2.) Jennifer. The Exotic Librarian

There was nobody else on the road. Nobody. After ten minutes of driving through two-foot-deep snow, I began to worry that Jennifer might have been taking us on a one way trip. If we got stuck, ran off the road, or got lost, we'd have to hike back to the house, which would take HOURS if we actually made it back at all. I began to consider places to turn around and head back, regardless of Jennifer's want to take me for some surprise or whatever.

"Oh shit! Right here," she said, pointing. "Oh goodie! It's open!"

"What's open?" I asked.

"The library. It's right there," she said, waggling a gloves hand toward a tiny shack at the end of an abandoned four-car parking lot.

I slow just a bit, and then hit the gas, ramming through the barrier of plowed snow from days prior, and let the truck roll across the lot, only hitting the brakes once. The truck came to a stop rather nicely, taking up two spots diagonally, but I was confident nobody else was going to be showing up any time soon.

"Where the fuck are we?" I asked, looking all around. There was nothing but snow and pine trees with more snow on them. Jennifer yanked the door open and slid out, slamming it closed.

"I guess we're here," I said to myself, shutting the truck off and getting out. I followed Jennifer as she hurried to the tiny shack and pressed her hand on a little sensor next to the door.

"Uh, are you some sort of secret agent?" I asked, watching her.

"It's a fingerprint reader," Jennifer said quickly. A tiny green light blinked on and a lock clicked. "Come on. Hurry up, it's freezing out here!"

Jennifer opened the door and I stepped forward, following her inside. As I stepped over the threshold, I saw the inside of the shack was nothing like the outside. In fact, it was like stepping into something so far removed from the remote desolate outer world, it was shocking. Four computer monitors sat side by side, keyboards in front of each, wireless mice next to each.

A sign on the right-hand wall read: These mice are cheap. If you cannot afford your own, please do not take ours. If a mouse is reported missing, you will be charged $50, so we can replace it, and your membership will be revoked. -Management.

I continued reading the various signs posted around the tiny room and then started taking note of the numerous amenities that were scattered about. There was a tiny half-sized vending machine, with a basket on top that said "Munchie Donations". There was a mini-fridge and I opened it to see a pitcher of water with a paper note that said, "if you drink me, refill me." I stood up and saw a small sink, water faucet, and a paper towel dispenser.

"What is this place?" I asked as Jennifer sat down at the far right monitor and took her gloves off.

"The Library," Jennifer replied as if I should have known that already. "They have a coffee maker if you want. Creamer is the powder stuff. Vanilla. It's okay. Sugar is on the little table over there."

I turned, saw the coffee maker, and noted it was one of those single-cup deals. Classy and yet, a bit too excessive if you asked me. "Fifty cents?" I asked, seeing a tiny wire rack with ten different coffee pods sticking out of it.

"Daddy. It's coffee. And it's 2023. Either get a cup or don't. The coffee isn't going to complain you didn't think it was worth it."

I reached into my wallet and pulled a dollar out, slipped it in the donation box, which I noted, was not strapped, bolted, or glued to the desktop, and I selected a morning roast coffee pod and put it in the machine. I grabbed a coffee cup from a little hanger and stuck it under the machine and hit the brew button. A moment later, the coffee maker sounded like it was winding up to explode, or rocket across the room, when it started spurting out fresh, steaming-hot, coffee.

"Hey. Did you see how fast that brewed?" I said, pointing at the machine and taking my cup in hand. It was nice and hot and smelled fantastic.

"Yeah Dad," Jennifer said, in an almost aggravated tone of voice. "I've only been asking if we could get one for, I don't know, two years now."

"Oh," I said, taking a sip. I thought it needed a bit of sugar and licked my lips, and then I tasted the scent of cucumber and mint, and I smirked. I might have wanted to wash my face, or maybe brush my teeth before going out, but it was too late now.

"Is it good?" Jenifer asked, moving the mouse and clicking on something on the screen.

"Yeah," I said, nodding and then coming closer. "Mind if I sit down?"

"Dad. It's the library," Jennifer said.

"I don't see any books," I said, pulling out a chair and sitting.

"It's all online," she said, pointing at the computer. "I can check out any book, read the paper, the news, study...well, I used to study here, when I had tests. But you can take college courses and stuff like that."

"All from right here?" I said.

"Yup. And, they have video games, and online secondary education resources. They do all of that."

"If they have video games, why isn't there like, five geeks standing outside waiting to get in?"

"Daddy. These aren't gaming computers. They're just...computers. The graphics are okay, but otherwise, they're pretty shit."

"So they're not that great," I said.

"No. And, for the cost of the membership, this place rocks. I love coming here."

"It's quiet," I said, taking another look around.

"It's quiet, it's safe. The little screen up there is for the outside camera. So when we're ready to leave, we can see if anyone else is out there. There's a phone for emergencies."

"What if the power goes out?"

"Generator and battery backup. Which is why it has power."

"And what if that fails?" I asked.

"I don't know Daddy," she chuckled. "I don't work here. I just come here."

"You sound like you know a lot about it," I said.

"I do," she replied quietly. "I like it."

I casually looked at the screen and saw where Jennifer was moving the mouse. She was looking up names, family trees, and other information. She switched to another screen, opened something, and started typing.

"What...what is that?" I asked.

"Email. I got a reply from a university and I'm doing a bit of research."

"About what?" I asked.

"A French businessman who traveled to Brazil, before he died in a plane crash," Jennifer said casually, as if it was the height of interest right now.

"Does this have anything to do with Mackenzie?" I asked.

"Everything," Jennifer said, and she showed me a line of light blue text on the screen and then clicked on it. Another screen popped up and a video started playing. It looked like a nightly news report, something about a plane crash and there being no survivors. The clip was spoken in French, and before I could figure anything out, the clip ended. I looked at Jennifer and shrugged. Jennifer looked hopeful though.

"What does it mean?" I asked.

"Well, if it's true and this is about this guy, and this guy is who I think he is, then that means, I've found Mack's dad."

"But he's dead," I said quietly, looking back at the screen.

"Yeah. And then there's that," Jennifer said.

"So Mackenzie told me a few things."

"Really?" Jennifer said, looking eager to hear the details.

"Yeah. She was, uh, sitting with me..."

"Daddy. You don't have to beat around the bush," Jennifer said quickly as if reasoning with me on a speed date. "I just watched you eat her out, I know you've done everything else, I don't care what she was doing, or what you were doing. What did she tell you?"

"Jesus Detective," I said, sitting back in my chair and sipping my coffee. "I didn't know I was in the interrogation room."

Jennifer folded her arms across her chest and then leaned forward. "Please?" I gave her a glance. "Pretty please, Daddy? It would mean the world to me," she said, putting a bit too much sugar on it.

"Alright, fine. So, her name is Michellet."

"Michelle-T," Jennifer said.

"No. Michellet, like fish fillet. That's what she said."

"So it's French!" Jennifer shouted.

"Yeah. I thought you knew that. That's why you were looking at this dead French guy."

"No! I was trying to figure this out! I kept reading Michelle with a T, and I thought that might be her last name initial. Like, Michelle T. But it's Michellet?"

"Yeah. That's what she said. She doesn't like it though. I don't think she liked this French guy."

"He died," Jennifer said. "He died right after she was born."

"She said that."

"I'm trying to figure out where she came from, how it all links back and where the trail breaks off."

"This all seems pretty strange baby," I said, taking another sip of the coffee and standing up to go put some sugar in it.

"I promise when I get it all figured out, you're going to thank me for it. You're going to wish I'd done it sooner."

"Done what?" I asked.

"Well, I don't know...yet. But I will when it gets done."

I chuckled, poured a tablespoon of sugar into my cup, and then added a bit of powdered creamer. I took a sip and nodded. "Now that's a cup of coffee!"

"See? This place is awesome," Jennifer said, and she turned back to the screen and started typing something else. I wandered around the small room, looking at a number of things that adorned the walls, finding each one of them extremely interesting and peculiar.

The "library" had been made possible by a private donation made by a billionaire who had a penchant for trying to upset the standards of society. By providing a technologically advanced and easily accessible way to seek knowledge and higher learning, with a generously small membership payment, anyone could educate themselves, and thereby, advance their social standing by gaining better employment, or opportunities.

Another posting indicated reference material located on the desktop of each computer, which could be accessed with the click of a mouse, and would open a number of "portals" to educational materials encompassing all standard grade school levels, Kindergarten through Twelfth grade, and a number of core college courses as well. Additional courses could be taken through another portal, absolutely for free, but the "degree" still had to be obtained through traditional means.

I looked at a number of pictures from people who had left notes, messages, and memories. I read through them all, and then, at the bottom edge of one picture, I saw the letters "zie" followed by "was here". The note and subsequent picture it was attached to, were hidden by a piece of paper and that was stapled on top of everything else.

"So, this says, a number of refugees came to the United States and were given special exemption under a government work program."

"Bullshit," I said, reaching out with my left hand and gently prying up the bottom right corner of the paper. "If anything, they got smuggled in. Mack told me her aunt sold her to some guy. Child trafficking. Drug dealer maybe. Black market baby."

"What?" Jennifer asked, alarmed.

"I, uh...yeah. That's what she said."

"How does she know that?" Jennifer asked.

"Her aunt. She asked her. I don't know how all that happened but she said she still talks to her aunt. Sends her mail in Colorado. Colorado springs... She sends her aunt letters, and her aunt sends them back, no return address."

"So she doesn't want Mack to know."

"Know what?" I asked, gently pulling another staple out of the corkboard with my fingernails.

"Her mom gave her up," Jennifer replied flatly.

"She knows," I said. "She told me, her mom couldn't take care of her after that French guy left."

"He died," Jennifer said.

"Well, that explains why he didn't come back. But, her mom gave her up, to her aunt. Her aunt sold her to some guy, which I think was probably a black-market dealer. He figured he would sell her to some loving couple who couldn't have kids, and make a couple thousand dollars. Problem is...I think the problem was...maybe someone died. Maybe they got sick? I don't know. But Mack got left with a bunch of people after that, like musical chairs, and then she ended up in the US, and then she was given to the people who took care of her and raised her. Her drug addict mom and criminal father."

"He's a rapist," Jennifer said, the tone in her voice sounding terribly truthful. "He's in prison, for raping her."

"Wait, what? That...she didn't say that."

"You think she'd just come out and say it? After all these years?"

"No," I said.

"Yeah. I looked it up. He, uh...abused her...and she ended up...uh..." Jennifer had to pause and blew a deep breath of air out of her mouth slowly before continuing. "So, he was going to get caught. Mack told her mother over and over and over again. She didn't do anything. I don't know for sure, but I'm pretty sure... like ninety-nine percent sure...it was her dad and her uncle."

"Jesus Christ," I said.

"And her mom didn't do anything about it. And then, when the shit hit the fan and the authorities got involved, they put her in a teen home. Her dad went to prison, and her uncle, which is why I figured it was both of them. Her mom didn't get any prison time but, she knew. And then she started doing drugs. Mack went from the teen home to a couple of foster homes, but nothing ever worked out. She ended up on the streets, and then in juvie for a while, and then...she uh...I guess...I...uh...found her."

"How in the hell did that happen?" I asked, now completely perplexed.

"Oh! I signed up for that thing online! The family historical DNA thing, tells you all about your family tree and where you came from and all that."

"So you already knew where you got your blue eyes from?" I asked.

"I mean, a little? It doesn't say "Your grandma was known as the Silver-Haired Vixen!" It doesn't tell you stuff like that!"

"Well," I said, conceding the point.

"Anyway, it was just something fun to do and I had a discount code, and they were offering it through this survey thing...I do surveys and get paid."

"You get paid?" I asked.

"Uh-huh. They uh...even send me free stuff to try out."

"Like what?" I asked, wondering what free items she'd received and why I hadn't noticed any of them around the house. "Tape measure? A multi-tool?"

"No, uh...other things," she said. "Lady products."

"Oh, Jesus," I said. "Tampons and pads. Jesus. Okay. Sorry I asked."

Jennifer smiled then and continued quickly. "So, uh... they sent me the results and when I got them, they made a mistake on it, and put another person's name. So I emailed them and explained that they made a mistake, and they apologized and then they sent me more stuff and more, and then, I kinda got curious, and so I started snooping."

"You wanted to find out who this other person was," I said.

"Uh-huh. And then, I found her, and she...uh...she was in a pinch. She needed some help. So, I helped her."

"What kind of a pinch?" I asked, digging at the last staple.

"Nothing serious Daddy," Jennifer said, shaking her head. "She had to pay a ticket, and she had to-"

I yanked the last staple out and peeled the paper away from the photos underneath. The words on the bottom edge of one Polaroid-type photograph read: Jennifer and Mackenzie were here. I stared at it. Jennifer had her eyes closed. Mackenzie did too. Their lips were pressed together, not like I'd seen them recently, but close. They were having fun, smiling, kissing each other, living care-free. My eyes focused on a thin gold chain around Jennifer's throat, a gift from her grandmother, one she had lost last summer while on a weekend trip with her friends from work, and those who had been unfortunate enough to get stuck in town after they had graduated from high school.

"So, how long have you known Mack?" I asked, slowly turning around and coming to sit down next to Jennifer.

"Not long," she said, shrugging.

"Five days?" I said, shrugging right back. "Maybe six?"

"Yeah," Jennifer said.

"She was shoplifting at Dan's?" I asked.

"I, uh...think so," Jennifer said, and I could tell by the sound in her voice, that she knew the ruse was up.

I took another sip of coffee and handed her the picture. She looked at it, began to act like she didn't know who it was in the picture, and then closed her eyes and shook her head. I continued sipping, waiting for an explanation.

"I got a summons," Jennifer said. "I picked it up outta the mail one day."

"When?" I asked.

"Last year," she said, setting the picture down on the desk and shaking her head. "I tried so fucking hard to hide all this shit, and here is a fucking picture! Uuuugggghhhh!"

"So, tell me the truth," I said then. "And don't sugar coat it. At all."

Jennifer reached over and scratched between her breasts and then sat back up straight, leaned over, and started again, this time, telling me the truth.

"I got a summons to appear in court. My DNA was found at the scene of a crime. It was inconclusive, so, rather than come smash the front door in, they sent me a letter. I thought...well, I didn't know what to think. I uh...called Brody."

"You called Brody?"

"Well, he's a cop!" She said. "He said he'd help me out, and then when I showed up to court, there was a bunch of hub-ub, and then, uh...I don't know. It was kind of weird."

"What was weird?"

"The judge said this girl was guilty, even though she said she didn't do it. It was breaking and entering and stealing a bunch of stuff. Anyway, she was living in a halfway house. It's an assist-"

"I know what a halfway house is," I said. "I know where one is, too."

Jennifer looked slightly mortified but continued. "So, I uh...I felt sorry for her. I'd brought a bunch of money, just in case I had to bail myself out of jail cause, I didn't know if I was getting arrested or what. Brody told me not to worry but,-"

"You still worried."

"I was fucking scared," she admitted. "So, I uh, I went right up to her during a little recess, and I said, hey. I don't know you, but, uh...I don't think you did what they said you did. And she was like; I didn't do it! And I said, how much do you have to pay? And she said she had to pay a five hundred dollar fine."

"Five hundred dollars!" I said.

"And a thousand dollars restitution."

"Jesus fucking Christ Jennifer!"

"Seven-Fifty for court costs. A thousand, five hundred for her shitty ass public defender who insisted on getting paid since, he said, she was obviously guilty."

I shook my head, wondering where in the fucking name of Jesus H Christ O'Mighty, she'd gotten the money for all of that. I asked her, point blank.

"Oh, I uh... sent some pictures... sold some pictures."

"Oh don't tell me you whored yourself out too"

"No! No, no, it was pictures of my uh... lower half? Feet. Remember that nail polish phase I was going through a couple of years ago?"

"Yeah?" I asked.

"Well, turns out, there's this website...well, there used to be. It got shut down. But, you could post a little tiny picture on there, and for just a couple bucks, guys will buy the pictures, and you have to send them the life-size ones. Just uh... my feet, and my treat."

"And you made how much money doing this?" I asked.

"You don't wanna know," Jennifer said, shaking her head.

"No. I do. I wanna know how much you made, and how much you spent getting Mackenzie, or Michellet, whatever she called herself, out of jail."

"I uh...well, I fixed the transmission on the car," Jennifer said quickly.

"When?" I asked.

"Last summer. When I said I needed you to come pick me up from work 'cause I wasn't feeling good, and you dropped me off the next morning."

"You fixed the transmission?"

"And replaced the brakes. The rear suspension, got new carpeting, new seats, new sound system, took out the cassette deck and put in a new radio."

"Jennifer!" I said.

"I, uh...also took...care...I paid her rent," she said quickly as if she were ripping the bandage off a wound after the scab had grown into it.