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The room around us is dark, the smell an odd combination of old Chinese food and human body odor from whoever habituated the space before. The plaster on the walls is peeling in patches, giving the small room a diseased look. The floor is soft near the bathroom, belying a previous water leak that wasn’t repaired correctly.
“Wait a minute,” Kane says. Edging the blinds aside, he glances down at the line outside the club.
“What?” My heart thumps in my chest as I move to stand beside him.
“Approaching from the south.”
I shift my gaze, and my heart sinks in my chest. It’s not Catherine. It’s Primrose, Antoinette, and Lyla, all of them dressed for a night on the town, wearing small dresses and tall heels. “Shit.”
“Primrose,” Kane spits the private investigator’s name. “That little idiot. She’s going to get fucking hurt again.”
I run back to the small desk behind us and pick up my cellphone. “You know Primrose Proper?”
“Unfortunately,” Kane grumbles.
Before I can second guess myself, I dial Antoinette and move back to the window to watch her. She sees my name on the screen and glances around nervously. “Pick up the goddamn phone,” I whisper.
“Antoinette Rupetta,” she answers after another five seconds.
“What are you doing?”
She laughs lightly, but I’m not deceived. I am staring right at her. Under the neon lights of the Mousetrap her face is illuminated, her fear there for anyone to see. “I’m doing what you cannot.”
“Antoi-”
“Walking in the front door.”
“No, you’re interfering with a police investigation. And you’re taking two other women in with you. Stop,” I say before she can object, “and think for a moment.”
“I’ve done nothing but think for over forty-eight hours,” she whispers frantically. “And this is the only place he would have taken her.”
Primrose, who has been standing next to her, listening to the call, scans the street, turning a slow three-sixty. Her eyes rest on each police vehicle briefly, but when her gaze lands on the shoe shop, she pauses and tilts her head like a cat. “Across the street. Second floor. Third window.” When Antoinette starts turning, she adds, “Don’t look.”
Toni turns back for the doors to the club. Next to her, Lyla, dressed in a red mini dress that barely covers her crotch, shifts anxiously.
“They’re not going to listen,” Kane says.
“Antoinette,please,” I beg. “I can’t worry about another three people right now.”
“Aiden, we are very good at looking after ourselves. Don’t worry. I’m going to bring her home.”
“Wait!” I shout when she moves to hang up.
I see her pause. She doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t hang up.
“Don’t hang up. Take us inside with you.”
Kane snaps his head to look at me. “Fuck yeah,” he mouths.
“Will that work?”
“I don’t know. But think about it, Toni,” I use her nickname for the first time. “I have men right outside the door. If anything happens…I’ll get you out of there.” When she remains silent, I go for a below-the-belt shot. “Think about the girls.”
“I’m doing thisforthem. For Catherine.”
“I know.”
She exhales once, long and deep, and then before I can say more, she slides the phone into her cleavage, the call still ongoing.
