Page 96 of Vanish From Sight

They were met by light music as Noah pushed through the door.

Inside the vestibule, there was an immediate sense of sophistication, exclusivity and discretion, inviting those who stepped inside to experience what lay within.

“May I help you?” a strikingly beautiful woman asked, greeting them both with confidence. Her attire was impeccablytailored, with a fitted blazer and knee-length skirt that accentuated her curves in all the right ways. Her dark black hair was sleek, a modern bob, and her makeup subtle yet eye-catching. She stood tall and poised, with a regal bearing that commanded the attention of the wealthiest of men.

Noah took out his badge. “State Police, Noah Sutherland. We’re here to see an Isabella Perez.”

“Not in trouble, is she?”

“Not at all.”

The woman looked as if she expected them to clarify, maybe fill her in on the finer details, but after a beat, she took a step back, smiled and told them to follow. Callie glanced at Noah, her eyebrows raising as they ventured deeper into the establishment. The light was dim along the hallway, casting a warm glow on the plush furnishings and creating an intimate atmosphere. The air was filled with the sound of jazz music, played softly by a live band in a corner of the room.

The lounge was divided into various areas, each one had its own vibe. In another corner was a well-stocked bar, bottles lit up by lights, all tended to by a skilled mixologist who crafted artisanal cocktails with precision and care. The bar was surrounded by tall stools covered in leather. Well-dressed men sat, drank and chatted with astonishingly attractive women.

Unlike a strip joint, which might see men thirsting over untouchable women who looked as if the life had been sucked out of them, this had a stage where gorgeous performers took turns entertaining the crowd. Some sang standard songs or performed burlesque dances, while others slid down poles in high-end lingerie and high heels. Each one captivated the audience with her talent or curves.

Throughout the lounge, there were plush armchairs and sofas, arranged in intimate groupings for patrons to sit andconverse. The furnishings were upholstered in rich red fabrics with ornate details that added a sense of luxury and elegance.

They passed walls adorned with art ranging from classic oil paintings to modern abstract pieces, all in an attempt to create an atmosphere of cultured refinement. At the far back was another bar set into a library filled with leather-bound books on history, philosophy, art and literature. Noah felt as if he was transported to another era, to a time when refinement was valued above all things.

“Wait here,” the woman said after leading them into a VIP back room where there were several seats, a table with an array of wine and a large mirror on the wall. No doubt, it was one-way and being used by security to protect the women.

“Quite the place,” Callie said. “I bet forensics would have a field day in here with a UV light.”

That got a chuckle out of him.

“In here?” they heard a woman say before the door opened.

Before them was a Hispanic American woman. Like all the women they had seen so far, there was a sophistication to her, a subtle sexuality that wasn’t cheap to buy, from the gold dress that accentuated her athletic build to the bold statement jewelry. She had olive skin, dark hair and dark eyes with a slightly round face and high cheekbones. Her lips were full and coated with a light lipstick. Her brows, thick and defined.

“Isabella Perez?”

“That’s right,” she said.

Noah showed his badge. “Noah Sutherland, State Police investigator. This is Callie Thorne from the Adirondack Sheriff’s Office.”

Her eyes bulged, darting between them. For a moment, he thought she might bolt. She didn’t. “Did my parents call?”

“No. We were just hoping to have a moment of your time. To talk about Katherine Evans.”

She sighed, reaching into her purse and taking out a gold case. She popped it open and took out a long white cigarette. “Do you mind?”

“Go ahead.”

She lit it and took a seat.

“Katherine Evans. That’s a name I haven’t heard in a while.”

“You studied at High Peaks Academy.”

“I did.”

“You graduated with honors.”

“I graduated with more than that,” she said, blowing smoke out the corner of her mouth.

“Forgive me if this sounds a little judgmental but…”