The cops did not show up, so I had to let the guy go. By that time, though, the girl…whore or not…was long gone. Which I called a win, going back to my hunt.

 

“I saw that,” somebody called.

 

I changed course. “Well, he had a knife.”

 

“Didn’t see that part. Kid should be in school, but that doesn’t mean somebody should pull a knife on her.”

 

I thought about that. “Probably some reason she isn’t.”

 

“Messed up home life.” The guy studied me. “You’ve had some training.”

 

I nodded. “I try not to be a random vigilante, but…”

 

“But you know enough to go in and do something without making the situation worse.” He shrugged. “I’d have made it worse.”

 

“You know enough to know that.” Which was more than, say, Derek had. The guy was in his forties, greying, a little bit of a paunch.

 

“Well, yeah. Just saying, keep it up, but don’t get yourself stabbed or shot.”

 

Too late, I mused, but I didn’t say it. “Thanks.”

 

“I’d offer to buy you a drink, but…”

 

“Thanks, but I’m actually looking for a friend.” Just in case he had any ideas.

 

He gave me a thumbs up and I headed back up the street. At least I’d achieved something tonight, even if it was only a small something and even if it might not last in the long term.

 

He was right, that girl should be in school, not selling certain services on street corners. If she had been. If she hadn’t been mistaken for one because of the way she was dressed.

 

I decided not to judge. I also decided I was thirsty, and looked around for a place where I could get a soda.

 

I ducked into one of the bars which didn’t seem strict on carding people who weren’t ordering alcohol. Ordered a coke and glanced around.

 

Normal people. Enjoying normal entertainment on a weekend night. I was jealous of them. At least I could pretend for a bit as I sipped my soda.

 

Then the girl came in. The same girl. She looked shaken. I lifted a hand. “Hey.”

 

“…you.” She looked about to run away again, then pulled herself together. “Where is he?”

 

“I had to let him go. I’m not a cop. But if he causes trouble in here…”

 

“The cops might listen to you about him. He…he…”

 

“Did he hurt somebody?” I asked, gently.

 

She nodded. “He hurt Trisha.”

 

“Well. I can keep my eyes open.” I no longer had a fast line to the police, but I rather thought I might have some of their respect.

 

And a guy cutting up street girls deserved a stay in jail.