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The shadows of my past settle over me like a dark cloud and I feel about a million pounds.
“That would be nice,” I say. But what I meant to say wasthat would be a miracle.
Phillis glances at her watch, signaling the end of our little chat. “I hope you find what you’re looking for, Agents.”
The four of us stand at once and both women give Buddy a proper rubdown.
That dog gets more action with more women than I have in the last six months.
Fallon and I take off with Buddy looking back longingly as if he was already missing the spontaneous massages. Can’t say I blame him.
“What do you think?” I ask as we head out into the frigid night air.
“You first,” she says.
“It’s a start. But I’m thinking we need to deep-dive into everyone that Delaney and Gwen spent time with.”
“Agree,” she says and Buddy lets out a sharp bark. “I think Buddy agrees, too.”
“That sounded more likewe might need Mexican food to get the job done.”
Fallon shakes her head. “If a burrito helps solve this case, so be it.”
“I think that hot tub might help, too.”
“Don’t press your luck.” She bites down on a smile and her eyes never leave mine.
I do believe I will be pressing my luck tonight.
I just hope I remember that she’s packing heat.
Our phones go off and it’s Hale.
We’ve just got clearance to search the apartment Delaney and Gwen shared off-campus.
Looks as if that burrito will have to wait.
14
EVIL
The city lights of downtown Denver blur past me, streaking across the windshield like bloodstains smeared over glass. I tighten my grip on the wheel, feeling the weight of what I’ve done—a necessary weight. One that I carry for all the others who can’t or won’t.
I glance around at the throngs of girls barreling down the streets as if they were cattle.
Short skirts, thigh-high boots, arms linked with one another as they laugh into the night. I don’t know what they find so funny. They’re putting themselves in mortal danger.
The high heels, the makeup applied like spackle, the cheap jewelry adorning them like tinsel on a Christmas tree.
They cheapen themselves, these women. Every one of them is selling pieces of their souls, and for what? A few crumpled bills? A fleeting sense of power, theillusionthat they’re in control?
Some of them are young, so young they’re practically children. But it’s a crime regardless of their age.
It makes me sick to think about how far these women havefallen. Like Lucifer falling from Heaven. Such a great height, and yet they have no idea what they’ve truly lost.
And it’s not just the money that’s the trouble here. It’s their very innocence that they barter with—like it’s nothing. Like it has no value. Liketheyhave no value. They drag the men down with them, too, ruining families, shredding marriages, and leaving children fatherless.
And for what? You can’t tell me those women derive any pleasure from what they do. It’s strictly a monetary exchange.