Lost in America

by A. S. French

  Astrid shook her head. ‘I’m just a stranger passing through town.’

  Only she’d constipated the place and was now stuck somewhere in the bowels of Bakerstown. Angie laughed as she removed a bit of twig from her teeth.

  ‘Good luck with that. Sometimes strangers don’t get the warmest welcome here.’

  The kid looked as if she hadn’t eaten in days, with clothes which appeared like hand-me-downs from someone a few years older than her hanging off her bony frame. She flexed her fingers and shook the dirt from her shoulders. Her gaze buried deep into Astrid as she took one step back. The rest of the onlookers had returned to their business and there was only them in the street.

  ‘Why don’t you tell me what to avoid while I’m here, and I’ll buy you a meal?’ Astrid nodded towards the diner. ‘I’m heading there now.’

  Angie’s eyes narrowed into pinpricks. ‘Are you a psycho out to rape and kill me?’

  Astrid’s ribs ached as she tried to contain her laughter.

  ‘How am I going to do that in a diner full of people?’

  The girl ran a hand through her tangled hair and stepped closer to Astrid.

  ‘Where are you from?’

  ‘England.’

  ‘Is that why you have a funny accent?’

  ‘I guess so.’

  ‘I hope you have plenty of money as well.’

  She turned on her heels and marched towards the diner. Astrid followed and wondered what she’d let herself in for.

  The floor in Tom’s Diner was a spotless checkerboard pattern, its layout combining narrow red-hued booths, silver enamel bar stools, and circular tables. The lunchtime crowd was in full swing as the two of them moved inside, the noise dropping a little as customers and staff glanced at the newcomers. Astrid guessed they were looking at her more than the girl. When she peered into the eyes of those who didn’t flinch from her gaze, she saw curiosity in their faces, which probably came from her reputation as a potential murderer.

  Before anyone asked questions and scared the kid away, Astrid led her into the nearest booth. She grabbed the menu as her legs squeaked against the bright red leather. She didn’t need to go through the choices since her brain and stomach could already smell the aroma of barbecue chicken wings drafting from the kitchen.

  As her guts grumbled again, Angie grabbed the menu from her.

  ‘Your stomach sounds like how I feel.’

  Astrid checked she still had money in her pockets. It was at that point she wondered where her phone had gone. She searched through her jacket and trousers more than once before admitting her mobile had gone the same way as her passport. The thought of the killer or killers who’d murdered the Cruz family having her phone made her temple throb.

  As she dug through the dark spots of her memory again, the server came to take their order. Angie went about getting one of nearly everything on the menu. Astrid grinned at her.

  ‘You weren’t wrong about me needing plenty of money, were you?’

  ‘Never turn down free food, even if it’s from some weirdo English woman.’

  Astrid removed her jacket as the server returned with her coffee and Angie’s colossal glass of Coke and a long pink straw. Angie slurped half the drink as she spoke.

  ‘So what do you want from me?’

  Astrid fiddled with the salt and pepper set on the table. ‘Why would I want something from you?’

  The kid nearly snorted Coke all over herself. ‘Give me a break, lady. No oldie does something like this with someone like me for nothing. If you were a guy, I’d say you’re a creeper or predator, not that women can’t be those, but I think you’re after something else.’

  ‘Such as?’

  The server brought over a large order of fries, which Angie covered in ketchup.

  ‘I guess you’ll tell me at some point.’

  Astrid felt every eye in the diner on her and decided there was no need to mess around.

  ‘Did you know Caitlin Cruz?’

  Red sauce dripped from Angie’s lips. ‘The woman murdered last night?’ She supped at the Coke and pushed her back into the booth. Astrid assumed the girl must have had a sudden revelation. ‘You’re the one they arrested for killing her.’

  There was no point lying to her. ‘I am.’

  Does everyone know that?

  From the way it felt as if the gaze of the world was upon her, she supposed they did.

  ‘That’s why all the mugs in here are staring at you. Not ‘cause you’re a stranger, but ‘cause you’re a killer.’

  She couldn’t deny that charge. ‘I didn’t kill Cruz or her kids.’

  This time, the kid did spit Coke over her legs. ‘Someone murdered Cathy and Dale as well?’

  The shock on her face sent a stab of pain through Astrid’s damaged ribs.

  ‘Did you know them?’

  Angie bit through bun and burger, dripping melted cheese and onions on to her fingers. She licked the detritus from her flesh as someone put Bruce Springsteen on the jukebox.

  ‘I went to school with Cathy, same year and some of the same classes. Dale is, was, five years younger than her. Damn!’ She grimaced in the way kids do when masking their nervousness.

  ‘Did you know Cathy’s mother?’

  The server brought the rest of their order over as Astrid waited for an answer. Angie finished the fries and returned to her burger, crunching through soggy looking salad as she spoke.

  ‘I used to see her at school when Cathy and I were younger, but not for a long time. I think she was too busy working at her church.’

  Astrid remembered the map in her cell, picturing the two churches on opposite sides of Main Street. They were probably a fifteen-minute walk from where she sat.

  ‘She worked for a church, or she ran her own?’

  Angie shrugged. ‘No idea. She wasn’t one of those fundamentalists or anything. I know that for a fact.’

  The kid had relaxed and loosened up, perhaps helped by the amount of food she’d consumed in a short space of time.

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘Because she let Cathy behave like a normal teenager. There was none of that “You can’t do this” or “You can’t do that because the bible says so” nonsense.’

  ‘Did you know Cathy well?’

  ‘We hung out in the same places and liked the same things. And I saw her at school before I stopped going.’

  ‘Why don’t you go to school?’

  Angie sucked Coke through the straw. ‘None of your business, lady.’ She burped loudly enough to attract the attention of the other diners. ‘What’s your name, anyway?’

  ‘I’m Astrid.’

  ‘So, Astrid, you didn’t kill the Cruzes?’

  ‘No. Was Caitlin Cruz with someone?’

  The Coke glugged down Angie’s throat. ‘I dunno. Cathy mentioned no one to me.’

  ‘No father on the scene?’ Astrid remembered Moore or Colt telling her that Mr Cruz had died, but she wanted to see if Angie knew that.

  The girl shrugged. ‘Some dads of Bakerstown don’t hang around for long once the mothers’ spit out their brats.’

  ‘Did yours?’

  ‘None of your business.’

  ‘Where’s your mother?’

  ‘At work.’

  ‘Why don’t you go to school?’

  ‘None of your BIZZ NESS.’

  Her tone rattled the light fittings above them. The kid had demolished a family meal while Astrid had barely touched hers. She leant closer to Angie so none of the ear grabbers in the diner would hear what she said.

  ‘Can you think of anyone who would want to harm them?’

  Angie burped again and raised her voice, uncaring if anyone heard her or not.

  ‘Everyone has secrets, Astrid.’ She wiped Coke from her lips. ‘I bet you’ve got a few.’

  Astrid studied the teenage girl’s face, examining every movement she made, including the slight twitch in her eyebrows and how her bottom lip trembled. She
was hiding something, but what?

  ‘Do you know what quid pro quo means, Angie?’

  The kid shook her head and laughed. ‘I might not go to school, but I’m not stupid, Astrid. You want something from me, and you’ll give me something in return. I knew you were after something, and I told you that.’ She moved the plate to the side. ‘You fed me up like poor old Hansel and Gretel.’

  ‘I’m only after information, nothing else.’

  ‘That’s why I’m answering your questions, aren’t I?’

  ‘Do you have a cell phone?’

  ‘Of course.’

  Astrid removed money from her pocket and pushed it across the table towards Angie.

  ‘Can you get me one and keep it quiet? I lost mine last night.’

  Angie scooped up the cash without counting it.

  ‘No problem, Astrid. You want it to be untraceable?’

  ‘Can you do that?’

  ‘That’s easy peasy, English lady.’

  ‘That’s impressive for a fifteen-year-old.’

  Angie stood. ‘You ain’t seen nothing yet, Astrid.’

  ‘I’m staying at the Gillespie Inn. Do you know it?’

  She laughed loudly enough to turn the heads who weren’t already scrutinising them. ‘That dump? I’m not going to your hotel room so you can murder me. No, I’ll tell you when I’ve got what you want.’

  Then she left with a flourish, banging the door behind her as she went. Astrid settled in to finish her food in peace, only it didn’t last long.

  ‘What were you doing talking to the Delaney girl?’

  Inside her head, someone sang about using tears for shields and spears as she nibbled on a salty fry. She cricked her neck to twist her gaze towards the tall slabs of American beef hovering over her. She’d noticed them on the way in, wearing cowboy hats even though she guessed they were a long way from cowboy territory. One hat was brilliant white, the other obsidian black.

  The one with the black hat spoke to her.

  ‘You should leave the Delaney kid alone.’

  Astrid assumed they meant Angie. ‘How can I help you, gents?’

  They planted their hands on the table and leant towards her.

  ‘If you hurt any more of our people, lady, then you’ll pay for it. Do you understand that?’

  She pressed her fingers into her ribs, contemplating if she wanted to get into another conflict in the town. She’d only just escaped from a police cell, so engaging in another skirmish wasn’t recommended.

  Astrid pushed the remains of her food aside and stood, the top of her head brushing the arm of the closest of her new friends.

  ‘I’ll be sure to take your advice.’

  She threw money on to the table and turned from them, the hairs on the back of her neck bristling from the stale heat of their breath. She marched out of Tom’s Diner and into the afternoon sun, unsure of where her hotel was. It may have been a dump, but it still contained what little she had to her name.

  ‘Do you want a lift?’ Officer Campbell stood at her side.

  ‘Is that allowed?’ Astrid’s smile consumed her.

  ‘I’ve finished my shift, so I can do what I want.’

  She found it difficult to contain her grin. ‘Well, what’s a woman to do on an afternoon in a one-horse town?’

  ‘I’m sure we can find something,’ Officer Campbell said as she led Astrid to her car.

  Sometime later, Astrid slipped from the bed and admired the curve of Campbell’s naked back.

  ‘Is this what they call afternoon delight?’

  The policewoman handed her a drink. ‘Well, it’s the afternoon, and it’s delightful.’

  Astrid sipped at her glass. ‘It’s a shame I’ll be leaving tomorrow.’

  The bourbon warmed her throat as she gazed around the apartment. It had been a short drive from the diner, and there’d been little talk between them during it. Even less once they got inside and she’d succumbed to Officer Campbell pulling her clothes off. There was little time to take in her surroundings then, so now she scanned Campbell’s home environment.

  In new places, residential places, she always judged people by what they owned; she classed their usefulness to her by what they read or listened to or watched. How interesting they were, beyond sex, was defined by what she perceived as their cultural baggage. So it was disappointing to see nothing in the apartment apart from a three-day-old local newspaper and a tattered copy of Ready Player One.

  Campbell leant forward. ‘Do you have to go?’

  Astrid gazed at her. It was tempting; she was very tempting. If it wasn’t for the burn mark on her cheek, she could have graced the cover of any glamour magazine. Astrid reached up to touch it, wondering if Campbell would stop her, glad when she didn’t. The scar was smoother than she expected, and her fingers tingled with desire as she caressed the police Officer’s face.

  ‘I could stay for a few more days.’

  But she needed to return to England and repair things with her sister. Not that she was keen to speak to Courtney, but she missed her niece so much. And then there was Rochester and a grave to visit. She wanted to put fresh flowers on it and remember something good from her childhood.

  There was hesitation in Campbell’s voice, a shyness which wasn’t there earlier.

  ‘Or you could stay around and help those idiots I work with solve this case. Nobody can figure out what those numbers are for.’

  Astrid finished her drink and returned to the bed, her skin aching at the warmth of the other woman’s body.

  ‘What numbers?’

  Campbell kissed her on the forehead, and then the bridge of her nose.

  ‘I shouldn’t tell you this, but I’m talking about the numbers on those bits of paper found inside the victims’ mouths. Four on one, four on another, and two on the last one. Forensics has gone through any combination of phone numbers, but come up with nothing so far.’

  Astrid stared at the paperback book sitting all alone on the shelf. ‘Do you have a Cybercrime unit at the station?’

  Campbell laughed and grabbed Astrid’s hand. ‘Including me, there’s about eight of us down there, half of whom can’t even use a cell phone, never mind a computer. Why?’

  Astrid rolled out of bed and reached for her trousers. ‘Do you want me to stay?’ Campbell nodded. ‘Then you need to take me back to the idiots at the station.’

  5 Sanctum Sanctorum

  They got dressed and left. Officer Campbell moved to the car before Astrid stopped her.

  ‘Has Moore spoken to anyone at Cruz’s workplace?’

  ‘Not that I’m aware of, but he wouldn’t be keeping me informed, anyway.’

  ‘Do you know which church Caitlin worked at?’

  Campbell took out her phone. ‘I don’t, but I can soon find out.’

  Two minutes later, they drove along Main Street to the First Church of the Baptist. They parked next to a sign proclaiming the Home of the Bakerstown Bears. They got out of the car, and Astrid stared at the grain silos and wind turbines connecting the hills to the clouds. The church was a modern building, all red brick and white trim, standing alone with fields on either side. The roof sloped from right to left, and underneath was a large cross positioned so that, when the sunlight hit it just right, like it was then, its shadow stretched over the rest of the church and out into the street. The tip of it reached Astrid’s shoes as she glanced behind her towards the much less imposing and far more weather-beaten United Methodist Church.

  ‘I guess we know where most of the religious donations in the town go, Officer Campbell, but isn’t there conflict from the different congregations with the two churches being so close?’

  She shook her head. ‘Conflicts of any kind are few in Bakerstown. A little over five thousand people live here, and most of us get along fine, even if there are a few differences of opinion on religion or politics.’

  Astrid hadn’t noticed any political sloganeering for any party during her stay, but then this
was the only time she’d seen the place during the day. She stared at Campbell’s police uniform and wished they were back at the Officer’s apartment, yet it still didn’t cross her mind to ask for the other woman’s first name.

  ‘Are you religious, Officer Campbell?’

  ‘I have plenty of faith, Snow, but you’ll have to get to know me better to find out what in.’

  Astrid grinned as they strode up the steps.

  ‘Do we knock or go straight in?’

  Before Campbell could reply, the large entrance opened and a tall, imposing man greeted them.

  ‘Welcome to the First Church of the Baptist, ladies. We are all children under God. I’m Joe Rennie, the Minister here. How can I help you?’

  Some people flash a smile when they greet you, but this bloke was the smile. Joy radiated out of every inch of him. Astrid thought the tequila and the beating were playing tricks on her until she realised the light shimmering around his frame was only the sun reflecting off the whitewashed wall behind him. He looked like a marine, and Astrid imagined him leading troops into battle.

  Campbell thrust her hand towards him. ‘We’ve met before, Minister Rennie, at the police charity drive for the destitute and the homeless.’ He took her grasp. ‘I’m Officer Campbell, and this is Special Agent Astrid Snow with British Intelligence. Can we speak to you inside?’

  Rennie’s eyes bulged with surprise, but Astrid guessed he was no more shocked by Campbell’s words than she was.

  ‘My, my; British Intelligence, you say.’ He scrutinised her like an astronomer thinking they’d discovered life on Mars. ‘That sounds very glamorous indeed. What can we do for you?’

  Campbell placed one hand on her hip. ‘It would be better if we could speak inside.’

  He appeared to consider her request for a second.

  ‘Of course, ladies, please come in, but mind the mess.’

  Astrid flashed Campbell a look of What The Fuck? as they followed him into the church. The space was long and wide, with two sets of chairs in rows down either side. There were groups of fresh flowers alongside the seats, filling the air with a mixed aroma of roses and gardenias. At the bottom was what she assumed was the stage for the sermons.