vnNeSsa1 (16 page)

“No.”

“What’s the good news?” Lord knows I need it at this point.

“She’s in Las Vegas right now.”

“That’s it?” I could kill her, but I’m too drunk, worried, and tired. “She was there two months ago. You don’t know that she’s there now.”

“Vannessa Van Clief is in Las Vegas as we speak. I feel it in my bones. I’m on a plane tomorrow. Or the next day if I get lucky tonight. I will find her and bring her back to you very soon.” With these words, she stands and sashays toward the door. I think she knows her butt crack is showing. On her way out, she stops and tics at me a minute.

“You’re looking good, Howard. It’s hard to fight that middle-age
d paunch. But you’re in there trying.” Her tics pick up tempo until her face starts to spasm. “And don’t worry. I’ll get to the girl before the FBI does.” She pats my shoulder with her germ-infested hand and walks out.

At least she didn’t fart this time.

What did she mean by middle-aged paunch? This body is magnificent. My sweatshirt is off and the mirror is reflecting perfection. Wretched woman. Toying with me.

I have more important things to worry about. Like this FBI thing. How can everyone think she’s dead but the FBI? Maybe they just did a search on a girl with a similar profile and the techie picked up on that. They do hundreds of searches, so this explanation is plausible. Still worrisome, though. Maybe Charlotte’s available this evening, or Melissa.

Paunch, indeed.

Chapter 20

On Thanksgiving evening, I’m called to the general manager’s office. Up to this moment, his words have been just air vibrating, but they finally sink in.

“I’ve let it go on for too long, Savannah,” he says, looking genuinely distressed. “I know you’ve had some personal problems. But they’re interfering with your work.”

There’s only one expression that can be on my face: disinterest. I don’t care. I’ve lost everything. Whoever is hunting me will be here soon anyway.

“I mean, onstage, you look like someone just died. You’re supposed to make people happy, not depressed.”

“What do you want from me, Matt?”

“I want you to do your job, Savannah, or you need to take some time off to take care of your personal life.” He sighs and looks at the wall instead of my face.

“Are you firing me?” It’s funny how the threat of losing this job can’t penetrate my numbness.

“No,” he says, drawing the word out. “But, as of tonight I need to see some changes in your performance or you need to go on leave effective tomorrow.” The last few words are spoken in a firm, manager’s voice.

“OK, Matt.”

“I’m sorry, Savannah. I really am.”

“OK, Matt. Is that all?” He nods and I’m out of the room before his head finishes bobbing.

Whatever.

My pace slows as soon as I get to the hall that leads to the dressing room. Even though the meeting with Matt has eaten up my show prep time, it’s still twenty minutes before the ten-minute call. Plenty of time for the bare minimum of effort in make
-up and hair.

Josie is waiting at my station when I drag myself through the dressing room. Oh hell, she looks
as if she wants to talk to me.

“Hey, Josie,” I say, turning away, deliberately
reaching for my earbuds.

She puts her hand over mine, stopping it on the table. Something in that gesture makes me look at her squarely in the face. I know then that something is terribly wrong.

“Tink has quit.”

Those three words blow me against the wall. My ba
ck is flattened against it, pressing, willing it to give way, so I can run as far as possible from this place. Panic closes in, trying its best to smother the life out of me. Hyperventilating, tingling, sweating, racing heart, feeling nauseated. I know these signs all too well. I want to give myself over to them. Just give up and die right here.

But this is Tink. Tink is my best friend. My only friend. And this is my fault. Josie warned me.

A powerful feeling blows my head apart. My panic is squashed flat, a bug in the shock wave. The emotion spreads through my body, setting it on fire. My hands push off the wall and grip the edge of the make-up table. I look up at myself in the mirror. Two gleaming eyes glare back. I nearly don’t recognize myself. My skin is pale, blotches of red on my face and neck. My eyes are a weird color yellow. I look like an animal. I know I’m so angry I want to kill someone. Someone who would hurt Tink.

“Honey, are you all right? Honey…Savannah! Say something!” The buzzing in my ears has been Josie. I finally look at her and something in my face makes her go quiet. She takes a step back.

“I’m going to do something, Josie,” I say, my voice trembling. My whole body shakes with anger until the table moves beneath my clenched fingers. “I don’t know what yet. Let me get ready for the show and think.” Josie just nods and fusses around me quietly.

Dressing for the show in record time, I head back to the general manager’s office.

“What’s this about Tink quitting?” I demand at the doorway. Matt looks up from his paperwork. His hands go still when he sees my face.

“Sh
—she just called me this morning and said her mother needed her and she had to go back to Colorado immediately,” he stammers. “I thought she would have told you.”

“She would have,” I say and walk away.

My dancing is filled with aggression. I may have broken another dancer’s finger when our double turns collided. I yelled at her for being clumsy. It doesn’t matter. They already think I’m crazy. I can’t bring myself to smile at the audience. But, tonight, Matt can’t fault my energy. He can’t fire me. Not now. This job may be crucial in helping me find Tink.

My mind has been on overdrive throughout the show. It’s obvious I have to confront Liam. Where to find the bastard is a huge problem. But I happen to know someone who works for him.

As soon as I’ve tossed my last costume to Josie, my fingers stab out the words
WHERE ARE YOU
on my cell. My make-up is scrubbed off, my clothes are pulled on, and I’m rapping my cell phone on the table when the text comes back.
Meet me in the bar. I’ll take a break
.

Fair enough.

I rush down the hall, and then take the stairs two at a time. In my hurry, I nearly flatten Jennifer and Lily walking down the hall. Their lack of acknowledgement doesn’t hurt tonight. I’m too furious.

There he is, leaning against the bar.
Damn
. My breath catches just like always when I see him. It’s not because he looks good. He doesn’t. He’s pale and gaunt. It looks like he’s been partying too much. It’s just that, he’s Victor.

“Where is he?” I say, before I even reach him.

“Whoa, slow down. Where’s who?” Victor says, looking at me through eyes smudged with dark circles.

“Your buddy, Liam,” I say, slamming my bag down on the bar. Victor looks at my bag
and then back at me with no change of expression.

“What’s this about?”

“Liam took Tink somewhere, or he arranged for her to be taken somewhere,” I say, feeling myself growing more infuriated by the second.

“What are you talking about?” Victor says with bland tone and expression. I’m starting to shake with anger again. He’s playing dumb and I’m going to throw his drink at his head if he doesn’t stop it.

“She’s talking crazy. What do you expect?” I hear Jennifer’s voice behind me and I whirl around.

“Shut up, Jennifer.” She really shouldn’t push me now.

“Tink just quit,” Jennifer spits out, “Her mom wanted her home. Or maybe she got her heart broken. Like you. Victor’s over you. Move on.”

Suddenly, the glass on the bar is in my hand. A split second later it is hurtling through the air like a well-aimed fast pitch. It smashes on the pillar near Jennifer’s head.
Too bad. I missed. There’s a shocked silence.

Victor is the first to move. His arms lock around me and lift me right off the ground. I slap and kick at him with all the pent up anger and frustration I have in me. I might as well be throwing myself up against a concrete wall. He holds me with one arm, grabs my bag with the other, then carries me out of the bar and casino area like I’m an annoying three-year-old throwing a tantrum. It just makes me kick
all the harder. I hurl obscenities at him in Spanish. He does his slow blink thing. It isn’t until we reach my car in the parking lot that he sets me down. He changes his grip to some kind wrestling hold which he patiently maintains until I stop struggling.

“All through?” he says with a little smile. This makes me mad all over again and I move to slap him across the face. He catches my hand
efficiently.

“Now are you through?”
I’m all too aware he keeps holding my hand.

“Where is he?” I repeat.

“Let it go,” Victor says, turning very serious. I wrench my hand free and snatch my bag from him. I can’t find my damn keys. He takes the bag from me and immediately finds them. It nearly makes me break down because I remember all the times he used to root around in my purse and open my front door for me.
I will not cry in front of him
.

“I won’t
let it go. Tink is all I ha - ” I have to stop or I’ll dissolve into tears. The effect he still has on me brings up all the anger again and that feels better. Wrenching my car door open nearly rips off all my fingernails.

“Forget it. I’ll take care of it myself.” I throw this over my shoulder as I’m getting into my car.

Victor stops the door from closing with one swift movement.

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing. Let go of the door, Victor.”

He looks at me as he keeps hold of the door. T
hen he lets it go. Just like that.

My heart sinks. Even through the layers of anger, I feel my heart break again.

I just sit there behind the wheel. When the fury has built sufficiently again, my fingers fumble with the key in the ignition and my car roars out of the lot.
Don’t look back. Don’t look back
.

I look back.

He’s standing there. Just standing there like on the night we broke up, staring after me.

“What are you doing?” I scream at the rear view mirror, punching it. Both hands are off the whee
l and I’m ripping at the mirror then beating on it with my fists. “Don’t just stand there! COME AFTER ME!” I’m driving fast down the road, screaming, weaving, rounding a bend and he’s out of sight.

I pull over and the pain hits me. I’m sobbing and repeating “come after me” in a croaking voice. My body’s heaving, the tears won’t stop. Even in my wretched state, I’m aware I was testing him back there. He didn’t pass.

Something else filters into my brain that horrifies me. What if I used Tink’s disappearance as an excuse to contact Victor? Could I possibly be that shallow?

This train of thought makes me sit up straight, blow my nose, and dry my face. I sit there for a long time staring out the windshield. The traffic light down the block changes from green to red a few times.

A shell closes around my heart. All thoughts of Victor go into a little box to be shelved in a corner of my mind. My fury has ebbed. It’s still there along with all the other emotions that have been dead for a while. This is not the time to consider them. They simply need to be controlled. I have a job to do.

Chapter 21

My tires squeal as I tear away from the curb, make an abrupt right turn, and head toward the
Strip. Wolfman might know where Liam is.

But Wolfman is not in his normal spot at the hotel when I cruise slowly by. After having my car valet parked, I ask the other street vendors where he is. No one knows. They all say they haven’t seen him the last two nights. It makes me wonder
whether Wolfman’s disappearance has anything to do with the people who are hunting me. Maybe I should stay away from my apartment. I need to find Tink before they get to me.

The valet guy returns my car and I nervously check the battered rearview mirror all the way back to the apartment. No one follows. Once there, it takes me five minutes to throw clothes into my suitcase, grab my backpack full of money, and
throw them in the trunk of my Z4. Risking five more minutes is worth it to see if Tink’s extra front door key is still in its hiding place. She might have left a note or some clue about where she’s gone. The key is not under the weird, heart-shaped rock. Of course not. Liam’s too thorough for that. The front door is locked. The windows won’t budge.

Discouraged, I head for the hotel where I work. Employees can stay at this hotel for free, so I flash my ID and get a room immediately. Tomorrow, I’ll stay somewhere anonymously. Tonight, I’m too exhausted.

Sleep doesn’t come. My thoughts race, assessing and rejecting one plan after another. It’s difficult to know how to approach Liam once I find him. I can’t just demand that he return Tink. Liam is cold and cunning. Anyone challenging him needs to be calculating in return.

Straining and squinting in the dark, I try to remember Liam’s phone number, scribbled long ago on a scrap of paper,
and then carelessly tossed. It’s no use. I feel frustrated and raw, numbness no longer a protective cloak around me.

I must have slept because blue numbers on the clock now read 12:13 p.m. Memory of the hotel room and events of the day before flood back. OK. Time to get going. First step is to call Josie. At least I kept my head enough last night to exchange numbers.

I shower
quickly and put on fresh clothes. Room service arrives with fries and a milk shake. I’m picking at the food, reaching for my cell when it goes off. It’s Josie.

“Hey, I was just about to call you. Do you have news?” I ask, holding my breath for her answer.

“In a way,” Josie says, sounding breathless herself. “A couple of my friends on the hotel staff have been keeping an eye out for that Husky dog guy for me. One of my friends cleans rooms. She’s seen that guy hold meetings with some men in a room on one of the executive floors. At least that’s what she thinks they’re doing. She can’t get close enough to listen.”

“Great news,” I say, letting my breath out. “Does your friend have a key? Can she let us into the room? Maybe there’s some paperwork in there that can tell us where they’ve taken Tink. Or, at least where I can find Liam.”

“Her shift is over at four thirty. She wants us to meet her at the elevators on the fifth floor, north wing at four forty-five. She can key the elevator to the executive floors and let us into the room from there. She also wants to leave right away. It makes her nervous to do this.”

“It makes me nervous to do this, too,” I admit. “But the cause couldn’t be better.” My mind returns to agenda items keeping me awake last night.

“Josie, I’m wondering if you know anyone in human resources who might be able to give us the Husky dog’s number and address.”

“No,” she says, slowly, “but my other friends on staff might. Let me make a couple phone calls. What’s his name again?”

“Liam,” I say, frustrated with myself for entrusting so much to this enigma of a man. “I don’t even know his last name. But describe him. No one else looks like him.”

We say goodbye. My next task is to figure out how to make good use of the afternoon. I decide to take my chances with human resources. The woman in HR looks appalled when I try to get the confidential information from her. So, I cruise the
Strip looking for Wolfman again. No luck. My stomach is in knots, so food is unappealing. A nap is out of the question, so I transfer my money from the backpack to the lining of the suitcase. Then bad TV fills up the rest of my waiting time.

Finally, it’s
four thirty and I’m too keyed up to wait a second longer, so I walk to the north tower and ride the elevator to the fifth floor. Josie arrives next. She steps off the elevator, sweating and out of breath as if she has just taken the stairs. Her friend gets there right at four forty-five. She’s petite, birdlike, and looks very nervous.

We all get back on the elevator and Josie’s friend keys us up to the executive floors. We step off at the
twenty-eighth floor and look around. It seems deserted. This makes me even more nervous. Maybe this floor is used only for meetings. It makes it easier to get caught. Josie’s friend has already started off down one long hallway. She obviously wants to let us in and get out of here. We step up our pace and follow her.

She stops in front of 2867, a corner room, and hurriedly slides a card in and out of the slot. A red light beams. She makes a small sound. Like a bird chirping. She slides the card again. It shows green. She chirps again and opens the door. Josie holds the door as her friend turns to us.

“Goodbye and good luck,” she whispers, scurrying back down the hall.

I make sure the heavy hotel door closes softly when Josie and I cross the threshold into the foyer. The main room is huge, with an expanse of windows that overlook the
Strip. We stand there taking in the grandness of the marble floors, luxurious furniture, and ornate artwork.

“Wow,” Josie says, looking up at the high ceiling. “Where do we start?”

“The most obvious place would be the desk over there,” I say, indicating an office area near a full bar off the entrance. “Why don’t we split up?”

“OK. I’ll just take a look through the rest of the suite and see if there’s anything hidden in a less obvious place.” Josie immediately moves away and I study what’s in front of me.

The office area and bar dominate the main living space of the hotel room. The office looks like it has been set up for a meeting. Rows of chairs are in a rough semi-circle surrounding a massive desk with a matching high-backed chair. The bar is stocked with glasses and alcohol. To search the desk, I’ll have to have my back to the front door. It makes me nervous, but it can’t be helped.

First I check all the drawers to see
whether any are locked. They all slide open easily except for a bottom drawer that looks as if it could hold files. My fingers are unsuccessfully trying to pry it open when a thought occurs to me.

“Does the closet in there have a safe?” I yell to Josie. Her movements in the other room are barely audible to me.

“Just checking now,” she calls, her voice sounding muffled.

Abandoning the locked drawer for the moment, I’m about to open another one when I hear voices in the corridor outside the suite.