the keys and sign us both out?" he asked, tossing me the vehicle keys over the roof of the car.
I smiled. "You're in such a hurry to get out of here I bet you're planning a repeat performance by Barry White tonight."
"Only if I'm really lucky," he smiled, then paused. "You know, if you'd have let me take you to the little joint I know on the beach, I wouldn't have time for good old Barry."
"Yeah, but if I don't get home to my husband, I'll be playin' that old country hit titled, D.I.V.O.R.C.E."
"Ah, Maddie. One of the reasons I love having you for my partner is that you're always able to 'one-up' me."
"Well, at least you're smart enough to realize it." I brushed at the air with my left hand, "Now, get out of here. Whatever you're planning on doing tonight better leave you in good enough shape to find Heather or Tiffany tomorrow."
Bringing up our case immediately had a sobering effect on our good humor. Darius nodded, then gave me a wave and jogged up the ramp that would take him to street level so he could go to his personal car.
I took the elevator to our office to turn in our equipment and sign out. One thing about the upper floors of the PAB at night was there weren't too many people sitting in their cubicles. In our office, there were two detectives sitting across the room from my desk. Their function was to answer the phone and dole out advice to patrol officers and anyone else who called about missing persons or anything having to do with mental evaluation issues. I waved to them as I made my way to the desk that held the timekeeping sheet.
I signed us both out at eight- thirty, then made my way to my desk. I dropped the keys to the detective car on my desk as I collapsed in my chair. I really wasn't ready to go home and I wasn't sure if it was because I didn't want to face Travis, or because I felt we'd made so little progress on the Heather McCall and Tiffany Truesdale cases.
Glancing at the clock, I gave myself a half-hour to continue looking online for Heather McCall. Once again, I decided to look for pictures of the stunning beauty, this time also including the term actress in my search key words.
There were dozens upon dozens of photos of girls and women named Heather McCall, but none of them were the right Heather. I switched up my search request, this time inserting the word model for actress.
At least the pictures popping up on my screen were of different women. Unfortunately, there were pages and pages of Heather McCall models, too. I scanned the pages, clicking quickly, mindful my husband was holding dinner for me.
I was just about to give up when a photo caught my eye. Not so much for the woman in the picture, but the man. It was my partner, Darius Cutter. And standing right next to him, wearing next to nothing, was none other than our Heather McCall.
TIFFANY – 45
Tiffany went up to her room to shower and change from her tattered robe. She'd also need to inspect the damage she'd done to herself in her fake Tank attack. She'd been so frightened, her adrenaline had caused her to inflict more serious injuries than she'd intended.
She had no doubt Drejohn meant every word he'd said about the punishment she'd face if she were lying. She needed to get away, but it wasn't going to be easy.
After showering and getting into a pair of shorts and a tank top, she inspected the cut to the inside of her lip. Bruises were also starting to appear along her jaw where Drejohn had grabbed her. A knock at the door startled her.
She opened the door and was surprised to see Ginger standing there with several ice packs and some dishcloths in her hand. "Drejohn said to bring these up to you. He also said you should take something for the pain," she said holding up her other hand containing a bottle of a well-known pain reliever. "I got some Percocet if you want it."
Tiffany opened the door wider to allow Ginger to come in. Maybe she could get some information about where she was, or how to get away if she befriended the girl. "Thank you. I think aspirin will be fine. My head feels like it's about to explode."
"Everyone is talking about what happened. No one can believe Tank would be so disrespectful of Drejohn." The girl looked pointedly at Tiffany. "Some think you led Tank on."
"I did no such thing!"
Ginger shrugged. "People are going to be watching you very carefully. I'd stay up here as much as you can. Outta sight, outta mind." Ginger set the ice packs and pill bottle on the dresser and turned to leave.
"Can I ask you something, Ginger?"
The girl shrugged again.
"How long have you been here? Don't you ever want to go out, say to the mall or the movies?" Tiffany spotted tears welling up in Ginger's eyes. She also noticed the girl sizing her up, wondering if she could be trusted. The strawberry blonde swallowed her emotions.
"I was out on the street when Drejohn found me. I was so strung out I was turning tricks for a few bucks just to get my next hit. He brought me here, gave me a good place to live, food to fill my belly, and all I have to do is work here on the compound. If he gets a special request for me, he'll have me do an Internet showing from time to time, and about three times a year I have to entertain some special guests, but I always get something big out of it." The girl reached up and pulled a chain from beneath her shirt. She held up the necklace for Tiffany to see.
"#1 Bitch," Tiffany read aloud.
"They're all real diamonds, too!"
"Drejohn must really think a lot of you," Tiffany said, nodding, not having the heart to tell the redhead she was most likely wearing cubic zirconia. "Does he ever take you off the compound?"
"Only when I service the special guests." Ginger said.
"Where do you get to go when you…entertain?"
"Wherever I'm taken. Most of the time, it's a nice hotel. One time it was a ginormous house in Beverly Hills."
"Wow, that must have been cool. Does Drejohn drive you?"
"No, but he usually goes along. I think he likes to watch and make sure I'm okay. When Drejohn can arrange it, there's hidden cameras set up. I know about them, but I don't think the guest does. Drejohn is always harping on me not to block the guest's face from the camera. That's not hard. Usually my head is nowhere near their face." Ginger giggled.
"And you're okay with that?"
"Sure, why would I mind? I was doing the same stuff on the street and not getting more than chump-change out of it. Don't worry, you'll get your turn. I heard Drejohn talking to some of the other guys. He's got big plans for you."
Ginger's face took on a conspiratorial quality. "Tank beatin' you up has Drejohn plenty mad. He was going to have a big party and introduce you to some of the best clients. I've even seen some of the regulars on TV." Ginger snapped her fingers. "Oh! That reminds me. I was flipping channels this morning when I saw a girl on TV that looked like you on the news dishin' out mashed potatoes to a bunch of bums. You're not famous or something are you?"
Tiffany's heart began to race. She shook her head. "No. What were they saying about the girl?"
Ginger shrugged. "I don't know. I had the volume down." Ginger's face took on a guilty expression. "I wasn't supposed to be watching television. You won't tell Drejohn, will you?"
"No, I won't. But you'd better not say anything to anyone else, or they might blab to Drejohn. I've heard some of the girls whispering they don't like you because you're Drejohn's favorite." Tiffany was shocked at how quickly the lie came out of her mouth. She had to be sure Ginger didn't say anything to anyone else about seeing her on television. "You haven't told anyone about watching TV have you?"
"Hell no! Breaking a rule like that could get me thrown out of the big house and back to the dorms!"
"Well, let's keep it our secret then. I'm glad we're becoming friends, Ginger. You can show me the ropes so I can stay out of trouble, and I'll promise you one thing. I'll never try to take Drejohn away from you. You've been here longer than me and deserve to be his number one girl."
Ginger's eyebrows raised in surprise. "Gosh, I had you all wrong. I thought you were going to try to take my place."
"Rest easy, Ginger.
I have no desire to be the number one bitch."
TRAVIS – 46
The sound of Maddie in the shower woke Travis. He'd waited for her until midnight…drinking. He hadn't heard her come in and he hadn't heard her get up. "Not quite the night you'd planned, huh Divine?" he said to himself as he rolled out of bed. He must not have drunk too much, because he wasn't hung over, but he had no idea what to say to his wife. Would she be angry he'd fallen asleep before she got home? What time did she get home?
She opened the bathroom door, and a cloud of steam escaped into the bedroom. She hurried through the cloud with a towel wrapped around her hair like a turban. Another towel was wrapped around her body with the end tucked between her breasts. Travis thought she looked hot as hell and considered whipping the towel away. But he knew better.
There was the usual tension between them, but it was more enhanced because he had no clue as to what had happened the night before.
"I, uh, tried to wait up for you, but it got pretty late," he said.
Maddie didn't look up at him, but pulled lingerie from the dresser and began to dress. "I'm sorry, I probably should have called, but things kept poppin' at work. When I got home you were asleep and I thought it best not to wake you."
Relief washed over Travis. She didn't seem the least bit upset he'd been asleep when she got home, much less that he'd spent the night before up at Dave's cabin. She pulled on some navy slacks and a
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