“That’s not good for you,” Dane pointed out. Ryan waved a hand in his direction, dismissive, and then used the same hand to stifle a huge yawn.
Despite the fact that they had papers from Cairo confirming a settlement, they had testimony from the lawyer claiming the opposite. Were they forgeries? Or was something else going on? Did the lawyer have any reason to lie? No, Harrington didn’t have a long background with the Levitt family.
“Here’s the phone records.” Dane passed her a thick folder. Ryan looked at it, her eyebrows arched. “She was quite the talker.”
“Huh.” Ryan took it, placing it on her desk and flipping it open. She grabbed the highlighters from the cup on her desk, laying them within easy reach. Three lines down and she grabbed one, highlighting four rows in pink. International numbers were easy to identify, not just by their numbers but by the charges attached.
“Anything interesting?” Dane asked, looking over from his computer.
“A lot of international numbers.” Ryan tapped the butt of the highlighter against her cheek, continuing to skim the numbers with tired eyes. “Do we have a list of the local numbers she might have called?”
“Family and friends are included.” Dane handed her a sheaf of papers with a list of names and numbers. He had asked Cairo’s fiancé and family to give their numbers so they could be excluded from the phone records. All had agreed.
“Did you get the financial records?” Ryan looked at him, alert.
“Yup. But there wasn’t much.” Dane grimaced, handing the papers over. “Some deposits a few years ago from international accounts, but not much recently.”
“Did she have a credit card?” Ryan frowned at the papers. Cairo apparently didn’t use much money. “Or share an account with her fiancé?”
“I doubt it.” Dane shook his head. “From what I can find on Steven, he’s quite close-mouthed.”
The poker cards flashed into Ryan’s mind. “Do we know if she had a gambling problem at all?” Maybe there was a gambling debt, or something. It wasn’t something they had much of in Amaranth, but she had heard of it in the larger towns.
“I think the mother mentioned something about that.” Dane turned back to his computer, clicking and searching. “Here. She was a professional poker player a few years ago. Made thousands, then suddenly retired.”
“Then why doesn’t she have any money in her accounts? Was it offshore?”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” Dane said with a shrug.
Ryan resisted the urge to hit her head on her desk. “So we have a possible suicide, possible homicide, and this case just keeps getting more ridiculous?”
“Yup.” Dane turned back to his computer.
Ryan sighed. Her phone rang. Turning back to the paper records, she picked up the phone and tucked it into the crook between her head and neck. “Hello?”
“I have someone on the line who may have a lead for the Turner case?” It was the front-desk secretary.
“Patch them through.” There was a flutter of excitement in Ryan’s chest. Was she getting close to finding the missing girl? Her photo was still pinned to Ryan’s desk, a reminder of what was at stake.
The phone rang once or twice, then someone answered. “Hello?” It was a masculine voice, one she didn’t recognize. Probably not a local, then.
“Hello, this is Detective Olsen.” Ryan cleared her throat. “Mary-Beth said you might have information on the Jasmine Turner case?” She grabbed a notepad and a pen, prepared to jot down any information. It would be her first lead in half a week.
“Jasmine used to hang out at the bar,” the man said.
“Which bar?” Ryan wrote underage?? at the top of the page. According to her records Jasmine wasn’t even twenty.
“Sports. It’s the one behind Main Street.”
Ryan wrote that down. She’d been there quite a few times when she was a patrol officer, to break up fights and help remove drunk and disorderly customers. She had heard that it was under new ownership. Was that relevant? A thrill went through her. “Can I get your name, Sir?”
“No.” The line hung up.
Ryan held the phone for a few moments as she thought it through. Still, all leads were worth investigating. “Do you need me for anything?” Ryan looked at Dane.
“Nope.” He waved a hand at her. “I’m going to do some digging and try and find out where these payments came from.”
“Thanks.” Ryan grabbed her purse and darted out the door.
10
Saturday 1st October; 7pm
Sports was a dive bar, tucked into the corner of an old shopping mall that had died out ages ago. The roof needed repairs, and the paint was peeling, but she could see the lights and hear the music. Still, Ryan would talk to the staff and see what she could figure out.
The fact that the tip was anonymous worried her somewhat, but there had been prior anonymous tips in other cases that had borne fruit. There were a lot of reasons someone wasn’t comfortable giving their name.
She pushed open the door and squared her shoulders, immediately assaulted by loud, thumping pop music and the sound of people cheering on the TV. How anyone in the place still had any eardrums was a mystery to her. Yet there were at least a dozen people at the bar, and mostly they looked like they had been there for quite some time.
Walking up to the bar, she took stock of the bartender. He was tall and good-looking, with sharp cheekbones and flashing dark eyes. He was dressed plainly, a nice shirt and jeans, and his large hands were occupied with cleaning some glasses.
“How can I help you?” His voice was melodic and deep.
Immediately Ryan marked him off the list of potential callers, unless he had a very convincing voice changer. “My name is Detective Olsen and I’m here about Jasmine Turner?”
The bartender frowned, thinking. Then his eyes lit
