The Lady Sleuths MEGAPACK TM(15)

                “I can’t yet.” I said, even though I wanted to.

                Susan was tapping her thumbnail against her teeth.

                “June seems like so long ago,” she said after a moment. She was frowning. “Maybe Helene nicknamed her. Or Mabel.”

                Our oldest volunteers. I adored Mabel. She had campaigned for women’s rights in the teens, and had done her best to change the world then. That she was helping us now seemed a miracle to me.

                Helene, on the other hand, drove me nuts. She was conservative, religious, yet determined to make this hot line work. I still struggled to get along with her, but as time progressed, I had learned to appreciate her.



                             “I think it was Helene,” Susan said. “I have this vivid memory of her passing the call to me one Saturday night just as the phone rang. She said she couldn’t help the sob sister any. Some others were there and the name stuck.”

                She couldn’t help the sob sister. Because they knew each other?

                “Are there names in any of these accounts?” I asked. “Does she give us a clue as to who this guy is who hurt her so badly?”

                “It wasn’t one guy,” Louise said softly.

                I glanced at her. Her eyes were red.

                “It was a gang,” she said. “A few of the early accounts were really graphic.”

                Susan nodded. “And there are no names, at least not that we’ve found.”

                “What about in the other papers I gave you?” I asked. “Are there any names in those?”

                “Initials,” Louise said. “And I have to tell you, this stuff is gruesome.”

                “Yeah,” Susan said. “What was this woman into?”

                I shook my head again. “I’ll tell you when I can. The most recent papers, what are they about?”

                Susan bowed her head. “You don’t want to know.”

                But Louise squared her shoulders. “It’s another group.”

                “A group of what?” I asked, feeling cold.

                “A group of perverts,” Louise said.

                Susan had put a hand over her mouth. Her head was still bowed.

                “What kind of perverts?” I asked.

                “The kind who like little boys,” Louise said. “They take them from the home, to work. And the boys work, all right.”

                Her words were clipped, bitter, angry.

                “The home?” I asked, my mind a bit frozen. I’d become so used to dealing with women that the phrase “little boys” threw me off. “Their homes?”

                “The boys’ home near Janesville,” Susan said, sounding ill. “My church gives that place money.”

                “Please tell me she uses names,” I said.



                             Louise shook her head. “Initials, though. That and the home might be enough information to figure it out.”