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After all these years, Olina has returned to the Salt Lake City area. It was a gamble a risk he never considered her taking with him living in the city.
Levi pulls alongside the building rumored to house his girl. The only bright spot to the building being a dump is that it will be easy for him to break in.
His cell vibrates, and Levi glances at its caller ID. Shelly—again. He ignores it, letting it go to voicemail. It’s not like she won’t try again in mere minutes.
Since Olina ran away, Shelly’s alcoholism hasn’t improved. In the beginning, the only reason Levi tolerated her drinking was to gain access to Olina. Levi was never interested in Shelly—his attention was on her daughter from the start.
Seeing Olina get off the bus one day as a teenager sparked his obsession. Levi had to find out who she belonged to. He knew the school-age girl had to be young, but she certainly didn’t look it. No, she looked like a succulent woman, ripe for the picking. Children weren’t his bag, but Olina was the exception.
It wasn’t hard to woo her drunken mother into letting him into their lives. If anything, Shelly’s addiction made it easier for him to prey on Olina. A couple of packs of cheap beer to keep her inebriated was all he needed to indulge in who he truly wanted.
With Olina gone, catering to Shelly has become a chore he no longer cares to fulfill. He pays her the occasional conjugal visits to keep tabs on any information Shelly may come into regarding her daughter. There’s been none. Yet, the possibility is still there that Olina could contact Shelly. If she did, he wanted to know.
Hence, Shelly is still his burden to bear. Hopefully not for long.
Stupid, drunken bitch didn’t even care Olina is gone. If it weren’t for Levi, a missing person report would never have been filed. Shelly was all too happy to have her daughter out of her life. But Levi cared. Levi cared all too much that his good girl was gone.
A text pings on his cell—no doubt from Shelly. Again. Levi pockets his phone. Too busy to deal with her crap.
A minute later, Levi stands in the center of the desolate apartment. Olina has already vacated the premises with the empty closet and lack of personal products in the bathroom. Though the space seems vacant, there are clues to be found.
Inspecting every nook and cranny, Levi comes up short until he enters the kitchen. Olina left behind her dishware. A singular cup—a beer stein—has given him a lead. His thumb runs over the nameSlippery Slope Exoticstamped on it.
Furious, Levi feels his face tightening and the burn beneath his skin. His girl had been working shit jobs to support herself since she ran away from him, but she had never resorted to selling her body before. Levi hoped it wasn’t the case this time either.
Googling the name of the strip club, Levi passes a group of bums seated outside the front stoop of the building. An old man in the group eyes him suspiciously—most likely a lookout for Olina. Levi almost smirks. It’s easy to extract information from desperate people, and a homeless person is more desperate for money than most.
Pasting on a pleasant smile, Levi approaches the group of vagrants. “Excuse me. I’m hoping you can help me.” He holds up a picture of Olina as a young seventeen-year-old. An updated photo would be helpful, but he had yet to come across a clear enough image through a surveillance camera to replace her older photos. “I’m looking for this missing woman. Have any of you seen her?”
The older gentleman’s eyes scan the photo before sharpening on Levi as he asks, “Who wants to know?”
Levi flashes his badge, smirking when his eyes bug out. He’s sure the homeless man is wondering what a sweet girl like Olina could have done to have the FBI looking for her.
The group of vagrants looks uneasy, eyeing Levi and then their friend. They all recognize the girl in the photo, but the old man seems to be the spokesperson for their crew.
“Never seen her before,” he says dismissively.
“Her mother is worried sick about her,” Levi pleads, trying a different angle. “She disappeared as a teenager without a trace. Her poor mom doesn’t know if she’s alive or dead. We believe she was taken against her will.”
The old man’s face wrinkles with deep worry lines. Levi has learned throughout the years that Olina rarely talks to anyone about her past. Most who get close know she’s running from someone, but nothing more than that.
“If she’s escaped her capture, she may be in hiding to avoid him. Maybe afraid to return home in case he is waiting for her there.”
“Frank,” a homeless woman whispers to the older man, concern lacing in her voice.
“Hush, Beth,” he whispers back.
Another bum asks, “What’s the information worth?”
Frank’s head whips to the traitor. “Shut your trap, Adam.”
Already anticipating where the conversation was heading, Levi holds up a fifty for Adam to see. Money has a way of making people crumble.
“Yeah, she’s from these parts,” Adam rambles. “She’s a stripper over at Slippery Slope.”
Frank shoves Adam. They have a silent stare-off before Adam shrinks away from the group. Frank turns to me, squaring his shoulders. “She’s gone now. Best be moving on.”
“Where did she take off to?”
