by Janie Crouch
There were two boxes full of stuff—notes passed in high school, a yearbook, pressed flowers from dances, a few stuffed animals and other knickknacks. Obviously items Jillian cared too much about to give away, although none of it held any value. Andrea picked up the yearbook and began looking through it.
“She graduated four years ago. She’s from Oklahoma City.” She held out the page that showed Jillian’s senior high school picture.
Young, smiling, very much alive.
“That gives us something to go on.” Brandon took a picture of the picture with his phone. “She looks different now, but we can still use this picture when questioning people.”
“Maybe she has a family.” Andrea’s face was pinched.
“Maybe. Kendrick will definitely start inquiring there.”
After they finished with the apartment, they hit a fast-food place for a very late lunch. As they were finishing, Kendrick called to say the Phoenix coroner was almost ready to go over the body with them if Brandon wanted to attend in case he had any questions. Brandon agreed.
At his words, the heaviness that had befallen Andrea since the discovery of the body seemed to lift a little.
“Um, I don’t think I’m up to seeing a dead body twice in one day,” she said. “What if we split up? You can head into Phoenix. I’ll walk up to Jaguar’s—it’s only a few blocks from here—and start interviewing the girls as they come in for work.”
Brandon nodded. “Yeah, that’s a good idea.” He trusted Andrea’s ability. At the very least she could narrow down who they should talk to more. “They’re probably more willing to talk openly with you.”
She paled. “Why do you say that?”
Brandon tilted his head to look at her. Why was she reacting so strongly to his statement? “Because you’re a woman. You’re young. I would think you pose much less of a threat to them.”
Andrea smiled, but it didn’t reach anywhere near her eyes. “Yeah, absolutely. Good thinking.”
Brandon stood. “Okay, I’ll text you when I finish at the coroner’s office and we can touch base.”
They both walked out the door. “I’ll just give you a ride, okay? No need for you to walk. The extra two minutes won’t make any difference to Kendrick.” There was no rush. A dead body wasn’t going anywhere.
She tensed for just a second before shrugging. “Sure. Thanks.”
Brandon drove the few blocks to the gentlemen’s club, gentlemen being quite a loose term in this situation. At night he was sure it didn’t look quite so run-down and cheap. But right now it just looked like a warehouse that nobody cared about. He felt bad that Jillian had worked here. Felt bad for any women who worked here.
Andrea was staring at the building with as much contempt as he was. Her lips were pale with tightness and her hands pressed against her stomach. For a moment he thought she wasn’t going to get out of the car.
“I’m sure the front door isn’t open yet. I’ll go around to the side. Text me when you’re done, and we’ll make a plan like you said.” Her voice was tight. She didn’t look at him.
She was out of the car before he could check that she was all right. She stopped a few feet away, then turned and waved, giving him a slight smile.
Obviously code for: I’m okay. I can handle this.
Brandon pulled around and out of the parking lot. Four days ago he wouldn’t have left her here alone. Wouldn’t have trusted that she could do the job. Wouldn’t have believed she wouldn’t miss something. It was that knowledge that kept him driving toward Phoenix. He needed to show he trusted her professional abilities.
But everything in his mind insisted this situation was wrong. That he was missing something obvious. Andrea hadn’t been okay all day since they’d arrived at the crime scene.
No, actually, she seemed to have done okay with that, too. It was not until he had told Andrea the dead girl’s name that she’d totally withdrawn into herself. Had she known the woman? Her statement about Jillian moving into town after Andrea had left still struck Brandon as odd.
But Andrea had been right, according to the girl’s yearbook. Jillian had obviously been in Oklahoma City four years ago, and that was when Steve had brought Andrea to Omega.
So she didn’t know the girl.
Then what was the cause of Andrea’s reaction? Her continued reaction all day, because she certainly hadn’t bounced out of it. It had only gotten worse.
Brandon tried to think of exactly what he’d said when he told Andrea the victim’s name. As he figured it out, he cursed. Violently.
Andrea hadn’t been reacting to Jillian’s name. She’d been reacting to the other information he’d given her: Jillian’s place of employment.
Jaguar’s.
He spun the car around at the first available safe place on the road. He put his phone on speaker and dialed Kendrick.
“This is Lance Kendrick.”
“Lance, this is Brandon Han. I have some stuff I’m looking into and will need to miss the meeting with the coroner.”
“No problem. I don’t think there’s anything much different than the other women. I’ll email you his full report.”
“Thanks.”
“You need help with your lead?”
“No. I’ll let you know if we find anything. Andrea and I are headed to Jaguar’s now to interview Jillian’s coworkers.”
“We’ll keep each other posted, then.”
“Absolutely.” Brandon ended the call. Right now he just wanted to get back to Andrea. To figure out what was going on there. Fifteen minutes after he’d left her—pale and tense—in the parking lot at Jaguar’s, he pulled back in.
She’d known there was a side door and where it was.
Brandon cleared his mind from every thought. He didn’t want to come to the natural conclusion Andrea’s actions pointed toward. He walked toward the side door she’d mentioned and entered the building once he found the door propped open. He stood back in the shadows, close enough to hear but not easily be seen.
There was Andrea, surrounded by four different women, all of them crying and hugging her. They all talked over each other, about Jillian’s death, the state of the club, how much they’d missed Andrea and how mad they were that she’d just left without telling anyone.
Brandon couldn’t force the thoughts away any longer, his brain turned back on full force.
Andrea had been a stripper at Jaguar’s.
Chapter Nine
Walking back into Jaguar’s had been the most difficult thing Andrea had ever done. She was thankful Brandon hadn’t been here to witness it because there was no way she’d be able to explain the terror that swamped her as she made her way to the side door from the parking lot.
How many times had she come through the door in the late afternoon just like this? Her apartment had been only a few blocks away, so she had walked most of the time, a bag full of skimpy outfits, wigs and makeup thrown over her shoulder.
The eighteen months she had worked at Jaguar’s had been some of the worst of her entire life. She had hated every second of it. But after being attacked while living out of her car when she couldn’t afford anything else from what she made working at a gas station, Andrea had decided her safety was worth more than her pride.
Working here had at least gotten her off the streets.
She hadn’t expected anyone to remember her when she came back, or perhaps they would just be able to vaguely place her. After all, she’d pretty much kept to herself here, too. The instant recognition and warm greetings—hugs, in fact, from three girls—had definitely not been expected. A fourth girl, who didn’t even know Andrea, didn’t want to be left out and jumped into the fray.
At first they’d just held on to her and cried. They’d heard about Jillian’s death and were sad, scared. Then they
’d had questions. They all, just as Andrea remembered—one of the few fond memories she had of this place—talked over each other.
“You just left without saying goodbye.”
“Oh my gosh, you look so fancy. Like a lawyer or something. Gorgeous.”
“Do the cops know who killed Jillian?”
“You’re not coming back to work here, right?”
Andrea tried to answer the questions as best she could when they were being fired so rapidly she couldn’t figure out who was asking what.
“I work as a consultant for a law-enforcement agency called Omega Sector. We’re looking into Jillian’s death with the local police.”
“You were always too smart to work here.” That was Lily. Andrea remembered her. She was kind, sort of scatterbrained.
Andrea shrugged. “I don’t know about that. I didn’t even graduate from high school. Dropped out.”
“You may not have been book smart, but you definitely had an awareness of people. Could tell what they were thinking and feeling. Downright spooky sometimes. I’m not surprised the cops scooped you up to work for them.”
That was Keira. She wasn’t in the hugging/crying circle, didn’t have time for that sort of nonsense. She was two years older than Andrea and had been the closest thing Andrea had had to a true friend while working here.
Keira may have been the closest thing Andrea had had to a friend, ever.
Andrea removed herself from the circle of women and walked over to Keira.
“Hey,” Andrea said softly. “I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye all those years—”
She was shocked as Keira pulled her in for a tight hug. “Don’t apologize for taking your chance to jump this ship,” she whispered in Andrea’s ear. “If you had come back after having a chance to get out, I would’ve kicked your ass.”
Keira grabbed Andrea by the forearms and pushed her back. “Let me look at you. You cleaned up exactly like I imagined you would.” She put her forehead against Andrea’s. “I’m so proud of you. So happy for you.”
“Thanks, Kee. I have a great job.”
“And a man who cares a great deal about you.”
Andrea laughed. “Um, no. Unfortunately, the job didn’t come with that accessory.”
“You sure about that? Because there’s one tall drink of water over there who can’t keep his eyes off you. And his suit says law enforcement, too.” Keira gestured toward the side door with her chin.
Andrea felt her stomach lurch and swallowed rapidly. Brandon was here?
“He’s just a man, honey. Don’t forget that. Ultimately, we hold the power,” Keira whispered in her ear before turning to the other girls. “Ladies, I’d like to see you at the bar so we can go over tonight’s set. You can talk to Andrea later.”
The women murmured disappointment, but followed Keira over to the bar. Andrea finally forced herself to turn around. When her worst fears were confirmed, she closed her eyes.
Brandon stood, the shadows from the doorway casting a bleak hue over his already-dark features. There could be no doubt in his mind that Andrea used to be employed here. There was no other possible interpretation of what had just happened with the girls.
“Andrea.”
She opened her eyes, surprised to hear him directly in front of her now. Almost within touching distance.
But not quite.
“You should’ve told me.”
What could she say to that? She just shrugged.
“I thought you were going to Phoenix.”
“Kendrick is going to email me the info instead. I had a feeling there would be more action back here.”
Andrea gave a short bark of laughter that held no amusement whatsoever. “You definitely got that right.”
“How is it even possible you worked here four years ago? I’m not licensed to practice law in Arizona, but I imagine the legal age has to be twenty-one.”
Not licensed to practice in Arizona? That meant he had to be licensed to practice in some other state. Plus two PhDs? Andrea rubbed her eyes tiredly with her hand.
“I had a fake ID. You could dance at eighteen, but couldn’t serve drinks. I soon discovered I could make a lot more money if I waited tables between my dances. The owner wasn’t one to look too closely at the IDs we showed him.”
Brandon’s lips pursed. Disapproval all but radiated off him. Andrea wrapped her arms around her waist. She couldn’t blame him for disapproving. She should’ve just told him everything up front last night. At least now he understood why she really could never be part of the Omega team.
She’d always known eventually someone would find out about this. She looked around the club, the deep bucket seats around the tables where girls gave individual dances, the stage shaped like a T with three poles. With all the lights on there was nothing sexy about it. Just coldness, hardness, crassness.
Yeah, she’d always known eventually someone would find out about this—the truth Steve Drackett and Grace Parker had always refused to see—and would know Andrea wasn’t meant to be part of Omega Sector.
It looked as though Brandon Han had just become that person.
* * *
ANDREA LOOKED AS if she might shatter into a million pieces at the slightest touch.
He wanted to wrap his arms around her, to hold her, to assure her that everything would be okay. But the tension in her body language suggested she would reject the physical contact. So he took one step closer, but went no farther. Even then she looked as if she might bolt.
He shouldn’t be surprised that Andrea had worked in a place like this, given her history. But try as he might, he couldn’t imagine her on the stage. He’d been to his share of bachelor parties, and hell, college, so he’d been to strip clubs before. Andrea definitely had the looks and physique to be a dancer.
But nothing he knew about her personality or temperament suggested to him that she would’ve wanted to work at this place. Not like, say, the friend she’d been talking to, who seemed very comfortable in her own skin and able to easily manipulate the stage and men’s desires. Not that it mattered either way.
The psychiatrist in him wanted to fire off a bunch of questions, to understand her psyche, to understand all the circumstances surrounding her working here. Although a lot of it he could probably piece together himself.
“You needed money after you ran away.”
She nodded. “I was living in my car, working at a gas station. When I was almost attacked one night while sleeping, I knew I had to do something else. I happened to meet Keira and she told me about this place.”
“It’s understandable, Andrea. No one would blame you for that choice.”
“Yeah, right.” She slid by him to walk out the door but stopped when a man entered. Andrea backed up.
“What are you doing in here?” the man—big, greasy, gruff—asked. He turned toward the bar and yelled, “Keira, what are customers doing in here before we’re open, damn it?”
He turned back to Andrea. “We’re not open, so you’ll have to come back lat—” His eyes bulged and a nasty grin spread over his face. “Wait a minute—I recognize you. If it isn’t little Drea all dressed up.”
“Hi, Harry.” Andrea’s voice was small. Her shoulders hunched, and Brandon could see her arms crossed over her stomach in a protective huddle.
This man frightened Andrea.
“You come back to work for old Harry, sweet girl? I hear we have an opening.”
Brandon gritted his teeth in distaste. He wished he could arrest Harry for something right now. He hoped he could keep himself from pummeling him into the ground, this man who so obviously threatened Andrea.
The warrior stretched inside him.
“No, I—I...” She was having difficulty getting the words out. Getting any words out.
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Brandon stepped up so he was flanking Andrea. His chest was right at her shoulder and he placed his hand on her hip, making sure she could feel him. She wasn’t alone in this.
“I’m agent Brandon Han with Omega Sector. We’re investigating the death of Jillian Spires. You, of course, are one of our prime suspects.” That wasn’t true, but Brandon felt no qualms whatsoever about the lie. “We’ll need you to provide a detailed written analysis of where you’ve been for the past seven days.”
Harry’s mouth fell open, but he stopped leering at Andrea. That had been Brandon’s ultimate objective.
“I, um.” Harry blinked rapidly and turned his attention to Brandon. “For a whole week?”
Brandon nodded, using his hand on Andrea’s hip to guide her behind him. “That’s right. Every place you’ve been. Written down. We’ll be back to get it tomorrow and maybe to bring you in for questioning.”
Brandon had no doubt that if Harry contacted a lawyer, his counsel would tell him that he didn’t need to do any of this. That unless law enforcement was going to formally charge Harry with a crime, he didn’t have to do jack squat to cooperate.
But Brandon had a feeling that Harry, with his thinning hair made even more evident by the way he slicked it back, was too cheap to call a lawyer. So let him spend the rest of his evening stewing and writing.
Brandon looked over his shoulder to Andrea, relieved to see at least a little color coming back to her face. “Would you mind telling the ladies that we’ll be back tomorrow to interview them? Ask if they could come in early afternoon so we can talk.”
Andrea nodded and walked toward the bar.
Harry evidently decided to try the buddy-buddy approach with Brandon. “Even all buttoned up, you can imagine what that one looked like on the stage, can’t you?” His grin was slimy. There was no other word for it.
“She’s my colleague.” Brandon clenched his fists.
“Well, let me tell you, there was something about her up there.” Harry had no idea how thin the ice he skated on was. “She wore wigs and makeup, but you couldn’t hide those big green eyes. Like a deer caught in headlights every time she was up there. Everybody loved it. Not that they were looking at her face once her ti—”