Catch (3 page)

“That’s quite the deal.”

“I want the pictures back.”

She imagined Ollie in his suit and white
sneakers with his smooth-as-honey voice sitting somewhere dark and
quiet, bent over her purse. She wanted to know more about him. How
old was he? Why did he think he had to steal purses? Why was he
talking to her?

“I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” he said after a
few moments of silence. “If you can find me in the Bellagio—because
I know you’re looking at it right now—I’ll give you back something
from your purse.”

She looked around, surprised that he knew
where she was. “I just want the pictures,” she said loud enough to
make a few people look over at their table. “I don’t care about
anything else.”

“Sure you do. This camera is quite nice. Two
hundred dollars in cash is nice too. Don’t you want your driver’s
license back? And this phone … it’s worth a little bit. You have
good taste in gum, by the way. Wintergreen is my favorite.”

“You’re
chewing my gum
?”

“Sure, why not? This stuff is mine now, isn’t
it?”

“No, it’s not!”

Julia stood up from her chair and pointed
toward the café’s main exit through the casino. They had already
paid their bill and left a tip, so Miranda stood and followed
Julia. Her hands were shaking with anger. Julia gestured for her to
cut the call short, but Miranda didn’t want to hang up yet. She was
morbidly fascinated by what was happening. And a little frightened.
Was this some big trap to lure her to him so he could do something
to her? But what could he possibly want with her? It was a random
purse snatch, and he hadn’t expected her to call him.

“According to me,” Ollie answered as she and
Julia headed out of the restaurant, “it’s mine … but, like I said,
if you can find me I’ll give one item back to you.”

“Will that be the photos?”

“It will be what I choose.”

This guy was on a total power trip. Miranda
fought the urge to scream at him and clenched her jaw instead.
“Fine,” she said through gritted teeth. “I’ll find you.”

“It’s a big building.”

She rolled her eyes as they walked back
outside and the Bellagio loomed in front of her. “Duh.”

“Good luck. You have one hour. Oh, and you’d
better not have a policeman with you or I’ll never answer this
phone again.”

“One hour? Are you nuts?”

He hung up, and Miranda pulled the phone away
from her ear and stared down it. A lot of words went through her
head, but she knew she shouldn’t say any of them in front of
Julia.

“What’s going on?” Julia asked as she took
her phone and looked at Miranda. “I didn’t think he’d answer.”

“I didn’t, either.”

“What did he say?”

Miranda straightened her shoulders and tried
not to think about how much ground she would have to cover inside
that huge hotel and casino. The lobby alone would probably take an
hour.

“He wants to play hide-and-seek,” she
answered, and pointed at the Bellagio. “Inside there.”

“I’m not letting you go in there on your
own,” Miranda’s mother said when she heard the whole story. She had
just stepped out of a taxi around the corner from Paris Las Vegas.
“I don’t understand what he wants.”

Miranda shrugged and pulled off her
sunglasses so she could look at the Bellagio as clearly as
possible. It was massive. There was no way she could make it all
the way through there in an hour, even with help from her mom and
Julia. An idea seized her, and she asked Julia for her phone
again.

“You’re going to drain the battery,” Julia
snapped, holding it away. “I still want to talk to Gavin
today.”

“You can talk to him when we get back to our
hotel! I just want to send a text.”

Julia reluctantly handed it over, and Miranda
texted her own number.

Do you have any clues? This is impossible!
Why are you even doing this
?

“Well, come on, you guys,” she said after
sending the message. “Let’s start looking.”

“Miranda!” Gabriela grabbed Miranda’s arm and
pulled her back. “You aren’t seriously considering giving this man
what he wants, are you? He’s a criminal. We need to report him. Let
me get another taxi and we can go to the police station.” She
looked at her watch. “We can be down there in half an hour, or I
can just call them if you want to go straight back to the hotel.
I’ll bet they could even try to track him with the GPS in your
phone, since he’s communicating with it.” She squinted and
shrugged. “Or maybe they don’t do stuff like that for something as
small as purse thieves.”

Miranda looked at the Bellagio then back to
her mom. “I want to try to get my purse back,” she answered, her
voice almost a whine. “He’s not going to hurt me, Mom. He sounded …
I don’t know … like this is some harmless game. He’s young. Maybe
he’s just not that smart?”

Although she didn’t believe that at all.

“It’s a harmless game to
him
,”
Gabriela sighed as she ran a hand through her frizzy hair. “You
can’t even legally enter the casino areas without an adult, honey.
I’m not worried about what we’ve lost, I promise.”

“But the pictures, Mom. I was carrying all of
them. There’s nothing left now, and this might be a way to get them
back.”

Gabriela stepped forward and caressed
Miranda’s cheek. Her eyes were soft and understanding. “It’s okay.
They’re just pictures.”

Miranda closed her eyes for a moment,
fighting all the emotions inside her. Maybe her mom was right. The
phone beeped in her hand. Ollie had texted her back.

Olives
.

That was it? Miranda stared at the word,
confused. “What is that supposed to mean?” She showed the text to
her mom and sister. “I asked him if he had any clues.”

“Olives?” Gabriela looked up from the phone,
tapping her chin as she stared across the street.

“Are there olives inside the Bellagio?” Julia
asked. “I don’t get it.”

Miranda bit her bottom lip, deep in thought.
This guy was a complete mystery to her, and part of it was
exciting.

“Maybe it’s a play on his name,” Miranda
said, unable to come up with anything else. “You know, how he told
me his name is Ollie?”

Julia scrunched her nose. “That’s not a
clue.” She grabbed her phone from Miranda and started typing
something. “Let’s do a search.”

“Good idea,” Gabriela answered, and pulled a
water bottle out of her purse.

“Olives is a restaurant!” Julia practically
screamed. “That’s where he is!” She giggled and looked at Miranda.
“This is kind of fun.”

“Fun?” Gabriela rolled her eyes. “You girls …
Well, come on. Let’s go look for Olives and see if anything
happens. As long as we stick together and stay in public, we should
be fine.”

Miranda grinned, surprised at her mom’s
sudden willingness. Maybe she wanted those pictures back more than
she was admitting.

They walked over the bridge and through the
side entrance into the Bellagio. It felt like a spacious, upscale
mall, with luxurious polished floors. Plants and exotic flowers
were everywhere.

“I pulled up a map,” Julia said excitedly,
waving her phone. Miranda smiled at how passionate she was about
this whole thing—as if they were on some sort of secret spy mission
and she was lucky enough to be a part of it. “The restaurant is
just inside here,” she said, pointing. “It’ll be on the left, I
think.”

Julia practically burst at the seams when she
spotted the sign. Miranda grinned. “You did it, Julia. Thanks!”

“Well, who knows what happens from here,”
their mother sighed.

They stopped in front of the restaurant. It
didn’t look like anybody was inside. The large sliding glass and
wrought iron doors were only half open. Two women stood at a
counter just outside the restaurant, and one leaned forward.

“Can I help you?” She looked them all up and
down, frowning. How was she going to explain to these women what
she needed? She felt completely stupid and inadequate to the
task.

She glanced at her mother, who gave her a
look that clearly said, “What do you want
me
to do?” and
shrugged her shoulders. Miranda realized she was only humoring her
by coming into the hotel. It was obvious she didn’t think she’d
ever see those photos again. It made Miranda think of all the times
her mother had humored her because she wouldn’t leave her alone
otherwise.

Gathering her courage, Miranda turned and
walked to the front counter. Placing her hands on the edge, she
leaned forward and tried to make her expression as desperate as
possible.

Before she could open her mouth, the woman
who had spoken earlier said, “The dining room isn’t open again
until five o’clock. Do you have a reservation?”

Miranda shook her head. “No, we don’t,” she
answered. “I was wondering, though … there’s this guy who was going
to leave something for me here, and I don’t know if it was going to
be outside the restaurant or inside or what. He was kind of
vague.”

The lady was tall and slender with
highlighted blonde hair, dark green eye shadow, and ruby lipstick.
Miranda focused on her pretty eyes, hoping beyond hope that this
didn’t turn embarrassing.

“Was his name Ollie?” the woman asked, making
Miranda’s mouth fall open as the dark-haired woman next to her
reached under the counter and brought out a small white bag. It was
made of thick paper with braided handles and had “Prada” embossed
on the front.

“Yes, it was Ollie,” Miranda said,
nodding.

“And you are …?”

“Miranda.”

The dark-haired woman handed over the bag and
Miranda grabbed it. She couldn’t believe he’d actually left her
something. It hadn’t even been that hard to find it. But wasn’t she
supposed to find
him
? That was when she looked up and peered
into the restaurant. It was dimly lit, but there was plenty of
light for her to see a suited figure inside at the bar. He turned
and looked over his shoulder, and Miranda’s heart stopped. He was
wearing white sneakers. He had a head full of messily styled brown
hair … and he was undoubtedly, disturbingly, frustratingly
good-looking. He was probably nineteen or twenty, maybe twenty-one.
Her heart sank in her chest, and she quickly looked away.

The bag was heavy in her hand. Peeking
inside, she saw her phone sitting at the bottom, but nothing else.
Why would he return her phone? How were they supposed to keep
playing their game so she could get the pictures? Then she realized
that he probably had his own phone. And he had her number now.

When she looked back up, he was still turned
toward her. He lifted a drink in his hand and took a sip. A smile
tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“Can I go in there?” Miranda asked the two
women at the counter.

They had been looking at Ollie too, and both
turned back to her. “Of course.” The blonde gestured toward the
open door, and Miranda walked back to her mom and looked her square
in the eyes.

“That’s him in there,” she whispered. “At the
bar.”

“Oh, really?” Gabriela leaned forward. “Get a
good look at his face so you can describe him to the police, then.
What kind of game is he playing, anyway?”

“I have no idea.” Miranda fished her phone
out of the bag. “I’m going to go ask him. Wait here.”

Without waiting for a response, she smiled at
Julia and walked into the restaurant, heading straight for the bar.
But Ollie was gone, along with his drink.

The bartender looked up and smiled. “May I
help you, miss?”

The entire place was empty. Nobody was at the
bar or tables. The bartender was the only sign of life.

“There was a guy in here,” Miranda said,
trying not to stutter over her words. “Like, a minute ago. Where
did he go?”

The bartender’s expression flickered between
a knowing look and a desperate attempt to conceal what he knew. He
was bald and the reddish-tinted light glowed against his skin. “He
had to leave, miss.”

She looked at the front entrance. There
wasn’t any other way out of the restaurant that she could see. He
had to be in the back or out on the veranda, which also looked
empty. With a final sigh, she thanked the bartender and left. It
was no use pushing her luck.

Miranda hated sleeping in hotels. Who knew
how many bodies had slept on those mattresses? Just. Gross. It
didn’t matter if the bedding was washed. She was going to major in
microbiology and already knew far too much about microscopic life
to live in the same ignorant bliss as everyone else. She tried not
to think about all the microorganisms on her mattress and sheets as
she fell asleep that night. Julia snored softly beside her after a
long gab session with Gavin out in the hallway where nobody could
listen in. The rest of them had sat around watching television
sitcoms after a heavy meal down at the buffet. Miranda kept
obsessively checking her phone, hoping Ollie would send her another
message, but nothing ever came through. Her dad had looked at her
wide-eyed after he was told the story.

“I have to say,” he laughed, “that’s the
strangest story I’ve ever heard. I’m happy you’re okay, honey.
Tomorrow you’ll need to report him, don’t you think?”

She nodded, but didn’t mean it. She didn’t
want to report him. Not yet. She couldn’t get his face out of her
mind. It was a generic face, actually. Nothing particularly special
about it except that it was perfectly balanced.

Now, as she let her head sink into her
pillow, she lifted her phone and stared at it in the darkness. Her
dad had told her she shouldn’t have touched it. There were probably
fingerprints on it, and the police might want them. Miranda rolled
her eyes.

Setting her phone on the nightstand, she
closed her eyes and focused on the sound of the loud air
conditioner at the other end of the room. It was so loud she almost
didn’t hear her phone ding. It was a soft alert sound for instant
messages. Her eyes flew open, and she picked up her phone. She had
a new message. No way. Maybe today wasn’t the end of Ollie the
Thief, after all. Despite her best efforts, a sigh of relief
escaped her throat as she brought up the IM. It was from a
restricted number. She didn’t even know it was possible to text
from a restricted number.