Smoke by Lisa Unger Page B

given him a name when he was born and never reported any other name she might have come up with before the city deadline. So Baby Boy stuck. Something about it made Jesamyn sad for him … that and the fact that he was just eighteen years old. He seemed much younger. But he wouldn’t be going into the child services system. And, if he wasn’t careful, the street would get him.
    He moved in close to them, arms outstretched. He had a desperate energy to him, which caused Jesamyn to put her pad and pen down on the table behind her to keep her hands free.
    “So what are you going to do about it?” he said, getting in their faces a little. “Just walk around asking a lot of stupid fucking questions, right.”
    Mount put up his hand to move Baby Boy back a step. “You’re going to need to calm down, son. And step back. You’re in my space.”
    Mount’s size intimidated even the toughest thugs they ran into. And Baby Boy just sank into the couch like someone had let the air out of him.
    “No one’s going to help her,” he said, his voice catching. “You’ll nose around for a few days, then disappear. She was pregnant , man.”
    “Mr. Mendez, Alonzo was beating your sister?” asked Matt.
    “Hell, yes , he was beating her. How many times I have to tell you guys the same shit. Pregnant with his baby and he was still smacking her around. She just kept going back to him.”
    “Is there any chance she took off to get away from him? That she went into hiding?” asked Matt.
    Baby Boy looked at him angrily. “Not without me,” he said, his voice going shrill. “She wouldn’t leave here without me .”
    “Okay,” said Jesamyn, holding up her hand in a calming gesture. “I’m sure that’s true. But if she had taken off, can you think of anyplace else she might have gone? Was there another boyfriend, close friend, a relative out of state?”
    He put his head in his hands and shook his head. “We never had no one else, just each other and the little guy on the way, you know?”
    Jesamyn noticed that he shifted between referring to his sister in the past and present tense, as if he were struggling with hope and despair.
    “When was the last time you saw her?” asked Matt.
    “Saturday night. I was heading out with my boys. She was staying home. The baby was making her tired. Alonzo kept calling, wanted her to go to the clubs. She kept telling him no, she didn’t want to. He kept calling. After a while, she stopped answering the phone. As I was leaving, I heard him say on the answering machine, ‘I’m bringing the Escalade to come get you, bitch. You best be ready.’ That’s how he talked to her, man. And she just took it.”
    “No signs of struggle here at the apartment?”
    “ Shit ,” he said, drawing the word out. “I already told the police all of this.”
    “As I mentioned, in the absence of any solid leads on Rosario, we’re reinterviewing people to see if there’s something we missed the first time around,” said Matt.
    The kid sighed heavily, frustration and anger coming off of him in waves. He leaned back on the couch.
    “No, it was neat and clean the way she liked it. All the lights were out. The clothes she was wearing when I left were folded on her bed. I figured she just changed and went out to avoid a fight.”
    “What was she wearing when you left?” asked Jesamyn.
    “Some, like, gray baggy nightgown thing. Ugly as shit but she said it was comfortable.”
    “Okay,” said Jesamyn, jotting it down. “Is there anything else about that night that you remember?”
    “I remember thinking I should stay home with her. That’s what I remember,” he said, the tears rolling now. “I should have stayed home with her.”
    He started to sob and Matt moved over to him, placed a hand on his shoulder. It was kind of a risky thing to do but the kid had no visible reaction. After a minute, he looked up at Matt.
    “I haven’t seen anything on television about her, you know that? That pregnant