Revelations (34 page)

Jane shifted her focus to the crowd of men. Between the cigarette smoke and darkness, it was almost impossible to make out faces. Jane moved to a column and masked herself partially behind it. She peered closer at the row of booths against the far wall of the club.
Bingo!
There was Bailey seated across from a man and engrossed in conversation. There were no drinks on
the table and they didn’t seem to give a damn about the nude dancers cavorting on stage. From what Jane could make out, the other guy was about late-thirties, conservatively dressed and clean-shaven. His posture showed a certain amount of apprehension, as if he were carefully sizing up Bailey’s words.

The music finally faded as the dancers swept up their tips and left the stage. Bailey and the man never once glanced away. From Jane’s point of view, Bailey’s body language was vastly different than when she talked to him. There was tension in his face but he seemed more accessible. This couldn’t be one of Bailey’s clients; his own YouTube video seemed to infer that he dealt in only a high-end milieu and
The Cat Ho Lounge
was shooting way below the curb. Jane knew that the only reason someone set up a meeting at a remote strip club was to convene in a brassy public place where the nature of your business was possibly suspect.

Jane squinted to get a better view of Bailey. She wished she could move closer, but there was no way she could do that without standing out. Bailey reached into his chest shirt pocket and pulled out a small piece of paper. He slid it across the table toward the man as he momentarily took a clandestine glance to the side. It was a gesture of guilt to Jane, but as guilty as he may have been, his body language demonstrated a willingness to continue with the deal. The other guy picked up what Jane thought was a piece of paper, looked at it and then slid it into his pocket with the same furtive approach Bailey used. “Drugs?” Jane whispered to herself. Was this a goddamn drug deal? A million possibilities blew through Jane’s head. Was the
paper
blotter acid that Bailey was selling to the guy? Or was the paper a card with directions to a drop point? Meth was certainly a feasible drug probability as it had literally sucked in both ends of the financial spectrum. Was that the reason for Bailey’s stuffed up nose and flushed face? If he was a meth user, Jane figured he was new to the game because he certainly didn’t have the haggard and ravaged physique of a meth freak. Furthermore, meth
addicts weren’t into working out the way Bailey obviously was. So, what in the hell was Bailey trying to sell him?

Just as that thought crossed her mind, she watched Bailey shift his weight to his left hip and remove something from his back pocket with his right hand. The other man watched Bailey with stone-cold eyes. Bailey took another cautious look around the immediate area and carefully slid an envelope toward the man. The man pulled the envelope off the table and let it drop into his lap. Jane could barely make out his movements but it was clear that the guy was counting a wad of cash. Jane noted discernable tension in Bailey’s body and almost a sense of vulnerability that she’d never seen before from him. “Shit,” she muttered to herself. Was he conducting his own private ransom deal for Jake?
Fucking idiot.
Was he trying to be a hero or was he trying to cover up something deeper out of fear? Jane considered her options. She could wait until they walked out and then follow them outside where she would hold them at gunpoint until she phoned for backup. But not knowing what kind of possibly complex back end deal Bailey had made, that approach could backfire and put Jake’s safety in jeopardy. Following the guy with the cash was the only solution she could come up with at that confusing point.

Jane leaned against the column, her heart racing hard. She was satisfied that she was well-hidden in the darkness until she felt two perky breasts press into her back, followed by hot breath against her ear.

“What’s your pleasure?”

A porcelain hand reached around in an attempt to grab Jane’s right breast. Jane reached up and touched the girl’s hand before she made contact.

“Playing hard to get, huh?” the girl whispered in Jane’s other ear.

Jane slowly turned to find the blond dancer with the bewitching eyes standing inches from her face. The girl was barely covered in a creamy satin robe that was loosely tied at her
waist. Her nipples punctuated the satin, obviously excited about a possible conquest. Jane was trapped against the column and momentarily speechless as the girl licked her fat, cherry red lips.

“What brings you here?” the girl asked, her youthful tenor bleeding through her attempt at adult sensuality.

Jane attempted a calm response. “Curiosity.”

The girl smiled. “You know what curiosity did to the cat, don’t you?” Jane wondered how many times the girl used that old saw. “My name’s Candy.” She tilted her head in a coquettish pose. “Candy is dandy…and so am I!”

Jane regained her cop demeanor. “Let me guess. Your last name’s Cane?”

Candy stepped back. “Wow! Are you psychic?”

“No. It’s a common street name. I used it myself years ago when I went undercover as a hooker.”

First there was a look of confusion. That melted into fear and transformed quickly into anger. “
You’re a cop
?”

Jane quickly pulled Candy away from the column and toward the front door. “Keep your goddamn voice down!”

“I didn’t think you were a cop,” Candy said, shaking off Jane’s grip. “I thought you were gay!”

“
Gay
?”

“Yeah! You know…” Candy motioned toward Jane’s torso.

Jane looked down at her clothes. “The jacket?”

“No. The jacket’s cool. It’s the shirt. It’s kinda manly.”

“Fuck,” Jane muttered. This roadhouse stripper was the third person in two days to intimate that she was doing the lesbian limbo. She walked back to the protective column and checked the status between Bailey and his unknown acquaintance. They were still engrossed in conversation. Just as Jane took a step to move a little closer, Candy crossed in front of her.

“Is that your husband?”

“No! Get outta the way.”

The girl was used to getting what she wanted and forced a pout before ambling behind Jane. “I just wondered. Since, ya
know, he’s been here a few times before.”

Jane turned to Candy. “The guy in the white shirt?” Candy nodded. “Like,
how
many times?”

“I don’t know,” she said, her well-honed manipulation fully engaged again.

“Hey, Candy. It’s illegal for girls under
the age of eighteen
to dance in strip clubs. I can make one fucking call and have this
Ho Lounge
shut down…all because of
you
.” The kid’s eyes got as big as saucers. “And that’s not going to look good on the ol’ resume when you try to score a job in another classy club like this. I think they call that being blackballed.” Jane turned around, keeping her gaze on Bailey.

“Please don’t call anybody.” The bravado was gone and sheer desperation took its place. “I can’t go home and this is the only way I can make big bucks.”

“Yeah? What are you saving up for?” Jane asked, never taking her eyes off the two men.

“Bigger tits.”

“Jesus Christ, why?”

“The bigger the tit, the bigger the tip.”

Jane let out a weary sigh. “So this is your life’s ambition?”

Candy looked down at the carpet. “Well, no. My mom would die if she found out what I was doing. But I can’t go back home.”

Jane wasn’t about to ask her the reason. She knew it probably had to do with either her mother’s boyfriend or a stepfather who had stolen her innocence years before and forced her on the run. “So, you’re gonna answer my questions, right?”

“Right.”

“The guy with the white shirt?” Jane nodded toward Bailey. “You’re
sure
you’ve seen him in here before?”

“Yeah. He kinda stands out, you know?”

“How many times and when did he start coming in?”

Candy clearly struggled with the question. “I’m not really good at time…”

“Yeah, that’s one of the first signs that the drugs are starting to fuck up your brain.” Jane gave her a warning eye.

“I know. I know.” Candy tried to piece her memory together. “Um, I’d say he’s been here like two or three times. Maybe more.”

Jane turned and focused on Candy. “For how long?”

“A week? Two weeks?”

“How long have you worked here, Candy?”

“Two weeks…I think. Time kinda warps for me.”

Jane shook her head.
What a waste
. The kid was beautiful, had a great body and was a terrific dancer. With the right education and training, the legit world would be her oyster. But instead, she was already brain addled. “What about the other guy? You seen him before?”

“I’m not sure. I just remember the guy with the white shirt’cause I walked over to his table once and asked if he wanted a private dance and he said, ‘Fuck off, cunt!’ So, I took that as a
No
.”

Bailey was earning more daggers in Jane’s little black book of bad karma. “That’s all you can give me? By chance, you didn’t hear the name
Jake
when they were talking?”

“I…uh…I don’t know…” Candy stared at the floor, frustrated.

“It’s okay, kid.” Jane patted her on the shoulder and turned back to the men. The booth was empty. “Shit! Did you see where they went?”

“No. Maybe they went out the back door…”

Jane sprung toward the front door and headed toward where she saw Bailey’s SUV. It was gone. She peered into the distance, attempting to see his vehicle, but the setting sun forced a hard glare that prevented any clear view. “
Fuck
!” she screamed. Jane paced for about a minute, debating her next move. She went back inside the strip club and spotted Candy by the bar. The kid was just about to down a shot of whiskey when Jane placed her hand over the shot glass. “You’re too young to drink.”

“You also think I’m too young to strip.” Candy moved Jane’s hand off the glass and downed the shot like a hard core pro.

Jane wrapped her arm around the girl’s shoulder and directed her to a more private area of the club. “Look, if I give you my business card with my cell phone number, will you promise to call me the minute you see that guy with the white shirt back in here?” Jane handed Candy her card.

The kid took it but lacked enthusiasm for the job. Jane opened her wallet. “Would a hundie make you remember to call me?” She folded a hundred-dollar bill in Candy’s eager hand.

Her eyes lit up. This was the only exchange she understood. “You betcha!”

Jane pulled another hundred out of her wallet. “Here. Buy yourself a sweater.”

Candy took the money and, for a moment, the kid who she
really
was under all the makeup, shone forth. “Wow. Thanks. I will… and I’ll call you.”

The sun set fast over the high mountains, draping Highway 7 in soft shadows. Jane sped down the road back to Midas, another day wasted in the pursuit of the elusive truth. She halfwondered what she’d do if she spotted Bailey’s black SUV on the road, but the closer she got to Midas, the more she realized that he’d either turned off another road or drove in the opposite direction. Jane surmised that it fit Bailey’s arrogant demeanor to take matters into his own hands and work some sort of deal behind the backs of law enforcement. But why? Had the people involved in Jake’s disappearance scared him so deeply that he chose to keep the cops out of it? He wouldn’t be the first parent to play that card. The problem with that scenario was that it usually ended up badly—the kidnappers got their cash and the kid ended up dead.

She debated about calling Weyler and filling him in on what had just transpired. The only reason she hesitated was her concern that he’d accuse her of stalking Bailey. For the next ten miles Jane weighed the pros and cons of alerting him. Finally,
she worked up her courage and dialed his number as she headed into the narrow canyon. But the call kept dropping each time she dialed. Darkness was falling fast, especially now that she was locked inside the red rock fold of the canyon. The rushing river rose and fell violently on the right side. For five long miles, with each new curve of the road, Jane redialed but kept losing the signal. She flicked on her headlights and approached another bend. For a moment, she looked down to press the
RE-DIAL
key on her phone. When she looked up, the only thing she saw was the fixated eyes of a deer standing in the center of the lane. Jane turned the wheel sharply to the left, but the Mustang skidded toward the rocky wall. She overcorrected, forcing her right front and rear tires onto the uneven gravel shoulder that banked down to the roaring river. She slammed on the brakes, but the rear tire dug into the gravel. Within seconds, Jane was spinning uncontrollably.

The sound of the river moved closer as she heard the tires squealing like a pig headed to slaughter. The rear view mirror shattered and the scent of gardenias infused the spinning car. As the Mustang slid toward the river, Jane felt a numinous hand cover her own. Suddenly, the car spun in the opposite direction as icy splinters of glass stabbed her scalp. Just when she thought the Mustang would never stop moving, the high-pitched squeal of burning rubber came to an abrupt halt. Jane’s head slammed hard against the broken window, driving the shards deeper. She floated between worlds, as a warm trickle of blood traveled to the crease of her lips and forced its way onto her tongue. The ghostly hand that had guided her gradually dissipated and was replaced by another. But instead of the sweet scent of gardenias, the stench was foul and fetid. Jane tried to fight off the intruder, but he easily took control of her injured body.

The last thing Jane remembered was the unrelenting sound of the river beneath her and the fear that she was about to die.

The putrid odor wafted in and out. For a moment, Jane traveled back to when she was ten and sitting at her mother’s deathbed in the living room of their house. The cancer was just about to take Anne’s life and she sat up, projectile vomiting across the white bed sheets. Bright red blood mixed with bile. There was a gagging aroma that filled that room twenty-seven years ago and, at this moment, as Jane slid between the worlds, the same sickening smell weaved through her senses.