How hard has she become? Is she already like so many others down here whose brains protect them from their world by shutting out any emotion that causes pain? Completely incapable of any real feelings?
She looked out the back window of the car and then glanced out the side windows.
“You’re safe now, Marcie,” said Danny. “This is Jack Taggart, my partner.”
Marcie turned to stare out the back window. “Marcie! You’re safe! You really are,” said Jack. The gruff tone of his voice caught her attention. She looked at him for the first time, then said, “I know you! You were with Red a couple weeks ago! When that guy who ratted got killed in the back alley!”
“I was. Red doesn’t know who I really am.”
Marcie paused for a moment, then said, “You said somethin’ that made Red take me off the street for a while.”
“I tried to help. Sorry there wasn’t anything else I could do.”
Marcie stared briefly into his eyes, then her body relaxed and she held her head in her hands and wept.
Jack looked at Danny and said, “Let’s go to my apartment. She can have a shower and warm up while I wash her clothes. Then we’ll talk.”
“We could take her to my house. Susan wouldn’t mind.”
“No,” replied Jack quietly. “If things don’t work out, I don’t want anyone knowing where you live. It’s easier for me to change apartments than for you to sell your house.”
“Are we going to call Social Services?” asked Danny. “I’m not going with them!” wailed Marcie. “They got people in there who tell them stuff. I know, ’cause Red told me! You make me go there and I’ll just run away. I mean it!”
“Take it easy,” replied Jack. “Who do you mean when you say ‘they’? You said, ‘They got people in there.’”
“Bikers,” she sobbed, “Satans Wrath.”
He looked at Danny and whispered, “I believe her.”
It was two hours later when Marcie stepped out of a warm shower, wrapped a towel around herself, and peeked out the bathroom door.
“Your clothes are on my bed,” yelled Jack from the kitchen. “I didn’t iron them, but they’re clean. I just took them out of the dryer; they’re probably still warm. I also put one of my shirts on the bed. Put it on, too.”
Minutes later, Marcie walked into the kitchen. She looked flustered and gestured with her arms. She had rolled up the sleeves several times, but they still hung down to her wrists. The tail of Jack’s shirt hung to her knees.
“Don’t worry about it,” said Jack. “It looks better than the tank top.”
Marcie’s face flushed and she sat down at the table.
“How do you like your eggs?” asked Jack, opening the refrigerator.
“I — I’m not hungry,” she replied, sitting down at the kitchen table. “Thank you for washing my clothes. I was so scared I pissed … I mean wet myself.”
“So who tried to kill you, Marcie?” asked Jack, while dumping a package of bacon into a frying pan. “You said somebody took a shot at you. Do you know who it was? Did you see their faces or get a licence number of the car?”
“It wasn’t a car, it was a truck. It was just one guy. He was wearing a ski mask. I didn’t see any licence plate, but I think it was a black truck, or maybe blue.”
Marcie drew her feet up onto the chair and wrapped her arms around herself as she started to tremble. “I don’t know how he missed me. It was really close! It must have gone over the top of my head, just as I turned and fell.”
“Do you have any idea who it was?” asked Jack.
“No, but it was a biker.”
Jack and Danny exchanged a quick glance. Jack asked, “How do you know? You said you couldn’t see him too well.”
“Well, I just know. That’s who killed Crystal, ’cause she was runnin’ out on them. Red told me I was lucky I didn’t go with her or they’d have killed me, too.”
“Do you know who killed her?” asked Jack.
Marcie shook her head. “I don’t know. I hardly ever saw them. Just one guy. He’s really big and has a grey goatee. Red told me we all work for Satans Wrath. They charge all the girls a hundred bucks a day. She said they’d kill us if we try to leave owin’ them money.”
Marcie looked over at Danny and said, “Crystal did want me to go with her.”
“She liked you,” said Danny.
“She was my friend,” admitted Marcie, starting to weep.
“Try to relax,” said Jack. “I want you to tell us everything from the beginning. Why you left home. Who your relatives are. How you met Red. I want to know everything that’s ever happened to you, including things you’ve heard or saw. How much dope you’re using … everything. Understand?”
Marcie wiped the tears from her eyes. “It’s gonna take a long time.”
“That’s okay,” said Jack. “We want all the details.” He looked at the frying pan and knew the smell of bacon wafting through the apartment would be hard to resist. “Are you sure you won’t change your mind on some breakfast? It’ll help warm you up.”
“Well, okay, thanks. Maybe a little,” replied Marcie, giving Jack a quick smile.
It was one o’clock in the afternoon before Marcie finished telling everything she could about herself, including what happened the night she was taken to a motel and what she knew about everyone else.
Danny went to the office and returned with two large photo albums.
“I want you to look through these pictures very carefully,” said Jack. “They’re photographs of every known member of Satans Wrath living in British Columbia. I want to see if you can recognize if it was one of them who drove you to the cabin.”
“If he’s in here, I’ll know him.”
Marcie turned just two pages before sitting up rigidly in the chair.
“That’s him!” She stabbed at the picture with her finger. “That’s the guy right there!”
“Are you sure?” asked Danny.
Marcie glared at Danny. “Of course I’m sure! I’ll never forget his face. Never!”
Jack took the book and looked at the picture. “Randy Bennett, alias Wizard. He’s the president of the west-side chapter.”
He thought about the significance of this. An executive member of Satans Wrath wouldn’t act as a pimp for some young girl or supply drugs to anyone who wasn’t a club member. Those jobs would be left for more expendable members. Whomever Wizard drove Marcie to meet in the cabin must be so important, or secret, that he wouldn’t delegate the job to someone else.
Jack looked at Marcie. How small and pathetic she looks. Life has dealt her a pretty dirty hand … yet there is still a spark of stubbornness in her. She’s not the type to give up easily.
“Good going, Marcie. I’m proud of you.”
“You’re proud of me?” She looked surprised.
“Yes, I am. You’re a fighter. You’ve been through a hell of a lot. Right now, though, I think you should go in there and get to bed. You’ve been through enough for one day!”
“What