”

She thought a moment. “If I did, I don’t remember. They’re all the same, these rich-kid brats. All swagger, all bravado. Each one thinking they’re the biggest, baddest dude on the block. They deal in drugs; they show off their guns and knives; they think they’re real tough. They think they know what it’s like on the streets, but they don’t know shit. They don’t know how good they have it. They don’t know what’s important. They have it all, and yet they have nothing.”

The tears had come back in slow, steady droplets, but she didn’t appear to notice.

“Sometimes… sometimes God is just so unfair.”

33

He had about fifteen minutes to kill before Angela from Tattlers was done with her “massage” client. Stepping outside into the bracing air, Decker tried to clear his mind. The slashing rain had turned to steady globules of water, the woodland foliage melding into a thick curd of grays and browns as the daylight dimmed. He tightened the scarf around his neck and dug his hands into his pockets, feeling the jolt of iced steel on his fingers. He had forgotten about the snub-nose. He took it out, opened the chamber, and peeked inside. Four bullets. He snapped it shut, then secured the safety latch.

It would have been a perfect time for a smoke and a shot of scotch. He was cold and thirsty and could have used a kick to the system. He was sure that the place had a stash of stag toys, and with Rina absent, he didn’t have to worry about his breath or his bad behavior. That was the attraction of whorehouses. Guys could be swine and that was not only acceptable but also expected. Donatti was a down-and-dirty psycho, but the bastard understood married men. It wasn’t just a sex issue-though that played a big part-it was a control issue. Men prized freedom. Married men got tired of dealing with their wives because wives were constant reminders of their lost liberty.

In this seedy house of ill repute, he wasn’t as alienated as he should have been. In ’Nam, he had frequented brothels, but once he returned to the States, he didn’t need to pay for it. It was the 1960s and he was working in a college town. Free love was plentiful, although he frequently lied about his job when he went to bars. Cops were part of the military-industrial complex (whatever that was), pariahs with the flower-power generation. So instead of telling the girls that he was a vet and a cop-hence the short hair-he told them that his hair was short because of lice he had picked up in the Amazon jungle. They bought it hook, line, and sinker.

Sometimes, after he screwed them, if he was feeling particularly mean-and back then he often felt very mean-he told them what he really was. Far from being turned off, the women were excited by his profession, as if they were cavorting with the enemy. Jan had been one of those types. He had arrested her at an antiwar demonstration. Two nights later, they were humping like rabbits. Three months later, they were married. Six months later, Cindy was born.

Yadda, yadda, yadda.

Then there was that interim period after the divorce. Five years of being single before he had met Rina. The first couple of years were heaven-lots of sex with no emotional entanglements. The years that followed were absolutely dreadful-lots of sex with no emotional entanglements. Somewhere between the job and the sheets, he realized that the good life wasn’t endless sexual encounters and a fourteen-hour workday. He knew he was in serious trouble when he preferred his horses to his dates.

Thank God for Rina.

He suddenly missed her terribly, missed her and Hannah Rosie and his routine back in L.A. He wanted to go home. Instead, he was out here, freezing his balls off, trying to help a family that despised his intrusion. But it was too late for him to backtrack. He thought of the Liebers, of the hell they were going through. He wondered if Jonathan could be objective enough to give them pastoral comfort…

Jonathan…

He’d been out of contact with him for the past hour. Maybe it would be a good idea to touch base. He turned on his phone but couldn’t bring up a dial tone. He walked back inside, shaking the cold from his bones.

Jen looked up, then at her watch. “Shouldn’t be too long now, Lieutenant.”

“Could I borrow your phone?”

She pushed it toward him, her chest stretching over the desk, giving him a full view of cleavage. Maybe Donatti had instructed her to give it one more try.

Decker averted his eyes. “Thanks.” He dialed up Jonathan’s cell phone. It connected but was full of static. “Jon! Can you hear me?”

“Where the hell are you?”

Through the electronic noise, Decker could tell his brother was yelling. “Is something wrong?”

“Is something wrong? Everything is wrong! I’ve been trying to get hold of you for the past half hour! I’m driving through the woods here, getting lost-”