Rage

CHAPTER 42

I led Valerie to a lawn chair outside. The same chair Cherish Daney had occupied the first time we’d been here. Solemn and weepy, reading a book about coping with loss.

Her grief had seemed genuine. Now I wondered what she was really crying about.

“I want to take a shower.”

“Soon, Valerie.”

“I want hot water.” She bounced her knees together, tickled one. Looked up at the sky. Scrunched her mouth. Glanced back at the block building, now silent. “It’s my fuckin’ water, I want it. The bitches can’t use it up.”

“I’m sorry they did that, Valerie.”

“Bitches.” She lifted a twist of hair from her shoulder, ran it across her mouth, licked.

I said, “You know more than anyone. Do you have any idea where Drew and Cherish went?”

“I told you.”

“You said Drew left before and that Cherish was mad.”

“Yeah.”

“But where’d they go, Valerie? It’s important.”

“Why?”

“Cherish is mad at him. What if she went to yell at him?”

“He’s okay,” she said. “He goes places.”

“Like where?”

“Places.”

“What kinds of places?”

“Nonprofits.”

“He takes you to nonprofits.”

Silence.

I said, “You help him and the other girls are jealous.”

“Bitches.”

“He trusts you.”

“I get it.”

“Get what?”

Silence.

“You get it so you help him,” I said.

“Uh-huh.”

“What do you get?”

Long silence.

“Valerie? What do you- ”

“Love.”

“You understand love.”

“He prolly went to a church,” she said. “I don’t know the names. I want to shower- ”

“A church.”

Silence.

“Valerie, I know these questions are a pain, but they’re important. Did Cherish get mad at Drew a lot?”

“Sometimes.”

“About what?”

“Not making money.” She let go of the hair, held up a fist, and glanced at the main house.

“She felt he didn’t make enough money.”

“Yeah.”

“For what?”

“She wanted a trip to Vegas.”

“She told you that?”

Silence.

“Drew told you.”

Back to hair-twisting.

“Drew told you Cherish wanted to go to Vegas.”

Shrug.

I said, “Sounds like he talked to you about everything.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Did he want money?”

She faced me. “No way. He was for the soul.”

“The soul?”

“God’s work,” she said, touching a breast. “He got chosen.”

“And Cherish?”

“She did it for the money, but tough shit, he won’t give it to her.”

“Drew has money he won’t give her?”

A smile spread across her lips.

I said, “Secret money.”

She shut her eyes.

“Valerie?”

“I got to take a shower.”

She clamped her arms across her chest, kept her eyes shut, and when I spoke she hummed. We’d been sitting in silence for several minutes when Milo came out of the cube with Crandall Wascomb. He glanced at me while walking. Escorted the old man out.

He returned with uplifted eyebrows. “Everything okay?”

“Valerie’s been helpful but she and I are finished for now.”

Movement under the girl’s eyelids.

Milo said, “Helpful?”

“Valerie says Drew has money Cherish doesn’t know about.”

Valerie’s eyes opened. “It’s his. You can’t have it.”

“Never heard of finders keepers?” said Milo.

She didn’t reply. Clamped her eyes shut.

Noise from the front of the property opened them.

A uniformed officer came through the gate.

Milo said, “Now it gets noisy.”

The Van Nuys patrol officer was followed by his partner, then six members of the newly formed downtown crimes-against-juveniles squad arrived wearing dark blue LAPD windbreakers. Five female detectives, one man, each of them bright-eyed and hyped, ready to arrest someone. Shortly after, a Van Nuys sex crimes detective named Sam Crawford showed up looking put-upon. He conferred with the head juvey cop and left.

The head was a stocky wire-haired brunette in her forties. Milo briefed her, she gave the word, and all but one of her squad entered the cube. A younger detective who introduced herself as Martha Vasquez took custody of Valerie, saying, “Sure, hon, you can do that,” when the girl asked to shower. Walking her to the converted garage while sca

Milo motioned me over, introduced the brunette as Judy Weisvogel and told her who I was.

“Psychologist,” she said. “That can come in handy.”

Milo briefed her some more, emphasizing Drew Daney’s abuse of the girls, mentioning suspected homicides but staying spare with the details.

Weisvogel said, “Good morning world, it’s going to get complicated. Do we have a crime scene, over there?” Indicating the main house.

“Haven’t had time to look around yet,” said Milo. “At the very least it’s a fugitive thing.”

“Missing perv and wife. Definitely separate cars?”

“The girls say they left separately and both cars are gone.”

“How much time elapsed between their respective rabbits?”

“From what the kids say a day or so.”

“Okay, I’ll phone in for a warrant and we’ll get techies over to toss the place. I’ll need a bunch of social workers, too, but they don’t get in the office till nine.”

“Civilian life,” said Milo.

Weisvogel said, “Ain’t it a party? No idea where Mr. and Mrs. Perv are off to?”

“Nope. She may not be a perv.”

“Whatever.” Weisvogel took out her pad. “Give me their names for a BOLO.”

Milo recited. “Drew Daney. He could also be traveling as Moore Daney Andruson.”

“Anderson e-n or o-n?”

He spelled it. “His wheels are a white Jeep. She drives a Toyota. C-H-E-R-I-S-H.”

“Some name. You don’t think they met up somewhere and split?”

“One of the kids said she was mad at him,” said Milo.

“ ’Cause she figured out what he was about?”

“Don’t know. The kids are aware of what’s been going on. They taunted two girls who were sexually active with him.”

“If missus did figure it out she sure took her sweet time about it, didn’t she?” said Weisvogel. “What do you think, Doctor, one of those see-no-evil pathological denial head cases?”

I said, “Could be.”

“I walked into that room, saw those girls, first thing came to mind was ‘harem.’ God only knows what we’re going to find when they get examined.”

“It sounds as if he was selective. Chose one or two girls who got special privileges. The girl I spoke to thinks she loves him.”

Weisvogel slapped her hands on her hips. Her wrists were as thick as a man’s. “So how long have you been looking at this fine citizen, Milo?”

“Been looking at him for murder for a week or so. The other stuff just came up.”

“The other stuff,” said Weisvogel. “Well, it’s obviously go

“Sure,” I said.

She seemed surprised by my easy assent. “Okay, good, thanks. I’ll be in touch. Meanwhile, let’s keep each other posted, Milo.”

“Will do, Judy. Speaking of which, there’s a safe-deposit box on a desk in the bedroom. Cherish left it out in the open next to her instructions. Those instructions were set out on a piece of blotter paper- like a presentation. To me that says looky here, clear invitation to scrutinize.”

“Those instructions,” said Weisvogel, “reminded me of some stupid memo you’d get in the service. She abandons these kids and writes out a manual. Hubby rapes the kids but they need their medicine and their nutritious breakfasts. What a whack job.”