Problem Child (Jane Doe #2) - Victoria Helen Stone Page 0,62
the master bedroom, pulling them closed behind me. It’s too dark for me to see well, so I shove aside the curtains that cover a sliding glass door to let some of the rising sun in. When I turn, I find Nate sprawled across the king-size bed in sweatpants and a sleeveless T-shirt. Little Dog still isn’t home, it seems, but Nate doesn’t seem worried. He’s content as an innocent babe and snoring slightly with each breath.
I sit down on the bed with him and grab his phone from its resting place on the mattress near his arm. Hoping he has a fingerprint lock on his passcode so I can use his hand for entrance, I wake up his screen. Lo and behold, this guy has no lock whatsoever. He really is an innocent babe. You don’t often find such trust in a pothead.
Upon opening his texts, I find a thread from “LD,” and, sure enough, Nate texted him the first time I dropped by.
Where you at? Some lady just came by. You still alive?
He sent that text as soon as I left, but it looks like Little Dog didn’t respond for hours. But he did respond.
Still alive & kickin. What lady?
“Well, well, well,” I whisper. If it ain’t Lazarus Pimp himself, back from the dark beyond.
Dunno, Nate responded. She was looking for Kayla.
Was she alone?
That seems like an odd question. Not Was she a cop? or What did she say? but Was she alone? Hmmm.
His friends already said that someone came by and beat the crap out of Little Dog about a week after Kayla went missing. It seems like he’s on the run from that bald guy as opposed to fleeing from something he might have done to my niece.
Nate reassured him that I had come alone, then asked if everything was cool.
Jus layin low man. Hope we can head back soon.
We! “A clue, a clue,” I sing softly before scrolling back through previous texts. Little Dog has indeed been pretty quiet this month. The last text before this round was two weeks earlier, when he asked Nate to bring him clothing and some cash he had stashed in the crawl space.
I’ll meet you haffway. Enid cool?
Interesting. The town of Enid is halfway to Tulsa if you go by the back roads instead of taking the tollway. And something tells me Little Dog doesn’t have an EZ Pass.
Yeah man no worries. Wtf is going on?
Did that guy come back?
No.
Ok, tell you in Enid.
Hm. Nate knows more than he let on. I nudge his shoulder. “Hey. What did Brodie tell you when you met him in Enid?”
He grumbles into his pillow, and I’m highly irritated that I had to come back to this stink-ass house, so I raise a hand high and bring it down hard on his ass with a satisfying crack. “Wake up.”
Nate squeals and flips around, seeming to hover in midair as he twists with a wordless cry.
“What did Brodie tell you in Enid?” I repeat. “I know you saw him there, so don’t bother lying to me.”
“What the fuck, man? Who are you?”
“I’m a fancy lady, not a man, dude. And I’m not here for fun and games this time. You’ll tell me what you know right now or I’ll make your life a living hell, starting with calling the sheriff to report all the drugs strewn around this house. I’ll tell them you’ve been dealing, and I don’t think they have video games in jail, Nate.”
He’s awake enough to be scared now and scooting back to press himself to the headboard while his hand slides back and forth under the sheets. I hold up his phone. “Are you looking for this?” When he doesn’t answer, I raise my other hand to reveal the knife I brought along. “Or are you looking for something more like this?”
“Eep,” he bleats out, and I snort-laugh at the sound.
“Just tell me what Brodie told you in Enid and I’ll leave. No big deal.”
“In Enid?” he gasps. “Uh. He asked if that guy that beat him up came back and I said no.”
“What else? And don’t lie or you could wake up anytime and find me watching you in your sleep again. I’m sneaky that way.”
“Jesus,” he whines. “I don’t know. He said Kayla had fucked up. That’s all. He said, ‘Kayla fucked up and we need to lay low.’”
“So he’s with her?”
“I think so.”
“And he was her pimp?”
Nate swallows with comic loudness. “Something like that. I mean, it