“What about your husband? Ava’s father? A boyfriend?”
“I’m divorced, and Ava’s father has never been in the picture.”
I scratch that question off my notepad. “Although your daughter wasn’t home that morning, we’d still like to speak with her. Where is she?”
“At work. She’ll be home around seven. You’re welcome to come back tonight.”
“We don’t mind visiting her on the job.” I skim the paperwork once more, coming up empty on an employer. “Where does she work?”
“At Oak Winds.”
My mouth becomes as arid as the desert. “The casino?”
“Yes.”
What are the fucking odds?
There are hundreds of jobs in a casino. This doesn’t have to be anything more than a coincidence.
My gut says otherwise. “Mrs. Ross, by any chance, is Dana a blackjack dealer?”
Her face brightens. “She rotates to other table games, but she’s usually on the blackjack table. The tips are better there. How did you know that?”
“Lucky guess.”
“Well, with luck like that, maybe you should play a few hands while you’re there.”
Not a fucking chance.
NINE
Nice to meet you. I'm the creeper
REED
My cell rings rightas Andrews steers the car onto Oak Winds property.
“It’s Romero,” I announce before answering on speakerphone.
Drake Romero is one of nine other special agents on our task force. Hopefully, he has some news for us.
He jumps in without preamble. “We found doorbell cam footage of one of the perps from the Cocoa Beach job. Sending it to you now. Maybe your vic can confirm if it’s the same guy who hit her home. Unfortunately, it isn’t a clear enough shot for facial rec. I enhanced it, but it’s still shitty.”
Damn.
“We already left the Ross home. We’re about to interview the daughter over at Oak Winds.”
“She a gambler?” he asks, his tone amused.
“Nope. She’s a dealer, mostly blackjack.”
Same job as Lila.
I bite my tongue to keep from mentioning how this tidbit is sending up red flags, given my hunch that Lila’s involved withsomething sketchy. Now that one of her coworkers is connected to a victim in our case, my suspicions have multiplied.
After we left the Ross home a few minutes ago, Andrews said it’d be best to keep the Lila thing between the two of us—for now.
Andrews already got an earful from me about the man I chased through the casino last week—Elliot Riddick and how Lila refused to ID him. Even when confronted with the picture of him interacting with her ex-boyfriend, she played dumb.
