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When he laughs, it takes everything in me not to stuff my fist down his throat. “It looks a lot like the painting on your wall, Sokolov,” I say.
“A coiled snake?” He shakes his head. “You got nothing.” He passes the paper back to Mani. “Igot nothing,” he laughs. “Why would I kidnap a girl? One ofLizzie’s friends?” He holds his hands palms-up, the picture of bashful innocence.
“Maybe—and I’m just throwing this out there,” I say, acting deliberately coy, “Miss Beauchamp was yours once.” Taking the picture from Mani, I hold it open in front of Sascha’s face. “Looks like your mark.”
“Bullshit.”
“And, maybe,” I carry on as if I haven’t heard him, “Elizabeth made a deal to change places with her.”
Sascha’s smile widens. The bastard is enjoying this, I think. “That’s some theory,” he chuckles, his black eyes brightening with mirth. “And you think I took Catherine? Because Lizzie died?”
“I thought you didn’t know her friends?” Mani asks, taking a step forward so that he’s towering over Sascha’s tiny frame.
“And I don’t believe I mentioned her name was Catherine.”
Sascha flushes red. “I knewofher friends,” he counters, growing increasingly flustered.
“Interesting.” I let the word hang in the air for a moment before turning my back on Sascha. Slowly, I take a turnabout, seemingly interested in the club’s set-up. I don’t look at Sascha as I add, “And what would you say if I told you we have pictures, Sascha? Pictures from a traffic cam, taken on July seventh.”
“I’d say, ‘Go fuck yourself’.”
Very slowly, I turn to look at him. He’s shaking with barely concealed fury. A light film of sweat coats his brow.
I smile.
“Get out.”
Mani and I grin at each other and start for the door. “See you tonight, Sokolov,” Mani hoots.
“Stay the fuck away from my club!” Sascha roars.
“No can do.” Mani laughs his hyena cackle. “We’re waiting for the judge to get out of a meeting so he can sign a warrant. We’ll be outside.” Mani, the psychopath, starts whistling as he walks. I can’t quite hide bank my tired grin when I recognize the tune as the line, “Heigh-ho, heigh-ho, it’s off to work we go,”from Disney’sSnow White.
Mani flings open the double doors dramatically, letting the bright light from outside stream in—and opening them wide enough for Sascha to see the police vehicles outside, their lights flashing.
The doors swing shut behind us, but not before we hear Sascha’s roar of fury chasing after us.
Chapter 33
Aiden
“What do we have?”I ask the Kane Rowe, the undercover narcotics detective who has been leading the surveillance on Sascha.
Kane is tall and imposing with a lean build and a scarred face that makes me remember the rumors surrounding him. Standing in the same room with him feels like being in a boxing ring with someone who could and would kill you without a second thought. In person, he looks more like an eighties rockstar, tall and lean, wearing well-worn denim and a black leather jacket. But his dark green eyes are cold and flat; they are eyes that betray the consequences of a life lived in the shadows.
There are always whispers. Human society thrives on them, and the LAPD is not exempt. Most of them are benign. But every now and again, you hear of something that’s too absurd to be anything but the truth. Kane’s name always comes up with those whispers. Drug busts, underground fight clubs, animal baiting, human trafficking—and now, after meeting him in person, I doubt itlessthan I did before.
The surveillance location Kane chose is not an unmarked vehicle in the street as I had expected. Instead, he rented the near-dilapidated second-floor room above the shoe shop that sits across the street from the Mousetrap. He’s been “living” in the space under an aliasand paying rent by the week for the past month. He turns from the dingy window that overlooks the club and shakes his head. “Nothing so far. Sascha’s been quiet. The club’s been open for hours. But no girls fitting Catherine’s description have left.”
“They wouldn’t let her just walk out. Narrow the focus to couples, one woman leaving with one man.”
“We already have, Flint.”
I run my hands through my hair, every cell in my body screaming with frustration. “This isn’t working. He has to know about the bug.”
“Yeah,” Kane affirms. “We’ve been in there for weeks now. You know a man who doesn’t discuss his illicit business affairs in his own office?”
“Nope.”
