by Joanna Wayne
Not if things worked out the way he planned.
Chapter Six
Faith parked her car at approximately a quarter hour before her noon appointment with Georgio. This time she was dressed comfortably in black slacks and a white blouse. The turquoise cardigan she had thrown over her shoulders was not for the weather, which had turned quite warm, but because people in Dallas tended to keep their air-conditioning blasting from the first sign of spring well into October.
She looked around as she got out of the car. It was a fairly safe area in spite of the bars and clubs that were on almost every corner. Someone had told her once that it was because Georgio was the law around here and trouble was bad for business. All she knew was that he was a hard man to get to talk to—unless he decided he wanted to deal with you.
It was an old section of town, a mix of decaying residential structures and businesses that were struggling or out of business. Many of those had boarded-up windows and were decorated with fading graffiti.
Two elderly ladies were checking out baskets of fresh produce set just outside the front door of a mom-and-pop grocery store. A few adolescent boys were recklessly darting through traffic on their skateboards. One man shook his fist out his car window and yelled at them to get out of the way. They laughed and kept going.
Three elderly men sat on a bench in front of the barbershop, chatting. An overweight woman with frizzled brown hair was sweeping the walk in front of a hair and nail salon. She looked up and smiled, the lines around her eyes crinkling as Faith hurried past.
Faith hesitated at the double doors to the Passion Pit and then pushed through them, head high. No more pretending she had any business in this establishment except finding her son.
An attractive blonde in tight-fitting black shorts and a scrap of top that covered little more than her nipples greeted her.
“I’m here to see Georgio,” Faith said.
The hostess barely glanced at her before tossing her hair and studying the glittery red polish on her long nails as if she was totally bored. “If you’re looking for a job, you’ll have to talk to Laney. He does all the hiring, but he won’t be here until after four.”
“I’m not looking for work. My name is Faith Ashburn. I have an appointment with Georgio,” she said firmly.
“In that case, wait here and I’ll see if he’s available.”
He’d better be available. If he wasn’t, Faith would stage a sit-in at his office door until he was. No way was she going to be given the runaround today, the way she had been for the past ten months.
The first time she’d tried to talk to Georgio—before she knew anything about him except that he was the owner of the club where Cornell had been spotted before his disappearance—she’d just walked up to him one night and started asking questions.
Okay, accosted him and accused him of luring underage kids into his depraved establishment. She’d stuck Cornell’s picture in his face and demanded to know if he’d seen her son.
His bulging-muscled bodyguards took over from there, appearing like attack dogs called to defend. They’d escorted her to the door and forbade her to return, with threats of arrest and prosecution.
Another reason she’d started dressing in full slut regalia whenever she went searching for Cornell.
But that hadn’t stopped her from trying to get in touch with Georgio. She’d called at least a dozen times to request the opportunity to talk to him about her son. She’d never gotten past his assistant, Laney, who’d been no help at all.
But today was different. This time Georgio had initiated their visit. Apparently, he’d finally noticed the flyers she was continuously posting around the neighborhood, and had mentally paired Cornell’s last name with that of the woman whose calls he’d been ignoring for months.
Hopefully, some of her hard work was finally going to pay off.
Faith followed the hostess down a narrow hallway with a multitude of doors, mostly closed. At the end of it, the seductive young woman tapped on one and announced that Faith was here.
“Show her in.”
The voice was deep. The broad-shouldered, well-dressed man who looked her up and down as she entered his office was younger than she’d remembered—early fifties or thereabouts. He was no less intimidating, even without his bodyguards.
She took a deep breath and stared him down. Cornell’s life was at stake. She wouldn’t be bullied into not going through with this.
“Have a seat, Ms. Ashburn.” Georgio motioned to the leather chair near his desk. She sat, crossing her legs and taking in the expensive furnishings. There was no doubt about his financial success. The hostess left them alone, closing the door behind her.
Georgio continued to stand for a few seconds, towering above the massive desk. He was several inches over six feet tall, with thick salt-and-pepper hair, neatly coiffed. He wasn’t bad looking, but his square face and dominating jawline gave him a tough ruffian look in spite of his impressive suit and tie.
When he finally sat down, he leaned back in his chair and smiled. “What can I help you with, Ms. Ashburn?”
She had an idea that he knew exactly why she was here. He didn’t seem like a man who liked surprises.
“My son, Cornell Ashburn, is missing,” she said, the tremble returning to her voice the way it always did when she was forced to say the dreaded words out loud.
“So you must be responsible for the many flyers I’ve noticed in the area.”
“Yes. I’m glad someone’s seen them. They seem to disappear as soon as I put them up. I’m offering a twenty-five-thousand-dollar reward for information leading me to him.” The total amount left in her savings account.
Georgio propped his fingertips together and let his penetrating stare lock with hers. “Then I’d be surprised to learn you’re not getting a few calls.”
“Not even one.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Have the police had better luck?”
“Not much. Nor did the private detective I hired. You’re my last hope.”
His brows arched. “Exactly how is it you think I can be of service?”
“The Passion Pit is one of the last places my son was seen before he disappeared.”
“Really? Was he here with friends?”
“No. Apparently he was here alone.”
“And you say he came in here before he went missing?”
“Yes, but only a few nights before.”
“Do you know that for a fact?”
“The police questioned you and showed you his picture. You told them that you’d seen him in here yourself on at least two different occasions. One of your dancers also recognized him, only she said he’d been a regular over the last few months.”
“How long ago was that?”
“Ten months.”
Georgio’s face registered surprise. “No wonder I don’t remember. I own not only the Passion Pit but two other gentlemen’s clubs as well, both busier and more impressive than this one. A lot of young men have walked through my doors since then.”
“But surely not all of them went missing.”
“Why did you wait so long to come talk to me?” Georgio asked.
“I didn’t.” She tried unsuccessfully to hide her irritation. “I’ve called countless times. You either ignored the messages I left or decided not to see me.”
Faith pulled Cornell’s picture from the side pocket of her handbag and handed it to him. “This is my son’s yearbook picture from last year. It was taken several months before he disappeared. It’s the same picture the police showed you.”
Georgio studied the photo. “Nice clean-cut young man, but if he was in high school, he was too young to be hanging out at the Passion Pit. He would never have gotten past the front door.”
“He shouldn’t have, bu
t he did. You told Detective Ethridge you realized he was underage and kicked him out.”
“We follow policy.” He dropped the picture to the desk. “I wish I could help you, Ms. Ashburn, but I haven’t seen your son around the club. But if I do, I’ll definitely give you a call. How old is he?”
“Eighteen. I know what you’re thinking. But he didn’t just choose to move out. Cornell’s not like that. He’s...”
The words caught in her throat. When she tried to tell people about Cornell, she made him sound weak and nerdy. But that wasn’t it.
She took a deep breath. “I know my son. He would never have just left and shut me out of his life.”
“So you think he met with foul play?”
“Yes. I’m convinced of it, more than ever since the phone call.”
Georgio leaned forward, showing the first traces of concern. “Cornell called you?”
She fed him the details as succinctly as possible.
“I can certainly understand your worry, Faith. May I call you Faith?”
“Please do.” Especially if that meant he was warming up to her and considering offering his help.
Georgio stood and walked to the front of the desk, leaning back against it so that he was looking directly at her. “I can see how upset you are, but what makes you think I can do more than the police have done?”
“You don’t have to keep to the strictures of the law.”
A satisfied smile crossed his lips, as if she’d paid him a compliment. If it took flattery to bring him around, she could dish it out.
“I know you’re a rich and powerful man with many contacts,” she said, feeding his ego. “If anyone can help me find Cornell and bring him home safely, I think it’s you.”
“I’m not sure how you reached that conclusion, but I’ll tell you what, Faith. I like you and I can tell you’re worried sick. I can’t make any promises, but I’ll see what I can find out.”
Her pulse began to race. All these months of searching with little real progress, and now both Travis and Georgio were offering their help. That had to be a good sign.
“Time is of the essence,” she urged.
“Okay, but don’t go expecting miracles, Faith.”
“I have to. If I didn’t, I’d never be able to keep going.”
Georgio nodded. “Then we’ll see what we can do. But there is one thing you should know.”
“What’s that?”
“I run an honest business here and in my other Dallas nightclubs as well, but I don’t work with the police.”
“Why is that?”
“Let’s just say they don’t appreciate some of the finer points of my business. If I’m going to help you find your son, let’s keep them off the radar. Don’t mention to anyone with the Dallas Police Department that you’ve even talked to me.”
“If that’s the way you want it.”
“It’s the way I insist it be.”
That should be easy enough, since Travis had warned her to stay away from Georgio.
“This is between you and me,” she promised. “When can you start?”
He smiled. “You do get down to business. I like that. I’ll make some calls today, see what I can dig up.”
“Is there anything else you’ll need from me?”
“Perhaps. But not yet.” He picked up the photo again. “May I keep this?”
“Absolutely.”
His desk phone rang. “Excuse me for a minute.” He punched a button on the receiver and took the call. From his end of the conversation she could tell that he didn’t like what he was hearing.
“Something’s come up that requires my immediate attention,” he told her when he’d finished. “But I have your number and I’ll get back with you soon.”
“I’ll be waiting for your call.” That was the understatement of the century. She let herself out and started down the long hallway.
She couldn’t deny the relief that his promise of help had stirred, but her nerves were still on edge. Travis had been specific. She was to stay away from Georgio and the Passion Pit and let him handle this.
If it came down to which of the two men she trusted more, it was definitely Travis. But he was a cop. Georgio was an inside man. She needed them both and couldn’t afford to turn down any offer of help. Travis should understand that.
She picked up her pace, eager to get back into the sunshine and grab a cup of coffee before going to her office. Her boss had been extremely understanding over the past months, but they were shorthanded this week and she had to carry her load.
She rummaged in her handbag for her keys as she walked. She could hear the music coming from the club now, and footfalls and low voices.
Travis’s voice. Her heart pounded. She stopped dead still and listened. What would he be doing here in the middle of the day on a Monday?
But it was him, apparently just around the corner and walking toward her. She so did not need this. At the last second, she ducked into an open doorway and pulled the door closed behind her.
She barely breathed until she heard him pass. From the sound of the footsteps and voices, she guessed he was with another detective.
Were they here to question Georgio about Cornell or as part of a homicide investigation? Was Georgio in some kind of trouble? Was that why he wanted nothing to do with the police? Whatever the reason, he had clearly been irritated at their arrival.
She waited until the voices and footsteps had faded into the distance before cracking the door enough to peek out and see into the hall. There was no sign of Travis. Her insides rolled as she slipped out of the room and walked as fast as she could to her car.
A sudden and frightening premonition sent cold chills up her spine as she climbed behind the wheel. Involving Georgio in her search might turn out to be the worst mistake of her life.
* * *
THE REST OF the day passed at a slow crawl. When she heard the cleaning crew outside her door, she glanced up at the clock. It was 7:00 p.m. No wonder the office had grown so quiet.
One of the maids stuck her head inside Faith’s office. “You’re so quiet I didn’t realize you were still here.”
“I’m wrapping up. I’ll be out of your way in about ten minutes.”
“Don’t hurry for me. I got all night in this building. I can always come back and catch your office.”
“I need to get of here, anyway.” Not that she had anywhere to go but her empty house.
She used to love her job. Loved the challenges it presented and the office camaraderie. She hadn’t loved anything for the past ten months, but the routine kept her occupied and the work kept her sane.
Thunder was rumbling in the distance by the time she reached home, and bolts of lightning created a fiery display as a storm rolled in. Huge drops began to splatter on her windshield as she pulled into the driveway.
She wondered if Cornell was watching the same storm blow in. When he was little he’d come running to her bed at the first clap of thunder. That had been so long ago.
She’d hoped to hear from Travis this afternoon with news of helpful information he’d gained from the analysis of Cornell’s computer. He hadn’t called. Neither had Georgio.
New pangs of guilt hit as she closed the garage door and then stepped into the mudroom. She hated lying to Travis about Georgio. Hated it so much she’d almost called him a couple times this afternoon. Once she’d actually started punching in his number before she broke the connection and put her phone away.
Even now she was tempted to call him. She could invite him over for dinner. Stupid idea. He was a busy cop. He’d call when he had news. He wouldn’t be interested in spending the evening with a desperate mother who did nothing but whine and wallow in missing her almost-grown son.
If only she knew Cor
nell was safe.
Thunder hit again, this time so loud it rattled the windows. She made herself a sandwich, poured a glass of white wine and settled in front of the TV.
She was just in time to catch the hook for the evening news.
“Tonight at ten, Lieutenant Marilyn Sylvester of the Dallas Police Department will give further details about the murder of Scott Mitchell, the seventeen-year-old Dallas high-school student whose body was found floating in the Trinity River last week.”
The bite of sandwich in Faith’s mouth suddenly tasted like cardboard. This was the reason she’d practically quit watching TV altogether. News of murders or abductions gnawed at her stomach and her control like rabid rats. She turned off the set and picked up a magazine.
She thumbed through the pages. Beautiful women dressed in the latest fashion. Probably the kind of women Travis dated. Women who were fun and made him laugh, with no problems more significant than what color to paint their nails that week.
Or he might have a special woman in his life, maybe even a live-in. Only if he did, he hadn’t brought her to the wedding. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t making out with her right now.
“Jeez!”
Faith tossed the magazine back to the coffee table. What was wrong with her that she was having these bizarre and unwanted thoughts about Travis? It had to be the apprehension. Or maybe just a crazy need to have a man to hold on to.
Only no other man affected her the way Travis did. Certainly Georgio hadn’t.
Determined to push any sensual thoughts about Travis from her mind, she tossed the sandwich and went to do a load of laundry.
As she did she said a silent prayer that Cornell was safe and would call again tonight. And this time he’d tell her where to find him.
The phone rang two hours later, just as Faith was climbing into bed. Her heart jumped to her throat. She grabbed the phone with both hands and held it to her ear.
“Cornell.”
“No.”