19

“You find the whack-jobs like no one else, Bean.” Ely tapped away on one of his many keyboards.

Jim rubbed his eyes so hard he saw spots. It was late. He was beat, the long drive with the distraught young man then the interrogations, and he was done for.

From Jim’s angle the monitor Ely was reading looked like a wave of green static. The events of the past few days replayed, highlighting his inadequacies and his fears on one short mental film. Trusting the wrong person. No. The wrong woman. He’d been living loose and reckless for years. Since college when he lost everything. Lost it all because a woman lied.

His life altered, distorted by a false accusation. He’d quit really caring about people. Working on autopilot. Job to job. Bottle to bottle. Culminating in dead bodies because he was more interested in cash than seeing Sophie’s intentions as she sat across that table from him and lied. Lied her ass off. There was a time he’d have read that like yesterday’s comics. Known her story before finishing the headline.

“I do.” He lifted his gaze to Ely. “A damned curse.”

“Suppose you were marked by banshees at birth?” He said it in a hushed tone.

“Banshees?”

“I don’t know. Whatever creature crawls into children’s beds and marks them so the dark and devious are called to them.” He looked up from the screen. “I’ll look it up later. Know I read it somewhere.”

“Don’t bother. I don’t want to know that shit. I want to know where to find Sophie Evers.”

Annie wrapped around his legs and gave him a little half mew. He reached down and pulled her up so she could prop on his shoulder. Her approving purr vibrated against Jim’s collarbone.

“Not sure why she still likes you. Was here more than she was at home this week.”

At least the cat loved him no matter what. Well, as long as there was plenty of food around. “Absence makes the cat grow fonder?”

“I guess, man,” Ely said. The screen changed from the green mess of characters to a browser Jim was more familiar with. “Here we go.”

Jim wiggled his rolling chair a little closer. “Sophie Ryan Evers. Born in Grapevine, Texas. Father died of drug overdose. Location of mother, a Belinda Evers, is unknown. Sophie entered the foster system at fourteen months old.”

Jim leaned over the records. “Aren’t most babies readily adoptable?”

“She had some signs of fetal drug syndrome. Probably got her looked over.”

“Doesn’t have any retardation or signs of birth defects now.” Drug dependency might explain some of her neuroses. Dan hadn’t mentioned her ever doing any drugs. If she was getting away with murder, Jim suspected she was clean.

Ely clicked away. “Her foster records are going to be harder to get.”

“Social services?”

“Yep.”

Jim scratched under Annie’s chin. “Arrest records?”

“Nope.”

“Try Lulu Strong. She used that alias here.”

He clacked away. A different page opened on the monitor. A Nevada license came up. Same as the one Miller had. Cab company registration. Address listed as the Crabtree Hotel, south Vegas. Not a nice place.

Jim paced to the kitchen counter. Annie leapt off his shoulder.

“Wait a second.” Ely typed a little more. “Found something on Lulu.”

An arrest record came up. The picture was a dirty young black woman. A mug shot after a bad night. Her right eye was swollen and red.

“Prostitution?” Jim asked.

Ely nodded. “And drug charges.”

“My guess is Miss Lulu came to a bad end.”

“If so, that makes four.”

As Ely stood and stretched, about fifty bones cracked. The skeletal sound made Jim shiver. Ely had lived through a nightmare as a POW in Nam. The man had seen everything and done even more. It showed in his leathered face and his lanky frame. A very slight limp on his left leg was the only hint of any disability. Didn’t slow him down or make him any less lethal. Jim would take him as a second in any situation.

“Correction: four that we know of. She’s got a taste, Bean. Sounds like Sophie’s drug of choice is violence.”

“Not good.” Jim’s phone chirped in his pocket. He answered. “Miller, was about to call you.”

“Yeah?”

“Dan settled?”

“Yes. His mom is a hoot. But that’s not why I called.” There was a moment of background noise.

Jim chose to take the opportunity to give his info first. “The identity Sophie used was a pro with an arrest record.”

“We got that too. Sent someone to see if any of the other girls knew this Lulu or has seen her. I’m hoping she was paid to leave and not killed.”

“Not likely.”

“Yeah. I got a call from a Dallas FBI field office. An Agent Webb saw our BOLO. They will be here by eleven tonight. Wants a one-on-one with you and Dan while it’s fresh.”

“What’s the FBI want with this?”

“Says there’s more to the case. I’ll bring them to the house.”

“Great.”

“I’ll probably lose control of the situation at some point if this girl’s got an open federal jacket.”

“Got it.” Jim did. And that made the prospect of his staying involved rather slim. The FBI didn’t take to PIs all that well. Or maybe it was just him.