I can’t decide if revealing my hand is the best idea but I’m not willing to wait it out much longer.
“His name is Hunter O’Reilly. He says he’s here about a Jessica Callahan.” She pauses and nods to the phone. “Right, sure.” Placing the phone down, she motions to some hard-looking, but highly stylish plastic chairs. “Take a seat, he’ll be down in a moment.”
I don’t have to wait long. The elevator doors slide open and out steps Peter. I can tell it’s him. He walks with an arrogant air—matching my mental picture perfectly. His blond hair is cut into an expensive style, one that probably take him a good fifteen minutes to style each morning and he flashes a charming smile. I recognize that smile—I use it myself—but there’s something innately dangerous behind it. Perhaps something that only a guy could recognize. I can see why Jess fell for him, I realize bitterly.
Pete offers his hand and I stand, drawing myself to my full height. I’m a few inches taller than him and plan to use it to my advantage.
“Hi, I’m Peter Marshall. Jules said you were asking about Jessica?”
I shake his hand. “Yeah, I’m from O’Reilly Investigations. I was hoping I could ask you a few questions. Is there anywhere we can talk?”
“What’s happened? Has she done something stupid? Illegal perhaps?”
His eagerness grates against my nerves but at least it should be easy to get him to talk. “I need to ask you a few questions about her, if you don’t mind.
“Sure, we can talk in one of the conference rooms. Jules, is room two free?” he calls over to the receptionist who nods unenthusiastically. “Follow me.”
He leads me into a plain room, only big enough for eight people. Peter opens the blind and motions to one of the chairs. “Take a seat.”
I sit, trying to crush the idea that we’re alone and if I don’t like his answers I might even get away with beating the shit out of him. He sits opposite. The large grey table is wide so I’d have to jump over it to get at him but he’s put me between him and the door. Idiot. I mask a smirk. Peter is charm itself at the moment but I bet that would change if he realized what I was thinking.
“So how can I help? I’ll admit I didn’t think I’d hear that name again.”
“You dated right?”
“Yeah, we lived together for a while.”
“What happened?”
“Can I ask what’s going on? Is she in trouble?”
“You could say that. She’s gone missing.” The lie slips out easily enough to this guy.
“Shit, I didn’t know that.”
“You didn’t know that she disappeared after you split?”
“Well, I knew she quit her job but I didn’t know she’d just gone. I figured she got another job and we didn’t end on good terms, so I didn’t really think anything of it.”
“So why did you split up?”
He leans back in his chair and rubs a hand across his mouth. “I found out something about her… let’s just say I didn’t like that I’d been lied to.”
“What was she lying about?”
“A lot of stuff, man. I mean, I thought she was this sweet waitress. But she had a past. I had no idea.”
“Peter, I’ve no idea what happened between you but she’s missing and could be in danger. I need to find her. You need to tell me everything.”
I hear him grinding his teeth but there’s calculation in his eyes, like he’s figuring out how much enjoyment he can get out of telling me his story. “Okay, so here it is. Jessica—the golden girl—was a porn star.”
My heart slams to a stop and I fight the urge to laugh. “What?”
“Yeah, I know, right? I’m assuming you’ve seen a picture of her. Cute, innocent looking. Turned out she was no better than a whore.”
That word makes me curl my hand around the arm of my chair but I somehow regulate my breaths and keep my face expressionless. I still need answers. Surely that can’t be right?”
“How do you know this?”
“Look I watched porn okay? What guy doesn’t? You can imagine the surprise I had when I saw my girlfriend being banged by some guy on the internet. I confronted her and she admitted it. Said she’d been desperate and had only done a few videos—as if that made it better. I had ambitions and I couldn’t have a girlfriend like that.
My mind reels at the mental images his words produce. Jess—my Jess—fucking strange guys in front of cameras. It doesn’t compute, yet it works. Her work record is empty between running away from home and working at The Bell. Still, to go into porn? She just doesn’t seem the type.
“It was definitely her?” I ask again.
“For sure. She didn’t even try to deny it. Said she regretted it. That’s all very well but it was on the internet for everyone to see—under some God-awful name. Trinity Sparks, I think.”
“So,” my voice is strained, “you split after that?”
“Yeah. I don’t know where she went but I told her I wanted nothing more to do with her.”