A Perfect Storm
Page 98
“And until then,” Chris said, “let’s eat some cake!”
CHAPTER TWENTY
THANK GOD THEY DIDN’T make her suffer through any singing, or blowing out of candles. After helping to clear away the last of the birthday mess, Arizona finally started to relax.
At least, on that score. She still had to find out what she could about Quin and the sting and that suspicious phone call she’d received.
“So, Dare.” With all birthday celebrating now out of the way, Arizona sought a way to ask the necessary questions. She moved her glass of lemonade a little, seeing the ring of condensation left behind on the patio table. “Did you wrap up everything at the bar?”
“The Green Goose?”
How many trafficking rings was he currently busting up at bars? Dryly, she said, “Yeah, that one.”
“Not completely.” Dare shrugged. “But everyone is safe, and there are good people working on the details.”
Everyone wasn’t safe, or Quin would’ve had no need to call her.
“We’re staying in contact with the head of the new task force,” Trace told her. “He’s still interrogating Terry Janes, but I doubt they’ll find out anything else.”
Huh. Trace had probably already questioned the guy, and he wasn’t held back by legal restrictions. “You figure if you couldn’t make him talk, no one can, right?”
Scowling a little, Trace avoided the question. “It’s being handled.”
“Right. I’m sure it is. But if there’s nothing else to find out, why interrogate him?”
Jackson frowned at her. “There’s always more to find out. Like who owns the place.”
“Janes doesn’t?”
“Nope.”
She ran her finger through the condensation on the table. “So…who does?”
“We’re still working on it,” Dare told her. “So far, no one we nabbed seems to know, so we’ll have to search the records.”
Arizona considered that. “You got Janes and his henchman, Carl, and the bartender…”
“And a couple of other thugs who drove a white van. Dare grabbed them out of the back alley.”
Arizona looked up. That was the first she’d heard about a white van.
“But,” Jackson said before she could start asking questions, “you don’t need to worry about any of that. Those bozos are shut down for good.”
Unfortunately, she had reason for doubt. She turned to Dare again. “Okay, so you got the creeps. But do you remember the workers you rounded up?”
“There were over a dozen people, hon.”
She deflated. “So you can’t account for them all?”
Intuition sharpened his gaze. “I can place most of them. Why?”
Oops, time to retrench. “I was just wondering.” She brushed away a bumblebee that tried to land on her arm and summoned her most casual expression. “Was Quin in there?”
“The Hispanic kid?” Dare thought about it and then shook his head. “I don’t recall seeing him, no.”
“Isn’t that odd?” Forget subtlety; she needed to know. “I mean, he was there that night. He served me.”
“He probably split the second he heard the sirens,” Jackson said. “Maybe he’s an illegal. Bastard traffickers convince them they’ll be arrested if they’re caught.”
“Is there a reason you’re worried about him, specifically?” Trace asked.
“No, not really.” Her thoughts churned a little more. To make her lie more convincing and throw them off the scent, she asked, “What about that goofy little artist, Joel Pitts?”
Dare shrugged. “I don’t know the names of the people, but I can find out if it’s that important to you.”
No, it wouldn’t matter. She knew Quin was free because he’d called her, so why put Dare to the trouble of gathering info? “That’s okay. I was just curious.”
“Why?” Spencer asked quietly.
She slanted him a look. “Quin and Joel were the two I talked with most. I spotted Quin right off as a victim and then, since Joel drew pictures of me…” She shrugged. “I feel like I sort of know them both.”
“What do you mean, he drew pictures of you?” Priscilla asked. “What kind of pictures?”
“I was going to ask the same thing,” Alani said.
“I’ll show you. They should still be in my purse.” To give herself a moment, Arizona went inside and hunted for them. They were now badly creased and smudged a little, but she brought them back outside anyway.
As she rolled them out on the table, she explained. “I was pretty hammered when we left there, or I’d have thought to take them out before they got messed up.”
Everyone gathered around. “Wow.” Priss admired the drawing. “He’s really talented.”
A different topic was to her advantage, so Arizona kept it going. “Even without me posing or anything, the drawings look like me, except better.”
“Not true,” Dare said.
“Hard to imagine that’s even possible,” Jackson told her. “You looking like you do and all.”
“You really are beautiful,” Alani agreed. “There’s nothing to improve on.”
“Yeah, well…thanks.” Uncomfortable with the compliments, Arizona gave her attention back to Trace and Dare. “I was hoping to see them both again. Just to see how they’re doing.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
THANK GOD THEY DIDN’T make her suffer through any singing, or blowing out of candles. After helping to clear away the last of the birthday mess, Arizona finally started to relax.
At least, on that score. She still had to find out what she could about Quin and the sting and that suspicious phone call she’d received.
“So, Dare.” With all birthday celebrating now out of the way, Arizona sought a way to ask the necessary questions. She moved her glass of lemonade a little, seeing the ring of condensation left behind on the patio table. “Did you wrap up everything at the bar?”
“The Green Goose?”
How many trafficking rings was he currently busting up at bars? Dryly, she said, “Yeah, that one.”
“Not completely.” Dare shrugged. “But everyone is safe, and there are good people working on the details.”
Everyone wasn’t safe, or Quin would’ve had no need to call her.
“We’re staying in contact with the head of the new task force,” Trace told her. “He’s still interrogating Terry Janes, but I doubt they’ll find out anything else.”
Huh. Trace had probably already questioned the guy, and he wasn’t held back by legal restrictions. “You figure if you couldn’t make him talk, no one can, right?”
Scowling a little, Trace avoided the question. “It’s being handled.”
“Right. I’m sure it is. But if there’s nothing else to find out, why interrogate him?”
Jackson frowned at her. “There’s always more to find out. Like who owns the place.”
“Janes doesn’t?”
“Nope.”
She ran her finger through the condensation on the table. “So…who does?”
“We’re still working on it,” Dare told her. “So far, no one we nabbed seems to know, so we’ll have to search the records.”
Arizona considered that. “You got Janes and his henchman, Carl, and the bartender…”
“And a couple of other thugs who drove a white van. Dare grabbed them out of the back alley.”
Arizona looked up. That was the first she’d heard about a white van.
“But,” Jackson said before she could start asking questions, “you don’t need to worry about any of that. Those bozos are shut down for good.”
Unfortunately, she had reason for doubt. She turned to Dare again. “Okay, so you got the creeps. But do you remember the workers you rounded up?”
“There were over a dozen people, hon.”
She deflated. “So you can’t account for them all?”
Intuition sharpened his gaze. “I can place most of them. Why?”
Oops, time to retrench. “I was just wondering.” She brushed away a bumblebee that tried to land on her arm and summoned her most casual expression. “Was Quin in there?”
“The Hispanic kid?” Dare thought about it and then shook his head. “I don’t recall seeing him, no.”
“Isn’t that odd?” Forget subtlety; she needed to know. “I mean, he was there that night. He served me.”
“He probably split the second he heard the sirens,” Jackson said. “Maybe he’s an illegal. Bastard traffickers convince them they’ll be arrested if they’re caught.”
“Is there a reason you’re worried about him, specifically?” Trace asked.
“No, not really.” Her thoughts churned a little more. To make her lie more convincing and throw them off the scent, she asked, “What about that goofy little artist, Joel Pitts?”
Dare shrugged. “I don’t know the names of the people, but I can find out if it’s that important to you.”
No, it wouldn’t matter. She knew Quin was free because he’d called her, so why put Dare to the trouble of gathering info? “That’s okay. I was just curious.”
“Why?” Spencer asked quietly.
She slanted him a look. “Quin and Joel were the two I talked with most. I spotted Quin right off as a victim and then, since Joel drew pictures of me…” She shrugged. “I feel like I sort of know them both.”
“What do you mean, he drew pictures of you?” Priscilla asked. “What kind of pictures?”
“I was going to ask the same thing,” Alani said.
“I’ll show you. They should still be in my purse.” To give herself a moment, Arizona went inside and hunted for them. They were now badly creased and smudged a little, but she brought them back outside anyway.
As she rolled them out on the table, she explained. “I was pretty hammered when we left there, or I’d have thought to take them out before they got messed up.”
Everyone gathered around. “Wow.” Priss admired the drawing. “He’s really talented.”
A different topic was to her advantage, so Arizona kept it going. “Even without me posing or anything, the drawings look like me, except better.”
“Not true,” Dare said.
“Hard to imagine that’s even possible,” Jackson told her. “You looking like you do and all.”
“You really are beautiful,” Alani agreed. “There’s nothing to improve on.”
“Yeah, well…thanks.” Uncomfortable with the compliments, Arizona gave her attention back to Trace and Dare. “I was hoping to see them both again. Just to see how they’re doing.”
