Justice

“Howchu … you know it’s Cheryl?”

“Someone has initially identified your daughter from photographs taken at the crime scene. When you’re ready, and feel strong enough, we’d like you to come down and make a definitive identification.”

“You want me to look at the body?”

“Yes,” Decker said. “We want you to look at the body.”

Janna rubbed her nose. “From pichures, you could tell it was Cheryl?”

“Somebody thought it was your daughter, yes,” Decker answered.

“You have the pichures?”

Decker kept his face flat. “I think it would be better if you witnessed the body in person. Less chance for a mistake.”

“But you have pichures.”

“Yes, I do.”

“You have them on you?”

Inane to lie. Decker said, “They’re in my pocket.”

Quietly, Janna said, “Lemme see.”

Decker paused. “Mrs. Gonzalez, they were taken at the crime scene. They’re hard to look at even for a veteran like I am.”

“That bad, huh?” Janna rubbed her eyes. “I’m stronger than I look. Lemme see.”

Decker hesitated, then reached in his pocket and pulled out the Polaroids. Janna stared at the first one. Instantly, tears ran down her pallid cheeks. She went through the snapshots one by one, her eyes overflowing each time she studied another pose. Finally she blotted her face with her T-shirt and handed the pictures back to Decker.

“It’s her … Cheryl.”

“You’re sure?”

She nodded, her lower lip quivering.

“Can I get you a glass of water, Mrs. Gonzalez?”

“Nothin’.” Her voice had dropped to a whisper. She touched her mouth, then pulled her hand away. “Is that it?”

“I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

Though she shrugged indifference, her face had set in a mask of grief. “Go ahead.”

“Do you know where your daughter was last night?”

Janna shook her head no. “I haven’t talked to Cheryl in …’bout a week.”

Decker took out his pad. “What do you know about your daughter’s friends?”

“Not much anymore. Cheryl and me haven’t been getting along so hot.” She blinked rapidly. “Not that I didn’t try, but … you do the best you can, you know? Sometimes it’s not enough.”

“Has Cheryl been living with you, Mrs. Gonzalez?”

“In and out.” Again, the tears started flowing. “She’d eat my food, steal my booze … then she was gone. Sometimes, when I would go away or be with my boyfriend, she’d bring her friends over. Cheryl had lots of friends.”

“Tell me about her friends.”

“Wild like she was.” Her chin touched her chest. “Wild like I am. The fruit’s the same as the tree or somethin’ like that.”

“Do you know her friends by name?”

“Some. Lisa and Jo and Trish. Trashy girls. I think Lisa got caught shopliftin’. Jo was picked up once for turning tricks.”

“Did Cheryl turn tricks?”

“Wouldn’t put it past her. Anything for money. But if she did, she never got caught. Least she never had me bail ’er out.”

“Tell me about boyfriends. Did Cheryl ever talk about her boyfriends?”

“Oh, she had lots of boyfriends, Detective.”

Decker wasn’t sure if he heard jealousy or disapproval in Janna’s voice. “Ever meet any of her boyfriends?”

“A couple. I remember one of ’em. An ape of a guy with big tits. Not real tall but real pumped.”

“Chris Whitman?”

“No, I never heard that name before.”

Decker took out his list. “Blake Adonetti, Steve Anderson—”

“That’s the one. Stevie, she called him. She went with him for a while, but he wasn’t the only one.”

A look of anger spread across her face.

“She liked the boys, Officer. She saw something in pants that pleased her eye, she took it. Even if it belonged to her mother. First time, I forgave her. After I caught her with another one of my friends, I kicked her out.”

The room became silent.

“Course I’m not good at being mad. Truth was I missed her. So I said she could come back. And she did whenever she needed a place to crash.”

Her mouth turned downward.

“She was a very pretty little baby. And smart, too. Could do the ABCs forward and backward at three years old. Isn’t that something?”

“Yes, it is.”