Page 77 of Playing for Keeps

“Is it possible to get a little privacy here?” I asked, my eyes flashing across the screens.

“Vin,” Jen said again, but I was already turning my glare on Levi.

“I have a beef to pick with this kid."

“That beef is going to have to wait.” Thatcher’s voice rose above all the others, and immediately we quieted down. My middle screen flickered to life, a collage of dozens of pictures—the pictures I’d taken while following Aaron around the States—filled the display.

My brows drew together as my lips pursed. I pulled Jen closer to me, willing the girl to turn away, to hide her face from the evidence she was never meant to see. But she didn’t. She curled her body around my side, arms around my neck, head on my shoulder, her eyes witnessing Aaron’s betrayal yet again.

“We followed up on the pictures as you requested,” Thatcher continued. “You were right to be concerned.”

Jen lifted her head from my shoulder. “What do you mean?”

“We ran each of the pictures through facial rec,” Ford said, “and every single one of the girls have been reported missing.”

“It’s not good,” Butterman said, wiping a hand across his brow. “The guy travels to a city, goes out to party with a girl, and she’s never seen or heard from again.”

Jen’s hand flew to her face. “That can’t be. Aaron, he...” She swallowed. Loosened her grip on me and stepped closer to the screen. It wasn’t until then that I realized something was off. “There are more pictures here than what I received.”

“What you received?” Ford asked.

My hand whipped out, pointing a finger at the kid standing in the middle of the room. But I didn’t voice my frustration. My mind was working too fast.

The missing girls.

Aaron pleading for the life of a girl he never named.

Kelly, drugged and drowsy on my screen.

“It’s a ring.” I could feel the eyes upon me, even as I squeezed mine shut. Jen gripped my arm as I pinched the bridge of my nose. “A trafficking ring. He was bringing in the girls. Probably selling them to the people who killed him.”

A whine rippled through the quiet room before Jen whimpered, “Kelly.”

My heart rose to my throat. I pulled Jen into my arms, hugging her tight. “Kelly was taken,” I told the men on the screen, pressing the keys on the keyboard to start the video that was etched in my brain. “Levi was following Parker. He took this footage and came here to show me.”

I let it play out. Through the threats. Through the pleading. Through the gunshot and the jostle of the camera as Levi had pulled away. But I was ready, hitting the button to pause the video just as Kelly’s unruly red hair and pretty round face came up on the screen.

“They have Kelly O’Connor,” I told them, letting my sharp gaze remind them who this was. The girl we’d uprooted from her apartment so we could bring Jen back to the city.

Back to me.

“We have to call the police,” Jen pleaded from my side, but I shook my head.

“No. Not after this afternoon. Who would believe me? They just arrested me for murder.”

Murmurs floated in the background, but Jen still held my focus. “Call Officer Linden, then,” she said quietly. “He’ll listen. I know he will. Please, Vinny, we have to do something.”

Biting my tongue from saying what I wanted, I pulled Jen close. “Okay,” I told her, pressing a kiss to her temple. “I’ll give him a call.”

The guys fell silent as I whipped out my phone. As it rang in my ear, Jen wrung her hands in her lap. When Linden answered, I gave him a quick rundown of what I knew.

“How old is Ms. O’Connor,” Linden asked, and my eyelids fell shut.

“Twenty-three.”

“And how long has she been missing, exactly?”

My heart felt heavy as I muttered, “Since at least Saturday night. Jen hasn’t seen her since Friday afternoon.”