didn’t work out. Haven’t seen her since.”
“Really? Because she’s missing.”
Oh my, there goes his color again, though now there are red spots left behind, as if his face is a huge lava lamp, big splotches of color floating in his cheeks before getting smaller and fading. “Missing?” he croaks.
“Yes. She disappeared a few weeks ago, and we suspect foul play.” The we will make me seem more official and more dangerous.
His mouth forms an O like the opening of a dry cave.
“Do you know why anyone would want to hurt this girl, Frank?”
“Uh . . .” I see his tongue working like a dying worm inside that cave. Gross.
“Listen.” I lean forward and mold my face into understanding. “We both know she’s not some average teenage girl, right? She’s got issues. Real issues. She was . . . a challenge.”
That’s the refrain. That’s the reason we give when a grown man has sex with an underage girl. She was troubled. She was fast for her age. She was the aggressor. She wanted it. She wasn’t even a virgin. She thought she was grown. She’s done this before.
We all know the reasons, because pussy is made to slide into; and if a young girl is there, tripping a man up, he can’t help but fall straight into it. What are they supposed to do? Say no? They’re just men, after all. Just men walking around like untrained puppies, semen dribbling on the floor with excitement just like a dog’s urine. We expect nothing better of them. So here I am, having a conversation with this grown man about fast young girls.
I learned to work that system. I learned to be the one fucking instead of getting fucked. If men were going to do it, I was going to get something out of it.
But Kayla may have just been another victim. You let your guard down once and it’s all over. Now you’re not clean enough to save.
I wink at Frank. “Are you gonna tell me what happened, sir, or do we have to turn this into an official interview?”
His wormy little mouth finally snaps shut. His jaw tightens. I can almost see the thoughts turning like gears in his eyes. He’s realizing now that he might be safe. If Kayla is missing, there’s no one to ever tell the truth.
Damn it.
“Nothing happened.” He takes a deep breath and nods. “We talked about her joining the league, but she didn’t have money for the fees. It sounded like her family life was pretty bad. Sorry to hear something has happened to her. Maybe they had something to do with it. She said her mom was on drugs.”
“We’ll be looking at her phone records, you know.”
“I . . .” A little croak before he composes himself. “Of course, we spoke several times about her fee options. Of course we did. But it didn’t work out.”
“You’ve said that.”
“I need to get back to work. I’ll call the sheriff’s office if I hear anything.”
“Oh, I’m not a cop, Frank.”
“What?”
I let my mask fall for a moment so he can see the icy predation in my eyes. I don’t care about him. I don’t even care about Kayla. I care about the hunt. The stalking. The triumph. I smile. “Do I look like a cop, Frank?”
Lips parted so he can fit bigger breaths into his straining lungs, he shakes his head, then he nods, then he shakes his head again. “I don’t know,” he finally whispers.
“I’m just a friend. I’m just a helper.” I put on a little singsong voice. “When you see a helper, ask for help!” When I reach to touch his hand, he jerks back, his chair screeching in protest. “I see you have a wedding ring. Do you have girls of your own, Frank?”
He blinks rapidly, over and over, as if he’s trying to clear dust and horror from his blue eyes. “No,” he bleats like a lost little lamb.
My heart beats harder, awakening every nerve in my body. I haven’t felt this good in months. I lick my lips and lean closer, like a sultry movie vixen. I wish I could see myself right now. I wish I could record this and watch it later for fun. It’s been a while.
“You just like coaching them, huh, Frank? You just like watching them run?”
“No. Yes. No! I’m just a coach! She was . . . This wasn’t my fault.” Tears fill his eyes now, despite his fluttering eyelids.
“What wasn’t your fault?” I