"You don't look like a cop."
Cyn spun around as the disembodied voice came out of the shadows, right hand going reflexively to the butt of her weapon. A boy stepped into the meager light, maybe sixteen years old, thin and underfed like all the others. His eyes were bruised, his knuckles scraped. He'd obviously been in a fight recently. Probably not the first or the last.
"That's because I'm not,” Cyn said calmly, her hand relaxing, her eyes going back to the weeks-old crime scene.
"Joni died here,” the boy said.
Cyn looked up. “You knew her?"
"Sure. Everybody knew Joni. She hooked up a lot, always had money and was willing to share."
"Share what?” Cyn asked, thinking it was probably drugs, remembering which of the bodies had shown visible signs of drug use.
"Food, mostly,” the boy said, surprising her. “Joni got drunk sometimes, but she didn't do drugs. She had a few regular customers, old guys who liked f**king a little girl and didn't mind paying a little extra for the repeat experience."
"Yeah.” Cyn sighed, too familiar with the story. “You think maybe one of her clients killed her?"
"Maybe, but it was pretty late. Almost morning."
Cyn quickly reviewed what she remembered from the file. The vic from this scene had been reported on an anonymous 911. “How do you know what time it was?"
"I found her. Sat with her until the cops came."
Cyn's heart skipped a beat. There hadn't been any witness reports that she'd seen. “Did you see who did it?"
"Didn't see it. Heard it though. I think I scared the guy away."
"What'd you hear?"
The kid looked at her, suddenly suspicious. “Why you asking all these questions, if you're not a cop?"
"I'm a private investigator.” She pulled out a card and handed it over. “A family member hired me to find out what's going on.” It wasn't precisely a lie.
The boy squinted at the card and back at Cyn. “Kind of like that wizard guy Harry Dresden from the books?"
"Kind of, but without the magic. So, was she alive when you got here?"
"I don't think so.” A tired sort of grief washed over his features and he looked away. “Not long, anyway."
"What'd you hear before you found her?"
"A car and a lot of noise, like something big being thrown into the trash. I went to see what it was because sometimes people throw away good stuff, you know? It was a nice car, so I figured maybe it was something good."
"You saw the car?"
"Nah, but I could tell. The engine sounded all smooth and low, and when the doors closed, you could hear that nice thunky noise, not all kinds of rattles and shit."
Observant, Cyn thought, smart. She felt a moment of despair and wondered for the thousandth time why society threw these kids away.
"So what happened then?"
"Like I said, I think the guy must've heard me coming. He drove off pretty fast, burned rubber all the way.” He gestured at the ground and Cyn walked over, crouching to look closely at the thick lines of indistinguishable black.
"If you didn't see him, how do you know it was a guy?"
He thought about her question for a bit. “Just figured, I guess,” he said finally. “I mean ... aren't they always?"
"They?"