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“Did this friend you won’t disclose know the name of the older man?”
“No, they didn’t know anyone outside of the client they were with and Thomas, but they recognized a lot of community leaders there.”
“And this all supposedly happened at the Coulter mansion?”
She didn’t appreciate the word he’d used—supposedly. “They had no reason to lie to me about this.”
“Except that it conveniently points blame away from you and Ms. Paisley.”
Rae crossed her arms. “This is why I wasn’t sure if I was going to tell you. You cops have no problem busting into a small legal business owned by a couple of women, but when it comes to old, rich white men, you look the other way.”
“Hey, I hear what you’re saying. Trust me, I know all about the shitty apples plaguing most police stations—”
“But you’re not one of them?” she interrupted.
“Try not to be.” He glanced around at the other tables, most of which were now empty as people’s lunch hours had ended, and leaned forward, his voice low. “I’m not saying I don’t believe you, but I can’t do anything with hearsay. I need to speak directly with your friend.”
“They won’t talk. They’re scared.”
Frustration was all over Dayton’s face.
“And there’s something else,” she said, already regretting what she was about to say. “There are two subs that have gone missing within the last three weeks, both women. They’ve been reported to the police, but it doesn’t look like anyone’s taking it seriously.”
“Subs?”
“Submissives. People who enjoy being controlled by a dominant person.”
“Like masochists?”
“Not all submissives enjoy pain.”
“Do you know these women’s names?” He held his pen over the notepad, ready.
“Only their handles on the kink sites. I don’t know them personally.” She gave him the handles and a description of the women.
“Okay, listen,” he said, his voice getting even lower. “I need you to find out when the next party is, and then I can look into it. Is that something you can do for me?”
Before speaking with Devon, Rae had never heard of parties like that happening in Oklahoma, aside from what Thomas had told her before he disappeared, and her friend made it clear she never planned on attending another. She could scour the kink sites, but she doubted she’d find any information about it. If Devon didn’t know when the next party was, Rae didn’t like the only other option she could think of right then to get the information.
She returned his gaze. “Yeah. I can do that.”
CHAPTER 21
RAE
2009
Viv sat at the dining table across from her, waiting for Rae to speak, to open her chest and spill all her secrets. She wasn’t sure how to begin because there was nothing easy about what she had to tell her.
“After Beth, after what Clint did ... I wanted to die too. I even tried to find where Clint hid the drugs he gave us so I could inject myself with everything he had. But then I heard them talking—Clint, Bobby, and the bad men.”
“The bad men?” Viv said, the concerned crease between her brows deepening.
“After Beth died, these men came to the house, but they were different from the usual men who came. They looked rich and wore nice suits. There were two of them, and they weren’t happy about what happened to Beth.” She suppressed more tears from coming. “They talked about her like they owned her, like she was a pet, and they told Clint he had a week to get another girl, or they would take back the deposit they gave him and kill him and his partner Bobby.”
Viv shifted in her chair and gently pressed Rae’s hand as if to urge her to go on.
“I knew I was pregnant, or I was pretty sure I was since I didn’t get my period, and I kept throwing up. And Clint was so angry about Beth. He kept blaming me for it and how he owed a lot of money to the rich men because of me, and he ...” She sucked in a few breaths, slowly in and out, trying to calm herself. “He hit me more, and I was scared he would find out about the pregnancy and kill me. He always warned the women not to get pregnant, that they were worthless if they did. He said it like we had a choice, like we could stop it from happening.” Thinking about it still made her angry.
