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My brother sold me to Herzog. I spent three years in hell. I lost myself, lost everything I believed in.
That can’t be my answer. I can’t have any motivation to murder Klaus Herzog. I’m not supposed to know the man.
But how do I explain disappearing for three long years?
I start to tiptoe through my answer. “I went home after I left the freeport, but my landlord had evicted us, Leo and me. Leo stole the rent money. So I… I sold my phone and used the cash to buy a beat-up car. That’s where I lived, for a while, anyway.”
“Why sell your phone? Didn’t you need it?”
“I couldn’t afford the monthly plan. I used the library when I needed a computer. Because of Leo, I didn’t have anyone to call.”
“Why not put the car on your credit card?”
“I didn’t have one. I couldn’t trust my brother. I only used cash for three or four years before we were evicted.”
He nods, like he’s impressed by how quickly I’m thinking on my feet. But a lot of what I’m saying is the truth. My landlorddidthrow me out. I’d been toying with the idea of dropping my phone contract because I couldn’t make ends meet. I really had cut up my credit cards after the third time Leo left me holding the bag for a meth-fueled spending spree.
“What about school?” Trap asks. “Didn’t you have classes to attend?”
“I finished all my coursework. The only thing I had left was writing my thesis. And…” I close my eyes, threading my way between truth and lies. “I had to sell my computer, to get enough cash to eat. I kept my thesis on a thumb drive, but it got lost when my coat was stolen at work. I was so upset at the thought of losing all that work that I couldn’t go back to writing.”
He looks impressed. But he zeroes in on another loose end. “Where were you working?”
“McDonald’s,” I say, figuring no one would ever remember me from there.
“Nope,” Trap says. “They’re a massive corporation, with standardized job applications. The IRS would have all sorts of documentation—payroll, taxes, all that shit.”
So, no McDonald’s. And no Wal-Mart, Target, or even Home Depot seasonal staff. I couldn’t drive for Uber or Lyft, couldn’t take a Sherman University job, and I couldn’t work at the Air Force base.
I could say I took money under the table, but even that raises problems. Mrs. Nguyen who ran the corner store near my old apartment would certainly tell the police she hadn’t paid me. Same with the coffee shop around the corner, and any of the cute little boutiques near campus.
“I did odd jobs for cash,” I finally say. “I answered ads placed on telephone poles. Walked dogs. Cleaned houses. Babysat.”
Trap’s still not satisfied. “They can follow up. People will remember who they trusted with their pets. Their homes. Their kids.”
I realize I’m gripping my coffee cup tight enough to make my fingers ache. This shouldn’t be so difficult. I shouldn’t have to lie.
Trap says, “You turned tricks near the base. No. Someone might remember you. At the train station.”
My stomach aches, and I wish I hadn’t finished that last cup of coffee. But Trap is right, of course. As a prostitute, I could earn enough cash to survive. And none of my customers could confirm my identity if they were just stopping through on their way north to New York, or heading south to DC.
Also, the lie skates close enough to the truth that I can deliver it with the right amount of embarrassment. Resignation. Shame.
“I turned tricks,” I whisper.
“So three years pass…” Trap prompts.
How did we get together after so much time? There’s no record of my applying for a job at the freeport. We don’t have any friends in common. I could never have earned enough to need a tax haven.
But the answer’s so obvious, I actually laugh as I say it. “You came looking for a date at the train station.”
He frowns. “I’ve never paid a woman in my life.”
I look around the plane—at the wooden paneling, the leather seats, and the fine china spread out on the desk beside us. “There are lots of ways to pay,” I say.
He doesn’t like my point. But he has to accept it.
“Fuck,” he says. “So I saw you at the train station. And I recognized you. And I brought you home, when?”
