7

Lazarus and Piper waited outside the security room at the casino. It was the brains, the part that held all the security personnel carefully watching each game for any signs of cheating, from both the gamblers and the dealers.

Piper said, “I’m assuming the casino knows their bartenders are working as prostitutes out of their bars?”

He nodded. “They hire the girls as bartenders and waitresses to meet johns. The casino gets a cut of whatever they make on the side.”

“That’s horrible.”

“The girls don’t have a pimp beating them every day and get a regular paycheck. The casinos give the tourists what they want. It works for everybody. I don’t blame ’em. You do what you gotta do.”

“What if what you gotta do is wrong?”

“Look around you, Danes. We’re in Babylon. What’s right and wrong mean out here?”

Several men dressed in short-sleeved button-up shirts adorned with laminated badges strolled past. They acknowledged Lazarus with curt nods but blatantly disregarded Piper.

“What are those symbols?” Piper said. “The smiley face with the chef’s hat and the pig?”

He leaned his head back against the wall. “Those bodies I caught in Ember Lake? I couldn’t find much about the pig tattoo online, so I ran it by some guys in Vice to see if it’s ever come up. They told me it’s a long pig tattoo, and the other one that goes with it is a bloody chef.”

“What does that mean?”

“It’s cannibalism fetish. Long pigs fantasize about being eaten, and bloody chefs wanna do the eating. You get the ink on your calves.”

“Do they mean it literally?”

He took out his vape pen. “Vice never saw a real cannibal, but there’s gotta be someone out there that wants to do more than fantasize.”

“There wasn’t any evidence of cannibalism at the Graces’. Was there evidence at Ember Lake?”

“No. But I think it takes time to work up to. Maybe Misty was supposed to be the first one? Either way, I think the next one we’ll probably see something.”

A touch of revulsion went through Piper at the thought of the next one .

She said, “How can you be so sure Ember Lake and the Graces are connected?”

He looked over to the door of the security room.

“Ava and Adam Mitchell and his girlfriend were stabbed to death with a long Phillips-head screwdriver. All the wounds centered on their face, mouth, and throat. What are the odds, you think, of two groups a’ people being killed by a screwdriver by two different assailants in the same way?”

She sat quietly a moment.

He took a hit of the vape pen and then said, “I do think it’s interesting that Sophie Grace survived when everyone at the Mitchells’ cabin and her mother and brother were killed.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she said, glaring at him now.

“I’m saying she survived. That’s a fact.”

“She barely survived, and only because she jumped out a window and almost broke her legs.”

The door to the security room opened, and a pudgy man with a balding head came out. He held out his hand, and Lazarus shook.

“We got everything cued up for you.”

“Appreciate it.”

They went into the room. Its walls pulsed with the glow of multiple screens. Servers blinked from metal racks and gave off a digital hum.

Behind a desk, security staff monitored the flickering feeds, trained to spot anomalies amid routine. Swift keystrokes selected camera views and zoomed in on suspicious movements.

They were led to a set of monitors, and on one of them was a crystal clear image in high definition of the bar Misty worked at. The date and time stamp were at just before ten o’clock on Saturday. The employee pressed play.

“What you looking for?” he asked.

Piper spotted Misty almost immediately. She didn’t look like she had just now. She wore a skirt and had on too much makeup. Heels that she had trouble walking in from being unaccustomed to them. Piper wondered how long she had been doing this, because she didn’t look like a pro.

A man came into view and sat down. Tall and thin, shaggy hair, shorts and a collared shirt. White tennis shoes.

“Can you get me a closer look of that tattoo on his calf?”

“No problem. We can zoom these suckers in close enough to see zits on your face.”

The image zoomed in on the calf. Piper leaned in a little closer. It was a smiley face. Swaths of the yellow face were taken up by splatters of dark-red blood, and it dripped from the mouth. A white chef’s hat sat on top of its head. The other calf had a pig with an apple in its mouth.

Lazarus snapped a photo of the tattoos, and several more of the man’s face as the video played. Then he took out another card and laid it on the keyboard in front of him. “I’m gonna have someone from Cybercrimes come out and get all this. If you see this man again, call me directly.”

They left. Out in the hall, Piper said, “That’s it?”

“What else would you like to do?”

“I don’t know. Get his face out to the public and see if anyone knows him?”

“Cops only do that when they’re desperate. We’re not desperate. Not yet. We’re gonna have IU run his face through their database of known felons and see what comes up first.”

He glanced at her as they were walking. “You got another idea?”

“I just think there’s higher priority people to speak with.”

“Who would you have spoken to?”

“Sophie.”

“Well,” he said, “no time like the present.”