Page 23

Chapter Twenty-Two

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The Unseen

Whatever Dwayne had set off quickly filled the small room, contaminating the air. The smoke was thick and cloying. My eyes stung, and my lungs burned. I bent over double, hacking. Turned in a circle but couldn’t see anything and immediately lost track of which way was out. A wave of panic swelled in my chest, and I started hyperventilating, which only made the coughing worse.

Someone hit me from behind. “Ow!” I exclaimed, lashing out.

“It’s…me…” Marcella choked. “Can’t…see.”

I felt her hand bat at me, grabbed it, and tried to suss out the exit. The smoke seemed thinner off to my right. I groped forward slowly, patting the air until I encountered something solid: one of the chairs. Pulling Marcella behind me, the pair of us coughing and wheezing, I fumbled us from chair to chair. It was as if the room had expanded along with the smoke; an eternity seemed to pass before my hands brushed against the velvet curtain blocking the door. I swatted at it, trying to find an opening, then gave up and dropped to my knees, lifting it from the bottom. A blast of fresh air slipped beneath, and I gulped it greedily; it stank of stale smoke, but compared to what we were coming from, it was the sweetest air I’d ever tasted. Holding up the curtain, I waddled forward on my knees until I was all the way out.

Somewhere nearby, an alarm was blaring. I could feel Marcella right behind me and edged forward to give her room. We both stayed on all fours, hacking and gasping for air. My eyes wouldn’t stop tearing, so I wiped them with the back of my hand to clear my vision. After a full minute, Marcella choked out, “Mother. Fucking. Magicians.”

I managed to gasp, “At least he didn’t shave us.” She made a strangled noise; it took me a second to realize she was laughing, too. I started cough-laughing along with her, straining my already aching lungs. The smoke must have triggered the fire alarm because there was no one in sight, and red emergency lights flashed along with the shrieking siren. No sprinklers, thankfully, but that probably meant this place wasn’t up to code. Not that I cared. The last thing I needed was to end the night by getting soaked.

Marcella had mascara streaks running down her face and a cocktail straw in her hair.

“Hang on,” I said, reaching over to pluck it out. “You’ve got something—”

I moved to grab the straw, not realizing that my foot was still entwined in the velvet curtain. Thrown off balance, I lurched forward and fell directly into Marcella, knocking her down and landing on top of her. She made a small “Oof” sound as I basically crushed the air out of her lungs.

“Sorry,” I gasped. “I didn’t mean to—”

But apparently I did, because suddenly we were kissing. And not just a little peck either. We were all over each other, rolling around on the floor, her tongue flirting with mine, her tears wet against my cheeks. My brain had completely checked out, and my body had apparently decided that the floor of this godforsaken casino was the perfect place to devour Marcella.

In the periphery of my awareness, someone cleared their throat. I opened one eye and saw Grace standing above us, gazing down with a familiar expression of disapproval. “If you’re not too busy,” she said archly, “I believe we can still catch him.”

“Oh, yeah. Sure,” I said, disentangling myself from Marcella while avoiding her eyes. We both clambered awkwardly to our feet. I swiped the tears off my cheeks and meekly followed Grace toward the casino entrance. I didn’t check to see if Marcella followed; I could feel her at my heels and frankly was too mortified to face her. I’d basically come on to her like some sort of horny teenager. I was lucky she hadn’t smacked me.

Grace led the way back to the casino entrance. A few people still sat at slot machines in defiance of the bleating alarm. They didn’t spare us a glance as we passed. “Why didn’t you grab him?” I asked, hurrying to catch up to her long strides.

“There must have been another exit from the room,” she said. “I waited, but Dwayne didn’t emerge. So I did a quick circuit of the casino.”

“Thanks for all the help,” I grunted.

A smile quirked the corners of her mouth. “You seemed to be managing just fine.”

She pushed open the outer door, and I was hit by a wave of sweet, actual fresh air. I gulped it in greedily, folding my arms against the chill. A small cluster of people were chain-smoking as they waited to be let back into the casino. No one seemed particularly perturbed, so maybe the smoke bomb was a regular part of Dwayne’s act. Dot’s convertible was still parked behind the Kia, but there was no sign of her or Sandra.

“Shit,” Marcella sighed. “We lost him.”

I finally let myself look at her. She’d managed to remove the straw from her hair, but her cheeks were flushed. And she was definitely avoiding my eyes.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. Checking it, I found a text from Dot: AROUND THE CORNER IN THE ALLEY.

I held it up to show the others and then the three of us made our way around the building. The alley was long, narrow, and filled with overflowing dumpsters.

I spotted Dot about halfway down, hands on her hips. Sandra was with her, brandishing a cattle prod over a prone Dwayne. When we were a few feet away, she jabbed him in the leg with it, and he shrieked and writhed on the ground.

Dot waved cheerily at us. “Oh, good, you got my text!”

“How the hell did you find him?” I asked. Sandra barely seemed to notice us. Dwayne was gibbering at her, spittle surrounding his mouth. He waved his hands wildly, pleading for her to stop, but she jabbed him again with the cattle prod.

“Soon as that alarm sounded, my girl Sandra here knew exactly what was up,” Dot said, nodding toward her. “Figured Dwayne’d be trying his ol’ escape routine, so we hustled out here and intercepted him.” Leaning in, she added sotto voce, “I turned down the zapper, but someone should probably step in. She’s been going like this for a while now.”

“Hopefully he doesn’t have a heart condition,” I said.

“I’m hoping he does,” Marcella said, crossing her arms over her chest as she looked on approvingly. Tilting her chin up, she said, “Hey, Sandra, you zap him in the balls yet?”

Sandra seized on this inspiration. I winced as Dwayne made noises that would probably haunt me for years to come.

“Damn. Well, we got him,” I said. “Now what?”

Dot made a face. “Good question, kiddo. Truth be told, I didn’t really think this far ahead.”

“For starters, we’re definitely shaving his head,” Marcella said.

“Not much to shave, though, is there?” I said dubiously.

“The rest of him, then.”

Eyeing him distastefully, Grace said, “I would prefer not to participate in that.”

“Me either,” I muttered, making a face.

Sandra shoved the cattle prod into Dwayne’s belly and pressed the button as he yelped, “No, no, no, no!”

Both of them suddenly froze. Sandra held up the cattle prod, examined it, and then frowned. “Dead battery,” she noted with disappointment. “You got another one of these?”

“Maybe we jam some of those smoke bombs down his throat?” Marcella offered.

“Help yourself,” Sandra said, nodding toward a small pile of brightly colored balls a few feet away. “I dug those out of his pocket.”

“Actually,” I said, stepping forward, “Maybe we should give Dwayne a bit of a break, yeah? I think he’s fully charged.”

He threw me a grateful look. I hunkered down so that we were eye-to-eye. Lowering my voice, I said pleasantly, “So Dwayne. How can we make sure this doesn’t happen again?”

“It won’t, I swear,” he said, trying to smooth out his hair. “I’m not a bad guy.”

“Good guys don’t drug women,” Dot said.

“She has a point, Dwayne,” I said.

“Listen,” he said earnestly, leaning forward. “These girls aren’t like you and me. They almost expect it, all right? They know it’s dangerous out there. But they’re choosing to do it anyway, see? So it’s like…” He snapped his fingers and concluded, “Cost of doing business.”

Marcella’s foot was connecting with his chin before I even registered it. Dwayne went sprawling, coming to rest with his head nestled against the side of a garbage bag.

“Out cold,” Dot noted.

“Lucky for him,” Marcella said. “?’Cuz if he kept talking, I was probably gonna kill him.”

“You okay?” I asked, reaching for her.

She shrugged off my hand and snapped, “I’m fine.”

“So,” Dot said. “What the hell do we do with him now?”

I cut a look at Sandra, who waved me off. “Don’t worry about me, honey. Dot told me you’re not FBI. Shame, though. I’d love to see him behind bars.”

“She’s coming to the wedding,” Dot added, patting Sandra’s shoulder. “Hell of a gal.”

“That’s great, but it doesn’t really help with the problem at hand.” I gestured to Dwayne. “Ideas?”

We all stared at him. His shirt had pulled up, revealing a small, pale potbelly.

“I still vote that we drive him out to the desert and bury him alive,” Marcella suggested.

I shook my head. “He’s an asshole, but murder seems a little extreme.”

“I could destroy his credit history,” Grace offered.

“Hell, he’s already done that himself,” Sandra snorted.

“Can’t we have him arrested? He basically confessed,” I said.

“Jessie’s cousin said if we want anything to stick, we’ll need at least one eyewitness,” Dot said doubtfully. “Maybe Gina?”

“Unlikely,” Marcella said.

Dwayne groaned; he was coming around.

“Well, we gotta do something to make sure he doesn’t bother the girls anymore,” Dot said. “You think you can convince one of the others to testify against him?”

“It won’t be easy,” Marcella said doubtfully. “None of them have a great track record with the cops.”

“There is the other thing,” Sandra said slowly.

“What other thing, hon?” Dot asked.

Sandra seemed to be engaged in an inner debate. Finally, she shook her head and said, “Fuck it. If I’d known what he was up to, I would’ve turned him in myself.”

“Turned him in for what?” I asked.

“Car theft,” Sandra said. “He and his idiot buddy found a way to steal Kias. But they haven’t figured out how to sell them yet, so I got, like, five of them sitting in my yard.”

“Six if we count the one parked out front, I’m guessing?”

Sandra gave me a cagey look. “Maybe I already owned that one.”

“He used different cars!” Grace said, sounding delighted. “That’s why the algorithm was ineffective.”

“And once again, you’re focusing on the wrong thing,” I said. “Can we figure out how to nail him for car theft without implicating Sandra?”

“We can sure try. I’ll make a call,” Dot said, already pulling out her phone.

“And I’m taking these,” Marcella said, bending to scoop up the smoke bombs. “They look fun.”

———

Dwayne ended up in Dot’s trunk after all. About halfway to Henderson, he started pounding on the inside of it.

“He dents my car, I might let you bury him in the desert,” Dot muttered.

“I can kick him again if you want,” Marcella offered.

“How much farther?” I asked, repressing a yawn. Since arriving in Vegas, I’d barely slept. Between dealing with my parents, fighting with Kat, and catching a head-shaving magician, the emotional turmoil of the past few days had been a lot. It felt like if I closed my eyes, I’d sleep for a full day.

“Think we’re almost there,” Dot said, following Sandra’s Kia off the next exit.

Thankfully, she was right. Sandra made a few turns before pulling into the driveway of a split-level ranch that had seen better days. It sat in a predominantly unfinished development; the cul-de-sac sported four other houses at various stages of construction. Based on the state they were in, the work seemed to have been abandoned years earlier.

“Well, this is grim,” I said under my breath.

“Great setting for a murder,” Marcella said. “If we change our minds.”

I dragged myself out of the car as Sandra gestured to all the Kias crammed in her dusty front yard and said, “See? Fucking idiot.”

“So what’s the plan?” I asked Dot.

She nodded toward the street, where a dark sedan had just pulled up. “Remember how Jessie had a cousin in law enforcement?” She nodded toward the car. “That’s them.”

The person striding toward us bore a striking resemblance to Jessie, without the elaborate makeup. They were tall and imposing, with short-cropped salt-and-pepper hair. They strode into the yard and took in the scene. “Hey there, folks, I’m Deputy Riggs. Thanks for the call, Dot. Looks like a solid tip. Where’s my guy?”

The thumping from my trunk ratcheted up a few notches. Deputy Riggs raised an eyebrow. “It was kind of a citizen’s arrest,” I said lamely.

They marched over and popped the trunk. Dwayne blinked up at them, wide-eyed, and then gasped, “Officer, thank God! These crazy bitches beat me up, and kidnapped me, and—”

Riggs hauled him out of the trunk by one arm as if he weighed nothing. As they smoothly flipped him around and slipped cuffs on his wrists, they said, “Dwayne Baird, you’re under arrest for grand theft auto, and I’m guessing a hell of a lotta other things. We can chat all about it on the way to Clark.”

“But—” he sputtered, “these aren’t mine!” He pointed at Sandra and said, “They’re hers! This is her place! I don’t even live here!”

“You’re my witness?” Riggs asked.

“Hell yeah, I am,” Sandra said, crossing her arms over her chest. “Came home and found all these cars here. Asshole was trying to turn my place into a chop shop. Lock him up and throw away the key.”

Dwayne was led away sputtering and protesting. Riggs called back, “Now that we got him, if any of the victims are willing to come forward, just let me know and we’ll tack on the charges.”

“Thanks, Lon!” Dot said with a wave.

“Sure thing. See you at the wedding.”

I watched as they drove away. Dot was hugging Sandra and exchanging information with her. Grace was examining her phone as if it held the key to the universe.

And Marcella was watching me. I met her eyes, then quickly looked away. I wasn’t sure whether I felt guilty for cheating on Kat because, based on our fight earlier, that was probably over. But I really liked Toni, and I felt shitty for maybe messing up their relationship, too. I repressed a yawn, jammed my hands in my pockets, and slumped back to Dot’s car. The adrenaline in my system was dissipating, exhaustion taking its place.

“Best wedding present ever!” Dot declared, coming back over to us. “Wasn’t that just a hoot and a half?”

“I’m glad it met expectations,” Grace said.

“Oh, it was all that and a slice of cake! The look on Dwayne’s face when he came out that door and Sandra tased him! Wish I’d been recording, because I could watch that on a loop. Now, who’s up for toasting our success?”

I caught Marcella’s eye, and we both immediately shifted our gazes. Grace was still frowning at her phone.

“I don’t know, Dot,” I hedged. “I’m pretty tired.”

Dot waggled a finger at me. “Don’t you dare. It’s early yet, and you are way behind on bridesmaid duties. ’Fraid I’m calling in that chit.”

“I could use a drink,” Grace said, out of nowhere.

I gaped at her. “Really? I thought you had places to be.”

“The person I was going to interview just canceled, and Chuy agreed to stay late. And as Dot said, a celebration would appear to be in order.”

Marcella shrugged. “I mean, I have to go back to the Getaway anyway.”

“Aces!” Dot clapped her hands together. “I’ve got a bottle stashed there that I’ve been saving for the perfect occasion. Shall we, ladies?”

———

“Here’s to the best damn bridesmaids a gal could hope for,” Dot said, raising a glass. She’d produced a bottle of champagne from the laundry room; a little warm, but still delicious. We were all ensconced in the rickety patio chairs outside the Getaway office.

“I’m not a bridesmaid,” Grace said.

“I still got a day left to change your mind!” Dot said with a wink. “Anyway, I just want to say how much I appreciate you all.”

“Thanks, Dot,” I said as she clinked her glass against mine, then Marcella’s and Grace’s.

Grace had already knocked back her first glass and was well on her way to finishing a second, I noted. But I figured she was still entitled to a little overindulgence. Besides, she could walk back to the Buggy from here.

Marcella, meanwhile, was still avoiding my eyes. Despite Dot’s exuberance, the atmosphere among the rest of us was notably muted.

A chirp from Dot’s phone. She made a face. “Ah, hell. Probably Jim checking in. He should’ve hit San Diego by now.”

“That’s sweet,” I said, sinking farther down in the patio chair and swallowing another yawn. All I wanted was to head back to the Mayhem, get a different motel room, and crash out for at least twelve hours. Tomorrow, I could attempt to sift through the ashes of the life I’d built during the past six months. Tonight, I didn’t have the energy to think about it.

Grace was brooding into her champagne coupe. Marcella sucked on her vape pen, a thoughtful expression on her face. Dot’s phone chirped again. She checked it, then gasped and covered her mouth with one hand. “Oh no!”

“What now?” I asked wearily, already certain that whatever it was, I’d probably rather not know.

“It’s Farina from the Motel 6 over on Tropicana. Her housekeeper found a dead girl in the tub. Strangled.” Dot looked up, an expression of dread on her face. “She was bald.”

“Oh shit,” I said. “Could it have been Dwayne?”

“I hope not. He’s a real creep, but he didn’t strike me as a killer,” Dot said dubiously. “I’ll give Lon a heads-up about it, though. Maybe they’re linked?”

“Who is it?” Marcella said in a thick voice.

“I don’t know, hon,” Dot said. “Farina offered to send a pic she took, but—”

“Yeah, I don’t want to see that,” Marcella snapped.

“Me either. She said the girl is young, though.”

“I’m texting Gina,” Marcella muttered. “She better be okay.”

“Oh, gosh, I hope so. Let’s check in with the other girls, too. I’ll try Jade and Mystique.”

As they tapped at their phones, I noticed that Grace wore a strange expression. “What’s up with you?”

“It’s an odd coincidence,” she said in a low voice.

“What is?” I asked.

“That’s the motel where my brother stabbed me.”

“Huh. Yeah, that is weird.” My mind was spinning. “Could it be a copycat?”

Grace abruptly pushed back her chair and got to her feet. “I need to check on Mother.”

“Right now?”

“Yes.” She was already trotting off into the night.

“Well, bye,” I said, feeling disgruntled. I swirled my drink and finished it.

“Jade is fine,” Dot announced. “Mystique, too.”

“Nothing from Gina,” Marcella muttered.

“Does she usually get back to you right away?”

“No,” Marcella said. “And she’s kind of pissed at me.”

“So maybe she’s just dodging you. I’ll try her, too,” Dot said. “Cover our bases. And let’s not get into a lather before we know for sure.”

“No matter what,” Marcella said darkly, “it’s probably someone we know.”

At that, we fell silent. Finally, Dot sighed and rubbed her eyes. “Well gals, I’m beat to hell, and there’s nothing more to be done tonight. If I hear anything from Gina, I’ll let you know. C’mon, Amber, let’s head back to the Mayhem.”

“Okay,” Marcella said, still staring into her drink. As I got to my feet and started to gather up the glasses, she snapped, “I’ll clean up. Just go.”

I held up both hands. “Sheesh, sorry. Just trying to help.”

Marcella looked ready to spit fire. “All I know is, every time you show up, people start dying.”

“Hey!” I protested.

“That’s hardly fair, Marcie,” Dot said wearily.

Marcella shrugged. “Just calling it like I see it.”

I bristled and snapped, “Really? I’m the one who gets people killed?”

Marcella shot to her feet. “That asshole wouldn’t even have known we existed if it weren’t for you! And Jessie might still—”

“That’s enough, both of you!” Dot said sharply, clapping her hands together. Startled by her tone, we both fell silent. Sternly, Dot wagged a finger at us. “We do not turn on each other. Not ever. It’s been a long day, and we’re all worn out. We probably won’t hear anything tonight anyway, so let’s get some shut-eye.”

Dot straightened her coat and turned toward the car. Chastened, I followed at her heels.

We didn’t say a word the whole drive back to the Mayhem, each lost in our own thoughts. The Vegas streets were busier tonight, nightlife revving up as the weekend approached. Just the thought of it exhausted me. I closed my eyes and dozed briefly, only waking when Dot eased into the Mayhem parking lot.

She turned off the car. Rubbing my eyes, I said, “Thanks, Dot. Sorry about everything.”

“Not your fault, kiddo.” She reached out and patted my knee. “Just ignore what Marcie said. She still feels guilty about Jess, and now that another girl was killed, well…I think it’s hitting home.”

“Yeah, I get that.” My head hurt, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep my eyes open. But the thought of going back to the room I shared with Kat, answering her questions, having—God forbid—yet another relationship talk…I didn’t have it in me. “Any chance there’s another room available?”

“Place is pretty full with wedding guests, kiddo. We could see if your folks checked out of four?”

“Probably not, unless a bookie caught up with them.” I wanted to deal with my parents even less than Kat.

Dot hesitated, then said, “The only open room is number five. And I kinda figured you wouldn’t want that one.”

My whole body tensed; room five was where Gunnar had dumped one of his victims last spring. But even as I started shaking my head, I hesitated. It was just a motel room, after all. And considering the Mayhem’s checkered past, it probably wasn’t the only room a body had ever been found in. Based on the law of probability, people could’ve died in every room in the joint.

“I’ll take it,” I finally said.

“You sure, kiddo?” Dot said dubiously. “I can always give you my place.”

“No.” I shook my head. “It’ll be fine.”

“All right, then. Let’s get you sorted.”

I followed her into the lobby. BJ sat with his feet propped on the reception desk, head tilted back and mouth wide open, dead asleep. Dot snorted and shook her head, then cuffed his feet off.

BJ startled awake with a jolt as his feet hit the floor. He nearly fell off his chair, flailing wildly to catch himself. Then he paled and muttered, “Oh shit.”

“Watch your mouth, Bernard,” Dot snapped. “I’ve had a helluva day, and coming back to find you sleeping on the job gives me half a mind to send you packing again.” She leaned in and sniffed, then narrowed her eyes. “You better not have stunk up my office with weed either.”

BJ shrank into the collar of his T-shirt. “It’s medical,” he mumbled.

“Oh, really?” Dot braced both hands on the counter. “You want to try again?”

“Sorry, Aunt Dot.”

“I swear, one more strike and I kick you to the curb. Now get the key to number five. Amber’s staying there tonight.”

His eyes flicked toward me, and he frowned. “I thought she was in twenty.”

“Did that sound like a question?” Dot said. “Mind your p’s and q’s, and get her the damn key.”

He ran a hand through his hair, making it stand up in tufts. “Um, see, I might’ve rented that room, though.”

Dot’s eyes narrowed. “Rented it to who?”

“Old guy came in.” BJ looked sheepish. “Said he was interested in true crime and wanted to stay in the murder room.”

“And I bet you tacked on a surcharge?” Dot demanded.

“No,” BJ grumbled, but the way he avoided her eyes was a dead giveaway.

Dot sighed and turned to me. “Sorry, kiddo. Looks like you’re stuck with my place after all.”

My mind was spinning, kicked back into gear by something BJ had said. “So this guy asked for that room specifically? By number?”

BJ shook his head. “Nah, he just wanted the one where the girl was found dead in a tub. Said it was his hobby. Maybe you should ask him to join your club, Aunt Dot.”

Dot and I exchanged a look. I pointed to the camera in the corner. “Does that thing work?”

Dot was already circling the desk. Pushing past BJ, she said, “You’re working a double.”

“What? But I got plans—”

“You want to keep this job and whatever you charged him on top of the room fee? Then you’re working tonight.” Dot waved for me to follow. “C’mon, kiddo. I can bring up the footage in here.”

I came around the desk, giving BJ a wide berth as he grumbled to himself.

Dot settled behind her desk in the manager’s office. She tapped away at a laptop and then motioned for me to come closer. Obediently, I hunched down and peered at the footage playing onscreen; compared to Grace’s giant panoramic displays, this was puny and not nearly as clear. Dot rewound at eight times normal speed. We watched what was basically a time-lapse of BJ sleeping, scratching himself, spilling soda…as it progressed, Dot shook her head and murmured, “How he managed to reach adulthood is frankly beyond me.”

“Is that the guy?” I asked, leaning in. Another figure had appeared. He moved in reverse, walking backward toward the desk. Dot went back farther, all the way until he entered the office three minutes earlier. Then she hit play.

We both watched as a guy in a bulky down jacket with a hat pulled low over his eyes entered. He moved slowly, like a big cat. Glanced toward the camera, then shifted his shoulders slightly. “Doesn’t want us to see him,” Dot noted.

“Yeah,” I said. “Definitely seems suspicious.”

We watched as BJ and the guy talked. Then the old guy handed over a wad of bills, and BJ passed him the key.

“That little bastard,” Dot snorted. “I should dock his pay.”

As he was about to leave the office, the guy suddenly turned fully to the camera and tilted his face up.

Dot hit the pause button. A shiver made its way up my spine. He was staring right at us, as if he could see us through the lens. “Fuck,” I said. “That was no accident.”

Dot didn’t reply. I tilted my head to look at her; she was gaping at the screen and had gone unusually pale. “Dot? You okay?”

“That’s Gregory fucking Grimes,” she finally choked out. “The Cannibal of Shaker Heights. Here, in my motel.”