“In her letters, she’d told me she was working for the church, but when I visited her, I found out that was a lie. She’d been telling me what I wanted to hear. The truth was that she was in the life. A prostitute. Broke my heart, Cork. I tried to help. Nina’s smart. She could have done anything she set her mind to. But she wanted none of it. Had herself a world-class pimp. Guy who told her she was gold, and she fell for it. My god, what a fall.”
He paused a moment, looked down at the dock, shook his head.
“When I saw Annie, all made up like that, for a moment all I saw was Nina.”
“I guess I can understand.”
Gooding’s face was soft blue, troubled in the evening light. “I left the seminary, stopped preparing for the priesthood because I didn’t have it in me to forgive. I still haven’t forgiven Nina. And that pimp of hers, I hope he rots in hell.”
Cork waited a moment, then said, “I think you’re right. You probably would have made a terrible priest. But you’re a pretty good cop.”
Gooding opened his hands. “What do I say to Annie now?”
“Why don’t you let us do a little damage control first?”
Gooding nodded, still looking bereaved. “God, I feel horrible.”
“She’s young. She’ll recover.”
Gooding took a step as if to walk away, but paused and, his voiced weighted heavily, said, “I wasn’t completely off base, Cork. You know it as well as I do. Even a good kid like Annie, looking like that, she’ll give men the wrong idea.”
“We’ll talk to her, Randy.”
“All right.” He walked slowly back to his Tracker.
Cork closed down Sam’s Place immediately, and he and Jenny headed home. Jo met them at the door.
“Annie here?” Cork asked.
“She came in a few minutes ago, crying, ran upstairs. She’s locked herself in her bedroom. What happened?”
“Randy Gooding said something.”
“Randy? What could he possibly have said?”
“She got her ears pierced today.”
“I knew she was planning on it.”
Jenny said, “Did you get a good look at her face, Mom?”
“No. Why?”
“She tried makeup. She looks like an extra from Night of the Living Dead. And she was dressed straight out of Slutsville.”
“Randy took it on himself to tell her she was asking for trouble,” Cork said. “He wasn’t very diplomatic about it. Did you try to talk to her?”
“I knocked. She told me to go away.”
“What if I tried?” Cork said.
“Give her a little time to herself.”
There was a knock. Cork turned, saw Gooding on the front porch beyond the screen door, and he stepped outside. Randy stood there looking like a big, awkward kid.
“Cork, I was wondering if you’d give something to Annie for me.”
Randy handed him a large sheet torn from a sketch pad. In addition to the standard training offered all recruits, the FBI had tapped a special talent in Gooding and trained him as a sketch artist. These days he drew for his own pleasure. Although he called himself a hack, he was quite good and was sometimes convinced to give his drawings as gifts. What he handed Cork was a lovely charcoal sketch of Annie, sans makeup and earrings.
“It’s a kind of apology,” he explained.
“Is this recent?”
“A while ago. I’ve done sketches of most of the kids in the youth group, just for my own enjoyment, but I’ve never given any of them away. I screwed up big time, and I wanted to do something special for Annie.”
“I’ll see that she gets it.”
“How’s she doing?”
“I’m guessing her mascara’s run all the way down to her chin.”
“Man, I’m so sorry. But look, there’s something that might help cheer her up. I have it on good authority that Damon Fielding has been trying to work up the nerve to ask her out.”
“Damon Fielding?”
“Brad and Cindy Fielding’s son.”
“I know who he is. Set a conference record for stolen bases last year. Fast kid. How do you know he’s interested in Annie?”
“He’s treasurer of the youth group, and he’s horrible at keeping secrets.”
“Nice kid,” Cork said.
“They don’t make ’em any nicer.”
“I’ll let her know. But you still owe her a personal apology.”
“She’ll have it.”
Gooding walked down the steps into the deepening gloom as night overtook Aurora.
Cork went back to the living room, where Jo and Jenny were waiting. “I’m going up to talk to Annie. Okay?”
“I think it would be all right now,” Jo said.
Upstairs, he tapped at her door. At first there was no answer. Then Annie called out in a small voice, “Yes?”
“It’s Dad. May I come in?”
“Just a minute.”
He waited. In her room, there was a tiny click and a little welcome mat of light slipped under her door. A moment later, she opened up.
He hadn’t exaggerated to Gooding. Black mascara ran down each of Annie’s cheek in a wide, crooked line. The whites of her beautiful brown eyes were red from crying. Her hair was a mess. She left the doorway, went to her bed, and sat down, all slumped over. Cork sat beside her and put Gooding’s sketch facedown on the floor.
“I just talked with Randy Gooding.”
“Here?” She seemed alarmed.
“He came by to apologize.”
She covered her face with her hands. “I don’t want him to see me like this.”
Cork put his arm around her. “He won’t.”
“Oh, Daddy.” She fell against him and buried her face in his chest. “I messed up.”
“No, you didn’t.”
She pulled away and reached toward her ears. “I’m going to take these awful things out. I’m never going to wear them again.”
“Now wait a minute.” Cork gently gripped her wrists, restraining her. “Your mother has pierced ears. Do you think that’s so awful?”
“No.” She lowered her hands and Cork let go.
“Before you ran into Randy, were you happy with what you’d done?”
“Yes.”
“Then stick with it.”
Annie thought it over. “You think I should?”
“Absolutely.” He reached out and blurred one of the black mascara lines with his finger. “You might want to talk to Jenny. Get some pointers on makeup.”
She shook her head adamantly. “I’m not wearing makeup anymore.”
“Not a bad choice,” Cork said. “You’re beautiful without it.”
“Really?”
“Cross my heart.”
Annie kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks.”
“Randy left this for you.”
He gave her the drawing, and her face broke into a wonderful smile.
“One more thing,” Cork said. “I have it on good authority that Damon Fielding wants to ask you out.”
“Damon?”
“That’s what I hear.”
Her eyes danced. “Radical.”
Cork left her sitting on her bed, with Gooding’s offering in her hands and the prospect of Damon Fielding in her thinking.
After Gooding’s reaction to Annie, Cork thought a lot about Charlotte Kane, considered if maybe something had gone terribly wrong with a quiet young woman’s attempt to be desirable, and, as Gooding had feared, she’d become involved in something way over her head and dangerous, perhaps with the married man Solemn believed she was seeing. He wanted to talk more with Solemn about that possibility, but the young man had vanished completely. From discussions with Dorothy Winter Moon, Cork knew that she’d given her son nothing. She claimed not to have seen Solemn at all since his disappearance. If she was telling the truth, Solemn was flat broke. His truck was still in the impound lot, so he had no transportation. He had no clothes but those he’d been wearing when Cork had last seen him. So what had become of Solemn Winter Moon?