I’m sure you don’t give a rat’s behind about my personal life.”
“It’s this clerical collar. You’d be amazed by the things people tell me. Yes, I had a reason for showing this to you, and it wasn’t to shock you. I wanted you to understand a couple of things. First, the sex trade is a complex and pervasive issue with ramifications that extend far beyond the social or moral. There are political and economic cogs in this particular wheel. And street prostitution is only a very small part of the greater whole. The bottom rung of the ladder.” He paused for a sip of tea. When he swallowed, his Adam’s apple moved up and down.
“Second,” he said, “Kit’s an extremely attractive girl. Chances are good she won’t be on the street for long.”
Her stomach soured. “You think she’ll be snatched up by some talent scout looking for new blood.”
He picked up his napkin, wiped his fingers. “It’s quite possible. If she ends up working for an escort service, finding her could be like finding the proverbial needle in a haystack.”
She exhaled a hard breath. “Then I’d suggest, Father, that we don’t waste any time getting out there.”
A half-dozen customers browsed the bookstore shelves. and a trio of teenage girls clustered around the magazine rack, giggling over the latest photos of the boy band
du jour
. Sarah swept past the register, where Josie was flirting with a middle-aged customer buying the latest Ludlum blockbuster. Josie glanced up and raised her eyebrows, and Sarah tilted her head in the direction of her office.
She nearly tripped over Steve Merino. He was on his knees in aisle three, resetting shelves to make room for the newest Danielle Steel opus. The jeweled studs lining the college student’s earlobes winked in the reflection of the overhead fluorescent lights.
“You were gone long enough,” he said. “We were about to call out the search-and-rescue dogs.”
She knelt beside him, frowned at a book that was shelved out of order, pulled it and reshelved it in its proper place. Eyeing the dreadlocks that had recently sprouted from his head, she said, “I do believe there are wild creatures nesting in there.”
“Very Rastafarian, don’t you think?” He shoved aside a half-dozen books and filled the empty space with glossy pink paperbacks from the box at his side.
“I hate to break it to you, son, but no matter how Jamaican you get, you’ll still be a white boy from the burbs of Boston.” Still on her knees, she followed along behind him, straightening the books he shelved, neatly lining up the spines.
Unfazed, he grinned. “Thanks for the reminder.”
She ran a fingernail along the line of books. Satisfied with their alignment, she stood and dusted off the knees of her jeans, just in time to watch Josie stride briskly down the aisle. At thirty-three, Josie Porter, nee Rafferty, was drop-dead gorgeous, with sleek black hair and deep green eyes, lush ruby lips, and a hard, lean body that looked equally delectable in jeans or in a slinky black cocktail dress. If Sarah hadn’t liked Josie so much, she would have hated her.
“So?” Josie demanded. “What’s the verdict?”
“He’s going to help me look for her.”
“Thank God.” Josie closed her eyes, reopened them. “I knew Clancy’d come through for you.”
“There aren’t any guarantees, Jose. He made sure I understood that. But he has resources and experience I couldn’t begin to replicate. It’s a hell of a lot more than the police offered me.”
“He’ll find her. He has God on his side. And I have absolute faith in him. Clancy’s the most amazing man I’ve ever met.”
“Speaking of which, thanks for the warning.”
“Warning?” Josie raised an eyebrow. “About what?”
“I left here this morning laboring under the misapprehension that I had an appointment with some well-meaning old geezer. It would’ve been nice if you’d prepared me for the reality of the