She's been gone forseven days.
"Tell you what," Torres finally says. "Let me pull up the schedule, see who worked with her. Maybe someone remembers something that can help."
It's more than anyone else has offered. I nod and try to temper the wave of relief that threatens to engulf me.
He taps his keyboard a few times, his eyes roving over the screen before he nods and makes a phone call. Five minutes later, a girl around my age appears in the doorway; bleached blonde hair in tight curls drape over her shoulders, false eyelashes frame her big eyes, wearing the cocktail uniform that's probably a size too small by design.
"This is Madison," Torres says. "She worked with Laurie on Sunday."
Madison gives me a sympathetic look that makes my stomach drop. "You're her sister? God, you guys really do look alike. She showed me photos."
"When did you last see her?" I ask, taking out my cell and opening it to the notes app.
"Sunday night. Her last shift." Madison perches on the edge of Torres's desk. "She seemed fine, you know? Made good tips, didn't complain about the grabby guys. Said she was getting the hang of it."
I type as she speaks, keeping meticulous notes of everything I learn. "Did she mention any plans after work? If she was going somewhere?" I look up at Madison, who has pulled her mouth to the side as she thinks. Her glittery lip gloss catches even in the dull light of the office.
"Yeah, actually. A bunch of us were gonna go to this bar a couple blocks off the Strip. But Laurie said she was tired, wanted to go straight home. She'd been complaining about not getting enough sleep with all the noise. It takes some getting used to."
"Do you think she possibly changed her mind and went to the club after all?" The tiny flicker of hope in my chest grows a little. This feels like the first tangible lead I’ve had all week.
Madison shrugs. "Maybe, but she never messaged or anything."
"Thank you." I'm already standing, shoving my phone into my pocket and snatching a pen from the top of a stack of papers. I scrawl my name and number on a creased sticky note that’s seen better days. "If you remember anything else…" I hand it to her and she nods with a weak smile.
"There is one thing…" Madison touches my arm. "Look, I don't want to freak you out or anything, but there's been some weird stuff happening lately. A few girls went missing in the last couple of weeks. Everyone's been talking about it. One from another casino, but a couple from this one, too." She slides a glance at Michael, looking to see if she is in trouble, but he just frowns.
Ice runs down my spine. "Missing how?"
"Like, gone. Just stopped showing up to work, phones off, nobody knows where they went. Management's been telling us to be careful walking to our cars, not to go anywhere alone at night." She glances at the floor. "Nobody wants to say it's connected, but…"
"But three girls in two weeks, and now my sister," I say quietly. "All casino workers."
"Yeah," Madison confirms. "I’m sure it’s nothing. Las Vegas isn’t for everyone. People dip out all the time when they realize it isn’t as glamorous as we make it look."
Torres clears his throat. "We've increased our security just in case. Offering escorts to employee parking. There's no evidence this is anything other than coincidence and ghosting, like I already said."
"Bullshit." The word comes out harder than I intend. "Four girls don't just vanish for no reason."
"Miss Parker, I understand you're upset, but spreading panic isn't going to help anyone. The police would investig—"
"The police aren’t interested." I'm already heading for the door. "Thanks for your help."
I'm halfway down the hallway when Madison catches up to me.
"Hey." She presses something into my hand, a business card with her number scrawled on the back. "If you need anything, call me. And seriously, be careful. Whatever's happening to these girls... I don't think they just left."
"Neither do I."
Yakov
The Albanian bleeds out on the warehouse floor, but I'm not getting the answers I need.
"Last chance," I say in Serbian. Close enough to his language that he understands every word. "Where is Zajmi keeping the girls?"
He spits blood at my feet. Defiant to the end. Stupid, but I respect the commitment.
I put a bullet between his eyes.
