The basement room was cool. There was an air conditioner in the window near the ceiling. Sister Mary John was wearing cutoff jeans and a tank top.
When Jesse came in, he said, "Jesse Stone."
"I remember," Sister said.
"You have something helpful? About Billie Bishop?"
"I don't know. Most of the girls that we have here come and go without a trace. We have a first name, or a nickname, and no last name, and no address. They are not required to tell us any more about themselves than they wish to. Our rules are simple. No drugs. No alcohol. No sex partners."
"Sex partners?"
Sister smiled.
"Some years ago one of the girls was using the shelter as a place to ply her trade. We cannot allow a bordello to operate under our auspices, so we added a 'no men' rule."
"And things changed, so in the interests of sexual equality…" Jesse said.
"You understand," Sister said.
"I do. We now call our people police officers."
"It is good to be current," Sister said.
"It is," Jesse said. "Billie Bishop?"
"Some of the girls, like Billie, when they depart, leave us a phone number or forwarding address. It occurred to me that if I went through our file of those, I might find a pattern."
Sister paused. Jesse waited.
"And I believe I have," Sister said.
"Sister, social worker, counselor, sleuth," Jesse said.
"A renaissance nun," Sister said. "There were, in the past five years, fifteen girls who left us a phone number or address. There was no correlation among the addresses, but in the last year two of them left the same phone number."
"Did they leave here at the same time?" Jesse said.
"No. They left about six months apart."
"Did they overlap?"
"You mean were they here at the same time? No."
"Did you call the number?"
"I did."
"And?"
"It is no longer in service."
"But you have written it down for me."
"Yes."
Sister handed Jesse a piece of blue-lined notepaper with a phone number written on it in a very smooth and graceful hand.
"In this area code?" Jesse said.
"Yes."
Jesse took the notepaper and folded it and tucked it into his right hip pocket.
"Can you find out who had that number?" Sister said.
"Yes."
"Do you think it will be helpful?"
"We'll see," Jesse said. "Do you have anything else?"
"No. I'm sorry."
"No need to be sorry, Sister. You do good work."
"God's work," she said.
It was odd to hear her talk that way, Jesse thought. Even though he called her Sister, he didn't think of her, in her tank top and shorts and ornate Nike running shoes, as religious.
"He's lucky to have you," Jesse said.