Relief eased some of the tension in the other woman’s bearing. “Hallelujah! Thank you, God.”
“I might require some insight or answers as we go along, however,” Jane continued. “Can you give me your contact information?”
Gloria complied with an address, work number and cell phone number.
“What about their fathers, and your father?” Jane asked. “Can you tell me how to reach these men?”
“What would you want with my no-good father?”
“I’m just being thorough.”
“I don’t want him callin’ me again.” She sank lower in her seat. “But…I’ll do anything if it’ll help. His name’s Timothy Huff. I don’t have a number for him, but you can find him down at the pool hall on Florin Road most Fridays, drunker’n a skunk.”
That was loose contact information indeed. “And Marcie’s dad?”
“He call every once in a while from prison.”
At least they could rule him out. “What’s he in for?”
“Possession.”
“That leaves Latisha’s dad.”
Gloria shook her head. “You don’t wanna bother Luther Wilson. He got a’ anger management problem. We call him Lucifer, but we do it behind his back. That’s how bad he is.”
“Does he know his daughter’s missing?”
“I haven’t told him,” she said. “What’s the use? He don’ care ’bout her. He never has.”
Jane dropped her pen and steepled her fingers. “How’d your mother meet these men?”
“Turnin’ tricks.”
“You’re saying she was a prostitute?”
“She had to pay for her drugs somehow.”
That explained a lot. “What’s so scary about Lucifer-I mean, Luther?” she corrected.
“He was her pimp, and he beat the hell out of her.”
Now Jane knew she was in over her head. She liked to believe a bottle of bleach and a couple of tattoos made her look tough. But at five foot four she was no match for an angry pimp. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Standing, she managed a smile. “Thanks for coming in. I’ll call you when I’ve had a chance to do some checking.”
When Jane walked her to the door, Gloria said, “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
Jane wasn’t prepared for the embrace that accompanied those words, but as Gloria’s shoulders shook beneath her arms, she felt a renewed determination. She wanted to help, but could she handle this case?
Pimps. Prostitutes. Drugs. She’d never been part of that world. She’d lived with a psychopath, but Oliver was dead, and she was safe. She’d been safe for nearly five years…
Jumping into this was asking for trouble. Most people were kidnapped or killed by a family member or friend, which meant she had to contact Latisha’s father. She had to talk to everyone associated with the missing girls. That was one of the cardinal rules of a good investigation.
But if Luther had anything to do with what had happened to his daughter and her sister, he certainly wouldn’t want her snooping around…
Two
Sebastian Costas held the slip of paper the ATM had just spit out closer to his face. This wasn’t a pleasant way to start the week. Was the damn machine running out of ink? Because the figure he saw had to be missing a zero. He knew he was getting low on funds. It’d been more than a year since he’d worked. In addition to the payments on his Manhattan flat and vehicles-not to mention parking for those vehicles-he’d spent a fortune on private investigators, skip tracers, airfare, hotels and rental cars. But…
“Shit, I must’ve thought the money would last forever.” Apparently, he’d gotten too used to being able to buy whatever he wanted.
What now? he asked himself. He couldn’t keep on like this.
“Excuse me. Are you finished?”
A woman stood behind him, waiting to use the ATM. He hadn’t heard her approach, hadn’t sensed her presence. He’d been too absorbed in considering what the paltry figure on that receipt signified.
Muttering an apology, he crumpled the paper and tossed it in the garbage on his way to the car. Nearing the end of his money meant he was almost out of time. He had a month, max. Then he’d be absolutely broke and the effort he’d put into his search would be wasted because all progress would grind to a halt.
He couldn’t let that happen. He was closer now than he’d ever been.
His cell phone rang. Caller ID showed it was Constance, the woman he’d been dating when he left New York two months ago. They’d been together since before Emily and Colton were killed. But she was growing impatient with his lengthy absence and the intensity of his preoccupation.
He almost silenced the ringer and let it go to voice mail. He didn’t want to talk to her right now. But ignoring her call could very easily mean the end of their relationship. He was already hanging on to her by a very thin thread. Did he want his life to be in total ruins after the nightmare he’d been living was over?
No. He needed to fight for her, fight for what was left of his former existence. “Hello?”
She didn’t bother with a greeting. “Have you thought about it?” she demanded.
“Thought about what?” He knew exactly what she meant, but he was stalling for time. Although he’d had all morning to think about it, he wasn’t any closer to making a decision now than when she’d delivered her ultimatum late last night.
“About coming home! Will you give up this…this obsession, Sebastian?”
Obsession? Was that what it’d become? He supposed so. A man didn’t abandon the kind of life he’d led for less. He’d been making more than half a million a year as one of the best investment bankers in NYC-until his ex-wife and son were murdered. After that, all he’d cared about was finding the man responsible.
Of course, given what the market had done since he’d taken leave from his job, he probably wouldn’t have continued to make that amount even if he’d kept on working.
He unlocked the Lexus he’d rented. “Why the sudden rush, Constance?”
“Rush?” she echoed with incredulity. “I’ve waited eighteen months for our lives to return to normal.”
“I’ve only been gone two.”
“Are you kidding me? In the past year and a half, you’ve traveled all over the country, talking to various people, researching leads. Even when you were home, you shut yourself up in your condo and worked like some kind of mad scientist. This case is all you’ve been able to think about since the night it happened. We haven’t made love in four months, haven’t had a decent conversation since you turned into Dick Tracy.”