Richard Aleas

“And Feuer works with you?” “No. She’s just been helping me with one case I’m working on. Just as a favor.” “Some favor,” Conroy said. He handed my license back. “You want to tell us what happened?” Gianakouros said. How to answer that? I wanted to, but this was not a story I could tell quickly. Where did it even start? When Susan began making calls for me, or before that when I first saw her dancing at the Sin Factory, or before that, when I opened the paper and saw Miranda’s face staring out at me, all innocence and accusation? Or ten years earlier, when I’d seen Miranda last, when I’d sent her off on a boomerang voyage from New York to New Mexico and back again, from possibility to disaster and from life to death? I’d have to explain an awful lot if I wanted them to understand what had happened. And I wouldn’t mind explaining — but right now I couldn’t afford the time. Jocelyn was still in town, but for how long? She was packed and ready to go. She’d just needed to sew up some loose ends, like the troublemaker who was calling all the strip clubs she’d ever worked at and trying to track her down. I’d set Susan on Jocelyn’s trail, and somehow it had gotten back to her. Was it any wonder that Jocelyn had decided to eliminate Susan before leaving the city? Now, Jocelyn probably just needed to pick up the money from wherever she’d stashed it and then she’d vanish forever. One of the country’s best agencies hadn’t been able to find her the last time she’d gone on the road, and back then she hadn’t had a half million dollars to help her hide. “We’re looking for a missing woman named Jocelyn Mastaduno,” I said. “Her parents haven’t heard from her in six years and they want to know what happened to her. Susan was helping me make some calls to track her down.” “What was she doing in the park?” “I don’t know,” I said. “How did you know she was there?” “Susan was staying with my mother. She told her she was going to the park, and my mother mentioned it to me.” “So you went there.” “I was worried,” I said. “I didn’t understand why she’d gone there, and the park can be dangerous at night.” Conroy spoke up. “Any idea who might have done this?” “None,” I said. “What about this woman you’re looking for, Mastaduno?” “It’s possible. I just don’t know.” “How close are you to finding her?” Pretty close, I thought — if I can get out of here. I fought to keep my voice calm. “I can’t say. We’re not the”
― Richard Aleas, Little Girl Lost