A feeling of deja-vu surged through her bones—Reeve. With the help of her three Tico escorts, she had visited his apartment and found it turned upside-down. She had also met Reeve’s neighbor, who had given her the first indication that her stepbrother’s disappearance was more than just some drug-induced binge. A twinge of emotion tangled her insides. Even if I had answered his call, I couldn’t have saved him, she told herself. There’s still time to save Izzy.
Returning to the first door near the top of the stairs, Cassidy took a deep breath, prepared her mind, and knocked.
Twenty-Two
“Are you sure?” Cassidy asked the young woman holding her cat. Pink fuzzy slippers poked from her baggy blue pajama pants adorned with what looked like llamas. Her gray sweatshirt said “Oh My Cosmos” in white lettering.
After leaning in again to look at the picture of Izzy, the young woman at the door shook her head vigorously, her big eyes wide behind large glasses. The ginger-haired cat in her arms purred so loudly it sounded like a machine humming rhythmically. The young woman scratched the cat’s head and he arched his neck for more, his eyes closing in bliss.
“Have there been parties here before?” Cassidy asked.
The woman’s mouth turned down into a frown. “Sure.” Her big eyes took on an impish look. “That’s what college kids do, right?”
Cassidy put her phone away, feeling increasingly desperate. “Which apartments have had parties recently?”
“Oh, uh,” the woman said, blinking fast. Then, she pointed to the corner unit. “That one. She plays soccer. I think the team comes over a lot.”
Cassidy frowned. Izzy wouldn’t have hitchhiked across two states to attend a soccer team party. “Anyone else?” she asked.
“There’s Kyle,” the young woman said, stepping into the hall. “He’s in the business school. He threw one for the solstice. I had to use earplugs.” She pointed at the door in the middle of the hall, unit six. Cassidy had knocked, but Kyle hadn’t answered the door.
“Do you know Kyle’s last name?” Cassidy asked, her disappointment like a black cloud mushrooming over the apartment. Izzy wasn’t here—she could even feel it.
But maybe Kyle was important. An idea surfaced: she could call Bruce again. She could give him Kyle’s name in the hopes that he could find out more about him.
The young woman shook her head and the two of them stared down the brightly lit hallway, the cat’s purr filling the empty space.
After saying goodbye to the woman, Cassidy tried Kyle’s door one more time with no luck. She passed through the hall again, trying to get a sense that Izzy might have walked these same steps just hours ago, but there was nothing.
Descending the stairs to the street, she entered the building across, a Victorian-style with what looked like grand apartments on the second floor, and repeated her search, knocking on doors, showing Izzy’s picture. Half the residents weren’t home, and the ones who were just shook their heads.
After visiting one more building, this one a block behind the first apartment, she returned to the place Saxon had left Izzy and looked around, hoping for inspiration. When that failed, she called Bruce’s number.
“Have you found your wayward college student?” he asked after answering on the third ring.
“She’s in San Francisco,” Cassidy replied, plugging her other ear to block out the noisy cars passing on the street.
“You’ve been busy,” he replied.
“Tell me about it,” she said, deciding to continue her search on foot. There had to be other apartments. Maybe Saxon had the wrong intersection. “Where are you, anyways?” she asked, suddenly curious.
“D.C.,” he replied.
“Oh,” Cassidy said, cringing. “Did I wake you up?” she asked, calculating the time difference.
“No,” he replied, then yawned. “But I was just about to quit.”
“Are you working on the Costa Rica case?”
“Yes,” he replied. When he didn’t elaborate, Cassidy dropped it, knowing he probably had all kinds of things he couldn’t tell her. “Has the media stopped hounding you?” he asked.
“I haven’t had a call since this morning,” she said, then updated Bruce on the Izzy search, starting with the interview of Cody and William in Eugene and ending with her interaction with Saxon Pike. She passed the noodle house that smelled of frying food, and a late-night coffee shop with students hunkered over textbooks inside.
“Saxon said he dropped Izzy at an apartment. That she wanted to go to a party here.”
“Did you find it?”
“No. But half of the residents didn’t answer their doors.”
The line hummed with silence for a moment. “Hold on,” he said. “That name rings a bell.”
Cassidy heard the tapping of keys.
“What name?” Cassidy said.
“Saxon Pike’s,” he replied. “What’s the name of the club?”
“Silver’s. And there’s a second one.” Cassidy paused, digging through her memories. “The Pony Club,” she added as it came to her.
“That’s right.” More key tapping. “I remember hearing about this guy from the domestic team.” He sucked in his breath. “Cassidy, are you still with him?” he asked in a subdued tone.
“No,” Cassidy said slowly. Crossing to the opposite street, she spied a red-brick apartment building and decided to head there next. “Why?”
Bruce exhaled. “Because I remember why this guy stuck out for me. Looks like he’s clean but dirty, if you know what I mean.”
“I have no idea what you mean,” she said as the hairs on the back of her neck went erect.
“The club is legit, but he’s been under suspicion for illegal activity. We’re seeing it with massage parlors too. There was a big bust in Portland last month—we took out a scumbag forcing Thai women to have sex with the customers. I work on the international side of these cases, but the local feds are slowly closing in
