Ghosts, Matt Rogers [reading the story of the .txt] 📗

visitors. They’d always come back. They always seemed happy. They all had money, but they never clarified where it was from. Melanie had the most money, and vanished most nights. Elsa put it together. I guess she always knew, but she didn’t want to admit to herself what was happening. What she’d be coerced into doing…’

‘Hence why she finally opened up to you.’

‘Yeah.’

‘How many girls were there?’

‘I don’t know,’ Josefine said, and her voice cracked. ‘It all came out so fast… I don’t know.’

She looked away, clenching her teeth to stop emotion spilling out.

Her breathing quickened.

Too many questions, King told himself. Too much prodding. Let her talk.

She met King’s gaze again and said, ‘So she told me everything. The next day I went to the cops.’

‘Okay.’

‘I gave them everything I had. They reassured me that they’d do everything possible to look into it and shut it down if it was illegitimate. They sent me on my way. I thought it was odd. They seemed in a rush to get me out of there.’

King didn’t respond.

She said, ‘The next day I was pulled over driving to work by a Vegas PD cruiser. I swear it was lying in wait, but maybe I’m paranoid. It was a young guy, maybe early twenties. He said I was speeding. I wasn’t. He said he wanted to take a quick look around the car. I said sure. I was standing by the hood. He went to the trunk, popped it open, and supposedly found a kilo of cocaine in there. I was arrested then and there.’

‘Did you see him plant it?’

‘He was obscured by the trunk lid. I didn’t see.’

‘It wouldn’t have mattered anyway,’ King said. ‘It was your word against his.’

‘Like I said, that was months ago. There’s been the trial. It dragged out for so long. I mean, I’d heard stories, but…’

‘And your daughter?’

‘Gone,’ Josefine said, her eyes bloodshot, a lump in her throat. ‘My ex-husband covered bail. We’re not on good terms, but he knows I’m not a drug dealer, and he came back to look after Raya and Pip. As soon as I was out I went home, and he said he hadn’t seen Elsa. He assumed she ran away. Raya and Pip told him about our fights. Neither of them heard her final talk with me. As far as they’re all concerned, we parted on horrible terms. No one believes me. I think they blame me…’

Movement, to their left.

The European gym junkie.

Rounding the corner.

Determination in his eyes.

6

King looked hard at him and said, ‘Cool it.’

Josefine stepped in between them, facing the stranger.

‘Look,’ she said. ‘It’s okay. He’s not—’

‘Fuck that,’ the guy spat. He’d seemingly forgotten Josefine’s presence. All his rage was fixed on King. He jabbed a short fat finger at King, storming around her. ‘You can’t hit me, you piece of shit.’

She said, ‘What?’

King said, ‘It’s okay. Everything’s fine.’

‘No—’ the guy started, then lunged.

King sidestepped.

Josefine staggered to the right, separating herself.

She cried, ‘Hey!’ but King was already in the mix, wrapping a giant arm around the guy, pinning his arms to his sides. Which only made him angrier. Expected, of course, but it was the fastest way to—

King turned to Josefine and said, ‘It’s fine.’

But it wasn’t.

Too many stressors, too much confrontation, too long to think…

She said, ‘Please stop.’

The guy was oblivious, still livid. He squirmed and shouted, ‘Leave her alone! Get off me!’

King let him go and shoved him aside, which sent him stumbling several feet down the sidewalk.

The guy wheeled. ‘What part of—?’

King said, ‘Everyone relax.’

Which had the opposite effect.

Josefine backed off a couple of steps, gaze careening from man to man.

The guy started in again, striding at King, shouting obscenities.

King backed off. ‘Josefine. Look at me.’

She didn’t.

She reacted to the burst of movement from the stranger, and backed into the middle of the street. Which didn’t matter from a risk standpoint — there was no passing traffic. The neighbourhood was quiet in the late-morning lull. But the silence made everything louder, shoving the guy’s anger right in her face.

It was enough to rattle anybody.

King switched approaches instantly, and wheeled to face the man.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I’m an idiot. I’m leaving her alone. Settle down.’

The guy didn’t care. It wasn’t about justice anymore. It was all frustration at being made to look like a fool.

Ego was front and centre.

The man kept coming.

King took a step to the left, stepping down to the sidewalk, getting closer to Josefine.

She backed off further.

King said, ‘Wait.’

She said, ‘What’s going on?!’

‘Yeah!’ the guy shouted. ‘Motherfucker took a swing at me.’

He’d misheard her. The guy’s brain was going haywire, evidenced by his next outburst.

‘Stop harassing her!’ he yelled. ‘She wants to be left alone!’

So now it was about her again.

Apparently.

He strode at King, and now the three of them were in a straight line — King in the middle. The guy tensed up and swung again. It came nowhere close, but King was forced to sidestep, and the momentum carried the guy a couple of steps forward.

Right at Josefine.

They were still six feet apart, but she got spooked.

King didn’t blame her.

It was reflexive, impulsive.

Human nature.

Overwhelmed by everything, she turned and ran.

‘Don’t follow her!’ the guy roared.

King stayed right where he was.

Staring the man down.

Who said, ‘Yeah, damn right. You got some sense in you now?’

King said, ‘It’s my bad. My fault. Move on.’

The guy thought about another swing, but an iota of common sense wormed its way through the red haze. Like, You’ve been trying to beat this guy up for minutes now, and you’ve got absolutely nothing to show for it.

So to preserve his fragile ego he spat on the ground in front of King, checked to make sure Josefine was out of sight, then stormed off.

King turned.

She was gone.

He thought about pursuing. But he knew people, understood the nuances of fear. She wouldn’t talk anymore. She’d barely managed to give him what he had already. Now there was sensory overload in the mix. She wanted no part of this.

It