Cort had turned to Dave a few times over the years when answers or results had been difficult to come by. Dave grumbled, he claimed to know nothing, he refused to help, but then he came around. It was a game they played time and again, and they’d played it over the phone during the past ten days.
Not that Dave ever answered his phone. The process was to leave a message, give enough details that Dave could decide whether a return call was warranted, then wait. This time, Cort had waited two days for a return call. He’d debated on how much information he’d give Dave over the phone and felt he’d succeeded in providing just enough to pique Dave’s interest. He’d been right. Of course, Dave had balked, he’d claimed it was nothing he knew anything about, and he’d told Cort how very busy he was. Busy with what, Cort wanted to ask, but knew better.
In the end, Dave had agreed to do some checking and to meet Cort. That meeting would take place at the same place they always met and at the same ridiculous hour. Dave only conducted business, at least the business that Cort knew of, in the dead of the night. Their meeting was scheduled for three a.m.
Cort spent his time in the air preparing for his meetings with the property managers who were scheduled to provide him updates and projections. One property, in particular, was struggling and had been for a couple of years. Cort feared under the current management things weren’t likely to improve. The team had been given a chance to turn things around, but unless the figures he saw the next day came as a surprise, he’d likely be making some changes. It wasn’t a part of his job he relished.
The woman who headed up the team, Andrea Cortez, was competent but lazy. A stunning woman, she preferred to let her looks and charm do her work for her. More than the possibility of having to let her go, Cort dreaded the less-than-subtle flirting he knew was in his future. He closed his eyes and let his imagination run with the idea of Shauna accompanying him on the trip and meeting Andrea. He grinned most of the way to Vegas.
After a dinner meeting, some time spent prepping for the next day’s meetings, a long workout in the hotel gym, and a nap, Cort still had time on his hands before his scheduled meeting with Dave. He chose to wander the strip but as gambling had never held much appeal, was merely an observer as he strolled through the casinos.
When it was finally time to head to the bar Dave favored, Cort hailed a cab. The bar was off the strip; far enough off that Cort knew better than to walk alone in the middle of the night. It wasn’t a long cab ride, so after a few minutes, Cort spotted the neon red sign, stuttering and hissing in places so depending when he looked at it, read Clancy’s Place or Clan ace. Seemed to Cort someone would make it a priority to fix it.
Cort paid the driver, made his way across the potholed parking lot, then pulled open the heavy, windowless door to the bar. The décor hadn’t changed since he’d last been there and he guessed it hadn’t changed in the last forty years. The same cracked, red cushions covered the same stools and booths. Overflowing ashtrays sat atop tables gouged with initials where they weren’t scarred with cigar burns. The air was heavy with the smell of stale smoke and years of spilled beer. Cort peered through the hazy, reddish glow. Apparently the proprietors didn’t think being able to see from one end of the bar to the other was necessary, so he had to squint. The only light came from dusty beer signs and a few light bulbs hung over the tables and enclosed by chipped, red shades. Cort briefly wondered at the owner’s affinity for red.
Dave was slouched in a booth at the very back of the room. As Cort neared, Dave’s beady eyes followed Cort’s every move. The little bit of light from above the table behind which Dave sat reflected off his wide, bald forehead. A glass half full of amber liquid sat on the table, Dave’s fingers wrapped around it. Bourbon. There was no question.
Cort held out his hand when he reached the table.
“Good to see you.”
Dave hesitated, but eventually groaned and shifted his weight enough to stick out a hand.
“Yeah, yeah.”
The nasally, high-pitched voice always surprised Cort when they were face to face. The man’s girth and his permanent scowl suggested to Cort a much deeper, gravelly voice.
Resisting the urge to wipe off the seat, Cort settled himself across the table from Dave. Since he knew this part of the dance as well, Cort signaled the bartender.
“Another one for my friend and the same for me.”
The bartender nodded his acknowledgement. The last thing Cort wanted at three o’clock in the morning was bourbon, but Dave didn’t trust anyone who didn’t drink whiskey, so Cort would sip at his. Knowing the next steps of the dance, Cort waited in silence until the bartender plopped down the drinks between them.
“How have you been?” Cort asked.
“Same as always. You?”
“I’m well. Life is good.”
“You’re getting married.”
Cort blinked in surprise, then told himself surprise was the last thing he should be feeling. Dave made it his business to get information that was difficult to get. Locating an engagement announcement was child’s play.
“I am. October.” Cort glanced at Dave’s left hand. “How about you? I’ve never asked if you’re married.”
“I wouldn’t have answered.”
Cort nodded and waited.
“Got the information you were looking for.”
“Yes, that’s why I’m here.”
“He’s a sleazy dude, a real sleazy dude. And believe me, I know some sleazy dudes.”
“What do you mean by sleazy, exactly?”
Dave downed the remains of his first drink, then picked up the second. While he swirled the liquor, he said, “Seems to be raking in the dough. I don’t have anything against easy money, but I do have something against the way this dude’s getting his hands on it. Taking advantage of women, blackmailing them.” Dave shook his head and snarled. “Pretty low, man, pretty low.”
“When you say, ‘taking advantage of women,’ what is it that he’s doing? Taking advantage of them how?”
“He finds one that’s chatty, preferably one that’s staying where he’s working, one that is either alone or tired of the casino scene and ready to be alone for a while. Not too hard to pick one out from a group. He gets her talking, she gets comfortable, maybe her friends wander off and she’s content to sit and wait, chatting with her new friend. He mixes her a drink, slips in the powder or liquid from the vial that’s taped to his wrist and is hidden by his sleeve, waits until it starts to take effect, tells her she should head back to her room, watches her head for the elevator, takes his break and follows her. He’s in and out of her room in a few minutes and he’s got his ammunition. Brilliant scheme if it wasn’t so disgusting.”
Cort felt ill. Karen had been drugged, had been victimized, and over a year later was still paying the price for, ironically, choosing not to party with the rest of her group. He dreaded the next question but had to ask.
“He follows them into their room and gets his ammunition. Do you know what happens in the room? How he gets his ammunition?”
Cort heard the change in his voice, heard the barely controlled anger and the barely concealed fear. Dave heard it as well.
“Just how personal is this?” Dave asked with a smirk.
Maybe he saw Cort’s hand turn white as he gripped his glass. Maybe he saw Cort’s eyes narrow to slits and his jaw set in a hard line. Maybe he felt the tension that seemed to crackle in the stale air of the bar. Maybe he sensed Cort leaning forward, poised to come across the table. Whatever the case, Dave wiped any sign of a smirk from his face and spit out the facts.
“The women are passed out or nearly passed out by the time they cross the threshold to their rooms. He dresses them in something kinky, snaps a few photos, and gets his butt out of the room all within a few minutes.”
“So that’s it? He just takes pictures? Nothing else?”
“Based on the time he spends in the room, that’s all that’s happening.”
; “But you can’t be certain.”
“Hey, I wasn’t there, but my people don’t give me bad intel. I’m certain. I told you, in a city of sleazy people, I put this guy at the top of the dung heap. I dug a little deeper than I might have otherwise. He’s in it for the money. There’s nothing more to it.”
Cort let out a long, slow breath. He wanted to believe it, he did sort of believe it, but more than anything he wanted to be able to assure Karen. In order to do that, he’d have to believe it without reservation.
“In the past, our dealings have had to do with business. This is personal; you know that. For that reason, it is much more important to me. I have to be sure, without a doubt, that nothing more happens in those hotel rooms. In one particular hotel room. I have to be sure, so I can put someone else’s mind at ease. Someone who has suffered for a very long time. Convince me, beyond a shadow of a doubt.”
Dave looked at Cort as if sizing him up. He shifted in his seat with the quick, jerky motions that Cort had come to recognize. Dave finished his drink, then set the glass on the table, keeping his hand wrapped around it.
“My guy found a guy who helped cover sometimes when this dude followed a target up to her room. Made excuses if anyone asked where the dude disappeared to.” Dave leaned forward and spoke slowly, tapping his glass on the table with each word. “Her room, or his room.”
It came as a shock. “His?”
“That’s why I believe it was money, nothing more. He doesn’t care who he takes advantage of, just needs to believe he can.” Dave shrugged. “I told you, top of the dung heap.”
This time when Cort exhaled, most of his doubt flowed out with his breath. Most, but not all.
“That’s good. Thank you.”
“Hey, I deliver.”
“Yes, you do. I’m hoping you can deliver a little more. Ask a few more questions, find me some proof that it’s pictures, nothing more. At least that this time, it was.”
Cort pushed a folded sheet of paper across the table. Dave leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest, his scowl deepening as he eyed the paper.
“I told you, I’m sure.”
“And I can appreciate that, but in order for me to put this to rest once and for all for someone I care very much about, I need more.”
Dave muttered a litany of inventive oaths under his breath. He grabbed the table and started to heave himself to his feet, but then swore loudly and dropped back in the booth.
“I want another drink.”
Cort nodded and signaled to the bartender.
Dave pulled out a cell phone and punched at it with one beefy finger until his drink arrived. When he held open his jacket to drop the phone back into the inside pocket, Cort caught a fleeting glimpse of a gun tucked in Dave’s waistband. Not entirely surprised but still a bit unnerved, Cort sat up straighter and watched Dave’s moves carefully.
“I’ll see what I can find.”
“Thank you.”
Dave made a sound low in his throat and dismissed the comment with a jerk of his hand.
“And I need to know where to find him.”
“That, I figured. He’s gone.”
“Gone? He left Vegas?”
“He left yesterday. By the time I found out, it was too late to get in touch with you.”
“Did he get wind of you asking about him?”
“Hey, now you’re just insulting me! No one gets wind of anything I do unless I want them to.”
Cort wasn’t sure how seriously to take the offended look on Dave’s face, but given what he’d just glimpsed, decided to play it safe.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply he was on to you, but I thought maybe he could have heard something from someone you spoke with.”
“I make certain that doesn’t happen.”
Dave was still scowling, and the muttering started again. Cort decided against asking any questions as to how he accomplished that.
“Do you know where he went? Whether he’s coming back? Please, it’s important.”
Dave frowned, but relented.
“He said he needed some time off for a personal matter. I don’t know where he went. I could probably find out, but I figured since he’ll be back, it doesn’t really matter. Tell you what. I’ll keep an eye out and when he’s back in town, I’ll let you know. Call it a bonus out of the goodness of my heart.”
“I’d appreciate that. What about his name? What name is he using now?”
“Kellen Brown, working as a bartender at Mystique. It’s at least the third name he’s used here. When he senses someone might be getting curious about him, he quits his job, hides out for a while, then changes his name and appearance and gets a job at another casino. From the sounds of it, he’s pretty good with wigs and make-up and stuff. Might have had some training along those lines at some point. And before you ask, I don’t know his real name. With a little time, I’m sure I could find out, but I guessed it probably didn’t matter all that much.”
“It probably doesn’t.” Cort took a deep breath. He had a lot to think about. He stood and held out a hand again to Dave. This time when Dave shook it, Cort slipped him a fat envelope. “Thank you. I’ll look forward to hearing from you.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
NINE HOURS AFTER Cort left for Las Vegas, Karen came to a decision. For ten days, she’d been on edge waiting for any information at all from Cort. When he told her he’d have to go to Vegas, that he’d combine a business trip with a meeting with his contact, she hadn’t known how to feel. Part of her was relieved at the thought of finally getting some answers. Another part was terrified at what those answers would be. Still another part felt crushing guilt at doing all of it behind Joe’s back.
She’d succeeded in convincing Joe she wasn’t suffering from postpartum depression. While she’d guessed for months that had been his fear, she’d avoided the subject with him just as she had with Sam and with Annie and with everyone else who hinted around about getting help. She’d made a gargantuan effort to avoid giving into the emotions that could be confused with PPD in order to allay their fears. Finally, she’d broached the subject with Joe and after a lengthy discussion, managed to assure him she didn’t have postpartum depression.
What she still hadn’t done, though, was tell him the truth. The feeling that she needed to do just that had become more than she could bear in the ten days since she’d spoken with Cort so that night, after she’d fed the twins and gotten them back to sleep, she woke Joe. She’d decided it wasn’t fair to wait for information from Cort before talking to Joe. She had serious doubts he’d understand why she’d waited as long as she did, and she didn’t know if she could give him an answer he’d understand, but she knew she couldn’t keep him in the dark any longer.
“Hey, Joe, are you awake?”
“Hmmm?”
“I need to talk to you.”
“Are the kids okay?”
“Yes, they’re fine. They’re sleeping. I need to talk to you.”
Joe rolled over and rubbed his eyes. Karen saw him squint at the clock. “Um, okay,” he said on a yawn.
“I need you awake.”
“I’m awake.”
“Really awake. This is important, Joe.”
She had his attention. Joe pushed himself up to sitting and flipped on the bedside lamp.
“What’s wrong, baby?”
“I need to tell you something. It’s a long story, and it’s not going to be easy for me to tell you. I hope you’ll let me get through it without, well, without getting too upset.”
“Okay…”
Karen scrubbed her hands over her face and prayed she’d find the right words.
“Things have been hard lately, and you’ve been trying to get me to talk to you about it for months. I haven’t, I couldn’t…I hoped I wouldn’t ever have to. I hoped that somehow it would all go away, and I’d never have to worry you with any of it.”
“Karen, you’re sick, aren’t you? Tell me what’s wrong and we’l
l get through it together. We’ll do whatever—”
“No, Joe, I’m not sick. I promise, I’m not sick. It’s something else, and it might be worse.”
“You’re scaring me.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to, but I don’t really know how to start.”
“At the beginning. Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think it is.”
Oh, how she wished that were true. She took a deep breath. “Last year, when I went to Kelly’s bachelorette party in Vegas? Something happened.”
“Something happened? What?”
She heard the fear in his voice and wanted more than anything to take it away. She knew she couldn’t. “I was at a bar. I’d only had a little to drink, but I was tired, and I was sick of being in the bars and casinos, and I just wanted the whole weekend to be over. Kelly and the others wanted to gamble a little, play some slots, and I couldn’t do it. I told them I’d wait at the bar until they were ready to do something else.”
Joe nodded, but even in the dim light, she saw the questions in his eyes.
“We’d been talking to this bartender so when I decided to stay behind, I kept talking to him. Just chatting between his other customers. He was friendly, he kept me from feeling like an idiot sitting at the bar by myself.” Karen took his hands. “Joe, I promise you, I didn’t do anything, I mean, I didn’t mean to do anything, I don’t really know what happened.”
The tears she’d promised herself she wouldn’t shed started to fall. She swiped them away, angry at herself. She refused to cry and play on Joe’s soft heart.
“I must have had more than I thought. I don’t remember what happened. I’d never do anything, I’ve never even considered, or wanted…I don’t know.”
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