"That's a different situation," I tell him. "I don't know what to think about her. She's a flash-in-the-pan celebrity. Even you said her star was starting to lose its shine. From what I gather about those kinds of internet-based celebrities, they can make a lot of money pretty fast if they gather up enough followers. She would have started making good money on those videos, then that parlayed over into TV. If she was at all smart with her money, she probably has a fortune built up. It's possible she really did just scoop up everything and go into obscurity because she had the means. Speaking of which, they said something about bank account activity."
"Right," Dean says. "The reports about her disappearance are really just starting to come out. People have noticed, obviously, since she hasn't been active on any of her social media or making any appearances. But the authorities have only just recently made it public. One of the details they've shared is that they have been able to track her movements for almost a week after that taping. It was the last time she was seen, but money moved around in her bank accounts for six days after that."
"Moved around?" Sam asks.
"Purchases, paying bills, a few withdrawals, a couple of wire transfers. Nothing out of the ordinary."
"But that in of itself is shady," I say. "The girl vaporizes in a production lot, makes no posts, no texts, no phone calls. But keeps paying her bills and moving money?"
"So, what do you think happened?" Dean asks.
"I don't know. She could be just trying to get out while she was still relevant, so she doesn't have to deal with the embarrassment of becoming washed up. Or it could have to do with her getting involved with the prisoners. She gets too friendly with one, and when they get out, they have the wrong idea about the relationship?"
"Or the right idea," Sam says. "Who's to say it isn't both scenarios? She falls in love with one of the prisoners she's helping, or one she met while helping someone else. She finds out he's getting released. Knowing it would cause an uproar and make people question her integrity, she decides to take what she can get her hands on and go live with him somewhere obscure where she'll go unnoticed but can live like a queen."
"Anyway," I say, putting up my hands to signal I'm getting out of the conversation. "That's its own thing. There are people on it. For now, Dean's case is right here in front of us."
"Wow," Sam says, sounding impressed. "Emma Griffin turning her back on a mystery?"
"I'm not turning my back on anything," I protest. "I never had my… front to it." I contemplate that for a second before moving on. "The point is, I'm trying to stay focused. As my dear cousin and my darling partner have decided to repeatedly point out to me, people are under the impression I look for murder. That I stick myself into things and get wrapped up where I don't belong."
"We never said that exactly," Dean says.
"Nope, it's fine. This time, I'm staying out of it. Lakyn Monroe will surface. The money she squirreled away will run out. Or the guy she hooked up with will run out. Either way, she'll show back up, have a heyday revival, then settle into mediocrity. So, that's over there. Right here is your case. Mr. Missing. You don't think his wife murdered him, so let's find him."
"After Janet's birthday party," Sam says.
"What?"
"Janet's birthday party," he repeats. "It's tonight. You're making her cake."
"Damn it.
Chapter Six Dragon
Six years ago …
No.
It was just that simple.
No.
He didn't know how to process a response like that. Kenton came back from the bar and told him the woman said no. He gave the same message he always gave. The Dragon has invited you to his table.
It was an invitation that usually got an immediate response. Those words had power. They held sway like a puppet string. When they were spoken, the person who heard them was immediately under his control. Usually, it was a woman he wanted to share a little time with. Sometimes a man he wanted to talk business with. And sometimes they were a confrontation, an act of war.
But they always brought what he wanted. Until tonight. Until her.
She’d had no hesitation in rejecting him. There wasn't a moment of thought or a single second when it seemed she questioned the decision. Kenton extended the invitation, and she turned it down. Not offended. Not angry.
Just “no”.
For the next three days, he haunted the club. He came and felt the eyes on him. He sat at his table and watched. He waited. Women walked past and lingered just beyond the velvet rope, offering themselves to whatever he wanted. But he barely saw them. Almost all had been brought up on the platform before. When he’d sent Kenton to invite them, they’d said yes. But not her. She’d said no.
And so he waited.
On the fourth night, she was there. Again, he walked into the club, went to his table, and sent Kenton for her. And again, she said no. Anger crept up inside him at the rejection as he watched her leave. But there was something else that counteracted the edge of the anger. Curiosity.
Over the next few nights, he prowled the streets. There was work to be done. Money in others' pockets that belonged in his. He had people and products to move.
But when he was done, he went back to the club. And she was there a third time.
He noticed nothing around him, none of the people who watched him without breath in their lungs. His eyes only saw one thing. The bar in front of him, and her sitting at it. Long, bright red fingernails. Fingertip swirling around the glass rim, making his body react.
He gave a single nod in her direction, and Kenton
