“Imprisoned? Hardly. And my father has always been good to me.”
“I know, I know. I’m sorry.”
She shook her head, pulling a face. “It’s okay. Lord knows I probably deserve some payback considering the hell I put you through at that auction.”
Lex turned down a deserted street. The sky was lowering, darkening over them, a strange kinetic energy filling in the air. The torn fronds of a lone palm fluttered in the hot, mounting wind. Litter scattered in squalls across the streets.
This section of town was a far cry from the glittering epicenter of Jenna’s existence. She began to feel nervous as they passed lowbrow gambling halls, dim bars, a few homeless people huddled in a corner, sharing a smoke. The streets seemed strangely empty for a Saturday evening, compared to the 24/7 buzz that was the Strip.
Lex swerved to the curb suddenly and slammed on brakes, his tires screeching.
“What is it?”
“I saw someone—” he rammed his SUV into reverse, backed up a block, fast. Across the street an older woman in a gypsy skirt walked briskly down the sidewalk, black shawl fluttering in the wind. She turned and abruptly vanished into a narrow alley.
“It’s her! ” He reversed farther.
“Who?”
He turned the ignition off. “Jenna, I need to check something out. Can you wait?”
Nerves fluttered irrationally in her stomach. She glanced out the window at the darkening street. The first fat plops of rain were beginning to fall. “What is it, Lex? Who was that woman?”
“Someone I’ve been looking to question for months. Every time I come out this way, I seem to miss her, like ships that pass in the night. I won’t be long.”
Jenna sat in the SUV as he jogged across the road and disappeared down the same alley that had swallowed the woman. Craning her neck to see over the backseat, Jenna tried to peer down the alley and caught the flutter of the woman’s shawl as she vanished into a tiny storefront that had a broken pink neon sign over the door. Jenna could make out the first two words: Lucky Lady. The c was missing.
Hot wind gusted outside more fiercely. Bits of newspaper swirled off the sidewalk and danced up in a wicked little dervish. The sky turned a deeper purple. A man pushing a shopping cart wandered by, stared at her.
Jenna double-checked that the doors were locked.
But after a few minutes, she was feeling real uneasy. The streets were growing eerie with the dusky dark orange glow of the coming storm. Heavier drops of rain bulleted down onto the car.
Jenna reached for the door handle. There was no way she was going to sit here alone in a full-blown storm. Then she hesitated. Few places in the world had tighter security than the big resort hotels clustered in downtown Vegas. But outside those populated tourist areas Sin City had the same urban ills and muggings as any other big metropolis. Common sense had always had Jenna sticking to the busy parts of town, the well-lit streets.
These were not.
She removed her ostentatious emerald bracelet and thediamond pendant around her neck, then opened Lex’s glove compartment. But as she was about to stuff them in, she saw a plastic sleeve containing old newspaper cuttings. One headline immediately caught her eye: “Reno Mother Brutally Slain While Son Hid in Closet.”
Curiosity quickened through her. Wind rocked the vehicle slightly, and Jenna grew edgy as she scanned the news cutting. But as the words of the report sunk in, her blood turned to ice.
It was a story printed in the Reno Daily thirty years ago about a croupier named Sara Duncan—a single mother aged twenty-seven who’d been slain in her own home while her five-year-old son, Lexington Duncan, had hidden in the bedroom closet.
Jenna quickly read the second article contained in the plastic sleeve. Sara’s child had actually witnessed his mother’s throat being slit through the louvered slats of the door, but had not been able to speak for well over a year. And when he had
“I know, I know. I’m sorry.”
She shook her head, pulling a face. “It’s okay. Lord knows I probably deserve some payback considering the hell I put you through at that auction.”
Lex turned down a deserted street. The sky was lowering, darkening over them, a strange kinetic energy filling in the air. The torn fronds of a lone palm fluttered in the hot, mounting wind. Litter scattered in squalls across the streets.
This section of town was a far cry from the glittering epicenter of Jenna’s existence. She began to feel nervous as they passed lowbrow gambling halls, dim bars, a few homeless people huddled in a corner, sharing a smoke. The streets seemed strangely empty for a Saturday evening, compared to the 24/7 buzz that was the Strip.
Lex swerved to the curb suddenly and slammed on brakes, his tires screeching.
“What is it?”
“I saw someone—” he rammed his SUV into reverse, backed up a block, fast. Across the street an older woman in a gypsy skirt walked briskly down the sidewalk, black shawl fluttering in the wind. She turned and abruptly vanished into a narrow alley.
“It’s her! ” He reversed farther.
“Who?”
He turned the ignition off. “Jenna, I need to check something out. Can you wait?”
Nerves fluttered irrationally in her stomach. She glanced out the window at the darkening street. The first fat plops of rain were beginning to fall. “What is it, Lex? Who was that woman?”
“Someone I’ve been looking to question for months. Every time I come out this way, I seem to miss her, like ships that pass in the night. I won’t be long.”
Jenna sat in the SUV as he jogged across the road and disappeared down the same alley that had swallowed the woman. Craning her neck to see over the backseat, Jenna tried to peer down the alley and caught the flutter of the woman’s shawl as she vanished into a tiny storefront that had a broken pink neon sign over the door. Jenna could make out the first two words: Lucky Lady. The c was missing.
Hot wind gusted outside more fiercely. Bits of newspaper swirled off the sidewalk and danced up in a wicked little dervish. The sky turned a deeper purple. A man pushing a shopping cart wandered by, stared at her.
Jenna double-checked that the doors were locked.
But after a few minutes, she was feeling real uneasy. The streets were growing eerie with the dusky dark orange glow of the coming storm. Heavier drops of rain bulleted down onto the car.
Jenna reached for the door handle. There was no way she was going to sit here alone in a full-blown storm. Then she hesitated. Few places in the world had tighter security than the big resort hotels clustered in downtown Vegas. But outside those populated tourist areas Sin City had the same urban ills and muggings as any other big metropolis. Common sense had always had Jenna sticking to the busy parts of town, the well-lit streets.
These were not.
She removed her ostentatious emerald bracelet and thediamond pendant around her neck, then opened Lex’s glove compartment. But as she was about to stuff them in, she saw a plastic sleeve containing old newspaper cuttings. One headline immediately caught her eye: “Reno Mother Brutally Slain While Son Hid in Closet.”
Curiosity quickened through her. Wind rocked the vehicle slightly, and Jenna grew edgy as she scanned the news cutting. But as the words of the report sunk in, her blood turned to ice.
It was a story printed in the Reno Daily thirty years ago about a croupier named Sara Duncan—a single mother aged twenty-seven who’d been slain in her own home while her five-year-old son, Lexington Duncan, had hidden in the bedroom closet.
Jenna quickly read the second article contained in the plastic sleeve. Sara’s child had actually witnessed his mother’s throat being slit through the louvered slats of the door, but had not been able to speak for well over a year. And when he had
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