Running from the Dead

by Mike Knowles

  “Jail.”

  Sheena stared at Jones for a second and then she scrunched her nose and turtled her neck. “You look like shit. What the hell happened to you?”

  “An eighty-year-old man beat me up,” Jones said.

  Sheena rolled her eyes. “Fine, don’t tell me.”

  Jones looked to his left. Suede heels hadn’t budged. She pushed the cup back toward Sheena. “This isn’t what I ordered.”

  Sheena made no effort to muffle her sigh.

  “I asked for—”

  “I remember.” Sheena picked up the cup and gave it to Jones. “Drink this.”

  “That’s not what I want.”

  Sheena spoke over the grinder. “Shut up. She gets to say that, not you.”

  Suede heels clearly had an opinion about Jones and Sheena. He guessed it started with a hypothesis about their ages and then some quick math to confirm she had the right level of disgust. The jail comment probably didn’t help.

  Sheena spoke over her shoulder while she worked. “You’re not drinking. I want to hear this story, and you need to be awake to talk.”

  Suede heels made a noise that was meant to be heard; Jones ignored her and took a sip of the macchiato. The espresso was strong in his nose and bitter on his tongue. Jones felt it burn on the way down and he smiled through the pain as he felt the fog of exhaustion immediately start to thin.

  Sheena gave suede heels a drink that closely resembled what Jones had in his hands, and for a moment he wondered if Sheena was messing with her. Suede heels glanced at the cup and found nothing to complain about this time. Sheena hadn’t waited around for a review; she stepped back to the machines behind the counter and returned with a cortado for Jones.

  “Alright,” she said. “Go.”

  “She called me.”

  Sheena grabbed Jones’ shoulder and squeezed it harder than he thought she would have been able to. “Shut up.”

  Jones noticed a veiny forearm exposed by her t-shirt and resisted the urge to rub his shoulder. “She saw the posters I put up.”

  “Holy shit! I did not think thought that would work.”

  “Really?”

  “I think I just expected more from a real-life private investigator than lost cat posters.” Sheena grinned excitedly at Jones. “So?”

  Jones shook his head.

  Sheena’s smile fell away. “Is it bad?”

  Jones nodded.

  “How bad?”

  “Kid runs away from a small town to the big city with dreams of making it as a singer.”

  “I know that story,” Sheena said.

  “Then you know how it ends.”

  “Some of them make it.”

  “Most don’t,” Jones said.

  “Most go back home.”

  “Lauren didn’t.”

  “So what are you going to do?”

  Jones drank the rest of his macchiato and gave Sheena the empty cup. “I’m going to go after her.”

  That made Sheena smile. “Good.”

  “I need to find her fast.”

  “She in trouble?”

  “Other way around,” Jones said.

  Sheena smiled wider. Her teeth were straight and white. “Cops hot on your tail?”

  Jones didn’t smile. “They should have a murder charge ready by tomorrow morning.”

  “Jesus, I was kidding. I thought you were one of the good guys.”

  “No such thing.”

  Sheena wrinkled her nose while she considered what Jones had said. Eventually, she shook her head. “I don’t buy that. You’re a good guy, Jones.” The sound of the door opening caught her attention and drew her eyes away for a second. She smiled at the man walking toward her to let him know that she saw him, but she stayed with Jones. “What do you need from me?”

  “More coffee and your WiFi.”

  “Done.”

  34

  Sheena brought a second cortado to Jones when the line had fizzled. “Any luck?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Can I help?”

  Jones finished looking at a page before he said, “No.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Lauren said that she gets dates through the internet, so I’m searching for escorts online.”

  “Gross.”

  “You have no idea.”

  Sheena took the seat next to Jones and adjusted his phone so that she could see the screen too. “Gro-oss.” She emphasized the word, but it still did not do justice to what she was looking at.

  “This site is the most popular for escorts, so I’m starting here.”

  “How are you going to find her on this thing? None of the girls show their face.”

  There seemed to be a standard profile of a neck down shot of a woman in lingerie. Nine times out of ten the shot was either a selfie in a bathroom or a selfie on the bed.

  “It looks like the posts are put up daily. Men and women put up a short ad with details about who they are, what they are in to, and when they are available that day. Anyone who is interested can call or message to arrange a time and place to meet up. The site archives old posts, and that lets me see the previous listings. Lauren called three times and each of those times she had been working that day. I’m looking for women who put up ads on each of those days. From there, I can check the descriptions for things that match what I know about Lauren.”

  Sheena stared at Jones for a few seconds and then the eye roll that had been waiting in the wings was exchanged with a smile. “That’s actually not a terrible idea.”

  “Only if it works,” Jones said.

  Ten minutes later, Jones decided the site was a bust. None of the posts looked like they were from Lauren. Jones did a bit of research and found a newspaper article from earlier in the year about the escort industry in the digital age. The article mentioned the site that Jones had been on, along with three others. Jones was on his fourth site when Sheena brought him his third cup of coffee. Jones had applied the same logic and narrowed the field down to four posts. Each was a from a teenage girl looking to party with older men. Jones clicked the first link and discounted it because the girl was from Russia. The next link gave no personal details about the girl other than her age and her name. Jones clicked the link and saw that Chanel’s first picture was a profile shot of her body in a full-length mirror. She was far too tall to be Lauren. Jones found the next post with the right dates and saw similar bra and panty shots of a girl who was shorter than Chanel. Jones read her post, and then read it again.

  5’4” – 105 lbs – 34 B. 19-year-old student looking to have fun w an older man who knows how to treat his baby girl right. I’m open to trying new things if you are open to teaching me. Hotel hookups only. Appointments only. Texts only.

  Jones read the post three times and then started going over the pictures. Like all the other pictures, the photo­grapher had been careful to keep the girl’s head out of the frame, so Jones enlarged each image as best he could and checked each shot for any reflections that may have made their way in. When he came up with nothing, he moved on to the obvious. The height matched the information Norah had given him in her reply email, but the weight was less—a lot less. The skin tone was similar and Jones checked the pictures for any scars or birthmarks. Norah had said that Lauren didn’t have any—the girl in the post didn’t either. A sound pulled Jones’ attention away from his phone. A couple stood looking over his shoulder at his screen. Jones recognized them as the people who had been sitting behind him. They had noticed Jones’ phone when they stood to put their coats on and what they had seen had rooted them in place. The woman, her coat only half on, had made the noise, and it was clear from the look on her face that it was meant to be an opening salvo. Jones put the phone face down on the table and looked first at the woman and then at her companion. The woman was dr
essed in a white t-shirt and distressed jeans. The purse on her arm was expensive and Jones had no doubt it was real. The man to her right was wearing skinny jeans and the kind of sneakers people stood in line for. His V-neck t-shirt was deep enough to almost show nipple. The clothing would have looked more at home on people in their twenties. The couple were at least twice that and it made the clothes seem a little silly.

  Jones waited for the pair to leave, but it quickly became apparent that they were waiting for something to happen.

  The purse shook as the arm it hung off jabbed the man’s ribs. The woman, making no effort to hide her disgust, said, “Chris.” There were expectations in the word.

  When Jones opened his mouth to speak, he felt an ache radiate from his jaw and realized that he had been clenching his teeth while he went through the profiles. Jones was angry, and the couple gave him something to aim it at. He was surprised by his rage and barely able to stifle the urge to get out of his seat. It required effort to keep his voice level, but he managed.

  “Walk away, before you can’t.”

  He didn’t bother to look to see if the two people took his advice. Jones turned his back on them and felt his molars find each other as his hand picked up the phone again.

  “Boy, you pervs are jumpy.” Jones lifted his eyes just as Sheena slid into the seat opposite him.

  “I think I got something,” he said.

  She held out her hand and said, “Gimmie.”

  Jones handed over the phone and Sheena looked at the page that Jones thought was Lauren’s and lingered on the message. When she looked back at Jones, her nostrils flared as though she were venting steam. “What makes you think it’s her?”

  “The dates match, so do the age and race.”

  “That it?”

  “There’s something else,” Jones said. “Lauren mentioned that her boyfriend calls her his baby girl.”

  Sheena’s nostrils flared again, and she looked at the phone another time. “That’s in the ad.”

  Jones nodded. “It is. I think it’s her.”

  “So what are you going to do?”

  “See if I can get a date,” Jones said.

  35

  Interested in a date, baby girl?

  Sheena reached across the table and turned the screen so that she could see it. Her nostrils flared again and she said, “Gross.” She pushed the phone closer to Jones and sat back in her chair. “So what now?”

  Jones looked at his watch. “Wait.”

  “Do you think she’ll answer?”

  “I don’t think she decides. I heard her interact with Tony a little. He’s the one in charge. The number probably goes to a prepaid cell that he bought.”

  “Tony?”

  “Her boyfriend.”

  Sheena’s tongue drifted over her teeth. “Ugh, boyfriend. He’s her pimp.”

  “Not how she sees it,” Jones said.

  “Fuck Tony,” Sheena said.

  Jones nodded. “Fuck Tony.”

  “What are you going to do if he responds? You going to show up and take her?”

  “It crossed my mind.”

  “What if she doesn’t want to go?”

  “That crossed my mind too.”

  “Do you have a plan for that?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Care to elaborate?”

  “No.”

  Sheena put her elbows on the table and leaned in. “Need help?”

  Jones looked at Sheena. She might have been a hundred pounds, but her shoulders were wide and there were veins visible anywhere skin was exposed. There was something hard in Sheena’s eyes, and Jones didn’t doubt she could provide the kind of help she was offering. “Not yet, but maybe later.”

  Sheena took Jones’ phone and keyed in her number.

  “Whatever it is. I’m in.”

  “Can I get a sandwich?” Jones said.

  “Not what I meant.”

  “I know.”

  Sheena stared at Jones until she was satisfied that he did, and then she got up from the table to get him some food.

  Jones set his phone face down on the table and didn’t pick it up again. When he got bored of people-watching, Jones got up to bring his empty mug to Sheena. The end of the workday brought a stream of people in, and Jones had to go to the end of the counter to find a place to leave his cup. The toe of his boot knocked against the crate of donated books, and Jones saw that Darker than Amber was exactly where he had left it. Jones picked up the book and waited with Travis McGee.

  Sheena finished her shift and then occupied the table with Jones for a while. She kept stealing glances at the phone while they talked, as though she thought she had heard it ring. Eventually, she gave up on waiting and told Jones to call her if Lauren reached out. Jones said he would.

  “You’re lying.”

  Jones said he was.

  She gave him the finger and punched him in the arm before she walked away.

  The phone buzzed an hour later.

  I’d love to see you. I’ve been so lonely. Tonight?

  Jones turned the book over to save his page and texted back.

  Definitely. Send me the details, baby girl.

  Jones barely got through the next page before the reply moved his phone. He was exhausted and the message was blurry. Jones rubbed his eyes with his thumb and index finger and then blinked hard until the message was clear.

  500 for the hour and ANYTHING you want.

  Jones typed a response that contained none of his revulsion.

  Sounds like we have a date. Where and when?

  Jones got an answer within seconds.

  Camelot Motel. Room 203. 10 p.m.

  A quick Google search placed the motel just off the highway in Brampton, a suburb of Toronto.

  Perfect. See you at ten.

  A pair of red lips came back before he put the phone down. Jones got to his feet and put on his jacket. He had a few hours and he hoped they would be enough. Before he walked out of Brew, he put the book back in the crate, making sure to leave it at the top of the pile where it rightfully belonged.

  Jones slid behind the wheel and drove to the Eaton Centre. Inside the mall, he bought new clothes and took money out of an ATM. Jones left the mall in what he bought and tossed the soiled things he had been wearing into the back of the Jeep.

  Jones rummaged through the glovebox for a charging cable and plugged it in to a USB port in the dash while he made a call. Jones had done more than read while he waited for Lauren to text him back. He spent some time considering the other ads he had read and how the hook-ups seemed to work. If Lauren operated in a similar fashion, and there was no reason to think she wouldn’t, Jones would need help. He was planning to separate the girl from her pimp without her knowledge, or consent. There was a high probability of violence and a low probability of success. He knew people who had left the army with a set of skills that weren’t exactly transferrable and an itch for excitement that pick up hockey couldn’t scratch. Jones had a few friends who were always up for danger pay, but none of them were close enough to sign on for this particular job. Jones went over his plan again and tried to work out a way he could make it work on his own. He gave up on the idea almost immediately. He needed help.

  Jones opened Safari on his phone and found the website he was looking for after a quick Google search. He tapped contact information and touched the phone number. A receptionist answered on the second ring.

  “Could you connect me with William Greene’s room please?”

  The receptionist was more cheerful than Jones had expected. “Sure thing. Please hold.”

  “Yeah?” Willy took so long to pick up the phone that Jones heard his voice from his lap as he was moving his thumb to end the call.

  “You still looking for a little excitement?”

&nb
sp; It took the old stick-up man less than a second to place Jones’ voice. “You’re calling me already? You must be worse at this than I thought, or in deeper trouble.”

  “I need to steal something and I don’t know a lot of people in that line of work.”

  “Technically, I’m retired, but some skills you never really lose. What is it we are stealing exactly?”

  “Not what,” Jones said. “Who.”

  “The girl?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m in.”

  “Just like that? You don’t even know what I want you to do.”

  “Is it more exciting than sitting in this tiny room?”

  Jones thought about it. “It’s definitely more dangerous than sitting in your room.”

  “Even better. You know what you’re doin’?”

  “If we play it right, they won’t find out what we did until after we’re gone.”

  Jones heard William sigh. “I robbed thirty-seven banks, kid.”

  Jones whistled. “You told me.”

  “Do you know how many of those jobs I was able to do just right?”

  “I know one of them didn’t work out like you planned.”

  “Wrong. None of them worked out like I planned. Not a damn one, kid. I’m not saying this to talk you out of things, but you need to understand that in this type of work, things never go the way you think they will. You’re dealing with people, and people always find a way fuck up your plans.”

  Jones glanced at his forearm. “I get that.”

  Willy grunted as though he understood what Jones meant. “Maybe you do.”

  “Can you be ready in half an hour?”

  “I’ll meet you out front.”

  36

  Sheena laughed when she heard his voice. “You’re smarter than you look. I thought it would be at least another hour before you gave in and called me.”

  “I wasn’t going to call.”

  “Oh, I know you didn’t want to, but I also know you were full of shit when you said you had a plan if Lauren decides that she doesn’t want to leave with you.”