A Trace of Vice. Блейк Пирс
of small houses, all with bars on the windows.
Sarah pulled out her phone and tried for the third time to send a quick text to her mom. But she still couldn’t get any reception. It was weird because they weren’t in the boonies or anything; they were in the heart of Los Angeles.
Dean parked the car and Sarah put her phone back in her purse. If reception was still bad in his house, she’d use his landline. After all, her mom was pretty understanding, but going hours without giving a courtesy call was definitely against family rules.
As they walked up the path to the house, Sarah could already hear the thumping beat of music. A tingle of uncertainly coursed through her body but she ignored it.
Dean banged loudly on the front door and waited while someone inside undid what sounded like multiple separate locks.
Finally, the door opened a crack to reveal a guy whose face was hidden under a mass of long, unkempt hair. The strong smell of pot wafted out and hit Sarah so unexpectedly that she started coughing. The guy saw Dean and gave him a fist bump, then opened the door wide to let them all in.
Lanie stepped in and Sarah stayed close behind her. Blocking the foyer from the rest of the house was a large red velvet curtain, like something out of a cheesy magician’s act. As the long-haired guy relocked the doors behind them, Dean pulled back the curtain and directed them into the living room.
Sarah was shocked by what she saw. The room was packed full with couches, love seats, and beanbag chairs. On each of them were couples making out and in some cases, doing much more. All of the girls looked to be Sarah’s age and most looked drugged up. A few even appeared to be passed out, which didn’t stop the guys, all of whom looked older, from doing their thing. The vaguely unsettled feeling she’d had walking up to the house returned, but much stronger now.
This is not a place I want to be.
The air was thick with pot and something sweeter and stronger that Sarah didn’t recognize. Almost on cue, Dean handed Lanie a joint. She took a long drag before offering it to Sarah, who declined. She decided she’d had enough of this place, which looked like the set of an old porno.
She took out her phone to order an Uber but found she still had no reception.
“Dean,” she shouted over the music, “I need to call my mom to let her know I’ll be late but I can’t get a connection. Do you have a landline?”
“Of course. There’s one in my bedroom. I’ll show you,” he offered, once again flashing that broad, warm smile before turning to Lanie. “Babe, would you get me a beer from the kitchen? It’s that way.”
Lanie nodded and headed in the direction he’d pointed and Dean motioned for Sarah to follow him down a hall. She wasn’t sure why she’d lied about needing to call her mom. But something about this situation made her feel like it wouldn’t be well received if she said she wanted to bail.
Dean opened a door at the end of the hall and stepped aside to let her enter. She looked around but didn’t see a phone.
“Where’s your landline?” she asked, turning back to Dean as she heard a door lock. She saw that he’d already turned the deadbolt and was attaching the chain lock near the top of the bedroom door.
“Sorry,” he said, shrugging but not sounding apologetic at all. “I must have moved it to the kitchen. I guess I forgot.”
Sarah weighed how aggressive she needed to be. Something was very wrong here. She was in a locked bedroom in what appeared to be something close to a brothel in a seedy part of Little Armenia. She wasn’t sure how effective calling him out would be under the circumstances.
Be sweet. Act ignorant. Just get out.
“That’s okay,” she said perkily, “let’s just go to the kitchen then.”
As she spoke she heard a toilet flush. She turned to see the bathroom door open, revealing a huge Hispanic guy wearing a white T-shirt that rode up on his enormous, hairy belly. His head was shaved and he had a long beard. Behind him on the linoleum floor of the bathroom lay a girl who couldn’t have been more than fourteen. She had on only panties and appeared to be passed out.
Sarah felt her chest tighten and her breathing get shallow. She tried to hide the growing panic she felt.
“Sarah, this is Chiqy,” Dean said.
“Hi, Chiqy,” she said, forcing her voice to remain calm. “Sorry to cut this short but I’m just headed to the kitchen to make a call. Dean, if you could just unlock the door for me.”
She decided that instead of trying to find the kitchen, where she doubted she’d see a phone anyway, she was heading straight for the front door. Once outside, she’d flag someone down for a ride. Then she’d call 911 to get help for Lanie.
“Let me get a better look at you,” Chiqy ordered in a gravelly voice, ignoring what she’d said. Sarah turned to see the massive man eyeing her up and down. After a moment, he licked his lips. Sarah felt the urge to vomit.
“What do you think?” Dean asked him eagerly.
“I think we put her in a sundress with pigtails and we got a solid earner here.”
“I’m going to go now,” Sarah said and hurried over to the door. To her surprise, Dean stepped aside, looking amused.
“You used the dampener so she couldn’t call or text?” she heard Chiqy ask from somewhere behind her.
“Yep,” Dean answered. “I watched her real close. She tried a lot but never seemed to get a connection. Did you, Sarah?”
She fumbled with the chain lock and almost had it off when a huge shadow suddenly blocked out the light. She started to turn but before she could, she felt a sharp thud on the back of head and then everything went black.
CHAPTER ONE
Detective Keri Locke’s heart was pounding. Even though she was in the middle of a huge police station, she tuned out everything around her. She could barely think straight as she stared at the email message on her phone, refusing to believe it was real.
The words were simple but their meaning was colossal.
For six long weeks, she’d been waiting for this, hoping against hope that the man she suspected had abducted her daughter five years ago would reach out. And now he had.
Keri slid her phone away on the desk and closed her eyes, trying to stay composed as she attempted to wrap her head around the situation. When she’d first uncovered the contact information for the man known only as the Collector, she’d set up a meeting. But he never showed up.
She reached out to him to find out what happened. He indicated that she hadn’t followed the rules but hinted that he might get in touch in the future. It had taken all of her discipline and patience not to try to contact him again. She wanted to desperately but worried that if she came on too strong, he would get skittish and dump the email address completely, leaving her no way of ever finding him, or Evie.
And now, after all those torturous weeks of silence, he’d finally gotten in touch again. Of course, he didn’t know he was communicating with Evie’s mother or even that it was a woman. All he knew was that this was a potential client interested in discussing an abduction for hire.
This time she would come up with a better plan than before. The last time, she had less than an hour to get to his assigned meeting place. She tried to set up a decoy to go in her place and survey the situation from afar. But somehow he knew the decoy wasn’t legitimate and he didn’t come. She couldn’t let that happen again.
Stay cool. You’ve held out this long and it’s paid off. Don’t ruin it by doing something impulsive. There’s nothing you can do right now anyway. The ball’s in his court. Just give a basic response and wait to hear back.
Keri typed one word:
Then she put the phone in her purse and stood up from her desk, too nervous and excited to sit