by T. J. Kline
Toni pressed the bell, waiting as a giant-sized man lumbered to the doorway. She tipped her head backward, looking up to see his face. Almost as wide as he was tall, he moved slowly as he opened the door, giving her the impression he could move quickly, but he chose not to. He looked like a bouncer in a biker bar, or a grizzly bear awakened from hibernation and as grumpy as either option. He didn't belong in a place where kids hid to flee abusive situations.
“Help you?” he grumbled, slurring the question as he eyed her.
Remember, scared college student. “Um, I spoke to Monique last night at the gala. She asked me to come by.”
Toni tried her best to mimic how she assumed a student might react to him. His muddy eyes narrowed as if determining the truth in her statement. She speculated what her best option for a take-down move on this beast of a man would be. She met his gaze, deciding a well-timed throat punch would be in order if it came down to it and flexed her fingers slightly.
“She’s in the back. Come in and have a seat.” He escorted her inside and directed her toward a chair in the well-furnished reception area. “I’ll let her know you’re here.”
Toni noted the way he locked the front door behind her, blocking her escape route. There could be a simple reason for it, like that the center wasn’t open yet. Maybe it was a protective measure for the kids who might be inside. But, in spite of the various logical reasons she imagined, her gut told her there was more to it than a simple explanation. She longed for the press of her Glock at her hip but, since this case called for her to be twenty, she only had a small handgun hidden at her inner thigh and pepper spray in her purse.
“Have a seat.” The man waved a hand the size of a ham at the Queen Anne chairs in the entry. “Your name?”
“Casey Miles.”
He narrowed his eyes and nodded before heading toward the back of the long hallway. Toni waited until he’d left her sight and wandered closer to the desk at the front of the reception area. A computer and telephone graced the corner of the L-shaped desk, clear of any personal items. Another floral arrangement of roses and mums graced the other corner. The wall behind the desk was sporting what appeared to be an original Renoir with its bright splashes of pink, red and yellow roses. Glancing up, she spotted several holes in the ceiling she was sure housed security cameras, watching her even now. It looked more like an opulent apartment complex than a shelter.
“Miss Miles!” Toni turned to see Monique rushing toward her, a wide smile on her lips. “I’m so thrilled you are here. Honestly, I didn’t expect you to come so soon. I worried you might be scared off by my request.”
Monique Bentley looked impeccable in her Dior suit and Toni felt frumpy next to her. It was eight o’clock in the morning and Toni knew she’d been out until the early hours of the morning, campaigning for funds for her charity. There wasn’t a wrinkle in her suit or a hair out of place.
“I was excited to get your perspective for my thesis and, to be frank, you’re so busy, I thought you might forget that you issued the invitation.”
“I wouldn’t have forgotten, dear.” She flashed a charming smile at Toni and indicated she should follow her to her office. “You made quite the impression last night.”
“I did?”
Monique glanced back over her shoulder, her gaze lingering over Toni, making her self-conscious. “Oh, yes.”
Something in the boldness of the statement set Toni on edge. There was nothing that should’ve raised red flags for her yet but she couldn’t deny they were waving all around her. She wished she’d brought Leo with her. Everything about this case had her second-guessing her instincts, thrown off her usual confidence and, if there was anyone whose instincts she trusted, it was his.
Leo watched Toni leave the 4Teen Center from his position parked at the end of the street.
“Son of a bitch,” he bit through clenched teeth.
He hadn’t wanted to believe Toni would stab him in the back this way, that she would use their relationship to work her case, but that was exactly what it looked like she was doing. He tried to remember how much he'd told her about Monique Bentley and why he needed to talk with her. To diffuse her anger last night, he'd told Toni everything about his case and she'd given away nothing about her own.
Monique waved goodbye to Toni from the entrance as the Mercedes slid out of the parking lot on the street. So focused on his girlfriend and how she’d just screwed him, he almost missed Monique leaning close to the man beside her and point at Toni's car.
The man didn’t look like someone Monique would be associated with. He was too rough and unrefined for the image she portrayed to the public. He looked like a professional wrestler and had to be at least three hundred pounds of gorilla-like mass. His fists alone were the size of sledgehammers and could probably take down a man with one swing. Something Leo would do well to remember when he talked with Monique. The ugly brute turned away from her and headed for a beat-up white pickup truck parked on the side of the building. Leo held back as the man exited the driveway, talking on his cell phone.
“Well, that'll make my appointment with her easier.”
Great, now he was talking to himself. He waited until she re-entered the facility before twisting his key in the ignition and easing his car into the parking lot.
Leo reached for the case file on the front seat before jogging to the entrance doors and pressing the bell, not letting up until Monique showed up at the door, looking mildly annoyed.
“Detective, to what do I owe this pleasure? If memory serves me correctly, we agreed to ten.”
He shot her a guilty grin he hoped would melt the icy chip on her shoulder. “I’m only thirty minutes early.”
She sighed but returned his smile with a provocative one of her own. “Fine, come in. Although, I’m still not sure I know anything that will help your case.” She led him to her office. “Would you like some coffee?”
“No, thank you. In my experience, people can usually help more than they realize, even if it’s that you don’t have information.”
“I hate to say it but I’m almost positive that will be the case.”
She handed him a cup, pouring one for herself and settled herself behind her desk. He didn’t miss the way she gracefully crossed her legs, her skirt slipping higher, or the way she folded her hands over her thighs, trying to attract his attention to them.
She has no clue she doesn’t compare to the woman who screwed you over this morning.
“So, Detective, what sort of help do you suppose I can offer you?” She licked her plump lips and shot him a coy smile, running her hand up her thigh.
He ignored her blatant innuendo, passing the photograph of Megan across her desk. “This girl, Megan Fletcher. Did she stay here and, if so, for how long?”
Monique’s perfectly tweezed brows rose as she pursed her lips and breathed deeply. “I’m not sure. So many of our teens come and go quickly. I don’t force any to stay. I give them a safe place to reside until they find their way back home.”
“Are you saying she went back home?” Leo had already spoken with Megan’s parents and believed their story - their daughter left for school one morning, like every other morning, and never returned.
“I’m saying she could have stayed here overnight on occasion. Megan, correct?” He nodded. “Yes, I think I remember her. She was a confused girl, looking for something dramatic in her life that, I’m afraid, I was unwilling to agree was in her best interests.”
“Could you elaborate?”
“She wanted to be an actress.” Monique shook her head, her eyes downcast. “Or a model. At least, that’s what she said. My suspicion is that she wanted to be famous, to live an exciting life filled with sensational people. Personally, I blame social media.”
“So she was like most sixteen-year-olds?”
Her face pinched slightly. “No, Megan was more uncompromising about it. She said she needed to escape now. She talked about running away, going to Los Angeles.”
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“When was the last time you saw her?”
Monique stared up at the intricately tiled ceiling, leaning back in her chair. “Last Wednesday. Or maybe it was Thursday.”
“She’s been missing almost a week according to her parents.”
Monique shrugged indifferently. “I could be wrong about the day. I’ve been so busy preparing for the gala I barely know what today is. But she’d left before and returned later. I had no reason to suspect this time was different.”
“How many girls do you get in here each week?”
“Hundreds.” She folded her hands and laid them over her knee again. “And, Detective, this center isn’t only for the benefit of teen girls. We assist grown women leaving abusive situations as well as teen boys, those who live in the city limits and outside them. It’s part of the reason the community of Las Vegas has banded together with such generous support. We don't discriminate who benefits from our help though we originally began as a refuge for teens only.”
“Do the women who stay here mind being housed together with young men? I mean, after what they might be walking away from… Doesn’t it cause…issues?”
“People who come here are looking for assistance, not to harm someone else.” She cast him a disdainful glance down her nose as she brushed a nonexistent stray lock of hair from her forehead. “That includes the young men who stay with us. Many of them have also suffered abuse on the streets. We are extremely careful to keep everyone protected. We have taken every precaution to safeguard our guests and wouldn’t do anything that might jeopardize our reputation as a sanctuary.”
“I see. Is that why you have a bodyguard working for you?”
“I assume you mean Tank. Perhaps you shouldn't make such rash judgments based on appearances. Your attitude is exactly the sort of speculation that would tarnish what I’m trying to accomplish here.”
That struck a nerve.
“So, he’s not a bodyguard?”
“No, he’s an all-around handyman. He fixes what breaks and helps keep this place running smoothly. But, he offers a measure of security,” she admitted. She rose from her seat, a clear indicator that their conversation was over.
He followed her lead and stood up. “I apologize if I spoke out of turn and I understand your concern, Ms. Bentley. I only have a few more questions.”
Sighing, Monique remained standing, her hands clenching into fists at her sides, and pierced him with a withering glare. It was a very different attitude from the one she’d had only a few moments ago.
“Do you keep tabs on the kids once they’ve left your facility? To make sure they continue to stay safe?”
“I don’t follow them if that’s what you’re asking. But I make sure they understand that I am always available and that they are welcome to return, should the need arise.”
“Do you keep records of who stays here and for how long?”
“No, we do not. That would defeat the purpose of the anonymity this center offers, especially to victims of abuse.” Her tone had become curt, and she braced her hands on her hips. “Is there anything else?”
“One more question.” He tugged photographs of the other two missing girls from his file and set them on her desk, studying her reaction, praying that this would be the tie that linked these cases together. He desperately needed a break in this case. “Do you recognize these two? Did either of them stay here in the past six months?”
Monique studied the pair of photographs before she shook her head. “No, I’ve never seen them before.”
Leo felt his last hope come crashing down at his feet. He’d been grasping at straws, expecting the 4Teen Center to give him a fresh lead in the case. Instead, he’d reached another dead end.
“When will my package arrive?” Gupta’s voice was thick, whether from his accent or from his desire wasn’t quite clear.
“We have eyes on your package now. It might take a few days, but you said you preferred—”
“I know what I said and I believe I explained the change in my delivery preferences. The price I’ve paid above the typical charge we agreed upon more than compensates for any inconvenience my indecisiveness may cause you.”
“Yes, sir. I’m not sure how quickly I can deliver this particular package. There are many factors to consider.”
His voice was as calm as if discussing the weather. “I don’t want excuses. I want what I’ve paid for. Now.”
7
She answered Leo's call on the first ring. “Toni?”
“Yes?”
She didn’t mean to sound exasperated with him but she was heading over to meet with Jones, to go over what little information she’d extracted from Monique Bentley during their short meeting. There was something fishy going on at the 4Teen Center but nothing concrete that would get a search warrant issued. So far, from Monique’s explanations, Toni was certain that all three of Leo's missing girls had spent at least a few nights at the center over the past few months. There was also an extraordinarily high turn-over of kids coming in each day compared to the number of empty rooms Toni had seen during her brief tour. Monique had bragged about how many women she was taking in regularly but most of her rooms stood empty. Where were all the women and teens she claimed to be housing?
“Where are you?” Leo's voice broke through her troubled thoughts.
“Working. Where else would I be?”
“Meet with me.”
Now?
“I can’t.” Her guilt surged. She was avoiding the inevitable. She’d undermined his case and hadn’t told him. Now she was deliberately avoiding him.
I’m a terrible girlfriend.
She owed him some sort of explanation for what she’d done this morning. It was a chicken-shit move on her part and an apology was in order. “Tonight. At Smokey’s Grill. I’ll buy you dinner.”
It was his favorite dive. She’d ply him with beer, burgers and a heartfelt apology. The guilt circled her heart, squeezing it tightly. Leo would forgive her because he loved her, and she was taking advantage of that affection. She didn't want to be that person but there were lives at stake. This was one situation where the end would justify the means.
Or maybe that's just what you're telling yourself to ease your conscience.
“How about six?” Hesitation colored his voice. “I need to talk to you about my case.”
Shame burned in her chest as he hung up. She didn’t need to ask why he wanted to discuss it with her. Chances were that she’d pushed him too far this time. It wasn't hard to tell that he was pissed. She’d undercut him, used their relationship to move her own career farther ahead at the risk of his.
There are more lives at stake with my case.
No matter how she tried to rationalize it, she was making excuses.
I am unquestionably the worst girlfriend ever.
Toni called Jones, warning him they’d have to keep their meeting short and sweet. She'd have to let him tease her about being dick-whipped, but she didn't want to be late for her meeting with Leo. At the very least, he deserved that courtesy. As she was disconnecting the call on Jones's snort of laughter, a flash of chrome from her passenger side window caught her eye.
Toni barely caught sight of the white truck barreling down on her as it ran the red light. She slammed her foot on the gas, only able to dodge it enough so that it hit only the back corner of her bumper, throwing her car into a screeching spin. With her body braced against her door, the seatbelt crushing her chest, Toni saw a young man in his early twenties through his cracked windshield. Before she could react, he jumped out of his vehicle and rushed toward her vehicle, his lips pulled back over his teeth in a feral snarl. Without thinking, Toni smacked her hand on her automatic door locks as he jerked at the passenger door. When that wouldn’t open, he kicked at the back one. The kid looked far too clean-cut to be threatening but his sneer revealed his menacing intent.
Toni released the buckle of her seatbelt and jammed her foot on the gas pedal, trying to get away fr
om the intersection. The grinding shriek of scraping metal sent him leaping away from her car, but the Mercedes wouldn't move away from where it caught on the front of his truck. She glanced back at him as he tugged a handgun from the back of his pants and pointed it at the passenger window.
She had no clue why this man was after her but this wasn’t the time to stop and ask questions. Throwing her Mercedes into reverse, Toni jammed her foot to the floor again and jerked the wheel in the opposite direction. It was enough to pry her car from the truck's bumper and knock the kid to one side.
The screech of metal from outside her vehicle made Toni cringe as she cut off several automobiles, weaving her way back into traffic, sparks flying from behind her. She pressed the button on her phone to call Jones.
“What’s up, T? You here yet?”
“I’ve got someone on my tail.” She glanced in the rearview mirror to see the truck closing in behind her. “I’m on Hacienda, heading toward the McCarran airport. I’ll ditch the car at Terminal One. Pick me up inside. Call me when you get close.”
“You okay?”
“For now, but I've got to shake him.”
“Any idea who it is?”
She glanced into the rearview mirror, for another glimpse of him, trying to place where she might recognize him from. Someone she'd busted on another case? She wracked her memory but kept coming up empty.
“No, I guess I should’ve ask him when he slammed into my car and tried to jerk me out of it.” A full conversation with Jones wasn't helping her focus on putting more distance between her and the guy chasing her. “Just get your ass to the airport, please.”
“On my way.”
Toni jerked the steering wheel to one side as she cut off a car beside her, earning herself a loud honk and the driver flipping her the bird. The move put a few cars between her and the truck. That wouldn't buy her much time to get out, into the airport and to alert security of the situation before the kid could catch up to her, but she couldn’t drive around the terminal trying to ditch him either. Her car was literally leaving a trail of sparks to follow.
