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My patience snapped then and there. The forced smile fell from my face. “Hannah, last night was fun, but that’s all it was. Period. I am not looking for anything else. Now, I have a meeting in five minutes, and I kindly ask you to leave.”
She reared back, her pouting lips pulled back to reveal a venomous snarl. “Fuck you, Eli Archer,” she hissed, clutching her purse to her body as she stormed towards the door. “You’ll never get another chance with a woman like me. You’ll see.”
The door slammed behind her, and I sighed, rubbing my chin as my wolf rolled his eyes, giving me an annoyed whine. I rolled my eyes back at him.Yeah, yeah. You told me so.
Maybe I’d listen next time.Or perhaps I won’t.
11
IRIS
Austin Health and Care Clinic
Austin, Texas
It was just after midnight when I returned to the free clinic. Earlier in the evening, I had moved my car, and as far as I knew, the guards were still waiting for me to leave the club I’d lost them in halfway across town. The thought of those stiff, stern-looking men trapped in a noisy, colorful club while the bass thrummed and bodies writhed against one another made me grin more than it should have. I allowed myself to enjoy it for a few moments before getting back to business.
I had honed that particular skill ages ago, long before I considered being a private detective as a career. Not all of my foster homes had been as responsible as my last one, and some had been downright shit. If no one caught you, they couldn’t yell at you. If no one saw you, they couldn’t tease or bully you. If no one knew you were there, they’d never have a damn thing to say to you. It was lonely, but it was better than the verbal torment kids would subject one another to.
Looking back, I could see my foster brothers and sisters were just as miserable as I was, especially those I’d had the summer between elementary and middle school. That was the worst. Theworst. But knowing they were hurting didn’t make the shit they said sting any less.
I shook the thought off; it was time for business, not feeling sorry for thirteen-year-old Iris. Tonight I needed to break into the free clinic. Dr. Zither hadn’t given me a shred of information. Even though I didn’t know for sure Cyn had come here, I was operating under the assumption she had just like several of the other missing people. I wanted to have something to tell Demi she didn’t already know.
Breaking in was something I usually avoided at all costs — illegally —obtained evidence was illegal, no matter what it revealed — but I didn’t see what other options I had. I’d done it when the case hit a dead end and needed the information. I’d broken into businesses and homes before, as well. The had police refused to get involved and return stolen property — property they themselves had recorded as stolen, no less — I’d gotten it back for my client.
It was always a risk. The law could catch me, a business’ security system, or a homeowner. It could have very real and potentially career-ending consequences. But I always got the job done. I would get the information they needed or the objects lost. That is what I promised my clients, and that is what I’d deliver to them.
I took a deep breath and recentered myself. If nothing else, Cyn needed me to focus. If she was still missing and not dead, her clock was ticking — and that was not a clock I could even see. Not knowing how much time she had left… I couldn’t leave her hanging.
Once I madesure there was no one around — not even random bystanders — I made my way into the side alley. I’d seen what looked like a maintenance entrance earlier. There was a security camera, but it was pointing straight at the alley pavement. No one had fixed it or even noticed it. At least the general overworked nature of the staff was working in my favor this time.
First, I pulled on a pair of gloves, and then I pulled my lockpicking kit from my pocket, but I paused, squinting down at the number pad. Icouldopen this with the picks, but I had no idea if an alarm was built into the system. I might have more luck with the numbers. The keypad was old, and the 3, 7, and 9 were all worn. I held my breath and typed a code in.
9-7-3. Nothing happened. The screen stared at me, and I frowned, realizing it must be a four-digit code. The three was the most worn, so… I punched it in one more time.
The light went dark and nothing else happened.Shit.
7-3-9-3. The same thing happened. A bead of sweat started forming on the back of my neck.How many attempts do I get before an alarm goes off?
I leaned down a little more and really studied the keypad before trying again. 7-3-3-9.
Click!
The face turned green and I grabbed the handle, the door sliding open easily and allowing me inside without complaint. I sighed in relief, thanking my lucky stars as I returned the kit to my pocket and clicked the flashlight on. The less contact I had with any surfaces, the better. If I could make them think a ghost had wandered through, then I was doing my job right.
I crept through the hallway, noting how creepy the place looked when it was empty. Fortunately, I was a pretty spatial thinker, and it was easy for me to navigate the hallway. On my way out, I’d seen what looked like a file room; it was the first closed door once you left the waiting room.
Thankfully, it was a standard doorknob, and I was able to pick the lock with my kit in a matter of seconds; I may or may not have practiced in every motel room I stayed in. Had to keep my skills sharp, after all. The door creaked as it swung open, revealing a space no bigger than oversized closet absolutely stuffed to the brim with filing cabinets. On top of the filing cabinets were more boxes, clearly full of more files.
“These guys need professional help,” I grumbled, carefully closing the door behind me. I hadn’t seen any evidence of a night guard, but it did seem unusual to leave a location with medications and drugs unguarded, and I didn’t want to be caught with my pants down.
First, I checked the boxes, but the first three revealed nothing but maintenance records and equipment orders.Probably not going to find anything there. That’s good.
Each one was slid precisely where I found it, and I opened the fourth cabinet with my pick, revealing hundreds, if not thousands, of patient records. To my great relief, they appeared to be in alphabetical order, and S was among the letters kept here.
There was no lack of ‘Smith’ files, but after twenty minutes of flipping, I realized not a single one was ‘Cyn’ or ‘Cynthia.’ I frowned, but I couldn’t stop there. I pulled out my phone, checking my notes. I’d listed the names of each missing person; my list had ballooned to almost twenty, so I had to work quickly. Each minute I spent here was another minute I could be caught.
After another twenty minutes or so of my heart pounding unsteadily in my throat, I decided to call it a night. I had gathered nine files of names matching those of the missing people, but several names were notably missing. It was very possible the files had been misplaced, but I didn’t have time to keep looking. I could look for another eight hours and still not find them.
