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“I’m Agent Zoe Spencer,” she said.
The girl sniffed. “I’m Kiki.”
“Are you all right? Are you hurt?” Zoe asked.
“I’m not hurt,” Kiki said.
Zoe’s attention shifted to the bathroom, and instinct had her crossing to it and checking to make sure it was empty.
“We’re alone,” Jewel said.
“Kiki, did you tell Jewel what happened to you?” Zoe asked.
“I told a few of the girls, to warn them. When word got to Jewel, she told me about you.”
Zoe motioned toward a round table and the two chairs by the front window. She set the bag of food down along with the drinks and took a seat. “Girls, sit and eat now. It’s still hot.”
The girls hurried forward, and both sat in their chairs and reached for a bag.
“I’m always so hungry,” Kiki said.
“I had the clerk supersize the orders,” Zoe said. “Eat as much as you want.”
She did not offer advice about nutrition or taking the time to eat. She knew the girls were not going hungry by choice.
Zoe removed her sketch pad and flipped to a clean page as the girls bit into the burgers. She sat on the edge of the bed.
“The picture you did for me wasn’t good,” Jewel said. “But Kiki saw him better. He got right in her face.”
“Was he a customer?” Zoe asked.
“Yeah,” Kiki said. “I’ve seen him around in the last few months but never got picked. Last night, when he picked me, I almost didn’t go. I was so nervous and afraid.”
“We get this kind of extra sense on the street,” Jewel said. “But sometimes we have to ignore it for the money.”
“I understand. It’s a hard choice.”
Kiki grabbed a cluster of french fries. “I’m not going to do this forever. I’m saving my money.”
Zoe wanted to believe that was true, but the statistics were against both girls. “Mind if I start asking you a couple of questions about this guy?”
Kiki gripped her burger with both hands, pausing with it inches from her mouth. “Can I keep eating?”
“Of course. I want you to be relaxed. Jewel, do me a favor and let her give her entire description before you speak, okay?” She would have sent Jewel away but feared Kiki would not stay without her.
“Sure. I won’t say a word,” Jewel said.
As the girls ate, Zoe began with questions about where Kiki had met this john. She asked questions about what the girl was wearing, the weather, the other girls working on the street near her, and details about the motel room.
Zoe slowly shifted her questions to the assailant’s description. She began with the shape of his face. They talked about round and ovals, and when they decided on a round face, she began to ask questions about his eyes. The color was important, but also the shape. Did his eyes turn down? Were the eyes set wide or narrow? Were the lids hooded? When Kiki was not sure, Zoe drew examples until they settled on a shape.
Next, it was the nose and then the mouth. She spent time shaping and reshaping the lips and then angling and straightening the nose. This back-and-forth went on for almost two hours. Zoe was so focused on the details she did not take the time to look at the complete image.
Finally, when she completed the sketch and studied it closely, her own reaction to the drawing surprised her. Carefully, she turned it around to show the girls.
“Is this the man?” Zoe asked.
Jewel chewed her nail as she leaned forward and studied the picture. She did not answer but looked toward Kiki, whose complexion had grown ashen.
“Kiki, is this him?” Zoe asked.
Kiki nodded slowly, studying the image closely. “Yeah, that’s him. That’s him.”
Zoe drew in a breath as she reached for her phone and called Vaughan. Her call went to voicemail. Frustrated, she texted him the picture along with the question, Jewel’s friend Kiki and I just created this image. I know who it is. Do you?
Fifteen minutes later, Zoe parked on the Arlington side street. She sat in her car, watching the business, noting the lights were on in the bays and that loud music played inside. As she checked her phone again, a text from Vaughan appeared.
He wrote, En route.
She replied, Positioned outside.
Wait for me.
Understood.
Seconds after she hit send, a male figure passed in front of the garage bay window, and she heard the clang of tools and several curses. The music went silent, the lights began to click off, and she realized he was leaving.
Instead of watching him drive away, she got out of her vehicle. Placing her hand on her weapon, she blocked the path between the front door and the single car in the lot.
The door opened to Jason Dalton. He looked startled to see her but recovered quickly and grinned. “Agent Spencer.”
“It’s late to be working, isn’t it?” she asked.
“I work late all the time.” He scratched his chin as he looked around. “The overtime comes in handy. What are you doing here alone?”
“I have just a few questions. It shouldn’t take long.” Vaughan was minutes out, and if she could stall Jason, then she would have her backup.
“What kind of questions?” he asked. “Fun ones, I hope.”
“Questions about the Foster case.”
He held up his hands. “I heard Mark killed himself. That must mean the case is closed, right?”
“Not quite,” she said.
“What else is there to talk about?” he asked.
“Kiki. Do you remember her?” She studied his gaze closely and raised her hand to the grip of her weapon.
He shrugged, his head tilting as he regarded her. “No. Should I?”
“She’s a prostitute. One of her johns attacked her, but she got away.”
Blue eyes narrowed. “What does that have to do with me?”
“Kiki remembered the face of the john very clearly. I was able to make a sketch based on her descriptions.”
“I don’t believe you,” he said. “Half those hookers are on drugs and don’t know up from down.”
She reached in her pocket and pulled out her phone, which now displayed the image of him. “Have a look for yourself.”
He studied the picture and smiled. “Is that supposed to be me?”
“Yes.”
“It looks like me, but I’m better looking than that.” He flexed his fingers. “You just drew a picture to screw with me, right?”
“No. It’s based on witness testimony.”
“A whore from the street.” He shook his head. “You can pay them to describe anything you want.”
“The cops won’t rely totally on the sketch,” she said. “What they will do is cross-check your DNA with any that was found on Galina or Veronica.”
“That sounds a little like a witch hunt. Sounds like you’re looking for an excuse to come after me. I’m an ex-con and an easy target, right? You also going to try to nail me for Marsha’s murder?”
“When the DNA comes back, then we’ll know for sure. But for now, the sketch is enough to detain you.”
“Is this supposed to rattle me and make me confess?” He looked amused.
