passenger door of my car. He walked over to it, and reaching out, flicked the plastic bag. “What happened?”
“Vandalism.”
“Is this related to everything else?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
He moved back to my side. “You’re going to get this fixed soon, right?”
“Yeah.”
“If it’s a matter of money—”
“It isn’t. I’ll get it fixed soon.” I gave him a bright smile.
He nodded. “Okay, let’s go make that report.” He took me by the hand led me into the building. As we walked through the twisting corridors, I felt like a rat in a maze.
We finally stopped at a small cubicle in the back corner with gray padded walls and a gunmetal gray desk. Andre Thomas, his uniform crisp and starched, took down my story about Henry and BJ and I threw in my vandalized car for good measure.
“How did you say they got in?” he asked, for what seemed like the millionth time.
I sighed. Loudly. “I told you, I don’t know. They were already in my apartment when I got home.”
Officer Thomas had cafe au lait skin and was handsome in a drill sergeant kind of way. His light hazel eyes stared at me through rectangular glasses. “You’d been to a couple of bars? How much did you have to drink?”
I threw my hands in the air and glared at him. We’d been at this for over an hour. “I didn’t have anything to drink and I’m not on trial. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I’m just curious why you didn’t report this sooner, Miss Strickland. Seems odd to me. If two men broke into my house, I’d have called the police immediately.”
“I told you, I didn’t think the police could help me and BJ was pretty specific about not messing with him.”
He drummed his fingers on the desk. “So why are you reporting it now?”
Dane leaned forward. “What’s the problem, Andre? She’s telling you what happened.”
The officer scrutinized me with laser-like intensity. “I’m just trying to get an accurate picture of what occurred.”
I stood up. “Here’s an accurate picture for you. My friend, Axton Graystone, is missing.” I pointed at him. “I report that and you police people have done nothing about it. I report two men broke into my apartment and they seem to know my every move. I report someone vandalizes my car, but there’s nothing you can do about that, either. And now you’re treating me like the criminal?”
“Sounds like trouble follows you around, Miss Strickland. Now, sit down, and we’ll go over this again.” He nodded at the chair I’d vacated.
I shifted my gaze to Dane. “I told you this was a mistake.” I grabbed my purse, haphazardly finding my way out of the labyrinth, wishing I’d left a trail of breadcrumbs to make it easier.
When I made it outside, I closed my eyes, tilted my face to dark clouds overhead. I took a deep cleansing breath. Sitting in that gray box being interrogated like a career criminal left me a little shaky. Dane came out a minute later. He placed his hand on the small of my back. “Hey,” he said, “I know he’s a hard ass, but he was just doing his job.”
I opened my eyes and faced him. “I don’t have much faith in the police anymore, Dane.” I gestured toward the building. “This was pointless.” I pulled my keys out of my purse and headed toward my car.
“Where are you going? We need to go back in there and finish up.”
“I’m going to find Axton.”
Chapter 16
I pulled into the nearest gas station, sat in my car, and scanned through the NorthStar list. I was determined to hit at least one more place today. I wasn’t sure it would lead me to Ax, but it made me feel like I was doing something.
I had just picked out my next target when my phone rang. It was Jacks. “Yeah?” I was still hurt she lied about going to my parents’ house last night. I knew Jacks hated to be stuck in the middle between my mother and me, but I wish she’d take my side occasionally.
“Do you want to come over for dinner? I’m making lasagna.”
My stomach gurgled at the thought. This was her peace offering. And it was a yummy one. “Sure. What time?”
“Around six. Although you might want to get here early because someone got his Halloween costume.”
“I did, Aunt Rose,” I heard Scotty yell in the background.
“Tell him I can’t wait to see him.” I hung up and drove the five miles to Pour Femme, a chichi boutique close to the salon where my mother and Jacks got their hair done. It was full of beautiful dresses and gowns that cost more than I made in six months.
I walked in and probably still smelled of eau de bacon judging by the wrinkled nose of the woman who approached me. In her early forties, tall and painfully thin, she looked like a chic vampire in her tight black sheath.
“Yes?” she asked with one brow artfully raised.
Flashing Axton’s picture around and telling my missing friend sob story had so far gotten me nowhere. Besides, this woman would have tossed Axton’s pot-loving ass out of here in two seconds flat.
“Hello,” I said with a smile, “I’m here from NorthStar.” I waited for her to either toss me out on my ass or start spilling information.
She did neither. She inspected me from head to toe, and from her world-weary sigh, I didn’t come up to snuff. “I wish they would send me taller girls.”
Say what, now?
“What size are you? Eight?”
“I’m a four.”
She propped her chin on the back of her hand and pursed her dark red lips. “Up top you’re maybe a two, but that ass is definitely an eight.”
“Excuse me?” I puffed out my size-two chest daring her to say more.
“Come,” she said with a disdainful look on her face and slinked across the store. “Do you need a cocktail dress or a gown?”
“Cocktail,” I said with confidence.
“When do you need it?” she asked, thumbing through a rack of short dresses.
“Now.” Wow, I liked this new brazen me.
She sighed. “Of course, you need it now. They give me short girls with big asses and they want me to work miracles yesterday.”
I put my hands on my hips. “That’s enough big ass talk, sister.”
She didn’t even respond. She pulled three dresses from the rack and shoved them at me. “Try these on.” She stretched out her arm and pointed toward the back of the shop. “In there. Go.”
I walked to a dressing room and hung up the three dresses she’d given me. In my old life, I took dresses like these for granted. My dad handed me his AmEx card and I bought what I wanted without ever looking at the price. Those days were long gone. I glanced at the tags and almost passed out.
I took a deep breath. I wasn’t going to have to buy anything, I reminded myself, I was just on a fact finding trip. I’d try them on, ask a few questions, and get the heck out.
The first was a black halter dress with a lacy bodice and a full skirt. The V-neckline exposed half my chest.
The saleswoman knocked on my door. “Let me see.”
I stepped out into the store. She walked around me, like a shark circling its prey. “Not bad,” she said. “It camouflages that bottom and minimizes your lack of breasts. Next.”
She was full of encouragement, that one. I walked back into the room and took off the dress. After carefully
