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I haven’t come to terms with the grim reality because I won’t allow myself to believe that my sister is gone. That isn’t even an option.
I’m even letting this man next to me dictate when I should eat, for heaven’s sake. What in the hell?
I never told Nevada that I’ve had one really bad relationship that fucked me over for a while. It’s half the reason that I am the way I am. I never want to feel like I’m trapped, which is why my independence is so important to me. The guy hit me a few times, and it started out as a slap, then it intensified. I got away reasonably unscathed, but I’ll never forget the night that he came for me in a drunken rage accusing me of sleeping around, which I wasn’t. That was five years ago, and I haven’t been the same since. It’s why I took up kickboxing and went back into martial arts. I’ve even plowed a lot of my time and energy into helping out at the local shelter, and donating to causes to help women of domestic abuse when I can. When I looked up the NOLA Rebels and saw they formed BADVA, I was quietly impressed.
Maybe I need to learn to keep my judgment and prejudice at bay. I’ve had good relationships in the past, and I’m not a man-hater, but the thought of being trapped scares the shit out of me. Maybe that’s why I never considered kids or a family, because it would mean giving up my independence and my job. It would mean relying on a man.
“So all of this could be a cover up and a good front for somethin’ more sinister.” Nevada snaps me out of my reverie. “Or it could be a legit business.”
“We need to be asking questions,” I say. “Poking around out here isn’t getting us anywhere.”
He turns to me. “It isn’t like we can just walk up to the office and start askin’ questions.”
“Why not?” I challenge. “I have a security guard badge. I can use that.”
“I’m surprised you don’t have a fake police badge.” Our eyes meet and Nevada palms the back of his head. “You do, don’t you?”
“It gets things done faster.”
“It’s also a felony.”
“Nobody in their right minds would put me in jail after finding out why I did it.”
He takes a long intake of breath. “You already have a story worked out? Jesus, woman.”
“I’m sick of beating around the bush, Nevada. And since when did this become a NOLA Rebels operation?” I start to back away toward the office. “We can’t just pussy foot around waiting for evidence to drop into our laps.”
“I’m not,” he argues. “I’m checkin’ the place out before we go in guns blazin’, which is generally the smart thing to do.”
She puts her hands on her hips. “So are we doing things your way, or my way? Because this isn’t getting us anywhere.”
“Can I help you?” a man says out of nowhere and I startle at his words.
Putting a hand on my chest I say, “Yes.” I side eye Nevada and then take out my fake ID from inside my jacket pocket. “I’m Detective St. Clair from the Mississippi Police Department, this is my colleague, Detective Jones. We’re working on a case at the moment involving a missing girl.”
The man frowns. “Uh, we don’t get many girls around these parts, aside from Meg in the office.” He whispers the next part, “But she’s a little slow, so I wouldn’t take anything she has to say as gospel.”
I pull out my phone to find the photo of Tilly. She’s smiling and happy on a trip we made one time to Florida. The pain in my gut intensifies. “She was last seen around this area and just vanished without a trace.”
“Lotsa people go missin’.” He starts to back up but I keep walking toward him. “But none of them get lost in a junkyard.” I don’t know why he seems to find that funny but he’s suspicious as hell. Or maybe he’s just an asshole.
“So you won’t mind us looking around?”
“Be my guest.”
“Also heard rumors of a traffickin’ ring operating in the area, you heard anythin’ about that?” Nevada cuts in. “Folks around here stayin’ tight lipped, but we have security footage of a bus packed with girls crossing state line from Louisiana headin’ through here.”
He scratches his chin. “Mississippi ain’t that big, but still. Don’t mean shit.”
“There’s a ten thousand dollar reward for any information leading to the successful capture of these monsters who take women against their will.” I stare him down. “I’ll give you my card, if you think of anything that could be helpful.”
I fish around for the fake card and hand it to him. Dumb ass wouldn't know his ass from his elbow.
I need an excuse to get into the office, so when he gets there and slides the door open, I follow in behind. “Got a shit load of stuff here.” I look around the rundown shambles of an office. The girl, who must be Meg, looks up from an old computer that looks like it’s seen better days, whirring away loudly. I immediately zone in on her.
“Dave, honey, is everything okay?” She’s much younger than him to be calling him honey. It’s an odd coupling. He’s tall with a fat belly, ripped holes in his clothing and an unkempt beard and hair. She probably was pretty until whatever she’s smoking took her looks, and sank in her cheeks and eyes. She’s wary of us, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.
“Everything’s fine, go back to work,” he barks.
