James blinked, then lifted his glass and took a sip. “Not surprising,” he said. “I’d hoped for different, of course, but given the life she was already leading when I left, it doesn’t surprise me.”
Daphne reached for him. His fingers curled around her hand and he lifted it, placing a kiss on the back.
“Where did Malcom find Weeks and Beeker?” he asked. “And are wesureDaisy isn’t a part of this? You did say she was looking for me, Ava.”
“I did, and she is, or was. We’re still digging into why. She’s had no unusual activity in her life since she was released from prison, though. Other than visiting the PI, she continues to spend most of her time at home or at the food kitchen.”
“Or church,” Callie said.
“That, too,” Ava conceded.
“And with Weeks’s and Beeker’s phones both making calls to the northern New Jersey area, we’re fairly certain Malcom, and maybe the owner of the club, are involved,” Callie said.
“Who is the owner?” James asked.
“A woman by the name of Nicole Monroe. She also comes from the same part of town as you, Lovell,” Ava replied.
James dropped his gaze to his wine, then frowned. “I remember her. She and my sister were friends.” He paused. “Or they were something. They were constantly together, but always fighting.”
“I imagine it got worse after you left. When your sister died, Nicole was in nursing school. Trying to break the cycle, I guess. Your sister, on the other hand, was wanted for two robberies and was a suspect in a drug-related drive-by shooting,” Ava replied.
“Breaking the cycle, going to nursing school…that would drive a wedge between Nicole and probably most of the neighborhood,” James said.
“Kind of weird that she left school to run an illegal sex club,” Daphne said. “I’m sure the money is better, but it takes a lot of guts and confidence to break free of the life I can only imagine she had. And then to toss it away for money? It seems…odd. Then again, what do I know? I broke free, so did Callie, but I went into a profession that made me obscene amounts of money for doing little more than looking at a camera.”
“It was harder than that, Daph, but I do see your point,” Callie said.
“Do you have any pictures?” James asked.
“Of Nicole?” Ava clarified.
“Malcom, Nicole, anyone from the club? I want to see if I recognize any other players.”
“And what about Weeks and Beeks? Where do they come in?” Daphne reminded them.
“We’re looking into the club and its clientele,” Callie started as Ava clicked away on her computer, presumably bringing up whatever images they’d found. “We think it’s possible that Weeks and Beeks might be connected to another client and that’s how Malcom found them.”
“You’re not going to let the club skirt by, are you?” Daphne asked.
Callie huffed. “Definitely not. Stella has us gathering information and evidence. She’ll turn it over to a contact in the FBI field office whom she trusts.”
“Here,” Ava said as the image on the computer changed from Callie and Ava to a picture of a man. “Malcom Carter.”
James’s brother looked far older than she expected. Grey tinged the short hair at his temples, his skin looked worn and weathered, and his eyes looked dead. Not evil, not much of anything. Just dead. But even then, she could see a slight resemblance, mostly in the shape of the nose and mouth, to his younger brother.
“Hasn’t aged well,” James said, his gaze fixed on the screen. “But again, not surprising. He’s lived a hard life. He may have the creature comforts now, and isn’t scrambling to put food on the table, but he’s probably still looking over his shoulder every step he takes.”
“Probably,” Ava agreed as another image flashed on the screen. This one of Malcom holding a car door open as a woman climbed in.
“Is that Nicole?” Daphne asked.
“It is,” Callie confirmed.
“Can you zoom in on her face?” James asked. Daphne glanced over at the tension in his voice. His head tipped, then he set his wineglass down and leaned toward the screen.
“Do you have any other pictures of Nicole?” he asked.
“We do,” Ava confirmed, and four seconds later, another image filled the screen.
