Cesare nodded. “Was this before or after police involvement?”
Diane scoffed. “If it was typical small-town mischief, Harry would threaten them within an inch of their life and drop them off to clean up trash with Jason instead of making a report. He wasn’t trying to get anyone out of anything, just trying to keep kids that didn’t belong in the system out of a courtroom.”
“So if someone was starting relatively harmless trouble, they got sent to Jason Rosenbaum.” Cesare mused out loud.
Diane nodded. “If your missing girl ever got caught drinking on the beach or speeding late at night with friends, there’s a high likelihood she met him.”
Cesare nodded, giving Diane a wan smile. “Is Jason in York?”
Diane shook her head. “Cape Neddick. He’s in Florida this week, but he’ll be back in a week or so.”
Cesare let out a low whistle of appreciation. “Have you ever thought about being a private investigator, Diane?”
Diane gave a slight chuckle as she waved a dismissive hand. “He’s been posting about it all week on Facebook. And no. If I left, there’d be nobody to feed my kiddos.”
Cesare raised a brow. “Your kiddos?”
“The youth room.” She sighed. “We have a group that comes through every afternoon. Nobody’s home until later so they come here. Sometimes they have food, sometimes they don’t.” She crossed her arms. “When they’re here, they’re my kiddos.”
Cesare tilted his head. “How many?”
Diane shrugged. “It varies, but usually five or six. If I don’t see them for more than a few days, I start asking around.” She admitted, her lips pursed in a frown.
Cesare stared for another moment before shaking his head. “They should call you Saint Diane.” He quirked a grin.
Diane shook her head with a laugh. “Oh please, no! I’m a congregationalist.”
???
Cesare eventually left the library after reviewing more microfilm of old newspapers and checking a few entries of local property records.
He called Dante for an update when he returned to the hotel. His phone rang a few times and then a woman’s automated voice came on.
“I’m sorry, the person you are trying to reach has a voice mailbox that has not been…”
Cesare hung up, checking the time once more and wondering if Sabrina had woken up. He hadn’t communicated a consequence if she didn’t call, but his hand still twitched at the thought of her round ass, regardless. He discreetly adjusted himself in his pants, breathing into the ache growing low in his balls.
Cesare had never been with a virgin, but he’d be a dumbass if he didn’t take this slow. He tried desperately to think of anything other than being balls deep in heaven, and entered the hotel room with a muttered curse. He looked down at the bulge protruding from his pants and grudgingly went straight to the shower.
Chapter Seventeen
(Sabrina)
Sabrina woke up to the muffled sound of a power drill somewhere in the distance. Frowning, she blinked her eyes open and attempted to orient herself. She looked around for her phone to check the time and spotted it on her desk. She sat up with a slight huff and got out of bed, straightening the covers as she did so.
Who was drilling? None of the neighbors had mentioned anything recently. Sabrina picked her phone up from the desk, checked the time, and cast a glance at a very large yellow paper note.
Her eyes widened. “Oh, no.” She muttered.
She ran for the door and turned the handle, only to run into it face first when it refused to open. She looked down at the door handle in confusion.
“What the…?” She blinked, and unlocked a lock she had never seen used, then proceeded towards the main room of the rescue.
Birds were screeching and a myriad of aggravated chitters and howls echoed through the building as a team of men in matching blue polo shirts screwed who knew what into the windows.
A team was mounting a new door, and in the hallway going toward the kitchen, a man stood on a ladder replacing a light that had gone out the week of her parents' funeral.
Sabrina looked wide eyed at all the activity happening and immediately went to check on Freckles, and the rest of her high-risk guests. Freckles seemed unbothered by the sounds, going so far as to release a mimicking titter every time a particular drill made any noise. He was essentially singing along with Black & Decker. Sabrina scoffed to herself. They should have named himDrill BitorCharger.
