When She's Gone

by Palmer, Jane;

  Luke moved to the desk and began opening the first drawer. A few pens, some paperclips, and a stapler rattled against the metal edges. “What are the chances they left us a memo telling us where they are now?”

  Ara snorted. “Not good, I’d say.”

  “Sir, we have several sets of fingerprints.” Thomas appeared in the doorway of the office. “I’ve got them running through AFIS now.”

  “How many different sets?” Luke asked, opening the next drawer. Vicki selected one of the paintings and lifted it from the wall to look behind it.

  “Four.”

  Luke straightened up from the desk. “Four?”

  “We know Sam, Nick, and Gina,” Ara said. “We’re missing someone. Another accomplice, maybe?”

  “Hold on.” Luke frowned. “We can’t jump to conclusions. Those fingerprints may have been here long before Sam. It’s not necessarily connected to the kidnapping.”

  He was right. It was extremely possible none of the fingerprints they’d recovered would come back to the kidnappers. She spun in a small circle in the room as her mind worked over the puzzle. Her gaze fell on the furthest corner of the room. A space slightly in shadow, almost covered by the corner of the desk. Was there something back there?

  “I want to know the minute we get a hit,” Luke said to Thomas. “Even if they aren’t connected to the kidnapping, these people are connected to Nick and this warehouse. I’d like to talk to them immediately.”

  Ara moved around the desk, dread pooling in her stomach as she got closer to the item crumpled on the floor. She reached down to pick it up, already knowing what it was before she stretched the fabric between her hands.

  Sam’s dress.

  The clinging, white dress Sam had been wearing at the gallery. It had been cut down the center, the edges jagged, and it was stained with dirt. And blood.

  Ara couldn’t help it—her mind began running through all the ways it could have gotten there. A shudder ran up her spine, and despite herself, she trembled, slamming her eyes shut. But the visions only become brighter in the darkness, more frantic and quick.

  “Are her shoes there, too?” Luke’s question cut through the images, and Ara forced herself to look back at the space.

  “No shoes.” Her voice cracked. “And no undergarments.”

  She had no idea what to think of the fact that Sam’s bra and panties weren’t with the dress. Was it a good sign or not? Desperate for something to hang onto, some positivity, she reasoned that it was good. It had to be good.

  She laid the dress down on top of the desk, carefully arranging the jagged edges together to give the garment its original shape.

  “That’s blood spatter.” Luke tilted his head, studying the expensive fabric.

  “That kind of spatter wouldn’t have come from a wound on Sam,” Ara reasoned. “There would be an area of high concentration, like a solid mass of blood. It’s almost as if she was . . .”

  Her voice trailed off as the thought fixed in her mind. She glanced out the window of the office, toward the place where Gina’s body had been left.

  “She was standing next to her. Sam was right there when Gina was shot.”

  Luke nodded and turned to stare out the window. Ara followed the line of his body, the broad shoulders that narrowed to a trim waist, and then looked beyond, to the far wall of the warehouse.

  To a door.

  “They were trying to escape. To get out.”

  “It would explain why Nick shot Gina,” Luke said. “Maybe she had a change of heart.”

  “Or Sam did,” Ara offered, knowing full well it was just like Sam. She would do something impetuous, something stupid, and then, given half a minute to think about it, would realize it wasn’t such a good idea after all. She’d backpedaled out of a few situations that would’ve been far more serious had she not realized the folly of her own thinking.

  “How’s your Russian?” Luke’s question broke through her thoughts.

  She hesitated. Could she really do this? The memories of her past were already threatening to overwhelm her.

  Did she have a choice? Sam could still be alive. There was a chance to bring her home, and Ara wouldn’t allow her fears to get in the way. “It’s perfect,” she said.

  “Good.” He smiled grimly. “I think it’s time we paid a visit to Mist, and I might need someone to translate.”

  Thomas interjected from the doorway. “Sir, you need to tread lightly here. Dmitri Grishnokov is the owner of Mist, and he’s extremely dangerous. He was busted for drugs and weapons running. Did ten years. Since then, he’s been more careful. Mist is one of his legitimate businesses, but the agents I spoke to suspect he’s laundering money through it.”

  “Is there a team inside Mist? Do we have undercover agents I might be putting at risk?”

  “No, sir. There have been investigations off and on, but nothing currently.”

  Luke paused. “We’ll be careful, but I need to take a look at the club. Right now, it’s the only good lead we have.” He gave Thomas a reassuring smile. “Besides, we’re looking for a kidnapped girl. Not something Dmitri is likely to care too much about.”

  “Not unless he’s involved,” Ara said. She pointed to the forgeries, the frames, and half-painted canvases waiting against the far wall for delivery. “We don’t know how all these people are connected. Nor do we know who they answer to.”

  “Agreed. But for right now, I think it’s safe to assume Nick is working on his own.”

  Preposterous. Nick was clearly working with Kat at the gallery. Ara opened her mouth to say so, but Luke held up a hand to fend her off. “Until we have evidence linking Sam to the forgeries, I’m keeping them as separate cases. Right now, all I have is evidence that shows Nick started dating Sam, probably with the intention to convince her to go along with his kidnapping scheme. He saw a way to make a lot of money quickly and took advantage of that.”

  “And Gina?”

  “Helped him. Obviously something went wrong between the three of them, and Gina tried to escape with Sam. Nick killed her and has moved Sam to an unknown location.”

  It all made sense. His reasoning was sound, but the lack of priors on Nick’s record bugged Ara.

  Still, she’d keep her doubts to herself. Without evidence, they were nothing more than suspicions and supposition. She could be wrong. Following the chain of evidence, as Luke was doing, would either support her or not.

  And Mist seemed like the best place to start.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  From the outside, Mist didn’t look like a nightclub. The building was drab, with no design forethought and peeling paint. Only a small sign on the upper floor identified the club by its name. That and the line of scantily clad young people standing outside, waiting to get in.

  Luke whistled. “Popular place.”

  “We can’t get in like this.” Ara unbuttoned two buttons on her blouse and separated the shirt, flashing a bit of her lacy bra underneath. From the pocket of her pants, she pulled out a knife and flipped the blade open. Carefully, she sliced her jeans along the upper thighs, giving them an edgier appearance. Luke stood silently beside her, but she was aware of him watching, his gaze like a physical touch.

  She fluffed her hair and pinched her cheeks. She didn’t have any makeup with her, which would have helped, but she hadn’t counted on visiting a nightclub.

  She eyed Luke in his sharp suit and frowned. “You look too . . . official.”

  He arched his eyebrows. “I’m an FBI agent. I’m supposed to look official.”

  “Not if you want these girls to talk to you. Flashing your badge at them won’t get you anything.”

  “So what would you recommend?”

  “Let me take the lead.” She looped her arm through his. “And don’t look so damn square. Loosen up a bit.”

  They got in the back of the line, which thankfully moved quickly. As they approached, Ara hung more and more on Luke until she was practically plastered to his cloth
es. The suit fabric underneath her fingertips was thick.

  At the front of the line, she pushed Luke behind her. The bouncer looked her over, a gleam of appreciation flashing in his eyes. She gave him a knowing smile and flipped her hair.

  As she’d hoped, he barely gave Luke a passing glance.

  The inside of the club was a blend of crushed velvet, mirrors, and leather. A long bar stacked with every kind of liquor sparkled in the mood lighting. The music was pulse pounding and only served to increase Ara’s already existing headache. She rubbed her forehead and leaned in toward Luke.

  “Let’s split up. We can cover more ground that way.”

  “No.” He grabbed her arm. “We stick together.”

  She wasn’t sure if he wanted to stay with her because he didn’t trust her, or because he was worried for her safety. Surprisingly, she wanted to know which it was. It made a difference.

  “There are too many employees,” she said. “We can’t possibly question all of them together.”

  Luke frowned. His mouth moved to her ear. His breath was warm on the curve of her neck. “Fine, we’ll split up. But you stay within my sight at all times.”

  She felt a shiver race down her spine. She turned her head. His mouth was so close to hers, just a breath away.

  “What’s your plan?”

  He gave her a crooked smile. “You’re not the only one who can blend in.”

  With those words, he moved off, finding an empty table. When the waitress approached, Luke turned on the charm. He said something that had the waitress busting out in a laugh. She leaned in closer to him, her hands on the table, her shirt widening to give him a view of impressive breasts.

  Ara fought back the sudden wave of jealousy. He was only doing his job. She needed to do hers.

  Heading to the bar, she set her sights on the bartender. He was young, and sexy enough to be a Calvin Klein model. The area around the bar was surprisingly empty, most of the customers spending their time in the darkened areas of the tables and couches that lined the lower part of the club. She found a spot easily but didn’t fully sit on the stool. Instead, she cocked a hip on it and leaned against the wooden bar, her unbuttoned shirt displaying her cleavage to its absolute advantage.

  It only took a moment for him to notice her, and he closed the distance between them quickly.

  “What can I get you, honey?”

  He had a southern drawl that seemed out of place somehow. Like he belonged on a ranch, riding a horse, wearing a cowboy hat.

  “Vodka with a splash of cranberry.” She winked at him. “Very little cranberry.”

  His grin widened, revealing perfectly straight teeth. “You got it.”

  She watched as he whipped up the drink in record time, placing it in front of her and adding a short, red straw.

  “Try it,” he said. “Tell me if I got it right.”

  Ara hadn’t actually intended to drink the beverage, but with him standing over her, she didn’t have much of a choice. Taking a dainty sip, she set the drink back down and gave him a winning smile.

  “It’s perfect.” She leaned in a bit closer. “You must be new. I haven’t seen you around here before.”

  “Not so new. I’ve been bartending here for more than a year.” He wagged a finger at her. “You obviously haven’t been here in a while.”

  “Guilty. I just broke up with my boyfriend not too long ago and . . . well, a friend of mine suggested I come back here. She said it’s still the best place.”

  “Well, your friend is right.”

  “Actually, maybe you know her. She works here. Her name is Gina. Gina Antonova.”

  The smile slipped from his face, and his friendly expression turned just a touch hostile.

  “We don’t use names here.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” Warning bells went off in Ara’s head. “Silly me, I forgot about that.”

  “You would be wise to remember. I wouldn’t want to see your pretty little ass in trouble.”

  She gave a stuttering laugh. “Right. Well, still, maybe you know how I could find her.”

  He leaned over onto the bar, getting close to her face, and his voice lowered threateningly. “I don’t know who you are or what you’re doing, but if this girl is really your friend, she would’ve warned you about what not to do in this club. If you don’t stop asking me these questions, I’m going to have to report you.”

  “Okay.” She met his gaze and held up her hands. “No need for that. I’ll back off.”

  She left the bar and her drink behind, weaving through the crowd toward a table in the far corner. Maybe the other waitresses were the way to go.

  Twenty minutes later, Ara still had nothing. None of the employees were willing to talk to her. They were friendly enough, until she mentioned she was looking for someone. The minute they got a hint that she needed inside information, they closed up. After trying with more than six employees, Ara could no longer believe it was just a bad case of nerves. The employees were afraid and had been trained not to talk.

  Which meant getting any information about Gina would be next to impossible.

  She sighed and moved into a new corner on the upper level. Luke was down below, talking to a dark-haired woman wearing a sparkly bra top and the tiniest pair of shorts Ara had ever seen. When she strolled away, Luke glanced up and caught her eye. The nearly indecipherable shake of his head sent the message loud and clear.

  He wasn’t having any luck, either.

  Ara gritted her teeth. It was time to stop messing around.

  The waitress approached with a sway of her hips. She was young—barely eighteen if Ara had to guess. Thick eyeliner overshadowed small eyes, and bright-red lipstick made the most of her full lips. She had the narrow, small-framed look of a young boy except for the overlarge breasts, which were obviously implants.

  “What can I get you to drink?”

  Ara pulled some money from her pocket and flashed a bill at the woman. Her name tag read Michelle. No doubt it was a fake name.

  “I need information.”

  Michelle’s gaze darted over her shoulder. When she looked back at Ara, her friendly expression was locked behind one of determination. “I can’t help you.”

  Ara slid the money across the table toward her. Then she added another bill. “I only want to talk.”

  Michelle didn’t answer, but she also didn’t walk away. Ara took that as a sign to continue and pulled out Gina’s DMV photo and placed it on the table. “Do you know her?”

  Michelle grabbed up the money and tucked it into her bra with one swift move. “Yes.”

  Ara pulled out more cash and passed it over. “Does she work here?”

  The waitress didn’t answer, but the tightening of her mouth gave her away. Gina had worked here. “She needs your help.”

  Michelle’s smoky eyes widened. “Are you a cop?”

  “No.”

  She pushed the photograph back across the table. “Put that damn thing away, then, before you get yourself in a whole shitload of trouble.” She started to walk away, but Ara grabbed her wrist.

  “Please,” Ara whispered. “She’s been murdered.”

  Her words shook Michelle. There was no change in her expression. It remained shuttered behind a look of indifference. But the woman’s arm trembled slightly under Ara’s fingers. It was only for a moment, but it was enough.

  Michelle broke free of Ara’s hold and lifted her chin. “I can’t help you.” The words sounded like they had been choked out. She spun on her heel, and on wavering steps, hurried away.

  Ara quickly got up and followed. She’d heard the emotion in the waitress’s voice. Michelle knew something, and damn it, Ara was going to find out what it was.

  She followed the woman into the ladies’ room. Michelle was trying to fight back tears, her face turning red with the effort.

  The bathroom was occupied by several chatty women who fortunately left together in a cloud of perfume. Ara locked the door behind them.
/>   She and Michelle eyed each other in the mirror, each wary of the other.

  “I don’t want to cause trouble for you.” Ara kept her tone low and even, as if she were approaching a frightened animal. “I only want to find out some information.”

  “I can’t help you.”

  Michelle tried to pass by her to leave, but Ara blocked the way. “You know something.” She quickly pulled out another picture from her jacket pocket. This time it was of Gina’s dead body. “Look. Look at what happened to her.”

  The waitress didn’t even blink at the image. She was obviously no virgin to blood and gore. She shoved Ara backward. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “She was shot in the head and left in a warehouse. Like she was a piece of trash.”

  “That has nothing to do with me.”

  “You knew her. You can help me find her killer.” Michelle hesitated, and Ara pounced on that. “Please. I can’t do this without information.”

  Her jaw tightened, and she gave Ara another shove. “You’ll have to get it from somewhere else.”

  A pounding started on the door. The noise had Michelle’s face turning deathly pale. “God damn you,” she hissed at Ara before moving past her to quickly open the door. Luke stood on the other side, fists clenched and spine tense. He passed a confused glance between the two women.

  “Wait,” Ara said, but it was too late. Michelle breezed past Luke and disappeared into the crowd.

  “Couldn’t you have given me another two fucking minutes?” Ara snapped.

  “I told you to stay within eyesight.” Luke glared at her.

  “What’s the matter? You don’t trust me?”

  He stepped closer. “I don’t want you to end up dead.”

  Ara fought against the rush of pleasure she felt. Luke cared about her. He also didn’t think she was capable, and that was beyond irritating.

  “I don’t need you to protect me. I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time. Besides, you just lost me the opportunity to find the information we need. She was the only one willing to tell me something.”

  He ignored most of her statement. “What did she say?”

  “Gina did work here.” Ara sighed. “But Thomas is right. This place is locked down tight. No one’s talking because they’re too scared.” She scanned the room, the dancing bodies twisting on the lower level.