Page 24 of Property of Whiskey

I slide the picture toward the middle of the table.

“Another girl’s gone.”

The photograph stops in front of Legend, Kaylee’s smiling face looking too young beneath the yellow light hanging over the table.

Nobody jokes.

Bullet reaches over and turns the photograph a few degrees toward himself, his vape forgotten between two fingers.

Legend studies her face. “You sure she didn’t leave?”

“Car stayed behind. Paycheck wasn’t picked up. Mama says she ain’t heard from her.”

Royal looks at me. “Law?”

“Calls it voluntary.”

“That mean they ain’t looking?”

“It means they’re saying she probably left on her own.”

Holler wipes his hands on his jeans. “Maybe she did. Good for her.”

I glance at him.

He raises both palms. “Just saying.”

Bullet looks down at Kaylee’s picture again. “Girl leaves on purpose, usually takes more than the clothes on her back.”

“She worked outside Hell,” I say. “But I’ve seen her at Heck’s, at the Fire Pit and right here in the Lockup.”

Legend turns to our VP, Oaks, who often works the door.

“She was of age. Not seen her here in months. Anyone disagree?”

The room grumbles in agreement.

I shift in my chair. “Now we got a possible sighting putting her near the old Pearly Gates access road.”

That changes the room. Not because Pearly Gates is new. Because it fucking ain’t.

We already know Pearly Gates is dirty. We found restraints, burners, blood, names carved into walls. Cider came back saying Crowley was moving girls through safe houses. Sophie found money and property trails tangled through the same rot.

What we don’t have is the whole shape of it. Who all is doing the grabbing. Which safe houses they’re using now. How many people are involved. Why every trail goes cold the second we get close.

Kaylee is different because somebody may have seen her near the old retreat road while her trail is still fresh. That’s new. That’s something we might be able to put boots on before it disappears.

Legend taps one finger beside the photograph. “Anything solid tying her there?”

“Not yet.”

“Anything beyond the sighting?”

“No.”

Royal folds his arms. “So same pattern, new girl.”

“Yeah.”