“So you found real-time footage of our Jane Doe?”
“Not quite. That’s why I told you this is below our benchmark. With this new search, I used secondhand information as my data source, and thank Gaea for people’s obsession with social media.”
“You’re losing me, Lana.”
“Remember how the siren you spoke to described our Jane Doe?” she asked eagerly. “I used your transcript to acquire new search parameters, and then I started digging and going through all online conversations involving sirens working for Dion’s establishments. From there, I narrowed the search to anything that had to do with a siren who—-”
“Didn’t dress like the others did and was more human than siren,” I finished rather breathlessly. “Lana, you’re a genius.”
“Not if you ask Agent Gries,” she muttered.
“She just wants to solve this case as much as we do,” I soothed.
“I don’t think so.” Lana was normally reticent about most things, but she could be a tad bit belligerent when someone tried to mess with her work. “Anyway, don’t let Agent Gries know about this yet. It’s just a hunch anyway—-”
“I trust your hunches,” I assured her.
“You’ll have to drive all the way to Portland for it,” Lana warned, “and my hunch mostly has to do with a couple of sirens having their own Facebook group chat to talk about a certain Amanda who – quote unquote – has no problem poaching other girls’ clients.”
“That does sound like our Jane Doe,” I murmured, remembering Monica’s theory about the missing siren.
“A certain Sonja also complains – and I quote –she keeps using my phone, and she never bothers to ask for my permission.”
“I’m...not sure about that.” It was a rude thing to do, but I wasn’t sure that had any bearing on my Jane Doe. “Anything else I should know?”
“If Amanda is the Jane Doe we’re looking for – according to the Facebook chat I’m following, she’s missed work for three days in a row now.”
“Three days,” I echoed slowly. It had also been three days since Zeus’ so-called mood swings had started, and didn’t that make quite a coincidence?
TROY AND PHILIP ALREADYhad the Bentley running as soon as I stepped out of headquarters, with instructions to take me to Portland Gotz Talentz, which was yet another seriously questionable choice of name for one of Dion’s bars.
A grim-faced Paul was waiting for me by the front door when we arrived, and he wasted no time flashing his badge and getting the bouncer to take us to the employees’ private quarters.
We showed the sirens the photo of our Jane Doe – probably the only one existing in the world. If not for tech support’s strict adherence to SOP, a retroactive camouflage spell would have made the photo I obtained from Midas’ casino vanish as well.
“Is this Amanda?” Paul asked.
I felt light-headed with relief when the sirens nodded even as they exchanged looks of confusion with each other.
“Is she in some kind of trouble?” one of the women asked.
“It’s not something we’re at liberty to discuss at present,” Paul evaded. He cast a glance at our surroundings, which had the same apartment layout as TVF’s. “Which room is hers?”
A siren named Sonja introduced herself as Amanda’s roommate and volunteered to show us the space she shared with our missing person. It was a reasonably sized room, with one bed on each side. Sonja’s half was a bit of a clutter while Amanda’s side was neat and orderly, extremely so.
“Is it always like that?” I asked.
“She hates mess,” Sonja affirmed.
None of Amanda’s belongings appeared missing or disturbed, and this worried me. Her laptop was on the desk, next to hercellphone and purse. I glanced at Paul, and the hard look on his face told me he was thinking along the same lines.
These days, people never left their cellphones behind by choice.
At Paul’s nod, Troy put on gloves, and I noticed Sonja pale when the blue-eyed agent whipped out evidence bags.
“Has something happened to her?” the siren asked shakily.
“She’s a person of interest,” I answered quietly, “and any kind of information you or the others could share about Amanda is of paramount importance.”
