Too Much to Lose (16 page)

“Why did you take her on?”

“She offered to work a few
nights for free, to prove what a hard worker she was. One of the waitresses had
quit so I said sure. I didn’t regret it. Jessica was one of the best employees
I’ve ever had, especially for a kid so young. She had a determination in her
that you don’t see in the younger staff. I get a lot of staff come and go, but
you don’t forget someone like that.”

I nod. This sounded like Jess.
“Was she happy working there?”

“Happy enough. Waitressing
isn’t anyone’s dream job, but she made friends with some of the staff and a few
of the college kids who were around her age. She dated one for a while but it
ended badly.”

“Ended badly how?” Jealousy
crushes tight around my windpipe and I have to force myself to concentrate on
Kyle’s words.

“I don’t know the details. She
came in really upset one day—all shaky and unable to concentrate. I tried to
send her home—she was living in a hostel at the time I think, after the
boyfriend kicked her out—but she said she wanted to work. By the time we closed
that night, she was a wreck. I’d been working the bar while she worked the
restaurant and I didn’t get much of a chance to check on her.” He sighs. “I
wish I had. Maybe I could have found out what went on. I did ask her—and the
staff—but no one would tell me anything. I asked her if she was all right
before she left for the night. She said she was fine, said she’d see me
tomorrow and that was that. I never saw her again. No one knew where she was
and her ex-boyfriend told me he was glad she was gone. Jackass.”

“Do you know this
ex-boyfriend’s name, or any of her friend’s names?”

“Not sure about the others but
he was Peter—Pete usually—Wilkins. He actually comes in here sometimes. Works
in marketing now, over at Selby’s Insurance in the industrial estate. Thinks
he’s some kind of hotshot. He doesn’t cause any trouble but he always comes in
with a different girl on his arm and comes onto all the female bar staff.”

I hate him already. “Thanks.
I’ll see if I can talk to him.” I slide a card out of my jacket and pass it
over. “Will you let me know if you think of anything else that could help?”

“Of course.” I stand and Kyle
follows suit. “Mr O’Reilly, can you tell me if you’ve got a lead on her?”

“I think I have.”

“And she’s okay?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“If you get the chance or if
you talk to her, tell her to get in touch. I’d like to know she’s safe.”

I nod. “Thanks, Mr Harris.”

He shows me out and I avoid
Bella and her offer of a drink. Pausing outside, I rub a hand over my rough jaw.
What happened to make her pack in a job and move to London? Was she moving to
escape heartbreak? Did this Pete hurt her?  I need to get a grip on my emotions
or I can see me ploughing a fist into his face before I even get the chance to
ask any questions, and he’s my one lead. I can’t afford to fuck this up.

Tension and nerves eat into me.
I’m not sure I want the truth. What if I’m digging up stuff that’s going to
make her life worse? I already witnessed one of her nightmares. I swipe my hand
through my hair and clasp the back of my neck. That gut feeling that these
things are better off buried is biting into my conscience.

I grab my bike out of the club
car park and sit on it for a moment, feeling the engine thrum underneath me. Twisting
my hands on the handles, I draw in a breath. What other choice do I have? Lose
the house? Lose the business? I refuse to be a useless bum like my father. He
barely contributed when he was alive—preferring alcohol and get rich quick
schemes to hard work and his family. Him leaving was a blessing and a curse. My
mother finally got on her feet but it took years and years of working two jobs.
The woman was selfless and that damned house is a testament to that. How the
hell can I give up my one chance to save the home she loved?

Dammit. Driving out the car
park, I head up to the industrial estate. The building is easy enough to spot
with its big sign outside. I find a place to park, turn off the engine and
unclip my helmet, tucking it under my arm. I push through the door and pause at
reception.

A harassed looking woman eyes
me. “Deliveries that way,” she points to the right.

“I’m looking for Peter Wilkins.”

“Is he expecting you?”

“No.” I don’t even try to be
charming. She looks too no-nonsense and I’m too fucking antsy.

“Give me a second.” She sighs
as the phone rings and she answers it, plastering on an artificial sweet tone.

I rest against the desk,
leaning deliberately in so she doesn’t forget me while I wait. When she’s
finished, she offers me a weak smile and jabs the phone.

“Peter? There’s someone here to
see you. No, I don’t know—” She glances at me. “What’s your name?”

“Hunter O’Reilly. Tell him I’m
here about Jessica Callahan.”

I can’t decide if revealing my
hand is the best idea but I’m not willing to wait it out much longer.

“His name is Hunter O’Reilly.
He says he’s here about a Jessica Callahan.” She pauses and nods to the phone.
“Right, sure.” Placing the phone down, she motions to some hard-looking, but
highly stylish plastic chairs. “Take a seat, he’ll be down in a moment.”

I don’t have to wait long. The
elevator doors slide open and out steps Peter. I can tell it’s him. He walks
with an arrogant air—matching my mental picture perfectly. His blond hair is
cut into an expensive style, one that probably takes him a good fifteen minutes
to style each morning and he flashes a charming smile. I recognize that smile—I
use it myself—but there’s something innately dangerous behind it. Perhaps
something that only a guy could recognize. I can see why Jess fell for him, I realize
bitterly.

Pete offers his hand and I
stand, drawing myself to my full height. I’m a few inches taller than him and
plan to use it to my advantage.

“Hi, I’m Peter Wilkins. Jules
said you were asking about Jessica?”

I shake his hand. “Yeah, I’m
from O’Reilly Investigations. I was hoping I could ask you a few questions. Is
there anywhere we can talk?”

“What’s happened? Has she done
something stupid? Illegal perhaps?”

His eagerness grates against my
nerves but at least it should be easy to get him to talk. “I need to ask you a
few questions about her, if you don’t mind.

“Sure, we can talk in one of
the conference rooms. Jules, is room two free?” he calls over to the
receptionist who nods unenthusiastically. “Follow me.”

He leads me into a plain room,
only big enough for eight people. Peter opens the blind and motions to one of
the chairs. “Take a seat.”

I sit, trying to crush the idea
that we’re alone and if I don’t like his answers I might even get away with
beating the shit out of him. He sits opposite. The large grey table is wide so
I’d have to jump over it to get at him but he’s put me between him and the
door. Idiot. I mask a smirk. Peter is charm itself at the moment but I bet that
would change if he realized what I was thinking.

“So how can I help? I’ll admit
I didn’t think I’d hear that name again.”

“You dated, right?”

“Yeah, we lived together for a
while.”

“What happened?”

“Can I ask what’s going on? Is
she in trouble?”

“You could say that. She’s gone
missing.” The lie slips out easily enough to this guy.

“Shit, I didn’t know that.”

“You didn’t know that she
disappeared after you split?”

“Well, I knew she quit her job
but I didn’t know she’d just gone. I figured she got another job and we didn’t
end on good terms, so I didn’t really think anything of it.”

“So why did you split up?”

He leans back in his chair and
rubs a hand across his mouth. “I found out something about her… let’s just say
I didn’t like that I’d been lied to.”

“What was she lying about?”

“A lot of stuff, man. I mean, I
thought she was this sweet waitress. But she had a past. I had no idea.”

“Peter, I’ve no idea what
happened between you but she’s missing and could be in danger. I need to find
her. You need to tell me everything.”

I hear him grinding his teeth
but there’s calculation in his eyes, like he’s figuring out how much enjoyment
he can get out of telling me his story. “Okay, so here it is. Jessica—the
golden girl—was a porn star.”

My heart slams to a stop and I
fight the urge to laugh. “What?”

“Yeah, I know, right? I’m
assuming you’ve seen a picture of her. Cute, innocent looking. Turned out she
was no better than a whore.”

That word makes me curl my hand
around the arm of my chair but I somehow regulate my breaths and keep my face
expressionless. I still need answers. Surely that can’t be right?

“How do you know this?”

“Look I watched porn okay? What
guy doesn’t? You can imagine the surprise I had when I saw my girlfriend being
banged by some guy on the internet. I confronted her and she admitted it. Said
she’d been desperate and had only done a few videos—as if that made it better.
I had ambitions and I couldn’t have a girlfriend like that.

My mind reels at the mental
images his words produce. Jess—
my Jess
—fucking strange guys in front of
cameras. It doesn’t compute, yet it works. Her work record is empty between
running away from home and working at The Bell. Still, to go into porn? She
just doesn’t seem the type.

“It was definitely her?” I ask
again.

“For sure. She didn’t even try
to deny it. Said she regretted it. That’s all very well but it was on the
internet for everyone to see—under some God-awful name. Trinity Sparks, I
think.”

“So,” my voice is strained,
“you split after that?”

“Yeah. I don’t know where she
went but I told her I wanted nothing more to do with her.”

“Did anyone else know about
this?”

“Look, man, I didn’t keep quiet
about it. She was lying to everyone. They had a right to know who they were
really friends with.”

“Did you tell her boss?”

“No, but I didn’t need to. She
quit anyway. She had everyone believing she was some sweetheart but really she
was just a whore. Everyone was glad she left.”

Nausea crests in my gut and I
release my death grip on the chair. “You didn’t hear from her again?”

“Nope, sorry.”

“Didn’t it ever occur to you that
you may have contributed to her disappearance?”

“Look, Mr. O’Reilly, I wanted
nothing more to do with her. She was a grown woman. She made her choices. If
she wanted people to respect her, she should have thought more carefully before
being paid to have sex.” He glances at his watch. “I’ve got to get back to
work. If there’s nothing else…” He stands.

I shake my head numbly and
stand too.

“I’m sorry I can’t be of more
help but, really, Jessica got everything she deserved.”

Homeless, jobless, friendless.
The thought of her performing for the cameras sickens me but did she deserve
that?

Peter motions to the door.
“I’ll show you out. If you ask me, she probably went back to performing or even
became a stripper or something. That’s what everyone reckoned. Once a whore, always
a whore.” He shrugs.

Red hot rage boils inside me
and before I know what I’ve done, my fist is throbbing and Peter has fallen
over one of the chairs and is sprawled on the floor clutching his nose.

“What the fuck, man?”

I don’t say anything else.
Don’t trust myself to. Before he can get to his feet, I’m out the door and
gone. Maybe he’ll press charges, but I doubt it. He’d have to explain what we
were talking about. I get on my bike, gun the engine and drive like a madman
until I’m close to home.  

I don’t know if I can face her.

My hands are shaking as I pull
into a lay-by, turn off the engine and yank out my phone. I keep trying to
picture Jess as a porn star but I can’t. Either I don’t want to or Peter is
wrong. But if she really was a porn star, it explains her change in appearance
and her secrecy.

Heart in my throat, I pull up
the browser on my phone, grateful for a decent signal. It takes me several
tries to type Trinity Sparks into the search engine. I gulp as hits come up, my
insides bunching. Most of the sites want payments but a few show clips. I close
my eyes and press play. Opening them, bile rises in my throat as a cute blonde
stands in front of the camera, already in skimpy underwear. There’s no tattoo
on her arm but there’s no doubting she’s a grown up version of the kid in the
photo I have and it’s a blonde version of Jess.

She starts peeling off her bra
and I jab stop. “Shit. Motherfucker.”

Jess

When Hunter doesn’t turn up to
meet me after work, my stomach bunches. Has something happened? Is he hurt?
Today was uneventful. No messages, not even any strange phone calls. I’m
beginning to believe this crazy person has lost interest. Maybe Hunter has too
but that doesn’t sit right. Mitch couldn’t be here today so Hunter left me with
the usual warnings.
Be careful, don’t go anywhere alone.
So why am I
alone now?