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was white, clean shaven, dressed in nice Khakis and a polo shirt. He could’ve been a dentist, an accountant, or any number of respectable, white collar professions. Sunglasses shielded his eyes from the afternoon sun.
    The girl looked so tiny standing next to him. He angled in close as he spoke, trying to crowd her but she stood her ground, chin stuck out with youthful defiance. From her stance, her body turned slightly, feet poised for action, I could tell she was debating whether to run but trying not to show it.
    The guy moved closer still and draped his arm around her shoulder. Pulling her toward him in a rough embrace, he kissed her full on the mouth. The girl wriggled out of his grasp, balled up two small fists and punched him in the gut, knocking his sunglasses off in the process.
    A couple of skeevy looking guys stood about fifty yards from them, drinking from a shared flask. They glanced up in mild interest as, suddenly, Mr. White Collar Professional caught her by her ponytail and slapped her hard across the face.
    I slammed on the brakes, grabbed my pepper spray and jumped out of the car. By now he was punching her repeatedly over her head and neck. The girl fought back, screaming obscenities and kicking out with her feet, her arms flailing around in his general direction.
    He was so busy punching the life out of this kid he never even saw me coming. I jumped onto his back and grabbed him by his hundred dollar haircut. “Let her go, you son of a bitch!” He spun his head to look at me and I caught him full in the face with the pepper spray.
    It must’ve stung like crazy. Screaming, he clutched frantically at his eyes and began running haphazardly down the block. I fell off his back and rolled about three feet, landing on my ankle. Crap! If it wasn’t broken it would be a pleasant surprise. As I struggled to stand, I watched the guy stagger blindly around the corner and out of sight.
    The girl sat in a heap, holding her head in her hands. Her nose was bleeding and her face was starting to swell. I stood on shaky legs and limped over to her. Quickly she swiped her nose with the back of her hand, leaving streaks of blood across her cheek.
    “It’s going to be okay,” I said, gently. “The cops will catch the bastard. I’m just going to give them a call now.”
    She gazed up at me, her pale blue eyes wet with unshed tears. “Fuck you bitch! Who the fuck told you to get up in my fuckin’ business!”
    “Um… you’re… welcome?”

Chapter Three
     
    She shot me the same look I gave a cockroach I once found in my breakfast cereal. “You call the cops and I’ll find you and fuckin’mess you up.”
    I totally believed her.
    She stood up and shoved past me and I watched her stomp off down the street. Then I got out my cell phone to call the police. “She’s just a kid,” I reasoned. “I can’t allow that creep to roam the streets… maybe come after her again or some other unsuspecting girl.” And then I remembered Bobby’s words. To a street kid cops are the enemy, so, against my better judgment, I put my phone back in my pocket. I knew I’d catch hell from DiCarlo, but this kid was beaten up once already today. She didn’t need me to screw her over too.
    My ankle was throbbing and starting to be too tight for my tennis shoe. Not a good sign. I wanted to take my shoe off, but I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to get it back on again. I climbed back into my car, rolled up the window and locked it. Now that the adrenalin rush had passed, I was shaking so hard I thought I’d throw up. I waited a minute for the feeling to pass and then I started the engine. I had to go find that kid.
    She hadn’t gotten far. I found her rooting through a trash bin outside a coffee shop. I parked a few doors down and watched her as she entered the restaurant. I figured she might need a few minutes to cool off, which seemed especially prudent given our recent conversation, so I sat in the car and called John. When he