Mike was seated behind his desk in the station when a member of the vice section laid a folder down in front of him.

“Elizabeth Madeline Saunders,” the man said as Mike flipped open the folder and peered at the stack of previous arrest forms. “She’s sixteen years old and we’ve pulled her off the street a dozen times… she manages to find her way back each time.” Mike thumbed through the stack. Nothing worse than prostitution showed up on her record. “She walked off a minimum security site eight months ago, so we could bring her in to lock-down if you want.”

Mike shook his head.

“What’s her story?” Mike knew that girls who worked the streets usually did it to support a drug habit or someone else’s. It was rarely to “make a living.”

“Boyfriend…” the man replied flatly as he dropped a second folder onto the desk. Mike looked at the blurry black and white photo of the snaggle-toothed man clipped to the outside of the folder before flipping it open.

“A dope shooter. Kenneth no middle name Tanetz. Two-time felon,” the vice man continued. “Last time, he pulled two years at Rikers Island. My guess, he’ll go down for good next one.” The man spoke without emotion.

“The address is no good according to his parole officer. If you find him we could take down for a long stretch,” the man added.

“No,” Mike shot back without looking up from the files. “He may actually help me on the Anson investigation.”

“Not likely.”

Mike slowly let his gaze drift up towards the man.

“Him and the hooker put together don’t equal zero,” the man deadpanned. Mike felt the muscles in his jaw flex at the man’s callous response. The man must have sensed Mike’s building anger. With a shrug of his shoulders he wandered away, out of Mike’s glare.

Mike’s finger and thumb pressed into the bridge of his nose as he forced himself to ignore the hard-hearted nature of his fellow officers. They were putting up the barriers that protected them from emotional attachments or the realization that the “scum bags” might actually be genuine people under the patina that separated the “good guys” from everybody else.

*****

Early the next morning Mike sat feeding the cooing mass of gray and white birds in the square. He scanned the area to locate his backup. Now that someone knew who Mike really was, a larger number of plain clothes officers was on hand to protect him. Baboo stood on his usual corner this morning eyeing Mike with suspicion while he ushered the day’s traffic on its way. Maxwell, the wild-haried man, arrived and started a conversation with the plastic chairs that had, so recently, been unkind to him.

At about 1:15 Mike spotted the pretty young woman stroll into the square casually. Lizzy eyed the entire crowd before she ambled towards Mike. Passing by Baboo on her way, she whispered to the former professor for several tense moments. Two joggers knelt to adjust their shoe laces and a man selling flowers from a cart murmured into a wilted flower arrangement.

Baboo laughed loudly as Lizzy walked away but he quickly threw an uneasy glance towards Mike seated on his bench alone. Letting out a heavy sigh Lizzy plopped down next to Mike and picked up the neatly rolled paper bag that sat between them.

“Salami?”

Mike threw a pinch of dried crusts towards his winged charges.

“With mayo and Swiss cheese,” Mike answered softly.

A smile built up on the young woman’s face until there was almost a measurable light it contained by itself.

“How did you ever become a cop?” Her voice carried a trace of a giggle. Mike figured this was part of her act.

“I liked being outdoors.” He smirked in spite of himself as he bantered with the sixteen-year-old streetwalker. She laughed softly at his joke and eyed the square again.

“You brought your friends, today.”

Mike turned to stare directly into the girl’s blue eyes.

“They thought you might be dangerous.” Mike smiled openly, now.

Lizzy hesitated before she laughed out loud and leaned against his shoulder. This time Mike didn’t push her away.

Lizzy leaned back and laid her arms on the top of the bench. One arm snaked around Mike’s shoulder. He didn’t resist. Then she leaned forward quickly to move her face into Mike’s line of sight.

“You ready for this trip?” she asked quietly. Mike threw another pinch of bread to the pigeons before he answered.

“You gonna give me a story about an alcoholic mother and an over-affectionate step-father?”

Lizzy pursed her lips and inched forward so that her face was even with Mike’s. “Nah.” Her head shook slightly from side to side as she answered. “That’s not my tale… I just don’t like bein’ told what to do.” Mike stared at the girl for several moments, she staring right back at him. She shrugged before she finished her answer. “I’d rather be here than where I was.”

With that, Lizzy fell back on the bench, laced her fingers behind her head, threw her calf onto her knee, and drank in the square, one more time. Her square.

For that moment, Mike felt like someone had grabbed his shoulders and shaken him vigorously, though he knew that wasn’t the case. The thought of this young girl preferring the dangerous life of prostitution to growing up in her home was like a gut kick to Mike. His own daughter had expressed her displeasure with rules and regimen to him more than once.

“You gotta daughter, right?” Mike didn’t answer but stared at the crumpled bag in his hands instead. “The nice ones always do.” Lizzy added. “If we take a walk are the ‘jack boots’ gonna tackle me and slap the cuffs on?”

Still staring at the wadded brown bag Mike answered quietly. “Nobody’s gonna touch ya.”

Lizzy lurched forward. “Hey, careful. I gotta make a living.”

An involuntary chuckle escaped from Mike’s throat prompting to Lizzy join in. “What’s your name, cop? I’m sure you know mine, already.”

“Mike.”

“No middle name… or last name?” Lizzy grinned and added in a husky voice, “Just Mike?”

He turned his face towards hers. “Mike Joseph. Chief Detective, King County Police Department.”

“Ooh, top gun, huh? ‘lissa would’a been proud…”

Mike closed his eyes and sighed at Lizzy’s attempt at humor.

“Lighten up, Mike.” Dropping her arm around his shoulder Lizzy smiled broadly and finished, “Or you’re gonna blow a fuse.”

Mike nodded and began to speak but his words got tripped up along the way.

“She’s jus…” He cleared his throat several times.

“Your daughter’s about the same age?”

Mike licked his lips and then looked away.

“She’s eleven.” He managed.

“Mike,” Lizzy leaned forward to catch his eye. “You seem okay. That usually means she’ll be fine. Just don’t fuck it up.”

“Like with Melissa?”

“Ha…” An odd smile settled on Lizzy’s lips while she let her comment hang there in space for several seconds before she answered his question.

“Mike Joseph, you’ve only scratched the surface of this thing, I am sure.” He nodded. “Come on,” She snatched up the bag with the sandwich as she rose to her feet. Shuffling backward for several steps she flicked her head beckoning Mike to follow her on her slow walk towards Maxwell who had been sitting in his regular chair talking to no one for quite some time.

The signal Mike gave–a quick shake of his head while he put his index finger on his ear–was meant to let his backup know that he would be going with girl by design and that they should follow at a discreet distance.

Lizzy’s open palm–dropped aside her slim hips–directed at the detective’s face halted Mike’s progress about ten feet from where the man with errant hair was seated. Moving cautiously she pulled up a plastic chair and slid it next to his. She placed the bag on the table in front of the man and began to talk to him in soothing tones while she stared at Baboo’s passing traffic.

“Hiya, Max. You look good, today.” The man appeared more interested in his internal dialogue and didn’t seem to notice the girl’s arrival. “My new friend, Mike, brought you a salami sandwich… with Swiss cheese and mayo.” Lizzy turned to glance up at Mike, smiling. “He wants to know more about ‘lissa.” Now Lizzy peered into Maxwell’s face. The man laughed at some joke only he heard and then shook his head sadly. “You remember ‘lissa? She brought you roast beef.”

For a moment it seemed that the clouds parted in this man’s mind and suddenly he looked around at his situation as though he couldn’t understand why he was here amongst strangers. A sly smile crossed his lips as he looked directly at Lizzy. But then he laughed at the comedy playing out in his head and was lost again.

“Take care, Max,” Lizzy whispered as she stood. Then she wandered away from the man.

Mike fell in behind her. They approached Baboo together just as he was assisting a delivery truck through the crowded intersection.

“Hey, Babs.” The gray-haired man spun aound wearing a broad smile pasted on his face in response to Lizzy’s voice. The smile faded quickly when Baboo saw her standing next to the stranger who had confronted him yesterday.

“Baboo, this guy’s my new friend, Mike.” She spoke slowly and distinctly.

“I got no friends named Mike,” the man blurted out, eyeing the detective at length.

“No, Babs he’s my friend. Do you remember who I am?”

A quick grin flashed on his face as he broke off his glare and focused on the girl.

“You… you’re married to Max… You are… Max. No, you’re Baboo’s wife…” he chimed happily.

“If I’m your wife what’s my name, Babs?”

“Trick question, trick question.” Baboo shook his head confused by her inquiry.

“Babs, my friend, Mike, is my new husband, okay? He won’t hurt you. Husband of Dizzy Lizzy, okay?”

The man turned his gaze toward Mike and once again smiled. “A friend of Baboo’s. Dizzy Lizzy’s got a new husband… “ Now, the man puffed out his chest. “Lizzy used to be my wife.” He beamed.

“Baboo,” she tried to get his attention again. He looked at her finally. “Look out for Maxwell, okay?”

“Maxwell?” The man pointed his shoulders toward the passing traffic for some sign of recognition.

“My other husband, remember?”

The former professor snapped his gaze towards the man with the wild hair.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Your husband, I remember. I’ll take care of him. I will.”

“Just make sure nobody takes his sandwich, okay? He doesn’t always see people,” she finished.

“Maxwell, yeah. Doesn’t see. Au pays des avenges les Borges sont rois.” The last line was uttered with a perfect Parisian accent to Mike’s ear. Baboo returned to his neglected traffic now. No longer interested in interruptions.

“Bye bye, Babs.” Lizzy knew the gray-haired man was no longer listening as she wandered away from him. Mike hurried to catch up to her.

While stationed in England Mike and Cynthia spent most of his leave time in Paris where he picked up the language quickly. Because of that time spent Mike made French his minor at U of M.

“Do you know what he was saying?” Mike asked. Lizzy shrugged without turning back. “That French line was from a story about a fairy tale kingdom of blind people.” Lizzy slowed her paced slightly, cocked her head and peered over her shoulder at Mike. “It means: um… in the land of the blind… uh… the one-eyed are kings.”

Lizzy took several more steps and then stopped. A smile crossed her lips as she glanced back at the mad man directing traffic. She chuckled softly, shook her head, and began walking again.

“So where’s your buddies?” The girl chirped. Mike looked back over his shoulder and noticed no one was in immediate pursuit. As she peered back at the former professor Mike realized Lizzy had determined they were not being followed. She was quick, he realized.

“I wanted some space,” Mike shrugged.

With a half-serious leer Lizzy shot at him, “You wanna quick date? First one’s on the house. But I can guarantee one session with me and you’ll be back with your paycheck in your hand.”

Mike chuckled out loud but replied quietly. “You might be right.”

Lizzy wrapped her arms around his elbow and leaned in close to him, her cheek ensconced against his sleeve.

“Come on, Mike. When was the last time you had sex so good it scared you?” Lizzy pranced beside the older man still clinging to him.

“I don’t know. What time is it right now?” he answered.

Lizzy giggled, pressing the top of his hand to her stomach, entwining her fingers in his.

Mike couldn’t explain it but he felt more comfortable with this girl than he had felt with anyone in a long time. And not that he really knew much about her, except that she took care of the people in her world–like Baboo and Maxwell the wild-haired Man–people who made no demands of her but depended on her just the same. Mike could understand that and decided that was why he took an immediate liking to her.

She tugged him into an alleyway where one steel door was visible several yards from the street. Her key slipped easily into the lock that looked rusted and unused. The door creaked open and Mike held up his index finger to the girl.

“Be right back.” He stepped quickly to the sidewalk where he turned towards the square and signaled to someone out of Lizzy’s sight. His open palm was a signal for his backup to wait where they were.

Returning to the doorway he stepped inside the stairwell and took the steps two at a time. Lizzy followed slower. The doors along the hallway were gone and this building was obviously going through some kind of condemnation process.

The only door left hanging in the hallway had the words “Hello S’Kitty” scrawled across it in green day-glow spray paint. Mike stopped and turned towards the girl and raising his eyebrows as he stood in front of it. She nodded once.

“Yep. This is it. You’re good, Chief Detective.” With her shove the door swung open.

Inside the apartment Mike studied every detail to gain a better understanding of this girl who might shed some light on his investigation.

The room was dominated by a huge black and white poster with two buses parked side by side. Above the windshield, where the destinations were displayed, one had the word “boredom” while the other was headed for “nowhere.” Kurt Cobain’s sad face seemed to dominate the rest of the walls with a smattering of handbills displaying local area bands to fill in the blank spots.

Lizzy waited until he had taken in the entire tableau before she piped up, “I did it myself…”

With a nod Mike replied, “Not even a magazine?” Lizzy actually gushed at his verbal jab. Mike cocked his head to examine the young woman more closely.

She had blondish hair almost auburn and saucy features punctuated by her upturned nose. With a brazen smile smeared across her wide mouth and full lips Lizzy looked like the tomboy next door perched on the precipice of womanhood. Mike wondered what men thought about the late Melissa Anson, or his own daughter for that matter.

But there was something uncertain about Lizzy that made her exceedingly attractive. She kept her eyes focused on him, open and attentive. He found himself actually enjoying her company and even some odd kinship to her.

“Honestly, you can have a freebie. I like you, Mike.” A softness crept into the girl’s tone.

He studied the girl’s eyes in hopes of catching a flash of something, anything, that might give him some insight into the mind of Elizabeth. He had come to the conclusion that she was much smarter than he or anybody else had given her credit for. This girl had a beauty that went beyond physical attraction and while Mike couldn’t put his finger on it directly, he could only describe it as charisma. Something about her nature and her willingness to accept people as they were without taking from them or being condescending made her appear as a precious gem, yet uncut.

“Why, Miss Lizzy, if I don’t know better I’d say you might have a crush on me.”

“Ooh, a crush. That’s the beginning of the end for a workin’ girl. In the movies sometimes the bad girl ends up with the hero.” There was a hopeful lilt to her comment.

Mike chuckled softly at that and nodded slowly. “In the movies,” he answered with a crooked smile and a certain sadness in his voice.

“So where’s your boyfriend?” Mike tried to change the subject.

Lizzy’s right hand snapped to her hip and she pasted a look of faux consternation on her face.

“What’s makes you think I have a boyfriend?”

“A couple of little birdies told me.” He smiled broadly at her.

“Ha ha… I forgot who I was talkin’ to.” Lizzy shrugged. “He’s not here,” she quipped as she scanned the room quickly. Taking two steps forward she put her toe under the mattress that lay on the floor and bent over to peek under it.

“Nope. Not here either. He must be gone.” She smiled seductively after she finished.

Mike blinked in slow motion trying to steer the conversation back to the investigation without being abrupt

“Was there a reason you asked me up here besides trying ‘to bag’ a chief detective?”

The sixteen year old smiled pushing out her bottom lip with her tongue as she did. Her breath left her body in a rush as if she were honestly relieved that Mike didn’t take her up on her offer. With a toss of her hair she took three steps and was across the room. A cigar box next to the mattress lay open and Lizzy pulled a Polaroid picture out of it. Over her shoulder Mike could see a stack of pictures remained in the box.

Handing the picture to Mike he saw it was Melissa Anson wearing an outfit similar to the one she was wearing when she was found. The front of her short skirt was wadded in her fist, held above waist, to reveal a hairless pubic region. What struck Mike the hardest was the lacivious leer on this thirteen-year-old girl’s face. That look spoke volumes more than the investigation had turned up so far. Mike felt a knot form in his stomach as he absorbed her wanton expression and Lizzy spotted his distress.

“Fasten your seat belt, Mike Joseph. This is the end of the world as you know it.” Mike didn’t answer but continued to stare at the picture. Lizzy tugged at the snapshot in his hand but he wouldn’t release it.

“Mike, it’s about sales. With a specific clientele.” Pulling a second time at the photo Lizzy whispered, “Come on, leggo.” He nodded absent-mindedly in agreement as he forced his fingers open.

Lizzy leaned in on Mike’s arm as he released his grip on the offending photograph. “Mike,” she whispered. “That’s not your daughter, okay? We’re the exception.”

Mike blinked hard to refocus on the interview and to wipe the image of the young girl’s face from his mind.

“How did… How did you meet Melissa?” He managed in a shaky voice

“A church gig. They volunteered to do a kitchen thing down here. I helped out a little and ‘lissa walked right up to me and asked a buncha questions. After that she an’ I started hangin’ together.” Lizzy was shuffling the photos in the cigar box as she answered

“Was she hooking then?”

“Mike,” Lizzy stopped filing her photo collection, tilted her head slightly to correct him playfully. “That’s so yester-year. Dating is a much nicer term.”

“Are you gonna start calling yourself a ‘sexual therapist’?”

“Maybe. If I get business cards.” She slowly smiled and Mike joined in.

Mike knew the others in the station would accuse him of romanticizing this girl: a sixteen-year-old streetwalker who started in the business when she was twelve. Staring at her file he couldn’t shake the feeling… the clichéd “hooker with a heart of gold” story line only played in Hollywood features. Always with the happy ending that Mike knew seldom fit the Hollywood mold.

“Do you want to play this role forever?” Mike asked flatly.

“What else am I gonna do?” She snapped in a snotty tone.

Her matter-of-fact response flashed like a lightning bolt in Mike’s mind. He saw through her performance or thought he did. Maybe he wanted to believe that she could be someone different than Dizzy Lizzy, streetwalker. An anger roiled up inside of him, quickly.

Lizzy backed away from him when she spied tears welling up in his eyes. His hands shot out and grabbed her elbows in a vice-like grip. Lizzy tugged once at his grip and then her eyes flashed genuine fear as Mike refused to let go but instead pulled her nearer. When his arms encircled her shoulders and he pressed her body to his she relaxed, falling into his warmth.

To him it felt like Lizzy melted into his grasp. He could only hope she wasn’t the same as the hard-hearted beat cops he saw every day or the streetwalkers who worked the pavement, dying young, or having nothing left, ended up as a overdose statistic when their carnal gifts finally failed them.

His hands tangled in her hair as he held her to his chest. Mike simply didn’t understand and, unlike many of his fellow officers, he did want to know what pushed these human beings to sell themselves. This girl had more than a modicum of intellect, she was wise well beyond her years but she still chose a lose-lose lifestyle and Mike knew he couldn’t really change that. That single fact tore him apart inside.

“It’s okay, Mike.” He heard the girl’s voice crack as she spoke. He rocked her slowly in his arms.

“Mike!” Lizzy’s voice was steady now. “You can’t save me. And you can’t save the world.” Slowly, he loosened his grip on her. He realized how small she really was when he realized his arms completely corralled her and he could still touch his own chest.

“Just find the guy who did this and then take care of your daughter…”

Mike flexed the muscle in his jaw and nodded stiffly.

Lizzy sighed aloud and offered up the box full of photos for Mike to pick through. Thumbing quickly through the stack he noticed small figures drawn on the margins of some and he stopped to look at a snapshot of young nude girl exposing herself completely to the camera’s eye.

“The cross means…” She didn’t finish as Mike glanced back to Melissa Anson’s photo noticing, it too, bore a small cross in the corner. Lizzy turned away as she continued. “An ‘x’ means hard jail time.”

Mike continued through the lot until he found a picture with a single star. He held it up and Lizzy turned back to glare at it. Then she turned away again.

“A star…” she shrugged and paused briefly. She cleared her throat before she continued. “A star means she got out. That one married an EMT, can ya believe it? Just like the movies… maybe you know ‘em.” Elizabeth spun on the balls of her feet to face Mike with a tight smile on her lips. There was an opening and Mike was given a glimspe inside the girl.

But as suddenly, the maudlin sixteen year old who had the same hopes and desires as other girls that same age was gone, once again insulated beneath the layers of the wise-cracking Dizzy Lizzy who supported her junkie boyfriend, like she supported the various human flotsam of Sidell Square, by selling her body to anyone willing to pay to have sex with a minor.

“What’s Lizzy’s picture gonna have on it?” Mike asked pointedly.

Lizzy’s affect didn’t change, she continued to stare back at Mike unwilling to show him any more emotion. Mike caught a grim determination reflected in her eyes, bringing on his retreat to the security of his role as the law enforcement official.

“Okay,” he sighed in resignation. “Where should I start with this?”

“Well, the first place I’d look is in that fuckin’ church she went to. She’d banged half the youth group.” Dizzy Lizzy was back, fully in charge now.

Look in the obvious places first. Mike knew that but having Lizzy’s confirmation would allow him to step through the doorway running downhill. He learned a long time ago, the more an investigator seemed to know already the more willing a suspect was to open up. Mike didn’t subscribe to the interrogation methods most often used by other cops. Instead, he approached suspects as someone friendly, someone who already knew the final outcome but wanted to fill in the details. His success with questioning suspects, coupled with his meticulous nature, had brought Mike notoriety within a three state radius as the best investigator around. He lectured several times at the U of M on his techniques. Cynthia told him cryptically after a lecture that he should “try and live with someone who thinks like that.”

“So what makes the church youth group a place to start looking?”

“Hey! Wake up, Chief Detective. Do you think the members of church youth groups are exempt from sexual angst. Come on. My second date was with a Baptist minister who quoted the bible the whole time he was fucking me up the ass.”

“Okay, Lizzy. I get the picture.”

She wrinkled up her nose at his comment. “Does it bother you when I tell you that kind o’ stuff?”

“What difference does it make what I think?”

Lizzy’s shrugged slightly before her gaze fell to the floor where she pushed a wadded up McDonalds’ wrapper around the splintered hardwood floor with the toe of her canvas tennis shoe. She held her hands clasped behind her back as she followed her toe’s progress with her eyes. Several times she sighed as if she were going to speak but then thought better of it.

The silence roared in Mike’s ears.

The possible answers to his question both terrified and titillated him. No matter how she replied, Mike felt he had accidentally crossed over some unspoken barrier that had, up to that point, protected both of them and had enabled them to maintain a wall of professional courtesy between them.

“Mike,” she broke the silence finally.

“Uh huh.”

“Mike, do you ever think you might’ve made the wrong decisions about your life?”

“Every day, Elizabeth. Every day.”

A look of faked horror grew on her face before Lizzy giggled aloud. “Ew! No one can call me that. That name is death. Ew!” She squealed, made an awful face, and then shook her entire body while dancing on her tip-toes in a tight circle.

Mike rocked back on his heels in order to better watch her childish display. “I told my daughter, if she made a face like that it might stick.”

An expression, even more grotesque, now covered the young woman’s face. “Look what you did by using that awful name. Ah!” Lizzy screamed and shook her head as if she were trying to shake some vermin out of her hair.

“Come ‘ere, you still got some on your chin.” Mike beckoned to the girl while he chuckled watching the girl spin around the room as if trying to shed contaminated skin.

Lizzy clawed at her shoulders and shrieked, “It’s on me, get it off!”

They laughed together for a long moment.

After her silly tirade she offered up a surprisingly meek voice, “Mike?”

“Yes, Lizzy.”

“If anything ever…” Her hands went together in front of her waist and Lizzy dropped her gaze to the floor as she continued. “If anything should ever happen to me… Don’t ever let ‘em cremate me.”

“What?” Mike’s dipped his chin slightly as if he didn’t understand the words she used.

“I don’t wanna get cremated…” Lizzy pursed her lips and for that moment she sounded like a scared little girl. “Don’t ever let ‘em burn me up. I don’t wanna be burnt up.”

“Oh…kay.” Mike tried to sound comforting but was wholly taken aback by her request.

“Promise me, Mike. Please…” She was begging now. Mike grabbed her arms just above her elbow and pulled her body close to his.

“I promise. I promise I won’t let them burn you.”

Lizzy sighed deeply and fell face first onto his chest. Against his grasp Mike felt a little girl, frightened, and alone. A little girl who needed reassurance. A kindred soul who was tired of being a source of strength for the world-weary souls she encountered every day. As she nuzzled into his chest Mike felt moisture in the corner of his eyes. Gritting his teeth he fought back this dangerous unprofessional feeling. For the first time in his life as a cop, he desperately wanted to turn off his emotions. He wanted to turn them off and leave them off, forever. No matter how impenetrable her patina appeared Mike knew Lizzy was still only a sixteen-year-old girl treading water in a world dangerous even to adults. And he couldn’t change that.

Slapping at Mike’s chest playfully Lizzy pulled away and slid back into her street persona.

“Okay, what else do you wanna know, Chief Detective?”

Mike took a deep breath and continued with his practiced line of questioning.

“Was this about drugs? I mean, why was she doing it?”

“Duh! The money. Come on, Mike. ‘lissa wasn’t a druggy…” Lizzy interjected

“But she had everything else she needed at home and…”

“If she had everything,” Lizzy broke in impassively, “she wouldn’t ‘ve been dating.”

After a pause, Mike nodded. “I don’t understand it but I know you’re right.” He paused. “How ‘bout you?” He flicked his chin towards her with his question.

“It pays for all this,” Lizzy spread her arms wide. Mike laughed quietly at her retort. “And one user in the house is more than enough.”

Lizzy pulled in a deep breath and grew serious. “I just needed to get away from my mom.” The young girl finished sadly. “Me and her couldn’t get along.”

Mike pursed his lips before he spoke. “I know your mother had you put into a minimum security facility and that you walked away from it.”

Lizzy raised one eyebrow. “Gee, thanks, mom.” There was a pregnant pause in their conversation while they stood eyeing one another. Lizzy had one hand on her hip, the other dangled at her side. She stood defiantly staring back at Mike waiting for him to make the next move.

“So you don’t…” Mike took a breath before he continued. “You don’t get along with her?”

“It runs in the family, I guess. She was always fightin’ with her father, my grandpa…”

“It seems that she was trying to help…” Mike continued.

Lizzy shrugged quickly.

“So you couldn’t meet her half…”

Lizzy interrupted him with an outburst. “Hey, Mike! My mother gave me nothing more than the breath of life.”

“Isn’t that enough?”

“Uh uh. Just ’cause she got an itch in her panties don’t mean I owe her a life of servitude.”

Mike nodded. “Fair enough. What about your father?”

She turned away. “I honestly can’t stand in judgment of the man. Didn’t know ‘em well enough.”

“Nobody took an interest in you?” Lizzy spun around narrowing her eyes quickly. He knew he touched on something with that question.

“My grandpa,” she said quietly. “He died when I was seven… and that Baptist minister but he had his hand down my pants for as long as I could remember.” She finished matter-of-factly.

“I’m sorry.”

“What for? He taught me to give great blow jobs.” Mike could see she was trying to cover something painful and so he played along to keep her talking.

“Everybody’s a specialist.” Mike couldn’t keep the smirk off his face.

“’cept you, Mike. You’re gonna save the whole world, huh?” Lizzy popped back.

“Nah. Just my little corner.” Mike fired back, using her detached cool in reverse.

From her self-satisfied expression Mike figured she had spotted his ploy immediately. He figured Lizzy knew that they were very similar people. Both of them wanted to look out for the simple people but found being close to another person, a real person, left them feeling vulnerable. So they both avoided it, but at such a high cost.

“You sure I can’t give ya a sample?” she giggled.

“You wouldn’t respect me in the morning.”

“Who said I respect you now?” Lizzy laughed out loud now and Mike joined in. “Why the interest in me, anyway?”

“Okay, okay. Was Melissa in deep with any one group of clients?”

“Nah, she was pretty smart. She wasn’t like Billy.”

“What’s ‘at mean?”

“Girl,” Lizzy shrugged as she picked up the cigar box to rummage for a photo, “… named Billy.” The photo showed a young woman wearing a ripped tee shirt and swabs of thick black eye makeup that contrasted sharply with her pale complexion. “She runs with nothing but the ’skin-head and Swastika’ crowd. Gets knocked around every so often. Takes a couple of weeks off to recover and she’s right back with the same stupid fuckers. She just won’t learn.”

Staring at the photo Mike realized the girl in the photo was “Renee” from Melissa’s photo gallery.

“What about you, Lizzie?” Mike asked pointedly, handing the photo back.

“That’s out of bounds, Chief Detective,” Lizzy shot. “Out… of… bounds.” A serious look settled onto the girl’s face and Mike nodded slightly to acknowledge his error. He had gained a respect for this girl. While in his heart he wanted to get Lizzy off the streets his head told him she would be back the moment she saw an open door. He still needed her help with this investigation.

“Was Billy friends with Melissa?”

“’lissa stuck pretty close to me when she wasn’t doing her online gig. I told ‘er that was dangerous stuff but she said she could keep a low profile with it but…” Lizzy let her words hang in space.

“But what?” Mike prodded the girl to continue.

“But, I was right.” Lizzy shrugged.

“How do you know it was an online john who killed her?” Mike narrowed his eyes at Lizzy now.

“She wouldn’t work the streets. She said there was too much chance of being recognized.”

“Why was she hanging around with you, then?”

Lizzy let her mouth hang open for a moment as she let out her breath in a rush. “Maybe, she liked me,” was the girl’s droll response.

Mike smiled and then he laughed. “All right, Lizzy.”

“God. How did you get to be a Chief Detective?” She shook her head and smiled.

Mike smirked at the girl’s ability to fence with him. “What about the church people?”

Lizzy shook her head again, “She’d work them online, too. Made ‘em go through her email address. I really don’t know much about how she ran ‘er business.” Lizzy held up her open palm towards Mike. He could see they had come to an end of the interview.

Mike stared at the girl while she shuffled the pictures in her hand. He wanted to reach her, to get her to give up this life she was leading. After the investigation was over he would try something, he wasn’t sure what it might be, but he felt that he wouldn’t be a good cop if he didn’t.

She glanced up at him, at last. “What?” She spoke in mock disgust. Mike smiled again.

“Are you gonna be around here if I need to talk to you some more?”

“Sure,” Lizzy put on a sultry voice. “If ya want me just whistle.” She aimed a pouty air kiss at the Chief Detective before she burst out laughing. “I saw that in a movie.”

They stood together for an uncomfortable moment before Lizzy threw her arms around Mike’s neck. He held her close drinking in her scent. It was Patchouli oil and chewing gum. When he finally let her go he dug into his back pocket for his wallet which he fanned open, snatching a bill from inside.

“What’s this for?” She asked as he extended a 50 dollar bill towards her hand.

“Maybe, I wanna pay for my first date up front,” Mike smirked. “I know you’re good for it.”

Lizzy grinned and snatched the bill from his grasp. “I’ll wear you out, Mike Joseph.”

“I bet you would.”

Mike stopped at the door and turned to face the pretty girl.

“Be careful, huh?”

“I have to, now,” Lizzy smiled broadly. “I owe a Chief Detective a date to remember.” Mike hesitated. He wanted to stay and talk with her more… to share time with someone who wouldn’t ask him to be like this forever but only as long as he was in the room. He also knew the meter would always be running with this girl.

Mike felt some strange kinship to this young streetwalker. They both tried to care for those people around them who didn’t ask to be cared for, those people who couldn’t care for themselves. But neither seemed to be able to care for the people they were supposed to. Probably because they were too busy caring for the rest of the world. It seemed easier, to Mike, to care for people like Lizzy or the professor. He could appear magically, do his good deed and vanish again into the ether with a detachment that held no lingering requirements for future deeds. No expectations to live up to, just a simple act of kindness without strings attached. This is what Mike wanted when he joined the Marines and what he wanted as a cop. Unfortunately, those closest to him wanted more.

Wandering back onto the street Mike thought about Lizzy and other girls in those photos. There seemed to be a lot of unhappy young girls in the world and he didn’t know how to change that, even in his own life. He and his daughter were drifting apart while he buried his head in his work. He took on numerous duties he didn’t need to just to avoid his personal life. The job was becoming his personal life.

A couple of joggers milled around the alleyway as Mike walked back onto the sidewalk.

“Jesus, what took so long? Did you get a freebie or something?” one jogger exclaimed.

“Fuck you!” Mike was not in the mood for police high jinks at that moment. The undercover cops knew Mike’s tone was not an act and they turned away quickly. Mike brushed past the men and walked in a direct line to an unmarked car that sat with a plainclothes cop behind the wheel. He banged on the hood as he passed in front of the car.

“Let’s go,” Mike said plainly as he fell into the front seat of the car.

“Okay, where?” The man asked as he turned the key and the engine came to life.

“Clinton Street Evangelical Church.”

“Dressed like that.” The car lurched away from the curb as Mike glanced down at the grimy clothing he wore to blend in with the Sidell Park regulars.

“Ya. Fuck ‘em.” Mike spat.

“Okay.” The man shrugged as he made a u-turn in the middle of the street and roared out of downtown headed towards the suburbs.

Mike pulled the rape kit out of the glove box before they stopped. He picked through it and pulled the clear plastic DNA sample vial out and stuffed it in his pocket.