“Fuck you,” Carter responded.
Deflecting the comment, Bowman said, “If I were you, I’d get in that trailer and start driving. In about thirty minutes, this won’t be a safe place for you anymore.”
Darla chewed her bottom lip. “I do know a girl named Cassie, but I didn’t sell her to nobody. She drove off with a guy named Lenny. Tony was cool with it.”
“Tony’s not going to be cool when she doesn’t come back.”
“I don’t know anything about when she’s getting back.”
“What’s his last name?” Riley asked.
“I don’t ask for last names,” Darla said.
“Shut up,” Carter said.
“Why did he want her?” Riley asked.
“The usual, I guess.” Darla shook her head. “Tell Tony he needs to find Lenny.”
“I’ll bet it’s easier for Tony to find you,” Riley said.
Carter cursed, flicking his cigarette to the dirt and crushing it with his boot.
“Did you dye her hair?” Riley asked.
“Yeah. Lenny said he liked dark hair.”
“It ain’t Darla’s fault you got a missing hooker,” Carter said. “And for all you know, she’ll stumble back into town any minute with cash in her pocket.”
Riley reached for her phone and took a picture of the two. “Texting Tony your location now. Nice picture, by the way.”
Carter cursed as he pushed Darla inside and slammed the door. Seconds later the engine roared to life and rumbled from the tired lot.
After they drove off, Riley opened the back door of her SUV and watched as Cooper jumped inside. “Thanks. I wish the trip had been more productive.”
Bowman grimaced. “This case has been full of blind alleys.”
She shook her head. “You sound old when you say it that way.”
“I do feel old right now.”
“How old are you?”
“Thirty-nine.”
“When I get to be your age, I hope I’m more optimistic.”
Her wisecrack coaxed a grin as he slowly shook his head. “Right.”
She shifted to an uncomfortable subject. “When will your people know anything about the video?”
“In a day or two.”
The idea of a whole bunch of strangers watching her like that stoked her shame.
As if reading her thoughts he said, “Remember, we’re private security. We don’t share information.”
“Still, more people in the loop.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong.”
The thought that anyone would pity her like she pitied Sandy or Cassie sickened her. “And you think that logic is going to wash away the emotion? The lone detail that separates me from Vicky and the others is a winning hand of cards.”
“You’re the lucky one.”
“Right.”
Despite a dozen years, the Shark could still play back the video of that last girl and feel the bitter disappointment of losing her. By the final round of games that year, he’d been on such a winning streak that he never considered losing as a possibility. The old man believed he was invincible and didn’t need Lady Luck. He would play and kill for as long as he wanted. And then, the other player laid down his winning hand of cards. The odds of a royal flush were so distant that he thought at first it was a trick of his mind or cheating. But he regulated the cards and the games carefully and knew the other player hadn’t cheated. Lady Luck had allowed him to rise to the top, and then she sent him crashing to the earth with the turn of a few cards.
The other player, instead of looking elated, was clearly relieved.
The Shark raised a trembling hand to his gray hair and, nodding, said, “The girl lives.”
He could have killed them both. He had the power. No one would have known. But the rules were the rules. Lady Luck determined which girls he could kill and which he could not. And if a man didn’t honor his personal creed, what was he worth? So the girl and the gambler left.
Days after their release, he returned to the tables in a legal casino, determined to test his luck and Lady Luck’s devotion. But when he sat at the table, he was on edge, thinking and rethinking every hand, actually fearful he would lose again. He folded the hand. Walked away. The next game was the same. And the next.
He’d lost his edge.
Lady Luck had turned her back on him.
Then the docs told him that his heart had turned to shit. They told him to give up his cigars and the booze and maybe he’d have a few crappy years of watching his strength fade away.
But the craving to kill burned inside him just as it had when he was a young man, and he was determined to savor these last games. Now that his days on this earth were dwindling, he had nothing really to lose and everything to gain.
The Shark sat back in his chair, staring at the lights of the city below. He’d lived most of his childhood on the streets, fighting and scrapping for every bite of bread. The streets had pounded him, bloodied him, and done their best to destroy him, but he had climbed up out of the hole.
He’d muscled his way out of so many scrapes, but he wouldn’t escape death. It was coming. But he’d be damned if he’d waste away in a chair, cowering. He’d spent too many years living on the edge, risking and winning.
It wasn’t enough to play more games and kill more women. He needed more risk. That’s why he’d sent Riley the video. He knew she’d take it to Shield or the cops and that the search for him would intensify. His heartbeat jacked up a notch.
The first two girls were little more than bread crumbs in a trail that would lead Riley to him. Now it was Lenny’s turn to play his last part.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Monday, September 19, 9:00 a.m.
Riley pushed through the front doors of the hospital, tensing the moment the antiseptic smell hit her nose. She’d been to the emergency room enough times to take statements from victims. Eight years on the force should have made it easier, but it didn’t. The smells of the hospital always reminded her of her mother’s last days and the long, difficult visits she and her stepfather had made to her bedside.
“Please, Mom, don’t leave me,” she whispered once in her mother’s ear. “Don’t leave me alone with him. Fight for your life.”
But her mother simply smiled and brushed the hair from her eyes. “You’ll be fine. He’s a good man.”
“He’s not good. He’s sick.”
Her mother closed her eyes. “You’re wrong about him.”
Riley rode the elevator to the seventh floor and paused at the nurses’ station to show her badge. “I’m here to see Jo-Jo. How’s she doing?”
“Awake, but moving slow. She was watching television a few minutes ago.”
“Thanks,” Riley said. “Do you have any update on her family?”
“No. She gave us a number, but no one answered. I’m not sure it’s legit. She’s barely said a dozen words.”
“Okay.” Down the hallway, she pushed into the room to find the girl sitting in her bed, remote in one hand, a cast on the other. She stared at the television, switching channels as if nothing really mattered. The plate of food was at least half-eaten. A good sign.