Kenny laughed again.
Doc was sitting closest to the balcony door. “Doc,” I said. “Put that little dude outside, will ya?”
He got up and scooped up the notebook, spider and all.
“Don’t kill it,” Toni said, suddenly concerned.
Doc glanced at her. “I don’t kill spiders.”
“No,” Toni said. “No, you don’t. Sorry.”
Doc walked outside onto the balcony where he tipped the notebook up onto the balcony rail. The spider, now clear as to which way it should go, calmly walked off the notebook onto the rail. As if satisfied of its surroundings, it walked slowly over the edge of the rail, down the side and then, upside down, along the bottom, where it stopped-most likely surveying the site for a new web.
“There. Everyone satisfied?” I asked.
Toni nodded.
“Good,” I said. “Let’s continue. Where were we?”
“I was asking about what kind of problems Ferguson and Sons were having,” Richard said.
“That’s right,” I said. “It’s the usual stuff. Apparently, they have inventory walking out of their warehouse. They want us to set up hidden cameras and monitor their warehouse staff. We’ll go in late at night when they’re closed and wire the place up. We might even need to order new vinyl panels for one of the vans so we can do a little undercover work.”
“Pretend we’re some kind of restaurant-supply outfit?” Kenny said.
“Exactly.”
“Sounds like it could be a nice job,” Richard said.
“Very nice,” I agreed. “Pretty good-sized project.”
“You mentioned two cases?” Richard said.
“Right. The other item is my dad said he has a case he’s working on, and he’s going to need us to look into some stuff-but he was his usual vague self and wouldn’t be more specific than that.”
“It’s probably a high-profile case, and he just doesn’t want to get ahead of himself disclosure-wise,” Richard said.
“Could be,” I said. “You know my dad-strictly by the book.”
“This is true,” Richard said.
I continued. “Meanwhile, we’ve had something else pop up that might keep us busy for a week or so while we wait for the Ferguson job to get started.”
This got everyone’s attention. We typically go over all new cases as a group. These are all smart people, and I value their opinions. I wouldn’t quite go so far as to say we’re a democracy around here-final decisions are my domain-but I definitely take group input, and I listen to what these guys say.
“You all know Kelli Blair? Toni’s little sister?” Everyone nodded. “Yesterday after we finished qualifying, she asked if we’d meet her here at the office. She told us a friend of hers-Isabel Delgado-had run away from home.” I recounted Kelli’s story to the group, leaving nothing out, including the claim that Isabel’s stepfather had raped her.
“Pinche cabron,” Doc said.
“Agreed,” I said. “So based on what Kelli said that Isabel said, Toni and I drove up to Lynnwood late yesterday afternoon. We talked to Isabel’s mom and then, later, her stepfather showed up as well.”
“Really? How’d that go?” Doc said.
“The mom’s okay,” I said. “She seems pretty much a classic case of ‘Battered Person Syndrome.’ You all familiar with that?”
“No,” Kenny said.
“Basically, BPS is when a person who should otherwise know better and be able to defend themselves doesn’t, basically because they’re afraid of or intimidated by the person doing the abusing. In this case, Marisol Webber is afraid of her husband, Tracey Webber. He’s beat her in the past, but she hasn’t done anything. Why? She’s afraid, and she’s intimidated. Battered Person Syndrome.”
“What about now that he’s raped her daughter?” Doc asked.
“She says she didn’t know about that, but it also didn’t seem to surprise her much,” Toni answered.
“Right,” I said. “But even not counting that-just focusing on the fact that her husband beats on her-still, she does nothing. She can probably be helped with intervention and with counseling and guidance. But short of that, she’s stuck-at least for the moment.”
“By the way, the stepfather is a complete douche,” Toni said. “I felt like I needed a shower after he got there.”
“He ogled Toni pretty good until I snapped him out of it,” I said.
“You hit him?” Doc asked, hopefully.
“No. I snapped him out of it.” I recounted the “snapping the fingers” episode. Toni jumped in and took credit for saving the day.
“Yeah,” Toni said, “I didn’t want to have to bail him out of the Lynnwood jail. But let’s get back to Isabel. Apparently, she doesn’t suffer from the same problem as her mom. She’s obviously not paralyzed into inaction. Looks like she said, ‘screw that, I’m out of here’ after Webber raped her. She ran.”
“I think it would be interesting to hear from Isabel,” Richard said. “In my experience, when a child is abused-raped in this case-there’s often been a long history of abuse at play. It’s hardly ever an isolated case.”
I hadn’t paused to consider the notion that Isabel’s rape might have been more than just a one-time event. “The idea that that little girl had to live in the same hell-house as that monster, with her mom at work and unable to protect her, is fucking staggering,” I said.
Toni nodded.
“How long have her parents been married?” Richard asked.
“Five years, give or take,” I said.
“And she just turned sixteen?”
I nodded.
“What do you want to bet that poor little girl was abused the whole time?”
It was silent for a few moments as we all considered this.
I shook my head. “That almost makes me ill. I’d like nothing more than to see this guy rot in prison for rape, child abuse, domestic violence-anything else they can pin on him.”
Everyone nodded. “But in order to get him there,” Richard said, “we have to find Isabel and convince her to testify. And frankly, even then it could be sketchy. It could end up being his word against hers. When they understand the courtroom ordeal that they’re about to subject themselves to, a lot of victims decide they don’t want to put themselves through it. They refuse to testify.”
I nodded. “I know. But before we get too concerned about that, I think we should focus on the most important thing, which is finding Isabel and seeing that she’s well taken care of. Getting her stepfather busted would also be nice, but I’m afraid that will have to be the icing on the cake.”
“Agreed,” Toni said.
I said, “And our more immediate problem is that it seems like when Isabel left, she may have jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire.”
“I don’t think that old cliche fits,” Toni said. “But I’ll borrow from it and say that Isabel jumped out of one fire and maybe landed in another.”
I nodded. “Fair enough. Based on her text messages to Kelli, it seems as though after Isabel ran, she got hooked up with someone she thought was pretty cool, and then for some reason, she indicated that she was wrong.”
“Without even knowing all the details, I have a theory where my money lands,” Richard said. We all looked at him.
“Two-thirds of all young girls who run away from home end up involved in prostitution, and the risk is especially high for kids who have been abused. Sadly, this case has all the markings. I’d say there’s a very strong probability that Isabel’s gotten herself scooped up by one of the gangs that control prostitution here in Seattle.”
“Two-thirds?” Toni asked. “I think Danny and I both suspected this might be a possibility, but I’m surprised at how common it is.”
“It’s a tragedy of epidemic proportions,” Richard said.
No one spoke for several seconds. Finally, I said, “Well, all the more reason I’d like to find her. I can’t imagine the outcome for most of those girls, but it can’t be good. We need to find Isabel before she’s consumed.”
“Do we have the resources?” Richard said.
I shrugged. “We have the resources,” I said, “but the problem is the job doesn’t pay. This would be a charity case.”