Out Cold by William G. Tapply Page B

seeking?”
    â€œAs if he was looking for a specific girl?”
    â€œWell, yeah,” she said. “Maybe. It kinda sounded that way.”
    â€œThis girl, do you think?” I pointed at the photo she was holding.
    â€œI don’t know.” She shrugged. “I didn’t get the idea he was interested in some dead girl. He said he was seeking somebody younger than us. Blond, he said. She had to be blond. Young and blond. Some guys, they know exactly what they want. They gotta have a girl reminds them of their daughter or their niece or something.” She tapped the photo she was holding. “This chick was young and blond, right?”
    â€œHow old would you say she was?” I said. “The girl you saw throwing up.”
    â€œI don’t know. Fifteen or sixteen. Just a kid.”
    â€œHow old are you?”
    She looked sideways at me. “Nineteen.”
    I smiled. “Really?”
    â€œSure. Old enough to know better, right?”
    â€œYou’d think so,” I said. “So this guy in the truck, did it seem like he was looking for some particular girl, or just any blond girl who was young? Did it seem as if he knew the girl he was looking for?”
    She shook her head. “I don’t know. I told you what he said. Kayla’s a blonde these days, but I guess she’s too old for him. She’s a year older than me. You think he was looking for that girl in your picture?”
    â€œThe idea occurs to me.” I hesitated. “What about that panel truck. Ever see it before?”
    â€œI don’t think I ever saw that truck before. I think I’d remember it.” She narrowed her eyes. “The guy, though, he looked kind of familiar. I think he’s been around before, talking to the girls, hooking up.”
    â€œBut not with you.”
    â€œNot me or Zooey or Kayla, no.”
    â€œJust now, when you talked with him, did he mention his name?”
    â€œOf course not.” She smiled. “If he had, it wouldn’t’ve been the right one anyway.”
    â€œWhat did he look like?”
    She shrugged. “Kind of geeky looking. Not handsome, not repulsive. No beard or anything. Round glasses, the kind with wire rims. Short hair. He was wearing a necktie.”
    â€œOld? Young?”
    â€œI don’t know,” she said. “About your age, I guess. I’m sorry. I didn’t exactly study his face.”
    â€œThat’s okay,” I said. “Did this guy say anything else about the girl he was looking for?”
    She shook her head. “No, that was it. Kayla, she started giving him a bunch of shit, and that’s when you came along. The guy rolled up his window and drove away.”
    â€œHis truck,” I said. “There was some writing on it. Under the logo. A company name, maybe. Did you catch it?”
    She shook her head. “I didn’t notice.”
    I pointed at the photo again. “And you never saw this girl before the other night, right?”
    She shook her head.
    â€œWhich night was it?”
    She frowned for a minute. “Today’s Friday? It must’ve been Monday. Yeah. Monday night.”
    Monday night was when the girl came into my yard. I’d found her Tuesday morning. “About what time?”
    â€œI don’t know. Not late. Nine, maybe?”
    â€œDid you notice where she went?”
    She pointed off in the direction of Beacon Hill, where I lived. “You know,” she said, “you want an awful lot of answers for fifty dollars.”
    â€œEasy money,” I said. “What else can you tell me about the girl?”
    She shrugged. “That’s all I know. I just saw her that one time, puking on the sidewalk.”
    I pulled out my wallet, slid out two twenties, and gave them to the girl.
    She glanced at them. “We said fifty. I don’t have any change.”
    â€œDon’t worry about it,” I said.
    She shrugged and jammed the