Germany. You can’t find good help locally. I tried bringing people in from Halifax but it was the same story. Canadian kids, American kids, they’re spoiled, you know. Actually, it’s worked out quite well. The foreign workers set a good example for the challenged kids we deal with.”
“Work ethic, huh?”
“Something like that.”
Lloyd was too smug for Garrett’s taste. He still had his shirt off, proud of his tight, muscular frame and not the least bit reluctant to show it off. He certainly seemed to enjoy exhibiting himself to the youngsters.
“We’re trying to track down information on a fishing boat that was found offshore the other day,” said Garrett, showing him a photo of the boat. “Ever seen her?”
He glanced at the picture. “Nope. Probably smugglers though. We get our fair share passing along the coast here. Pretty close to Halifax. I’ve found bales of marijuana on the shore myself.”
“Did you turn them in?”
“Nope. Had a bonfire on the beach and cooked it. I don’t allow any illegal substance here.”
“How about alcohol?”
“Especially not. Our kids are all under the legal drinking age.”
Garrett stared out at the cultivated gardens alternating with manicured lawns and wood-chipped paths. “You should have turned the drugs over to the RCMP,” he said.
“What RCMP? Wasn’t any around till you showed up. I don’t have time to haul freight to Halifax. We generally police ourselves. Besides, RCMP mentality always assumes the worst and they would have blamed our kids for having the stuff.”
Garrett nodded. That was probably what would have happened, all right. Just like the local people blamed the kids here when anything turned up missing. Much as he’d taken a disliking to Lloyd, he couldn’t fault what he was doing here.
Lloyd looked at the picture again. “Say, isn’t that the boat the papers said had several dead children on it?”
“The very one.”
“Sick bastards. It’s people like that that make our work here necessary. A number of our kids were involved in prostitution.”
“In Halifax?”
“Based there. Escort services in the city deliver anywhere in the province, just like pizza.”
“I’d like to talk to the girls who were in the profession,” said Garrett.
Lloyd tightened. “I’m not sure I can allow that. They’re trying to forget all about those times. It’s not easy for them.”
“I’m sure it isn’t. But given what they’ve been through, I doubt a few questions are going to upset them. And it might give us a lead that could help save other girls from getting sucked into the business.”
Garrett watched as Lloyd tried to think of some way to refuse to help.
“Look, we need help. It won’t take long. I don’t want to have to do this through legal channels, but I will if necessary.”
Lloyd shrugged. “I’m not trying to be difficult. Uh … you have some sort of ID or something? I didn’t realize Mounties operated out of uniform.”
Garrett showed his badge. “Trying to keep our provincial presence low-key for now. Till I feel my way around. Doesn’t always pay to advertise.”
Lloyd was thoughtful for a moment. “How about I let you talk to Lila Weaver? She’s been here a while and is pretty self-contained for a fifteen-year-old. She spent two years at a service in the city—Sweet Angels Escort Service.”
Garrett nodded.
“You wait on the porch. I’ll try to catch up to them.”
He turned and jogged off. Garrett watched his taut little butt, barely concealed in the bikini briefs. The man verged on exhibitionism just being around young girls in that outfit.
He climbed onto the porch and sat in a green plastic Adirondack lawn chair. It was almost twenty minutes before Lloyd reappeared, followed mopishly by a sweating and obviously less than thrilled Lila.
“Lila, this is Mr. Barkhouse. He’s a Mountie and wants to ask you a few questions.”
Lloyd started up onto the porch, heading for another plastic
“Work ethic, huh?”
“Something like that.”
Lloyd was too smug for Garrett’s taste. He still had his shirt off, proud of his tight, muscular frame and not the least bit reluctant to show it off. He certainly seemed to enjoy exhibiting himself to the youngsters.
“We’re trying to track down information on a fishing boat that was found offshore the other day,” said Garrett, showing him a photo of the boat. “Ever seen her?”
He glanced at the picture. “Nope. Probably smugglers though. We get our fair share passing along the coast here. Pretty close to Halifax. I’ve found bales of marijuana on the shore myself.”
“Did you turn them in?”
“Nope. Had a bonfire on the beach and cooked it. I don’t allow any illegal substance here.”
“How about alcohol?”
“Especially not. Our kids are all under the legal drinking age.”
Garrett stared out at the cultivated gardens alternating with manicured lawns and wood-chipped paths. “You should have turned the drugs over to the RCMP,” he said.
“What RCMP? Wasn’t any around till you showed up. I don’t have time to haul freight to Halifax. We generally police ourselves. Besides, RCMP mentality always assumes the worst and they would have blamed our kids for having the stuff.”
Garrett nodded. That was probably what would have happened, all right. Just like the local people blamed the kids here when anything turned up missing. Much as he’d taken a disliking to Lloyd, he couldn’t fault what he was doing here.
Lloyd looked at the picture again. “Say, isn’t that the boat the papers said had several dead children on it?”
“The very one.”
“Sick bastards. It’s people like that that make our work here necessary. A number of our kids were involved in prostitution.”
“In Halifax?”
“Based there. Escort services in the city deliver anywhere in the province, just like pizza.”
“I’d like to talk to the girls who were in the profession,” said Garrett.
Lloyd tightened. “I’m not sure I can allow that. They’re trying to forget all about those times. It’s not easy for them.”
“I’m sure it isn’t. But given what they’ve been through, I doubt a few questions are going to upset them. And it might give us a lead that could help save other girls from getting sucked into the business.”
Garrett watched as Lloyd tried to think of some way to refuse to help.
“Look, we need help. It won’t take long. I don’t want to have to do this through legal channels, but I will if necessary.”
Lloyd shrugged. “I’m not trying to be difficult. Uh … you have some sort of ID or something? I didn’t realize Mounties operated out of uniform.”
Garrett showed his badge. “Trying to keep our provincial presence low-key for now. Till I feel my way around. Doesn’t always pay to advertise.”
Lloyd was thoughtful for a moment. “How about I let you talk to Lila Weaver? She’s been here a while and is pretty self-contained for a fifteen-year-old. She spent two years at a service in the city—Sweet Angels Escort Service.”
Garrett nodded.
“You wait on the porch. I’ll try to catch up to them.”
He turned and jogged off. Garrett watched his taut little butt, barely concealed in the bikini briefs. The man verged on exhibitionism just being around young girls in that outfit.
He climbed onto the porch and sat in a green plastic Adirondack lawn chair. It was almost twenty minutes before Lloyd reappeared, followed mopishly by a sweating and obviously less than thrilled Lila.
“Lila, this is Mr. Barkhouse. He’s a Mountie and wants to ask you a few questions.”
Lloyd started up onto the porch, heading for another plastic
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