Faceless (Sinister Secrets Book 2), page 18
Avoiding the fray of dancers, she went to the bar and ordered a club soda.
No way was she ordering anything with flavor or color, not in a place like this. If someone was going to slip something into her drink, she needed to be able to tell.
As she sipped the club soda, she scanned the room.
She counted at least a dozen blonde women. Thankfully, there were more brunettes and black-haired women than blondes, but the poor lighting meant she’d have to get up fairly close to see which one was Divers.
If any of them were.
They had no guarantee Divers would even be here tonight.
She spotted Sid at the entrance. How much did he have to pay to get in? Somehow she doubted he’d gotten the same deal she had.
As he dove right into the dancing mob, she worked her way around the perimeter. Yes, she’d likely have to dance at some point, but the longer she could put it off the better.
These heels were torture.
Four blonde women were not currently dancing. One was at the bar, and clearly wasn’t Divers. The other three occupied tables.
In this chaos, it’d be easy to get fairly close without being noticed.
She headed toward the first table, being careful to focus most of her attention on the dance floor. The blonde at this table was getting cozy with some guy who looked more like a CPA than a partier with his button-down shirt and wire-rimmed glasses.
A quick glance confirmed it most definitely was not Divers.
She kept moving toward the second table. Three women giggled as they pointed to something on the dance floor. Kevyn tried to follow their focus, but couldn’t see what they found so funny.
Most likely someone with no rhythm.
Didn’t matter. She could already tell that the blonde wasn’t Divers.
She passed the table.
The last table was on the other side of the room, past the DJ.
The easiest way to get there would be to dance her way through the crowd.
She found a break in the railing and cautiously stepped down the two stairs. The last thing she needed was to faceplant due to these heels. She merged with the other dancers, swaying her way around both couples and people dancing solo.
About halfway through the crowd, she felt a hand snake around her waist.
Tension tightened her muscles. She fought the instinct to drop her drink and pin the guy to the floor.
Warm breath tickled her ear and she could smell the alcohol radiating from his mouth.
While she could jerk away and continue on her path, she wanted to see this guy so she’d know who to avoid.
She allowed him to dance – although really the jerky spasms looked more like a seizure – around her until he swayed in front of her.
“Heya, baby. Been waitin’ for you all night.” The words slurred from lips that worked overly hard to form them.
College kid. Probably barely old enough to drink.
Messy hair, a sheen coating his face, and too-bright eyes all added up to one thing. The kid was wasted.
Certainly not a threat.
She pushed past him, letting her body language dismiss him.
No resistance. Not that she’d expected any.
She made it to the other side of the dance floor without any further interruptions.
The blonde woman sat alone at the table, nursing a dark colored beverage and doing something on her phone.
Still not Divers. Which meant she either wasn’t here or was out in the crowd somewhere.
Kevyn eased onto the bar-height chair at the closest table and casually sipped her drink while scrutinizing the dancers. At least with the raised platform, she had a little bit of a birds-eye view of the sunken dance floor.
Not that she could make out many details. Between the pulsating lights, the motion, and the sheer number of bodies packed onto the floor, it’d be nearly impossible to spot Divers.
Still, she had to try. Otherwise she might as well head home.
Focusing on the dancers closest to her, she scanned for light colored hair. Blonde, red, it all kind of ran together in this light.
There was Sid, sliding his way toward a blonde woman. He moved with surprising grace. More than she possessed.
Might have to give him a bad time about that later.
Since Sid had that blonde, she continued her perusal of the crowd.
There was another one.
Curly hair. That fit with Divers. It was fairly short, too. Barely reached her shoulders.
Judging by the way most of the people around her stood a good head taller, the woman was on the petite side. Also a fit for Divers.
Kevyn sipped her club soda and managed not to grimace. Ugh. She hated these things.
But she’d hate to stand out even more.
The woman had her back to Kevyn, but the guy she danced with seemed enthralled.
Well, chances were good the woman would turn her direction at some point.
She continued to scan the crowd, returning her eyes to the woman every few seconds to see if she’d turned.
Not yet.
The woman moved like one who was used to being watched and admired. Both traits that meshed with Dak’s assessment of Divers and were supported by the comments from Divers’ coworker.
Then again, that same statement could probably apply to a lot of the women in this room.
Herself included.
While she waited for the woman to turn, she eliminated one of the other blondes. The rail-thin frame was nothing like Divers’ curvy build.
She returned her attention to the woman as the woman’s dance partner spun her and drew her back against his chest, wrapping his arms around her stomach.
Kevyn took in the woman’s features, mentally comparing them to the image she’d studied before entering the club.
This most definitely could be her. With the bad lighting and distance, it was hard to say definitively, but it sure warranted a closer look.
Now. How to achieve that?
Short of going up and asking to cut in, which would just be weird, she didn’t see an option that wouldn’t look forced.
The song ended and the woman broke away from her partner, heading for the bar.
That was it. She could run into the woman at the bar and strike up a conversation. Compliment her on her dress or something.
She abandoned her club soda and quickly skirted the dance floor, keeping the woman in view in her peripheral.
The woman reached the bar and spoke briefly to the bartender, who turned to the bottles of liquor lining the wall.
The woman’s face reflected in the mirrors behind the bottles.
It was Divers. She was sure of it.
Kevyn reached the bar as the bartender slid a margarita with a thickly salted rim across the counter.
Suddenly, she had her in.
Ugh. This wasn’t going to be pretty.
Kevyn stepped behind the woman right as she turned.
The glass connected with her ribs, the frosty liquid sloshing down her stomach. A gasp slid out.
“Oh my gosh! What were you doing behind me?”
Funny how the woman sounded more outraged than sorry.
Kevyn made a point of looking down at the wet silk clinging to her skin before answering the question. “Walking. Trying to get away from that handsy guy over there.”
She jerked her head in the general direction of several guys, all of whom were watching the exchange.
Probably hoping for a chick fight.
Well, they could keep hoping. She had no intention of getting into a fight.
In fact, if she could play this right, she’d be chatting up this woman and learning as much as she could.
The woman looked over in the direction she indicated. “Ugh. I hate guys like that. And now look at you. You’re a hot mess.”
Kevyn wiped at the frosty liquid on her blouse before looking up at the woman. “At least it was me, not you. I mean, that dress you’re wearing is fabulous. It’d be a tragedy to ruin that.”
A genuine smile curved the woman’s painted fuchsia lips. “Bless your heart. I did just pick it up at Francesca’s.”
The elite boutique was one of the most expensive in the downtown. That dress probably cost more than Kevyn’s monthly mortgage payment. “Worth every penny. Trust me.”
“I’m Lorelei.” The woman turned and asked the bartender for a rag and another margarita, handing the former to Kevyn.
Kevyn dabbed the front of her blouse. “I’m Kelsey.”
“Well, Kelsey.” Lorelei sipped her margarita as she watched Kevyn wipe at her blouse. “Now you have an excuse to pick up a new outfit, too. There are worse things.”
Kevyn giggled. “Like I need one. But, sure. I’ll have to go shopping tomorrow.”
“Well, glad I could help.” Lorelei nodded at a nearby table. “I was going to take a little break from the dance floor. You want to join me over yonder?”
“Sure. Let me order a drink and I’ll meet you over there.” She waited for Lorelei to get out of earshot before ordering another club soda. “Can you please put it in a martini glass?”
If the bartender thought her request odd, he didn’t show it.
She added a decent tip as she took her martini glass to the table where Lorelei perched on a chair.
Kevyn sighed as she dropped into the chair across from Lorelei. “I think I’ll need to pick up some new shoes, too. These aren’t doing a thing for me. Plus, they’re killing my feet.”
Lorelei glanced down. “Super cute, though.”
“That’s about all they’ve got going for them.” Kevyn looked around the dance floor. “I was supposed to meet some friends here, but I think they bailed.”
Lorelei laughed. “I know how that is. I met two friends here and they’ve both left already. But the night is young, you know?”
“For sure.”
A flash of light drew her attention to the ring on Lorelei’s right hand. A diamond sparkled from a platinum setting. It matched the multi-gem necklace dangling down Lorelei’s collarbone and the earrings hanging from her ears.
“Oh my gosh! That is such a beautiful ring!” The gushing tone Kevyn injected into her voice made her want to gag. She raised her eyebrows suggestively. “From a guy?”
Lorelei wiggled her fingers. “This little thing? No, I picked this up because I liked it. Pierre’s has the best diamonds.”
Pierre’s Fine Jewelers. Another high-end store, one that definitely did not sell fake anything.
Lorelei leaned in as if sharing a secret. “When a guy gives me jewelry, it had better be at least twice this big, you know what I mean?”
Kevyn laughed along with her. “Make it worth your while, right?”
“Absolutely. It’s the best way to know if he’s serious.”
So much for the sentiment being what counted. Clearly for Lorelei Divers, it was all about the money.
Lorelei finished her margarita and rose. “That dance floor’s calling my name. You coming?”
Kevyn waved her on. “Go on ahead. I don’t think my feet could handle another song.”
No point in mentioning that they hadn’t even had a full song yet.
Without so much as a goodbye or a backward glance, Lorelei headed for the closest stairs and wove her way onto the dance floor, almost immediately catching the eye of a tall guy who headed straight for her.
Part of her felt like she should warn that poor sap.
If Lorelei was telling the truth about where she bought both the dress and the jewelry – and Kevyn bet she was – then she was living beyond her means. Way, way beyond. She didn’t come from money and hadn’t received a big inheritance or won the lottery recently, which begged the question: where was the money coming from?
Something told her every last cent was paid for in blood.
Fifteen
The case against Lorelei Divers was solidifying.
Dak looked at the report from the analysts, which showed that Divers did indeed have an account in the Cayman’s. Opened about six months ago, it already contained around fifty grand.
More than what Divers earned in a year as a phlebotomist.
Combine that with the intel Kevyn had gathered at the club and the fact that Divers drove a new BMW that was completely paid off and it was clear Divers had money coming in from somewhere else.
Given that there was nothing in her tax records to indicate a side job or account for any of that income, that left one option. Illegal activity.
Could be anything, but her ties to the missing persons made that the most likely option.
If it was an organ trafficking ring, she would be in a key position to provide the ring with people whose blood types and Human Leukocyte Antigen markers – or HLA markers – were a match for a recipient who was willing to buy black market organs.
His cell rang.
He glanced at the number – which looked familiar, but wasn’t saved in his phone – before answering.
“Agent Lakes.”
The chief ME. Dak stilled. There were no outstanding reports waiting. Which could only mean one thing. Percy had news he thought Dak would want to hear.
“I completed an autopsy that might interest you.” Percy never wasted much time with pleasantries.
“Really? Who was it?”
“An out of stater. Identity isn’t what’s important here.” Percy gave Dak two names that meant nothing to him, then paused for a heartbeat. “You remember that I mentioned a car wreck and some toasted bodies?”
“Of course. I think they’d recently come in when I was there, right?”
“That’s right. Well, there were two bodies in the car. A man, who was driving, and a woman, who appears to have been stretched out across the back seat.” Papers rustled across the line. “Still awaiting toxicology, but the driver’s lungs didn’t have any smoke in them. Neither did the backseat passenger.”
He absorbed that. “So, even though there was a fire, that wasn’t what killed them. Did they die on impact?”
“The driver was pretty crispy, which has made determining pre-mortem injuries a challenge, but there isn’t much damage to the skull or sternum. Certainly not what I would expect from a fatal collision.”
“A homicide.”
Percy snorted. “That’s the detective’s job, not mine. I’m only saying it was suspicious. But what I think you’ll find really interesting is the passenger. She wasn’t as charred as the driver, so I was able to see more. Like the fact that she’d recently had surgery.”
The punchline was coming. Dak could tell. It was like a game with the ME, revealing things on his own timetable in his own way.
“As I cut into her, it became obvious. Liver replacement.”
His breath caught.
This could be it. The key they’d been waiting to find.
He’d have to check local hospitals to see if any had conducted a liver replacement for the woman, but he was already certain what he’d find. “And you said there was no smoke in her lungs. So she was likely dead before the impact.”
“Again, not my job to say.”
“If you had to guess.”
Percy paused. “I’d say a fiery car crash is a convenient way to cover up a botched underground surgery.”
Dak would have to say that he agreed. “Thanks for the call. I owe you three lattes for this one.”
Percy chortled. “And you know I’ll collect.”
Ending the call, Dak shot off a group text to gather the team.
They had a new lead to track down, one that might break the case.
₪ ₪ ₪
He’d known Tio was bad with records, but this was ridiculous.
Mitch pushed away from the desk – his desk, in his office, in the building he and Tio had rented for years – and rubbed the back of his neck. The whole morning, spent going through bank records, and he still had hundreds of thousands of dollars to track down.
Given that most payments were made through electronic funds transfer, he’d probably find the bulk of it eventually.
Anything paid in cash would have to be written off. No way of tracking that.
For now, he needed a break. And a coffee. Grande size.
He poked his head into Tio’s office across the hall. “I’m headed across the street for a macchiato. You want anything?”
Tio paused. “Sure. One of those frozen coffees, with caramel.”
Mitch strode down the hallway.
No one followed. It was good to be trusted again.
He stepped into the mild July air. Fluffy white clouds filled the sky, effectively filtering the sun. The comfortable mid-seventies temperature invigorated him.
With his hands in his pockets, he crossed the parking lot, then darted across the two-lane road.
The bell dinged as he pulled open the coffee shop door.
The barista, a twenty-something with more piercings than he could count, smiled as he stepped up to the counter. “Haven’t seen you around lately.”
He pulled out his wallet. “Took a short trip out of town.”
“Cool. You want the usual?”
“You know it. Plus a frozen double with caramel.” His stomach rumbled. A glance at the clock showed it was almost lunch. “And a turkey and swiss ciabatta.”
She punched it into the computer and swiped his card. “Be right up.”
He wandered to the window and pulled out one of the chairs to wait.
The numbers he’d looked at all morning kept running through his mind.
So much money. Tio hadn’t been kidding about the potential with this.
But it was blood money. Every last cent.
He swallowed, his throat feeling like sandpaper. His breath quickened, drying his throat even further. A cough scratched out.
Wasn’t his coffee ready yet?
So a few people died. People died every day.
And like Tio said. More people lived because of those deaths.
That made their deaths worth something good. Didn’t it?
Of course it did.
Besides, he wouldn’t do this for long. He’d get a simple system set up, one so easy that even Tio could maintain it. Then he’d take his share and beat it.
