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Terri Hernandez said in a low voice, “I’m not judging, and you’re not in trouble for it, but I was wondering if you, personally, ever have sex with your clients?”
Allie hesitated for a moment. “I’ve had sex with two clients. I didn’t charge them extra. It was mutual and consensual. I don’t know how any of the other girls do it. There was a girl in Midtown who made it a routine. She made so much money she moved to Florida and retired. At least that’s what she told us.”
Allie looked at me and said, “The main reason we limit contact with one another is that if someone gets arrested, they can’t expose everyone else. With a string of burner phones and a couple of shaky email addresses, I doubted we’d ever be caught.”
I said, “You might be overestimating your anonymity.”
Allie smiled for the first time during our interview. I could see why men wanted to be seen with her at events. She had a beautiful smile that caused her cheekbones to pop. Even in shorts and a T-shirt, she had a certain elegance about her.
I said, “Allie, we’re going to have to look at your burner phone to get some numbers off of it.”
She nodded, then said, “I also have them in a Word document. I keep all the numbers along with notes. You know, if someone was rude or rough. Maybe they tried to short me on the money. These are calls into the main burner phone. I don’t know what numbers the other girls might keep.”
I had her email me the numbers list as Terri took the burner phone. It wasn’t that we didn’t believe her. But it’s not a particularly professional cop who doesn’t verify information.
I opened up the list on my phone. This list was going to keep Walter Jackson busy as he tried to find who belonged to each number. Somewhere in this list, I was sure, was a killer.
I said, “Have you ever heard the name Kyle Banning?”
She shook her head. Allie seemed surprised this was all we wanted from her.
Terri said, “There’s something else you need to do.”
“Anything. Anything at all. I feel sick to my stomach that someone’s dead from our job. I feel responsible. I’ll do anything you want to help find this creep.”
Terri placed her hand gently on Allie’s shoulder. She said, “The first thing you need to do is call your parents. Be honest with them, at least about the fact that you’re not in college anymore.”
Allie nodded and looked away.
Chapter64
AS SOON ASwe were done interviewing Allie Pritz, and certain she wasn’t going to run, I told Terri I’d catch up with her later. I had an appointment I didn’t intend to miss. I braved the Midtown traffic and cringed when I found a lot that charged me fifty dollars to park. Since I wasn’t on city business, I had to pay out of my pocket.
I walked two blocks to the building I was looking for. I took the elevator up to the nineteenth floor. The elevator doors opened into a hallway that led to the reception area for the Galt Fertility Clinic.
Sitting by herself in the corner was my beautiful wife, Mary Catherine. The smile that popped up on her face when she saw me made any traffic or parking hassles more than worth it. She hugged me even as I was sitting down in the comfortable, padded chair next to her.
Mary Catherine said, “Oh, Michael, I’m so happy you came. Forget what I said about wanting to do this on my own.”
“Why would you do this on your own? We’re a team. We tackle all of our problems together.”
She kissed me on the cheek. The only other people in the waiting room were a couple in their forties. The man nervously bounced his leg while the woman absently thumbed through aPeoplemagazine.
I was surprised how nervous I was. The idea of Mary Catherine going through fertility treatments to have a baby had been an abstract thought before coming here. This place made it seem real and immediate.
The clinic was immaculate and well decorated. There were photos of mothers with newborns. Magazines about babies and child-rearing filled every table. I noticed the medical office had more plants than most and less of that usual smell of chemical cleaning products.
I’d already been through initial screenings during which I had to give sperm samples and receive instruction on the numerous treatment methods for infertility. For some reason Mary Catherine had it in her head that these appointments were a drain on my time. I didn’t care if I was on the biggest, roughest serial-killer case of all time; there was nothing more important than the health of my family.
Maybe that was just my maturity finally kicking in. But a lot of it had to do with the death of my first wife, Maeve. She’d had cancer, and all treatment options had failed. We knew the prognosis was terminal. Even my NYPD bosses were sympathetic, and for eight months the family took the time we needed, essentially huddled together.
Then there was a crisis. A big-deal hostage situation in St. Patrick’s Cathedral. At the time, I was still an active hostage negotiator. The men holding the captives created several odd incidents and I was pivotal in dealing with them.
And the whole time I was needed on the job, Maeve lay in a hospital bed. She had needed me more. I should’ve stayed with my wife. And to this day I regret it.
I like to think I can admit when I make mistakes. You don’t make a mistake like that, then take lightly any kind of medical appointments of any kind.
A young man in scrubs came out and met us. He told us his name was Lyle and that he was assigned to us for the rest of our visit. I prayed this kind of personalized service was covered by insurance.
