Unseen

by Jana DeLeon

  Her gut and his repressed curiosity told her he hadn’t.

  He’d engaged her for longer than she’d expected he would if he’d had anything to do with Carla’s disappearance, and she sensed he was trying to get information out of her. If he’d killed Carla, she would have expected him to be defensive and strong-arm her out of the bar as soon as he knew why she was there. Probably threaten her.

  His build was right and the ordinary brown hair, and the coat would have prevented Madison from seeing the tattoos, so that worked. But if the killer had been wearing a snake, Madison definitely would have noticed that. No. Rattler didn’t feel like her guy, but she was reluctant to dismiss him altogether. Instead, she’d just put him in reserve and do some general poking around into the Gravediggers.

  But first, she’d check out the motel. The lack of solid leads was expected but a tiny bit disappointing. Some days she wished being a PI was like what you saw on television, where the clues just popped up in time for them to solve the case before the hour of airtime was up. But real life was rarely that way. Sure, sometimes you got lucky, but most of the time it was a long grind to figure out anything difficult.

  The Franklin Motel looked as she’d expected. It was two stories and had probably thirty rooms…the kind you could rent by anything from an hour to a month. A few cars that should probably have been totaled years ago were scattered across the lot in front of rooms. A late-model pickup truck that looked a bit better than the rest of the offerings was parked at the back of the parking lot in front of a single-story section of the building.

  The Vacancy light flashing in the window told her that was the place she needed to be, so she pulled through the lot and parked. An older, beefy guy glanced at her as she walked in the door, then looked back down at his paperwork scattered across the counter.

  “Got a good weekly special right now,” he said.

  “Thanks, but that’s not why I’m here.”

  He looked up at her, this time for long enough to get a good look, and his eyes widened. “You’re that Archer girl.”

  She nodded and extended her hand. “I’m Shaye.”

  “Ray,” he said as he shook. “Well, you sure as heck don’t need any rooms I’m offering, so I can’t imagine what I can do for you.”

  “I’m looking for a woman who stayed here sometimes, maybe recently. Her name is Carla Downing.”

  “Yeah, sure. I know Carla. She shows up every couple months for a week or so. Most of the time with a black eye, but she always seems to go back.”

  “Has she been here recently?”

  He nodded. “Checked in about three weeks ago. Paid a month in advance this time. Told me she was making some changes.”

  Shaye’s pulse quickened. The month wasn’t up. Was it possible that Carla was tucked into her motel room, nursing an injury? Maybe from Rattler or maybe from a john? It was an unfortunate and normal part of the job.

  “Is she still here?” Shaye asked.

  He frowned. “Far as I know, but I haven’t seen her for a while.”

  “Do you mind if I go check? I just need her room number.”

  “You’re not going to cause any trouble for her, are you? Carla’s got her issues but she’s not a bad person, and the kind of people I got staying here usually don’t want to be found.”

  “I’m not here to cause trouble. Exactly the opposite. I’m here because I’m afraid something happened to her. I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you more than that.”

  His eyes widened. “Shit. I haven’t seen her in days. Let me grab my keys.”

  “That would be great,” Shaye said, relieved that he was taking her seriously and wanted to check her room. She still held on to the tiniest sliver of hope that Carla would answer the door, but she didn’t really think that was going to be the case. At least she’d be able to check out Carla’s room with the manager. See if there was anything that indicated who she might have been with that night.

  Ray grabbed a set of keys from a drawer and hurried around the counter. “Her room is at the end of the motel. That’s why I didn’t see her often. Well, that and our work schedules aren’t exactly the same, if you know what I mean.”

  “Did she ever bring clients to the motel?”

  “Ha. Clients. That’s rich. Bunch of scumbags taking advantage if you ask me, but I guess the women don’t feel like they have many options. I never saw Carla with a man, but then it’s not good business to take ‘clients’ to where you stay.”

  “No, I suppose it’s not.”

  “This is the one,” he said, and pointed to the door. He knocked and they waited several seconds, but no sound came from inside. He knocked again. “Carla, it’s Ray. If you’re in there, I need to talk to you for just a sec. It’s important.”

  Nothing.

  He gave Shaye a worried look and shoved the key in the door. Given the type of establishment he ran, she knew the thoughts running through his head. Ray had probably seen more than one dead body, and he was hoping he didn’t add another to that list today.

  “Carla?” he called out as he opened the door and stepped inside.

  It was a small room with only the bed, nightstand, and dresser with an old console television on top of it. Folding doors were on the opposite side of the bed, probably housing a closet, and there was a door at the back of the room that Shaye assumed was the bathroom. Ray looked at the door and hesitated a second before heading that direction. He poked his head inside the doorway, then let out a relieved sigh.

  “There’s no one here,” he said as he turned back around and looked at the room again. “In fact, it doesn’t look like anyone’s been here recently. Usually when Carla’s been here for a while there’s pizza boxes and Chinese food containers all over the place.”

  “Do you have housekeeping?”

  “Sure, but on the weekly and monthly rentals, it’s just once-a-week cleaning.”

  “When would they have cleaned here last?”

  He rubbed his chin. “Saturday.”

  “So that’s four days, at least, that she hasn’t been back to her room.”

  “Something must have happened, right?” Ray now sounded as worried as he looked. “Carla knew I’d refund her if she left early. I’ve done it before.”

  Shaye pulled open the closet and pointed. “Even if she’d gone back to her boyfriend, she would have taken her things. Her clothes are still here and I’m going to guess you saw personal items in the bathroom.”

  He nodded.

  “Then we have to assume that she meant to come back and didn’t. You said you’ve never seen Carla with a man?”

  “No, but like I said, our paths didn’t really cross much outside of her paying up rent. And sometimes if I had to cover the night shift I’d see her leaving.”

  “Do you have a regular night manager?”

  “Got two. One that covers from nine p.m. to five a.m. Sunday through Thursday and a weekender.”

  “I’d like to come back and talk to both of them if that’s all right.”

  “Sure. You think they might have seen something?”

  “I hope so, because I’m running out of places to look.”

  He frowned. “It’s hard to find out things with these sort of people. They’re, uh, transient. Don’t make friends easy and don’t trust no one. Apt to disappear at the drop of a hat. Maybe you see them again. Mostly you never do.”

  Something about his tone led Shaye to believe that Ray was speaking from personal experience rather than just generally. “Sounds like something you’ve dealt with before.”

  “Yeah, my mother wasn’t exactly reliable. Drugs, you know? And men. She cut out for the last time when I was ten. I haven’t seen or heard from her since.”

  “I’m sorry. That must have been rough.”

  He shrugged. “Had a girlfriend way back when who started down that road. I cut her loose right quick. No interest in reliving the worst part of my childhood as an adult.”

  “I can appreciate that.”r />
  “My pops was decent, though. He didn’t know nothing about taking care of a kid and he was hard as nails, but he did his best. My life isn’t grand, but I’ve never used and I’ve always had a job and a place to live. Bought this place right after Katrina. It’s not fancy, but it’s a living. I figure we’ve all got our cross to bear. You more than most. It’s what we do after all that’s been done to us that matters.”

  Shaye smiled. “Yes, it is. Thank you, Ray. You’ve been a big help. Do you mind if I poke around in Carla’s things? You’re welcome to watch.”

  “Nah,” he said, and handed her the room key. “Just lock it when you leave and drop the key back at the office in the mail slot. I’ve got to run to the post office. If you find out something, will you let me know?”

  “Of course, and thanks again.”

  He gave her a nod and headed out of the room. Shaye went through the room as she had Mitzi’s, checking everywhere for Carla’s hidden stash. She found it in an envelope taped to the back of the dresser. No drugs, but it held six hundred dollars cash.

  Once again, even if Carla decided to ditch the clothes and buy a new toothbrush, she wouldn’t have left the cash behind. There were only two reasons why the money was still here and Carla hadn’t been back to collect it—she was scared to or she was unable.

  Unfortunately, Shaye was betting on unable. And in the worst way possible.

  He waited next to a lamppost outside the building, watching the doors for Madison to exit. He was fairly certain he hadn’t been in the store long enough to miss her but for all he knew, she might take another exit. Or she might go into the parking lot behind the building with someone else and leave that way. It had been an hour since she’d gone inside. He’d give it another thirty minutes, then he’d switch to plan B and wait down the block from her building to avoid the risk of being seen by the security guards who worked there. Madison would definitely report what happened today, and they’d be on the lookout for anyone loitering.

  Another twenty minutes passed, and he was about to call it quits when he saw her rush out. He hurried away from the lamppost just as a car with an Uber sticker pulled up to the curb. Madison was practically running down the steps as he rushed forward, then turned his head at the last minute and crashed into her.

  “Oh,” he said, putting his hands on her arm to steady himself. “I’m so sorry. That’s totally my fault.”

  She looked at him, her expression troubled but no different from when she’d exited the building. “That’s okay,” she said, and hurried to the car. She jumped inside without so much as a backward glance. He watched as the car drove away, his smile growing larger the farther it went.

  Unbelievable.

  He’d done his research and knew that the disorder she claimed to have was a real thing, but he hadn’t really believed it was possible. What a delight to find out it not only existed but that she had it. And not a mild case of it, either. She’d looked straight at him and hadn’t known he was the same person who’d taunted her earlier. All because he’d changed his clothes.

  It was fate.

  He’d spent his entire life being invisible—to his mother, to society—and now he’d met someone to whom the entire world was invisible. She was meant for him.

  And she would be his finest work.

  13

  Madison clenched her hands as the blocks slowly went by. It seemed as if she’d never get home. The traffic, the people…all clogging up the Quarter and driving her blood pressure up another level.

  She’d managed to stay calm and focused for the meeting, and for that, she was grateful. All her years of managing her disorder and she’d never wanted drugs, but today, she would have traded a year’s salary for a Xanax.

  What was she going to do?

  Sure, she could lock herself in her apartment for the rest of the day, and the next day and the next, but she couldn’t stay there forever. Her job required weekly meetings, and she couldn’t afford to piss off clients and get a bad reputation. Right now, she was working strictly by referral and that was a great thing. If she had to do a big sales pitch for every assignment, it would mean all kinds of hurdles that she had been lucky enough to avoid since her first year hunting for clients. She had a bit of a name in the tech community, and it was a good one. The last thing she wanted to do was damage it.

  No, that wasn’t exactly true. The last thing she wanted to do was die.

  When she put it in perspective, her career didn’t seem as important. She could always relocate, but the thought of doing all of this over again was so overwhelming she didn’t even know where to begin. Tears spilled out of the corner of her eyes, and she struggled not to cry. Just a few more minutes and she’d be home. She could collapse on the couch and wail to her heart’s content.

  “Here you are,” the driver’s voice cut into her thoughts. “Sorry it took so long. Streets are crowded.”

  “No problem. Merry Christmas,” she said and jumped out of the car.

  She practically ran into the building and Wanda looked up in surprise as she hurried across the lobby.

  “Are you all right, Ms. Avery?” Wanda asked.

  “I’m not feeling well,” Madison replied, looking down at the floor so that Wanda couldn’t get a good look at her face.

  “I’m sorry. Let me know if you need anything.”

  “Yes. I will. Thanks.” Madison barely slowed as she crossed the lobby and hurried for the elevator. She bolted inside as soon as the door opened, almost knocking over a woman in a dress and high heels.

  “Hey,” the woman said as she stepped out of the elevator and turned around to glare at Madison.

  “I’m sorry,” Madison said. “I have to get home.”

  The woman was still standing there frowning as the door closed, and Madison pressed the button over and over, begging the elevator to pick up speed. Everything seemed to be running in slow motion—the car, the elevator. When the door opened on her floor, she sprinted down the hall and punched in her door code, barely waiting for the click before shoving the door open and barreling inside.

  She whirled around and slammed the door shut, then drew the dead bolt into place. She dropped her purse and laptop bag next to the door and ran for the kitchen, her hands shaking as she poured herself a shot of the whiskey she’d received as a gift from a client, but had never tried. She hoped it was as good as he’d claimed.

  The liquid burned going down her throat and her eyes watered, but she took a second gulp, then set the glass down and clutched the cabinets to keep from swaying. If she didn’t calm down, she was going to pass out. Closing her eyes, she drew in a deep breath and slowly let it out, then repeated the process again. She opened her eyes and poured another bit of whiskey, this time sipping it rather than taking it in gulps.

  Her body started to warm, and her heart rate slowed as the alcohol moved into her system. She waited until her hands were almost steady again, then pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and sat on a barstool at her kitchen island. She’d loaded Shaye’s number as first in her favorites so she could dial it quickly if she needed to. Hoping, of course, that she never needed to.

  Her hands still shook a bit as she went to lift the phone, so she placed it on the counter and hit the Speaker option instead. It was going to be hard enough to explain to Shaye what happened without rambling incoherently. Holding the phone meant focusing on her hands and her voice, and right now, she didn’t think she had the capacity to do both of those at the same time.

  When Shaye answered, all her emotions started to bubble over.

  “It’s Madison,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

  “Are you okay?”

  “No. I’m so not okay.”

  She took a deep breath and blurted out everything that had happened, her voice increasing in speed and volume as she talked until at the end, she was practically shouting.

  “I don’t know what to do,” Madison said, choking on the last couple words.

 
“Take a deep breath and try to calm down,” Shaye said. “I know it’s hard, but do your best. I’ll be there in ten minutes. Okay?”

  A tiny bit of relief trickled through her, and she nodded before remembering that Shaye couldn’t see her. “Thank you so much. I didn’t know what to do.”

  “Don’t worry about that. We’ll figure it out when I get there. Just stay put and focus on your breathing. I’ll be there soon.”

  The call disconnected, and Madison lifted the whiskey again and took another sip. The help it had provided before had disappeared completely during the phone call as fear took over, but now that she was concentrating on breathing again, she could feel her stiff muscles loosening ever so slightly. She checked her phone. Nine more minutes until Shaye got there. Nine more minutes for her to hold things together before dumping all of her problems onto a woman who was essentially a stranger and then asking her to solve them.

  Nine more minutes to convince herself that there was even a solution.

  Jackson waited until they’d finished with the fisherman and were back in the car before filling Grayson in on who he thought the victim was and how it all tied into Shaye’s latest case.

  “You gotta be kidding me.” Detective Grayson stared at Jackson, clearly irritated.

  “You don’t know how badly I wish I were,” Jackson said.

  Grayson sighed. “Yeah, I suppose you do. The brass is going to have a shit hemorrhage.”

  “The brass is going to have to figure out a way to deal. The bottom line is that as long as Shaye pursues cases that we refuse, we’re going to keep crossing paths when things escalate. And trust me, she has no intention of giving up her work. The brass can be as pissed as they want to be, but they can’t stop her from doing the job clients hire her to do.”

  “No, but they can make things damned impossible for you, which makes things damned impossible for me.”

  “I’m sorry about the position it puts you in. I’ve been thinking about that a lot, and if you want to request another partner, I would understand. Completely.”