Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 77292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
The Nine of Diamonds.
From what I can tell, she’s one of the more popular girls here. I often see her being taken behind the red velvet curtains to a private area. She started here about five years ago, and the men immediately formed a line to take her behind closed doors. Last I heard, the suggested “tip” for her private services started at a thousand bucks an hour.
He takes her into one of the private rooms, and the velvet curtain falls, closing them off.
Fuck it. He’s already taken care of for the night.
I turn back to Pia and Serafina.
“Let’s try one more roll.”
The old man took the Nine of Diamonds—Svetlana—behind those curtains, and that was the last time I saw her.
According to May, her contract ended. Which makes sense. She’d been there for the last five years, as far as I could remember.
Then she disappeared.
Just like May disappeared.
Under different circumstances, though. May was suspended for breaking the rules. Svetlana would have left after five years of service with a shitload of tips saved up from servicing creeps like that lecherous old man with the goatee.
But if something happened to Svetlana—if she met a similar fate to May…
That old man might be the last person to have seen her alive.
Shit.
He could be a lead.
None of the waitstaff will want to talk to us after what happened to May, but if I can find out who this guy is, if I can make him talk…
We might be able to figure out what happened to Svetlana.
And that’ll get us one step closer to figuring out what happened to May.
12
ALISSA
I drop my jaw so fast and so far that, for a second, I’m worried I’ve dislocated it.
“You’re kidding, right?”
Dr. O’Rourke shakes his head. “I’m not. Rouge Montrose sits on the hospital board of St. Charles. She’s been on it for several years.”
“Why the hell would she be interested in sitting on the board, though? What possible purpose would that have in her line of work?”
Dr. O’Rourke shrugs. “She’s a socialite in addition to being a businesswoman. She probably helps with lots of nonprofits. Museums, art galleries, the opera. Anything that’ll get her a ticket to a black-tie gala.”
“But she—”
I close my mouth.
I haven’t told Dr. O’Rourke the whole story. Just that I think Rouge is involved in something.
But why my hospital?
Sweet Jesus. This woman has her fingers in everything. We already know that she owns the cops, the local politicians… And now this.
She’s invincible.
But I’m glad I know this. Because now I know that I can no longer trust anyone in this hospital. Dr. O’Rourke included.
I might be able to trust Dinah, but even she is going to stay on a need-to-know basis until I figure out more about what’s going on.
I’m glad I didn’t disclose any of the grisly details to Dr. O’Rourke. If he reports to Rouge, she’ll know that I’m aware of what she’s up to, and then Maddox and I are as good as dead.
I need to talk to someone about this.
I’ll of course let Maddox know, but he’s probably resting at home. I don’t have my phone on me anyway, and I won’t until the end of my shift.
Damn, damn, damn.
Maybe I can talk to Dinah.
But I don’t want to burden her with this information. You can’t put the toothpaste back in the tube with something like this.
And if there’s anyone who knows about the burden of what you’ve seen and heard…
It’s me.
Glass is all over the bathroom floor, and Mum is cackling wildly.
Mum looks at her reflection in what remains of her mirror, her face distorted by the cracks and missing pieces.
She pulls the skin of her cheek back, scowling. “I used to be so beautiful, my angel. The picture of youth and grace.”
I take a slow step toward her. “Mum… Did you take your meds today?”
The sneer on her face contorts into a cracked grin. She slowly turns her head to face me. “No, darling. Mummy can’t be herself when she’s on those nasty pills. She can’t be the person God wants her to be, the person He created in His image. So she tossed them down the loo.”
Oh, no. No wonder she’s acting up. And speaking in third person.
I back out of the bathroom. “Dad, are you home?” I call.
“Popsy is out for the day, my sweetness.” Mum takes a slow step toward me. “It’s just you and Mummy. Don’t you remember when we used to have Mummy days when Popsy was out of town? We’d have picnics in the park. I’d make your favorite, strawberry shortcake.”
I vaguely recall those days, but that was before the lemon tree incident. Mum tied me to a tree so she could clean the dirt I’d tracked in.
Mum turns back to the mirror. “But the years have stolen that away. The years”—she whips her head back to me—“and you, of course.”