“Lucky for you, I suppose.”
“Luck?” She opened the door. “No such thing. How long has Shield known about me?”
He hesitated, considered her. “He saw you on the news a couple of years ago. He thought you were the fifth victim. He did a little digging and found out you were from New Orleans. He’s kept an eye on you ever since.”
“My guardian angel.”
Bowman’s mouth flattened into a grim line. “He’s determined to solve this case, and you’re a part of it.”
The notion that Mr. Shield had been watching her like the Shark was unsettling. “I need to get back into town.”
“After you.”
She got in her SUV, glanced back at Cooper, and headed toward town. Several times during the half-hour drive, she looked in the rearview mirror expecting to see him trailing behind her, but when she looked he was never there.
When she pulled up to the diner near the bus station, she spotted Sandy. She was leaning against a van, her hands hovering close to a warm cup of coffee, clearly waiting for her next date. There was no sign of Darla, but people like her didn’t need to be physically close to control their girls. The pimps were good at manipulating their prostitutes with drugs, threats to their families, beatings, and sleep deprivation. Most girls simply followed orders sent via text without question.
The girl shoved her hands in her pockets and stomped her feet as if trying to stay awake. No doubt she’d not slept well in a while.
“Be right back, Coop.” Out of the car, Riley crossed the graveled lot in long strides.
Sandy looked up, her face a mask of composure. “I wasn’t sure if you’d make it.”
“Sorry. Traffic.”
The girl looked around, then pushed away from the van. “Feels good to rest. My feet are killing me.”
“Want to go inside? I’ll buy you a meal and you can sit.”
“Tempting, but that wouldn’t be the smartest move.”
“When is the last time you ate a real meal?”
“I don’t know.”
“Is Tony around?”
She grabbed her cell phone from her pocket. “He’s always texting.”
“Can you eat and respond to texts?”
“Sure.”
“So take fifteen minutes.”
“Okay. Let’s go inside. Can I have eggs and pancakes?”
“You bet.” A glance toward her vehicle showed a dark SUV parked beside her. A shadow passed across the front windshield, making it hard to see inside, but she knew it was Bowman because the hair on the back of her neck was standing up.
Riley and Sandy crossed the lot into the small diner that smelled of fried eggs, bacon, and grease. The floors dated back fifty years and the counter was a throwback to Happy Days. A guy slinging hash at a well-seasoned grill turned, glanced at Riley, and nodded to the “Seat Yourself” sign. She chose a booth close to the back and sat in the seat against the wall. Sandy slid in across from her.
The dude behind the counter raised his spatula. “You can’t sit and just drink hot water.”
Riley raised her hand. “I’m buying.”
The cook glared at Sandy. “No hot water.”
Sandy hunkered lower in her jacket as the few people in the diner stared while a heavyset waitress with a coffeepot turned over the two stoneware mugs and filled each with fresh brew.
Sandy didn’t glance at the menu. “The number one.”
The waitress arched a painted-on brow. “That’s a lot of food.”
“I’ll eat it.” Bracelets rattled on Sandy’s wrist as she reached for the sugar and dumped in a few teaspoons before she splashed in milk.
Riley realized the kid had ordered a stack of pancakes as well as bacon and three scrambled eggs with toast. “I’ll have a bagel.”
“Sure.”
When the waitress left, Sandy leaned forward. “The cook can be a jerk, but he makes great eggs. Whenever I have extra change I eat here. Coffee is unlimited. Amazing how long you can go on coffee.”
“And hot water.”
“With ketchup, it’s a soup.” She drummed her fingers on the greasy table and snuck a glance toward the waitress. “You can play that card once here. Nico, the cook, doesn’t like it.”
“I’ll bet.” She traced the edge of her cup. “What’s going on with Cassie?”
“I haven’t seen her in over a day.”
“Is that unusual?”
“For her, yes. She likes to check in with me. And Tony is freaking out. He’s looking for Darla now. Wants to know where Darla took his merchandise.”
“No sign of Darla?” Riley asked.
“No. She’s hiding out.”
“Do you have any pictures of Cassie?”
“No.”
“This guy I’m looking for likes dark hair.”
Sandy’s eyes narrowed. “Cassie said Darla wanted to color her hair dark.”
From what she’d heard about Darla, the woman was resourceful. If a buyer wanted a brunette and she didn’t have a girl that fit the bill, she’d make one. “Did she say who the john was?”
“I asked Tony. He said the guy was rich and would show her a good time. Said not to worry.” She shook her head. “When Tony says not to worry, I do.”
The waitress arrived with Riley’s bagel. “The other gal’s order will be right up.”
“Thanks.” Riley looked at the girl’s gaunt face. She pushed the bagel toward Sandy. “I’m not hungry. Why don’t you snack on this while you wait for your meal.”
“I won’t say no.” Sandy bit into half of the bagel and shoved the other half in her pocket.
“Where’s Cassie from?”
“Western part of the state, I think. Some little hick town. Figured she’d come to the big city, get a job, and her life would get on track.”
“That didn’t work out well, did it?”
“No.”
“Drugs?”
“She didn’t want to at first, but Tony kept pushing. It’s not out of control, but . . . close.” Sandy sniffed. “She can’t handle the drugs or streets like me.”
Riley studied the dark circles under the girl’s sunken eyes. She wasn’t really handling it either. This life was simply killing her more slowly. “How much longer can you handle it?”
The waitress arrived at the table with Sandy’s food, and she didn’t speak for several minutes while she inhaled the feast.
“Darla drives a motor home,” Sandy said.
“Know any places she likes to park it?”
“There’s an old motel about twenty miles east. Has lots of rooms not connected.”
“Cottage-style?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.” Riley glanced out the window and saw Bowman standing by his car. Even from this distance, she could see him watching them.
“No one will testify against him or Darla. They’re too afraid.”
“What about you?”
“I’m not planning on sticking around. I don’t want to end up dead.”
“They won’t let you leave.”
“I’m not going to ask for permission.” She looked toward the door as if she suddenly thought Tony might be watching.
“If you want to get out, I can help.”
“I’ve pushed luck enough as it is.” Sandy mopped up the syrup on her plate with the last bit of pancake and ate it. As she swallowed, her phone buzzed and she tugged it from her pocket before the second ring. “I need to go.”
“I can help you, Sandy.”
“Don’t worry about me,” she said, sliding from the booth. “Just find Cassie. She has a chance to get out.”
Riley slid to the edge of the booth, pulled another business card from her back pocket, and pressed it into Sandy’s hand. “Just in case.”
“I have your number.”
“Then give it to another girl who needs help.”
“You lived on the streets, didn’t you?”
Riley dug a twenty out of her pocket, set it on the table, and placed her untouched coffee cup on top of it. “What makes you say that?”
“A vibe. Like you get what it’s like. No judgment in your eyes.”
“I’ve been a cop for eight years. I’ve seen my share.”
“A lot of cops see.” She texted a message on her cell phone. “Few understand.”
“Lucky, I guess.”
“See you around, Lucky.”
Riley watched the girl push through the front door and cross the lot outside. She moved toward a dark truck, spoke to the driver, and climbed inside the cab.
Never in Riley’s career had she wanted to see two people behind bars more than she did Darla and Jax. Jo-Jo might not ever testify against Jax, but he’d broken enough laws, including evading the police and possession of drugs in his car, to get him some time in prison. A prison sentence would give her the time to build a human trafficking case against him.
Outside, she walked toward the parking lot, watching as Bowman stepped away from his vehicle. He wore a dark sports coat over his white shirt and dark pants, but when a flap of wind caught the edges of the jacket, she glimpsed the weapon at his side.