“Anna’s parents gave detectives receipts months ago,” Gaby disclosed as Rhys linked her phone to the smart screen and displayed photos of crumpled register tapes. “They had the name and dates but never followed up.”
Dev frowned. “Why does this sound familiar?”
“Because it is,” Gaby replied, her bitterness plain.
“I thought they cleaned house and hired a new chief,” Leland said.
“They did,” Dev said. “The investigation into Anna’s disappearance predates him.”
“None of the women knew each other personally as far as we can tell,” Rhys said. “But fit the same general profile.”
Dev pointed to the header of one receipt. “This isn’t from The Underground.”
“They have three locations: North, the Driftwood in Miami Beach, and another downtown called The Velvet Room,” Rhys clarified. “At least two of the victims visited more than one place.”
Alec let out a breath. “So, he’s not tied to one club.”
“He doesn’t need to be,” Gaby said. “The location doesn’t matter. The access does.”
Leland studied the four faces on the screen. “He’s hunting.” The room went quiet. “Three clubs with overlapping membership,” he said. “He can scout targets, build familiarity, and hide in plain sight.”
Nobody disagreed; they could all see it. Not random disappearances, or disconnected cases. A pattern that was deliberate, patient, and escalating.
Dev was done talking. “We need access to their surveillance. Someone needs to pay the owner a visit.” His eyes moved from Alec to Leland, the implication clear.
Callan smirked faintly. “Smart. Leland can be persuasive.”
“Without saying a word,” Alec said.
“We also need member and guest registration, employee rosters, attendance logs, and the details of their security procedures,” Dev continued. “Anything that gives us a better picture of who’s moving through those clubs.”
“I’m free now,” Leland said, rising from his chair.
Jesse looked up from his phone. “Their website says they don’t open until four.”
Callan turned to his laptop. “That gives me time to keep digging.”
“Try sleeping at some point,” Dev suggested.
He didn’t look up. “I can sleep when we find the killer.”
No one contradicted him. How could they when he was right?
Chairs creaked as the meeting adjourned with a solid lead and more threads to pull.
As Alec gathered his files, he glanced at Leland. “Looks like we’ve got a date tonight.”
Leland gave him a blank stare, unamused.
“At least it’s a kink club. Could be interesting.”
“Still sounds terrible,” he drawled.
“You never know. We might learn something.”
“Highly doubtful.” Leland fell in beside him as they headed out. “Just in case it comes up,” he said, “you’re the bottom.”
“Who says?”
