"Thank you, Detective.This helps."
"Don't thank me yet.I haven't done anything except point you toward more questions."Carter stood and extended her hand."Find your girl, Detective Blackhorse.And when you do, find out what the hell is going on at that agency.If there's something there, I want to know about it."
Outside L.A.P.D.headquarters, Kari stood on the sidewalk and let the afternoon sun beat down on her.The building rose behind her, a massive concrete structure that housed thousands of officers working thousands of cases, most of which would never be solved to anyone's satisfaction.She understood Carter's constraints.Twelve thousand missing persons a year.Limited resources.Impossible choices about where to focus attention.
But understanding didn't make it easier to accept.
Her mind churned through what she'd just learned.Amanda Escalante wasn't missing.She was dead.And Elite Vision had told Jade she'd gone home, had deliberately lied about what happened to one of their own models.
Why?What did they have to hide?
Kari's first instinct was to drive straight to Elite Vision's office and demand answers.Walk in, badge out, and watch their faces when she asked why they'd told Jade that Amanda had moved back home when they knew damn well she was dead.The lie was so blatant, so easily disproven, that it spoke to either desperation or arrogance—and neither option was good.
But she forced herself to think it through.She had no jurisdiction here.No authority to compel anyone at Elite Vision to answer her questions.And if she tipped them off that she was investigating—that she'd connected Amanda's death to Tayen's disappearance—she might lose any chance of finding out what had really happened.If they were involved in something criminal, confronting them now would only give them time to cover their tracks, destroy evidence, maybe even move Tayen if she was still alive somewhere.
Better to keep digging quietly, build a picture of what was really going on before she showed her hand.
But God, it was hard to be patient when every instinct screamed that Tayen was running out of time.
She pulled out her phone and searched for Blake Montgomery.His website came up immediately: a slick portfolio with a minimalist design, all black backgrounds and stark white text.The kind of aesthetic that suggested artistic seriousness.
The landing page showcased his commercial work.Fashion editorials for magazines Kari vaguely recognized, catalog shoots for clothing brands, promotional images for cosmetics companies.The photography was technically impressive—clean lighting, sharp focus, models who looked polished and aspirational.
Nothing that would raise an eyebrow.This was the work of a competent professional, the kind of images that filled billboards and magazine spreads across the country.
Kari almost clicked away.Then she noticed the navigation menu: COMMERCIAL.EDITORIAL.PERSONAL WORK.
She tapped PERSONAL WORK.
The screen filled with something entirely different.
The models in these shots were beautiful, certainly.Flawless skin, perfect bone structure, bodies arranged in poses that suggested both vulnerability and strength.But there was something in their expressions that reminded Kari of trapped animals.
Eyes that seemed to plead with the camera.Limbs positioned in ways that evoked restraint even when nothing bound them.Shadows falling across faces like bruises.
A quality of unease beneath the surface perfection.
'Raw vulnerability,' Montgomery probably called it.'Authentic emotion.''Artistic vision.'
Kari scrolled through image after image, her unease growing.These weren't the confident, empowered women from the commercial section.These were women who looked hunted.Haunted.And someone was paying Blake Montgomery to capture that look—or he was seeking it out on his own.
Amanda Escalante appeared in several shots, her dark eyes luminous and sad beneath dramatic lighting.In one image, she stared directly at the camera with tears streaming down her face, her expression somewhere between grief and terror.The caption readBroken Dreams.
Tayen Stern was there too, in a series of photos that must have been taken within the past few months.In one, she sat curled in a corner, her arms wrapped around her knees, her face half-hidden by shadow.In another, she stood against a bare wall with her hands pressed flat against the surface, as if trying to push through to somewhere else.
The images were striking, undeniably powerful.They were also deeply disturbing.
Montgomery's studio was listed in the Arts District, not far from Elite Vision's office.Kari checked the time.Late afternoon.If Montgomery kept normal business hours, he might still be there.
She got in her rental car and headed toward the Arts District, her mind still churning through possibilities.The pieces were starting to form a picture, but Kari couldn't yet see what it showed.She only knew that Tayen Chee was somewhere in this city, and that the longer she remained missing, the less likely it became that Kari would find her alive.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Ben Tsosie had never been good at waiting.It was a character flaw he'd long since accepted, one that had gotten him into trouble more than once over the years.His grandmother used to say he'd been born impatient, that even in the womb he'd been kicking to get out before his time.
But knowing that about himself didn't make the waiting any easier.
He sat in Captain Yazzie's office, trying to keep his frustration from showing on his face, while the captain finished a phone call that seemed to consist mostly of Yazzie saying "I understand" in increasingly tense tones.The office was small and cluttered, every surface covered with case files and administrative paperwork, the walls lined with commendations and photographs from Yazzie's thirty-year career.A small window looked out on the parking lot, where heat shimmered off the asphalt in waves.
