I had told Dawna everything because she had asked. And then I’d been attacked.
“Jesus Christ,” I mumbled into my hands. “What the hell?”
“I believe Dawna Polk might answer some questions for us,” said Rio.
“I know how to find her.” The shock and horror were coalescing into rage in the pit of my stomach. Dawna had done something to me. A drug? I hadn’t drunk anything with her, only eaten an energy bar that I’d brought with me, but there were other ways. Dawna Polk, you are going to give me answers. And after that…
Well. I wasn’t a forgiving person.
“I think, perhaps, it would be better if I took that part of the job,” said Rio smoothly. “It appears I cannot go back to my role here, and there is the chance you are…still affected.”
I made an angry noise. “I’ll be on my guard.”
“Even so. Let me take Dawna. Your time may be spent more profitably by talking to your new detective friend.”
I almost laughed. “Tresting? I think you might not have a good grasp of the word ‘friend.’”
Rio smiled slightly, and I felt myself flushing at the unintentional truth. “Doubtless,” he said, “But Tresting will have other contacts. And it is quite clear he will not talk to me. You can find out more of what he knows. I’ll track Miss Polk.”
I swirled the dregs of my coffee in the paper cup reluctantly. What he was saying made too much sense not to agree. “I guess this means we’re working together on this one, huh.”
“It appears you have become involved despite me.”
“Yeah, I’m irritating like that. I suppose there’s no getting around the fact that Tresting might be useful.”
“It seems not.”
I groaned and stood. “Best get it over with, then. I’ll call him in the morning. You want me to set up a meet with Dawna for you?”
“Perhaps, but not yet. For now, whatever contact information you have will suffice.”
I gave him everything I had on her. Embarrassingly, it was precious little, much less than I would usually be comfortable with. Rio didn’t comment, for which I was grateful.
“Off to try to talk to people, I guess,” I said. “Wish me luck.”
Rio touched his forehead in a brief salute. “Go with God, Cas.”
“Yeah. You too.”
“Oh, and Cas.” I turned back. “Do not concern yourself with defending my honor. It serves no purpose.”
“La, la, la,” I sang. “I can’t hear you.” I threw him a grin, hoping it looked remotely genuine, and strode off.
I stole a flashy sports car for the trip back to LA. I wanted to go fast, to feel the wind in my hair and watch the desert whip by too fast to see.
Dawna Polk had attacked me. Whatever she had done had wormed its way into my brain somehow, twisted my thoughts, manipulated me…beneath my fury lurked a sick sense of violation, an oily stain on my soul.
Dawna Polk was going down for this.
When I got back to the neighborhood my safe house was in, I yanked the e-brake and spun, sending the trendy speedster into a sideways skid against the curb between two SUVs with less than twenty centimeters of clearance. Yup, I’m that good at math: I can parallel park in Los Angeles.
Despite my anger, exhaustion overtook me as I climbed the stairs to the flat. I was going on two days without sleep. I needed some rest, some real rest, and I couldn’t call Tresting till the morning anyway. Well, I could, but I didn’t figure annoying him in the wee hours of the morning to be the brightest move at this point. I cut the ziptie I’d secured the knob with and nudged the door open quietly so as not to wake Courtney if she was still sacked out.
The loft was dark and quiet.
Shit.
My subconscious knew something was wrong before I registered the computations that told me the silence was too absolute. I hit the lights, dreading what they’d show me. The loft’s single room was empty, its small bathroom open and vacant as well. The other side of the handcuffs lay open and impotent on the mattress.
Courtney Polk was gone.
Chapter 9
No time to coddle people with sleep. I’d ditched my old phone on the way home, having burned the number with Dawna, but I had a new one in one of the kitchen drawers. I pulled out Tresting’s business card and dialed.
He answered on the second ring. “Yeah.”
I swallowed something I was pretty sure was my pride. “Tresting, it’s Cas Russell. Polk is gone.”
There was a pause over the line. Then: “Shit,” he said eloquently.
I hadn’t been sure Tresting himself hadn’t abducted Polk or ordered someone else to while we were in Camarito, but he sounded so surprised and defeated that I relegated the possibility to slightly-less-likely. “My thoughts exactly. You still got a GPS on her?”
“Yeah. Give me a sec.” His words sounded muffled, and with a slight pang of guilt I remembered he had just had his face bashed in. His night wasn’t going terribly well either.
A minute later, Tresting’s voice came back on. “I got it. South of LA, and moving.”
“I’m going after her. Where are you?”
“Receiver won’t help you.”
My suspicions swung back the other way. “You do realize you want her found, too, right? So help me, if you don’t give me the—”
“Whoa, hey, not what I meant. Meant you can’t catch her. Moving too fast to be in a car.”
“Train?” I asked, my stomach sinking.
“Faster. Guess again.”
Shit.
“Won’t be able to do anything until they land. But hey…” He hesitated. “Listen, if you still want to share intel, come meet me. Might be we can still get ahead some.”
If he had Courtney himself, I thought it unlikely he would want a face-to-face. On the other hand…“You’re awfully calm about this,” I said.
He sighed, and when he spoke again he sounded frayed. “Ain’t surprised. This case has been fubared six ways from Sunday ever since I took it. Think I’d die of shock if something went right.”
I squeezed my eyes closed. I needed sleep, even a good hour of it, but time wasn’t on my side. I decided it didn’t matter whether Tresting had taken Polk or not—either way, I needed to take the meet. “All right. Where?”
He named an intersection in a part of town I was vaguely familiar with. “And, Russell? Please. Come alone.”
What he meant was “Don’t bring Rio.” I snorted. “Your delicate sensibilities are safe. He’s working another angle.” I paused. “I won’t be unarmed, though.”
He took a quiet breath that sounded like relief. “Not a problem. Good. Thank you.”
“Whatever. I’m surprised you still want to work together, after that show you made.”
“Not sure I do,” he admitted frankly. “But I made a few calls. Like I said, I’d heard of you. Your rep’s solid.”
Well, that was nice to know. I wondered which of my former clients he’d talked to. I wished I had a way to check him out, but I’d lost my information guy, and I hadn’t made a whole lot of friends in the past couple years I could check a reference with and trust the answer I got.
For all I knew, I could be walking into a trap. It didn’t feel like one, but I had no way to know.
Tresting was waiting when I arrived, a lean silhouette in the darkness. He’d cleaned up his face, and the damage didn’t look as bad as it probably was thanks to the darkness of the night and the dark shade of his skin, but I could still tell he’d been hit by a truck the shape of Rio’s palm.