The Trade

Matt drank her in. “Ginn.”

She was wearing a bright red pea coat, a heavy white turtle-neck, jeans, the elegance of her French mother as apparent as the delicate bone structure and bloodlines of her Chinese father. Matt’s mouth was suddenly dry, his heart bumped unevenly. She hadn’t been here for ten months, the longest ten months of his life and he hadn’t heard her light step along the deck. He couldn’t see her fabulous hair, it was pushed under a red woolen watchcap—unless she’d had it cut off, an awful thought. She looked wonderful. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

“Well, here I am. What did I interrupt?” Ginn got to her feet, took off the hat, freeing a shoulder length mass of shining black hair. She shook her head, removed the coat, threw it on the back of a kitchen chair. She looked at the girl, took in the knife. Her eyebrows shot up. “What’s going on here?”

“This is the girl I told you about on the phone.”

“No kidding. What’s she doing with a knife?”

“She grabbed it when I tried to hand her a cup of tea.”

“He was just explaining to me how he found her in the canyon and decided to bring her home because she was sick,” Phil said. “Good to see you, Ginn.”

“You, too, Phil.” Her tone was less than convincing. Matt knew she’d never had the same regard for Phil that he had. As far as she was concerned, Phil was just one more guy who wanted everything but marriage, and was breaking Annie Lautner’s heart in the process. Matt felt his face flush as she turned back to him. “Did you call Bobby?”

“No,” Matt said. He was beginning to realize how crazy all this sounded. “I found this kid lying on the ground in Encinal. There were several others, and they were all so terrified I promised I wouldn’t contact the police.”

Ginn glanced at the girl. “She looks pretty bad.” She started across the room, the dog following. The girl’s black eyes darted from the men to Ginn, and the point of the knife pressed deeper into the soft spot beneath her chin. Beads of fresh blood oozed from the wound. Ginn stopped well short, and dropped to sit cross-legged on the floor, eye-level with the girl. Barney leaned against her and Ginn put an arm over him and drew him closer.

She smiled and said gently, “You look very tired. Why don’t I make you something to eat, and then we’ll talk. No one is going to hurt you, sweetie.”

The girl’s dark eyes swept across the two men, then came back to Ginn. The hand holding the knife was shaking.

Ginn picked up the mug, put it to her nose and inhaled. She smiled. “Nice. Peppermint. Have some.” She held it out. The girl shrunk back. Ginn sipped the tea. “Mmm. Good.” Slowly, carefully, she pulled the small end table within the girl’s reach, replaced the mug and got to her feet. “Have you got any eggs, Matt?”

“Yes, sure.”

“This girl is in shock, suicidal, probably psychotic. Eggs won’t cure that,” Halliburton said.

“Can’t hurt. Why don’t you two go sit at the kitchen table while I fix something for her to eat. Give her some space.”

Ginn moved around easily in the kitchen that had been hers for five years. She scrambled eggs, toasted bread, put oatmeal cookies on a plate, warmed milk. She placed the food on a tray, carried it over to the table and put it down. As if the last of her strength was deserting her, the girl had leaned her back against the wall. Even with both hands wrapped around the handle of the knife, she was only just managing to keep it upright, the shaking point at her throat.

Tail waving, Barney followed the tray. Trained to ignore any food unless invited, he nuzzled the girl, then licked her face. The knife wavered, the girl sagged against him and the same thin, terrible moans Matt had first heard in the canyon seemed wrenched from her throat. The sound arrowed straight into his heart.

Ginn knelt in front of her and slowly reached for the knife. She covered the girl’s hand with her own, holding it until the small fingers relaxed the knife into her hand. Barney licked the girl’s face anxiously and she put her arms around him, burying her head in his shoulder.

Briefly, Ginn touched the girl’s dirty, tangled hair, then reached for the blanket on the back of the couch and draped it over her shoulders. The girl’s face was hidden in Barney’s coat, but the moans were turning into sobs. Ginn passed her fingers briefly over her eyes before standing up slowly to rejoin the two men at the kitchen table.

“Now what?” Matt said softly.

Phil got his bag, broke open a sealed sterile syringe, selected a vial, drew the colorless liquid into the syringe.

“The first thing is to quiet her down, give her some relief from all that anxiety. It will also give me a chance to examine her. Something’s caused all this.”

“Leave her alone, Phil,” Ginn said. “Just let her cry.”

“So, you’re a doctor now, Genevieve?” Halliburton asked pleasantly.

“It just seems common sense, that’s all. Look at her.”

The girl had her arms around Barney, her head resting on him. The dog sat quietly, his eyes on the plate of food. “I’d use a knife, too, if some strange guy came at me with a needle, wouldn’t you? Sit down, I’ll make some tea.”

Matt smiled to himself. Ginn’s response to most crises was tea. The canister she had left when she moved out was still full of some blend she had sent to her from Canada.

Phil replaced the syringe and vial, and closed his bag. “That little girl is suffering from exposure, dehydration and hysteria. She’s suicidal and should be in a hospital.”

“How can I send her to a hospital?” Matt said. “Who am I going to say she is? I don’t know her name or anything about her. I can’t answer any questions. How long could we get away with it if I made up something?”

“Maybe she’s a runaway and she’s got parents searching for her, frantic with worry. Did you think about that?”

“Phil, does she look like a runaway to you, with a loving family somewhere? They’re not runaways, these kids, not unless they’ve run away from a circus. They were all dressed in these bizarre outfits. One little kid was black, Phil. Ten years old and African. And not African-American, from some place in Africa. God knows what language she speaks. And it’s going to rain.”

Matt looked out the window. The sky was heavy with cloud and a band of rain moved across the horizon. Ginn put a mug in front of him, handed the other to Halliburton, and took a chair from which she could keep an eye on Barney and the girl. With her head, Ginn motioned for Matt to look, and he turned. The girl was kneeling in front of the little table, shoveling food into her mouth, with Barney at her side following each bite. Smiling, Matt held Ginn’s eyes, sharing a moment of pleasure with her for the first time in almost a year.

“I really don’t understand what’s going on here, Matt.” Halliburton had not picked up on the moment. “What were you doing in Encinal in the first place? Isn’t that where a girl’s body was found couple of days ago?”

“What body?” Ginn asked.

“You don’t know about that? A girl was found dead by the side of the road,” Halliburton said. “Do you think this girl, these kids, could be tied up somehow with that?”

“I don’t know. Could be.” Matt looked at Ginn. “During the fire, I had to come home along the beach. Just past the Edwards old house, I found a baby, maybe a couple of hours old. When I got her here, she was dead. The girl they found might be her mother.”

“Oh, Matt! Oh, my God!”

“You didn’t tell me about that when you came to get stitched up,” Phil said.

Shrugging in dismissal, Matt showed Ginn the Band-Aid covering the wound on his wrist. “I must have cut it breaking a window at Jimmy’s. Phil put a couple of stitches in. Anyway, a couple of sheriff’s detectives came to see me about the baby and they told me a girl’s body had been found, covered in wild-flowers, so I went to have a look at the place for myself. I saw these kids but when I called out, they ran, so I followed them. Five girls and a boy. One of the girls spoke a few words of English, really a few words, I could barely understand her. It was very strange, they seemed to be completely dominated by the boy.”

“If they’re that scared, you’d think they’d put distance between themselves and the place where a body was found, not hang around like that,” Phil said.

“That’s what I thought.” Matt got to his feet. “First I’m going to get some clothes together for them and then I’m going to try to bring them back with me. Their clothes were barely covering them, and it’s cold out there now.” He nodded toward the girl. “I had to wrap that one in Barney’s blanket.”

“You’re planning to keep five, six kids here?” Halliburton looked around the combined kitchen, dining room, living room. “Besides the little detail that it’s illegal, this whole place is smaller than my foyer.”

“I’ll think of something. Phil, can you stay here with Ginn for about an hour?”

Halliburton held up a warning hand. “Sorry. I’ve done all I’m going to do. I was never here, I don’t know anything about illegal kids. Annie and I are going out to dinner.” He got up, took his coat from the stand, shrugged into it. “This girl needs care and she should be watched.” He picked up his bag. “Plenty of fluids, light nourishing food, bed rest. Lock away the knives. Good seeing you, Ginn.” He closed the door firmly behind him.

“Good seeing you, too, Phil,” Ginn said to the closed door. The retreating footsteps faded. “So what are you going to do with a bunch of illegal kids you can’t communicate with?”

“I don’t know.” Matt hesitated, then said, “Would you feel safe staying alone with her? I won’t be gone long.”

“You’re really going to bring them here?”

“If you’ve got a better suggestion, God knows I’m open to it.”

Ginn shook her head. “All right, I’ll stay, but I’ll have to make a call. I had plans, too.”