31. Knox

"You need to keep your girlfriend on a shorter leash, buddy."

Mid-morning, and Knox and Ryder had just changed the batteries on the motion sensors. Now they were slotting the spent batteries into the chargers they'd set up in the small office off the dining room. One of the sensors had malfunctioned during the night, and it looked as if some kind of animal had mistaken it for a snack. But apart from that, all was quiet. Ryder had taken the drone up at first light, careful to avoid Lyron and his junkyard, but there was no sign of any unwelcome visitors.

For once, Ryder didn't argue with the "girlfriend" tag.

"Fuck, man, I'm sorry. I had no idea what the two of them were cooking up. How's Caro doing?"

"Yesterday, she was ready to cut and run, but she's calmer now."

"Did you speak with Emmy?"

"She's on board with the Slater plan."

The best thing about working for Blackwood was having a boss who was actually human, despite rumours to the contrary. Emmy was wealthy, but morals were more important to her than money, even if those morals were decidedly grey. She expected her team to go the extra mile when the need arose, but she also understood that they weren't robots. Work patterns were flexible. She inspired loyalty, and that loyalty went in both directions.

When Knox had given her a rundown of the Caro situation, it was Emmy who'd suggested funding the sanctuary through the Blackwood Foundation, and she'd spoken with Cora and Mercy to speed up the process. Slater would finish out the contract with Luna while Knox took two weeks of personal leave to get Caro settled in a new place. Canada, South America, Europe, wherever she wanted to go, visa permitting. As for the poaching, that was a more difficult problem to solve—Blackwood had no authority in San Gallicano, and they didn't even have an office there. The best they could realistically offer was research capacity for Stacey Custer's independent investigation, plus a few hours of Slater's time when he arrived. Black, Emmy's husband, would also have words in the right ears in the hope of applying some political pressure.

"When is Slater getting here?" Ryder asked.

"Next Wednesday, assuming the team finds Emily Shadrach on Monday."

Nineteen-year-old Emily Shadrach, daughter of Bernard Shadrach, the mattress king of Oklahoma, had gone backpacking around Africa in her gap year, where she'd had the misfortune to hook up with a so-called wellness guru. Her family couldn't get in touch with her, and videos posted to the guru's social media showed her spaced out, barely able to speak. High on more than love and light. The guru was scheduled to "spread the sacred truth" at a lifestyle summit in Morocco on Monday, and the team was planning to extract her from there, assuming he showed up. He'd cancelled a previous appearance due to an unspecified illness. Two members of the Special Projects team had been following him around the continent for the past three weeks, but he never stayed in one place for long.

"For what it's worth, Luna's sorry for making that post. She tried to apologise to Caro, but she said Caro wouldn't listen."

"Because she tried to make out it was Caro's fault for not sharing private details of her past relationship."

Ryder pinched the bridge of his nose and blew out a long breath. "She's not great at this."

"At what? Saying she's sorry? Treating people considerately? Interacting with regular humans?"

"All of the above. I'm not going to make excuses for her?—"

"Yeah, you are."

"Luna's parents fucked her over. Her dad barely speaks to her, and her mom treats her as a cash machine. She doesn't have friends. She never went to school. She's basically isolated, and the only way she can protect herself from the predators who want a piece of her is to push everyone away. She's a bad judge of character because she has no frame of reference for good."

Caro hadn't had a great life either, but she didn't go out of her way to ruin other people's.

"So Luna figures that if her life sucks, she'll drag everyone else down to her level?"

"She thought she was helping."

"By offering to walk down the Strip in a bikini? That's whacked."

"Her whole existence is transactional. To Luna, that's normal."

Why did Ryder keep defending her? Luna had flipped Caro's life on its head and left her in a position where she felt she had no choice but to start over. A half-assed apology wasn't going to cut it.

"More excuses."

"The genie's out of the bottle now; we can't put it back in. And Jubilee pulled that post down fast—the chances of Caro's ex seeing it were minuscule. Does he even use social media?"

"I don't know."

"Then why don't you try asking your girlfriend? Can't she tell you?"

"Because she's so stressed that she has no idea how to trust anymore. Unfortunately, I'm still working for Luna, remember?"

"Luna's stressed too. She got arrested and taken to court, her mom's in jail?—"

"Boo-fucking-hoo. She's a—" Knox caught himself just in time, before he said something unforgivable. Ryder was the closest thing he had to a brother. They shouldn't let women come between them. Bros before hoes, although if he called Luna a ho, Ryder would probably break his jaw, and he'd deserve that. "We shouldn't be fighting. We should be working together to fix this."

Ryder closed his eyes and sighed. "What do you want me to do?"

"An apology from Luna would help. A genuine one, no caveats this time."

"I'll see what I can do." Ryder slumped into Baptiste's desk chair. The fabric seat was fifty percent duct tape now—like the rest of the sanctuary, it had seen better days. Hopefully, the grant money from the Blackwood Foundation could go someway toward restoring things. "Man, this is a mess."

"Women. Can't live with them, can't?—"

"Is this a bad time?" Caro asked from the doorway. Fuck.

"What's up?"

"I've been trying to call Stacey Custer for the past hour, but she isn't answering her phone."

"Maybe she's just busy?"

"Maybe." But Caro didn't sound convinced.

"Why would you think otherwise?"

A long pause. "Do you promise you won't be mad?"

He glanced at Ryder, who gave the faintest smirk. Okay, buddy, you're not the only one with a challenging woman.

"I promise. What happened?"

"You remember how you said we should wait for your company to research the tattoo shops?"

"Let me guess: she didn't?"

"She got a lead on the guy with the anchor on his hand. Not from whoever did the tattoo, but from someone who worked in one of the shops and thought her friend used to date him. The girl was going to speak with her friend, and Stacey said she'd update me, but she hasn't, and now she's not picking up."

"When did you last speak to her?"

"Yesterday morning. Before the video."

"So over twenty-four hours ago?"

"Yes."

"There's a chance she could just be sleeping, especially if she was up late doing things she shouldn't have been doing."

"I know."

"But you're still worried?"

"Maybe I'm overreacting? The video left me on edge, I understand that, and we're not close friends, but Stacey promised to call with updates."

"Did she mention which hotel she's staying at?"

"Vista Suites in Blue Beach."

"Try calling them—see if a member of staff can check her room. What's her number?"

Caro picked up a pad and pen from the desk. "I'll write it down. The first time I called, the phone rang and rang, but now it's going straight to voicemail. That's not good, is it?"

"We don't know for sure. The battery could have died, or maybe she's in a meeting."

"She might have lost the phone," Ryder added. "Or somebody stole it."

Or she'd asked questions about the wrong people and found herself in a situation that Knox didn't want to voice in front of Caro.

"Let's try the obvious answers first."

* * *

Caro clung to Knox's arm and kept her head bowed as they walked through the lobby of Vista Suites. Nobody challenged them. Time and time again, Knox had found that if you looked as though you knew where you were going in a low- to mid-price hotel, the staff didn't ask questions.

When Caro had spoken with the receptionist earlier, the woman sent a colleague to knock on Stacey's door, but there was no answer. She'd also let slip that Stacey was staying in suite nineteen. The suites themselves were small bungalows surrounding a central courtyard with a swimming area in the middle. Like the sanctuary, the place had seen better days. Cracked slabs and faded lounge chairs surrounded the small pool, the cabanas were perilously close to collapse, and the grass was worn through to dirt in many spots.

A maid pushed a cart on the far side of the courtyard, and two kids squealed as they played tag among overgrown bushes. Knox was pleased to note that the doors still required old-fashioned keys rather than electronic cards.

They approached suite nineteen, and Caro knocked softly. No answer.

"Should we ask the manager if they can open the door?" she asked.

Knox shook his head. "No."

The room had two windows, but the drapes were closed, the air silent. No soft glow of a light, no flickering from the TV. Stacey was asleep, or dead, or she wasn't there. There was a fast way to rule out the first two of those possibilities. Knox pulled on a pair of thin leather gloves and took a set of lock picks out of his wallet.

"What are you doing?" Caro demanded in a harsh whisper. She was nervous as hell, but when Knox had suggested he come alone, she'd been adamant that wasn't going to happen. He'd only agreed to her joining him because a couple raised fewer suspicions than a man on his own.

"Taking a look. Don't touch anything."

"You can't just break in. What if someone sees us? What if?—"

The door swung open.

"Shhh," Knox said, and sniffed the air. When it smelled of synthetic florals with no hint of decomposition, he motioned Caro inside. "After you."

Stacey's clothes still hung in the closet, a suitcase stowed neatly beneath them. Her toiletries were on a shelf in the bathroom, and there was half a pizza in the refrigerator. A spy novel sat on the nightstand, a bookmark a third of the way through, next to a blank notepad and a pen. The phone charger was plugged into a socket beside the desk. Either she had a spare, or she hadn't intended to be away for long.

"She's not here," Caro murmured.

And neither was her laptop bag or her purse. She'd brought both with her when she visited the sanctuary.

"Try sending her an email," Knox suggested.

"Is there any point? She didn't reply to a text."

"She has her laptop with her but not her phone charger. It's worth a try."

"What if she doesn't respond?"

Knox took one last look around the room. "Then we'll have to report her as missing."