"Who the fuck are you?" a voice growled in English to the left.
"Easy." Lorsen was holding the paper bag out to the owner of the voice, a black teenager with a shaved head. The kid took the bag, looked in it, then tucked it under his arm.
"What else you got, old man?"
Thorpe heard the crinkle of money exchanging hands.
"What do you want?" the kid asked.
Lorsen tapped Thorpe. "Show him the pictures."
As Thorpe pulled the pictures of the missing girls out of his pocket, his eyes were adjusting to the room they were in. It was about forty feet wide, by thirty long. Several thick beams rose from the floor to support the ceiling. There were other people inside, dim forms, most lying about on ratty mattresses, one or two moving about. The only light came from one boarded-up window high on the far wall and several candles. There was a dank smell of decay in the air.
Lorsen took the pictures out of Thorpe's hand and gave them to the black kid. He squinted, looking through them quickly. "Yeah, and?"
"Have you seen any of these girls?" Lorsen asked.
"What's it to you?"
"Is Crew here?" Lorsen asked.
"Yo, Crew!" the boy yelled.
Another figure came out of the shadows, a white boy, slightly smaller than his friend, his arms heavily tattooed. His face was drawn, dark circles under the eyes. "What's going on, Cutter?"
"Yo, Crew, these dudes looking for these girls." Cutter handed the pictures to Crew.
Crew nodded at Lorsen. "Old man. How you been?"
"I've had some better days, young man. Some worse ones too. You?"
"Living." Crew laughed. "Just living. But that's something, ain't it?" His body shook and Thorpe could see a sheen of sweat on his bare arms, even though it was chilly.
"We—" Thorpe began, but Lorsen nudged him to be quiet.
"One of those girls is the daughter of a friend of ours," Lorsen said. "We want to make sure she's all right."
Crew looked down at the pictures in his hands. "There's five girls here."
"They're all missing."
"Maybe they don't want to be found, old man. Not everyone wants to be rescued."
"Maybe," Lorsen agreed. "We just want to make sure she's all right."
"You're full of crap," Crew said.
Lorsen laughed. "No, I'm not." He held out another couple of bills, the money Thorpe had given him. "Those girls are missing. We want to find them. It would be worth your time to help us."
Crew shook his head. "Well, it don't matter, 'cause I don't know any of them." He tossed the pictures at Lorsen. They tumbled to the ground around the old man's feet. Thorpe turned as he sensed someone behind him. The girl who had been in the alley squeezed past, not saying a word. She disappeared into the shadows.
Lorsen sighed. "Maybe you could ask the others here for me?'
"Listen—" Thorpe edged forward. Lorsen put an arm out and stopped him.
"Who the hell are you?" Cutter's right hand was hidden inside his Dallas Cowboys jacket.
"He's my friend," Lorsen said.
"You got too many friends, old man." Crew stepped forward. Thorpe pulled his pistol out of the holster, keeping it hidden inside his jacket.
"A person can never have too many friends," Lorsen said. "Listen, we think these girls might be dead. That there's somebody killing them. And this person will kill again."
"I don't give a damn about—" Cutter began, but Crew put a hand across his friend's chest.
"Hold on, bro. Let's listen to the man. He's always been square with me."
"Whoever is doing this," Lorsen continued, "will kill again. Maybe one of your girls here."
"Hey, Marcy!" Crew yelled, his voice echoing off the brick. When there was no response, he yelled again. "Marcy, get your butt over here."
A slight figure came out of the shadows. A girl, her face thin and drawn. "Yeah, what do you want?"
"Check out those pictures." Crew pointed at the ground.
Lorsen beat Marcy to it, scooping them up, then handing them to her. "Do you know any of these girls?"
Marcy thumbed through, pausing at one of them. "That's Mary."
"Mary Gibbons?" Thorpe asked, remembering the names that went with the photos.
"Yeah."
"Do you know where she is?" Lorsen asked.
"She's been gone for a while," Marcy said. "I ain't seen her in weeks."
"Do you know where she went?" Lorsen pressed.
Marcy giggled. "To a party. She went to a party."
"What party?" Lorsen asked.
"With the Jewel Man."
"Oh, fuck," Cutter said. He pushed Crew. "See, man? See what you getting us into? You don't want to fuck with the Jewel Man."
"Who is the Jewel Man?" Lorsen asked, but he was ignored as Crew shoved Cutter back.
"Hey, man, that dude is weird," Crew said. He tapped the photos. "He could be doing these girls, man. Doing 'em bad."
"I don't want nothing to do with this." Cutter turned and walked away.
"Who is the Jewel Man?" Lorsen asked once more.
"Some crazy dude," Crew said. "I only seen him a couple of times. He always got drugs and money, but he's only interested in girls."
"Jesus." Marcy was looking at the pictures more closely. The giggle was gone. "All these girls are missing?"
"Yes," Lorsen said.
"I knew the dude was screwy," she said. "He's asked me to party a couple of times, but you can look in his eyes and tell he's weird. Freaky." She tapped the side of her head. "Some weird shit going on in there."
"Who is he?" Lorsen's voice was patient.
Marcy was still looking at the pictures. "Hey, these other girls look like Mary. Except this one." She held up Terri Dublowski's picture. "That's like weird, isn't it?"
"Have you seen her?" Thorpe tapped Terri's picture.
Marcy shook her head. "No."
"Who is the Jewel Man?" Lorsen asked once more.
"I don't know," Marcy said. "Wears rings on every finger. Lots of jewels." She giggled. "Guess that's why he's called that. He's not too big. Speaks with a weird accent. Dark-skinned like an eye-talian or Greek or something. Got weird eyes. Blue. Like really strange. Always looking around."
"Where can we find him?" Thorpe asked.
"He just shows up," Crew said. "Don't hang out nowhere I know of. Like she said, he's bad."
"Sometimes he got another guy with him," Marcy volunteered. "Big guy. He's, like, even scarier."
"A second man?" Thorpe asked.
"When's the last time you saw either of them?" Lorsen asked.
"The small guy," Marcy said, "a couple of weeks ago. At a rave."
"A rave?" Thorpe asked.
"A party," Lorsen explained. "The location changes all the time. Techno music."
Marcy nodded. "Yeah. Haven't seen him since then."
"Could this Jewel Man and his friend be soldiers from post?" Thorpe asked.
"Maybe," Cutter shrugged. "Their hair is short. They act like soldiers, but I don't know. There's something different about them. The way they speak. And they got drugs and money."
Lorsen pulled some cards out, handing one to Crew and one to Marcy. "You see either of those guys — the Jewel Man or his buddy — you give me a call right away. I'll make it worth your time." He nudged Thorpe. "Let's go."
They retraced their steps to the small alley. Just before they entered the larger alley, Lorsen put his hand out, stopping Thorpe.
"Let me ask you something."
"Yes?" Thorpe waited.
"These kids you're looking for. You know they're probably dead?"
Thorpe nodded.
Lorsen ran a hand through his thinning white hair. "Those kids we just talked to…"
"Yeah?"
"They're alive. It might not be much of a life, but it's all they have. It isn't up to you or me to judge them. You were ready to pull your gun on them, weren't you?"
Thorpe didn't answer.