“That does make sense,” Webster admitted.
“And we don’t even know if Samantha Altman was a player,” Abbott said.
“Gamer,” Eve murmured.
“Gamer,” Abbott repeated. “Until we find differently, Samantha was not a gamer.”
“The other connection,” Jack said, “could be Siren Song.”
“Or something you don’t know yet,” Abbott said. “For now, we assume nothing.”
“At least we know he met Christy in this Shadowland,” Webster said. “We need to use that to find him. Will you help us?”
“Of course. Tell me what you need me to do.”
Monday, February 22, 7:45 p.m.
Liza had held her tears until she’d made it home from the police station. Sitting at her kitchen table, she looked again at the paper the officer had given her. She’d gone to file a missing person report and the officer had put the information in the computer.
Then he’d looked at her with a frown. “You said your sister cleaned buildings.”
“She does,” Liza had insisted, but he’d shaken his head.
“Afraid not.” He’d turned his monitor so she could see for herself.
She was still… stunned, two hours later. A mug shot. SOLICITATION, the charge read. “We picked Lindsay up for hooking two months ago. You didn’t know?”
Lindsay had chosen to… sell herself. And now she was missing. I have to find her.
She didn’t have the first idea of where to begin looking. She’d figure it out. She’d find some hookers, start asking questions. Somebody must know her sister. Somebody must have seen her. I have to know.
Lindsay could be alive somewhere, hurt. Needing me. I have to try.
Chapter Seven
Monday, February 22, 8:15 p.m.
Amazing.” Abbott watched as Eve sat at his desk showing them Shadowland.
Noah sat on Eve’s right, more interested in the focus in her face. She was giving them what she knew in a professional way. Well, almost everything she knew.
Her attorney sat at the round table across from Abbott’s desk, as did Olivia, two people who wanted to protect Eve Wilson. So I’m not the only one.
She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “Can you see the screen, Detective?”
She didn’t like to be watched. “Yes. Can you show us your Pandora avatar shop?”
“I thought we were waiting for Detective Phelps.”
“He’s gone back to the crime scene. He’ll join us if he’s able.”
“All right.” She typed in a few commands. “Welcome to Façades Face Emporium.”
Abbott let out a low whistle. “All those faces. That’s just damn creepy.”
One side of her mouth lifted. Noah had always thought she’d conjured her Mona Lisa smile. Now he knew a monster had cut her face, damaging nerves on one side.
“Like an old Vincent Price flick,” she said. She clicked her mouse, bringing up a female avatar with blonde hair and a sweet face. “Meet Pandora. She runs the shop.”
Pandora. She’d known all of this would bring her grief, but she’d done it anyway.
“Customers come in, try on faces,” she said. “We chat. It’s almost… real.”
“Indeed,” Abbott said. “Show me Martha Brisbane’s face.”
“Here are Desiree’s last six faces, top quality. Martha had Shadow-bucks to burn.”
“Where did she get it?” Noah asked. The faces were ethereal. Beautiful.
“I don’t know. Most serious gamers keep a balance sheet. It would be on her PC.”
Micki had found nothing on Martha’s computer. Noah hoped Christy’s wasn’t wiped.
“What do you do with the money you earn, Eve?” Olivia asked from the round table.
“Mostly pay the rent. Façades is on the Strip. Location, location, location. What’s left, Pandora donates to virtual charity.” Again the half smile. “She’s a community activist.”
As was Eve. “You designed all these faces?” Noah asked and she nodded.
“I wanted to be an artist, long time ago. But my hand was damaged, so I got into graphic design. Drawing faces was much easier with a mouse than a pen.”
That she’d begun creating faces when hers was scarred was insight he didn’t think she’d want him to pick up. “You’re very good,” he said and her cheeks pinked.
“Thank you. I’ve studied faces for a long time. People make instant decisions about whom to trust, and facial features are key. I track the faces my customers choose with what kind of character they become. Kind of a side psychology hobby. Where to next?”
“Martha’s virtual house first,” Noah said.
“Let’s get Greer.” A redhead appeared, very buxom and very sparsely clothed.
Abbott choked on a laugh. “Well, nobody’s gonna be able to describe her face.”
“That was the idea,” she said, embarrassed, then rolled her eyes. “Geeze.”
Noah bit back a smile. “I got the meaning behind Pandora. Why Greer?”
She shrugged self-consciously. “It means ‘guardian’ or ‘protector.’ ”
“I see.” And what he saw, he liked. Very much. Fate, he thought. Maybe.
A cell phone rang. “Mine,” Olivia said. “Miss Lee, Siren Song, just checked in for her flight to Vancouver. I’m meeting Kane at the airport. You’ll bring me up to speed?”
“Of course,” Noah said. “Call us when you get Miss Lee.”
“Thanks, Olivia,” Eve called. “This is the trendy part of the city,” she said as Greer strode confidently down a crowded street. “Martha’s Desiree lived well.”
“Is it always dark outside?” Abbott asked.
“No. It runs on real time. If you work real-world days, you play in virtual-world nights.”
“Or you can spend eighteen hours a day online like Martha did,” Noah said.
“Too many do.” Eve walked Greer down a hallway. “There’s Martha’s black wreath.”
It spanned the width of the door. “This wasn’t there yesterday?” Noah asked.
“No. You want me to go inside?”
“Depends,” Noah said dryly. “Do you need a virtual warrant?”
Eve smiled. “I have connections. If I need a warrant later, I can get one.”
“Then by all means.” But levity vanished when Greer opened the door and he stared, stunned. “Damn. It’s just like the real scene. Down to the shoes.”
Eve zoomed in on the avatar’s face. “Whoever did this accessed Martha’s online file. He made up her Desiree face like a hooker’s, which means he edited her avatar.”
“I thought it was your avatar,” Abbott said. “Your design.”
“Some designers lock their code so clients can’t alter anything. I leave mine open.”
“Don’t your customers go in and edit themselves?” Noah asked.
“Sometimes. Mostly they just change their dress colors. Whoever changed Desiree’s face was in Martha’s file and may have left something behind. Did you find her computer?”
“Yeah, but it was wiped,” Noah said. “We’re trying to lift data from the drive.”
“That would be a way,” she murmured, emphasizing the a.
Noah leaned forward a hair. “There’s another way?”
She leaned back a hair. “Well, sure. You can ask ShadowCo nicely to let you into her file or… your forensic people can hack their way in from another computer.”
“You wouldn’t know how to do that, would you, Eve?” Abbott asked.
“Eve,” Matthew warned from his seat at the table.
Noah had almost forgotten he was there. He wondered how to make him leave.
Eve smiled wryly. “It’s really not that hard. High school kids do it all the time.”
She hadn’t denied hacking, Noah noted. “Take us to the club. Ninth Circle.”
The club was a neon castle where flames burst from the turrets. Greer pushed her way in, stride confident. Eve moved that way, tall and sure of her own space. He wondered how she’d managed that given her past.