Bones of the Lost

have nothing. You know it. I know it. So take your piece-of-shit guns and your piece-of-shit vans and get the hell off my premises.”
    “These masseuses”—pronounced
mass-ooses
—“where do they come from?”
    “Licensed massage therapy training programs.”
    “What’s SayDo?”
    “Excuse me?”
    “The outfit that owns this dump. The people funding your lavish pension.”
    At that moment a SWAT guy clomped down the stairs, Bushmaster angled toward the ground. I stepped sideways to allow him access to the room. He nodded thanks.
    Slidell dragged his eyes from Mrs. Tarzec to look at the man. His deep frown deepened on seeing me.
    The SWAT guy shook his head and raised a palm. Nothing.
    “Toss it again,” Slidell barked.
    Mrs. Tarzec’s tough exterior showed its first crack. “This is harassment. You can’t do this.”
    “Yeah?” Slidell pointed at the warrant. “That says I can.”
    Mrs. Tarzec’s eyes narrowed. “Can I get my cigarettes?”
    “No. You can’t.” Slidell indicated one of the cots. “Park it.”
    Mrs. Tarzec sat and crossed both her legs and her arms.
    The SWAT guys headed upstairs. In moments I heard boots on the floorboards above. I knew they’d recheck for people, not search for evidence.
    Slidell knew that, too, and it was not improving his mood. He slammed through the desk, checking random papers, agitation obvious in his rapid breathing and jerky, heavy-handed movements.
    Rodriguez moved to the sideboard and began pulling out ramen noodle packets, canned foods, and boxes of dried macaroni and spaghettidinners. When each section was empty he knocked on the cheap laminated wood, testing for hollow spaces behind or below.
    Slidell dug through the wastebasket. Empty. Pulled the blankets from the cots, the covers from the pillows. Nothing.
    He disappeared into the bath. I heard the toilet seat bang, the tank cover scrape, the shower curtain screech across its rod.
    Rodriguez opened the refrigerator. Found sodas and condiments, a few packages of cheese. Slidell emerged from the bath.
    “You’ll find nothing illegal.” Mrs. Tarzec’s voice now sounded high and stretched. Either nerves or the need for a nicotine hit.
    “Good point. No client lists. No bills. No ledgers to square your ass with the IRS.” Slidell drilled her a look. “Here’s an interesting point. What ain’t here can be as incriminating as what is.”
    “I doubt that.”
    Slidell strode over to her.
    “What’s SayDo?”
    Mrs. Tarzec shrugged.
    “Who you working for?”
    “Darth Vader.”
    “You say you’re sucking wind now? Let’s see if business picks up with a cop parked on your ass twenty-four seven. Think Darth’s gonna cut you a big bonus check?”
    “That’s what lawyers are for.”
    Slidell pulled out the picture I’d taken of Candy.
    “Know her?”
    Mrs. Tarzec glanced at the photo but said nothing.
    “The kid’s not looking tip-top, lying on a gurney at the morgue and all.” Slidell waggled the photo. “Try again.”
    Mrs. Tarzec uncrossed and recrossed her legs, keeping her eyes averted from the image.
    “Yeah. I don’t like looking at dead kids either.” Slidell’s tone went harder than granite. “Last chance. Where did you take them?”
    “You’re crazy.”
    “Tell this to Darth. Wherever you turn, I’ll be there, day or night. Here on in, I’m your worst nightmare. You’re done.”
    No reaction.
    “And here’s the part you really won’t like.”
    “Imagine that.”
    “See you tomorrow.” Slidell clicked air through his teeth and winked.
    Mrs. Tarzec’s foot angled up and her leg started pumping. But she held her tongue.
    “We’re outta here,” Slidell said to Rodriguez.
    I got an angry scowl as he pushed past me to climb the stairs.
    Rodriguez and I made our way up and out the front door. The SWAT guys were already piling into their SUVs.
    Slidell was in the cruiser when Rodriguez and I got in. His anger felt like voltage sparking in the small space.
    “Who the bloody fuck tipped them?” Slidell’s palm slammed the wheel.
    I knew better than to respond. So did Rodriguez.
    Slidell swiveled to face me.
    “And who the bloody blue fuck cleared you to leave this vehicle?”
    “I waited a full—”
    “This isn’t done.” Slidell twisted the key. “I’ll get every document ever filed on this joint. Learn every penny ever earned or spent. The last time a fly was swatted or a toilet was flushed.”
    Rodriguez and I let him vent.
    “And no more