Silenced by Allison Brennan Page B

was still stunned at being called chica. Being half Cuban, she could pass for Hispanic or Caucasion, but growing up in San Diego, she blended in and rarely thought about skin color. That sounded trite, but it was the way she’d been raised.
    Lucy and Genie took the stairs down to the basement. Support beams six feet apart seemed to hold up the building, and the ceiling was so low Lucy could reach up and touch it without stretching. But it was definitely twenty degrees cooler down here. In each corner of the long, narrow space was a big metal tub with a block of melting ice. A fan blew on the ice, cooling the air.
    There were about two dozen people lounging about talking or watching one of three televisions, all of which had the same sitcom that the manager had been watching. Half got up and left when Genie and Lucy walked in. Genie stopped each woman and asked if she was Cora.
    Finally, from the far corner, a skinny middle-aged woman who’d been watching them from the minute they entered said, “I’m Cora.” She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t like cops.”
    Genie said, “And I don’t like attitude, but here we are.”
    “I don’t rat on friends.”
    “I’m not asking you to. I’m here about Nicole Bellows.”
    “Well, seeing that Nicole ain’t my friend, whaddya want to know?”
    “She’s your neighbor?” Lucy asked.
    “ Former neighbor. That stuck-up whore moved out last year. October, maybe. Didn’t the super tell you that?”
    “Yes. She also said you knew her.”
    Cora shrugged. “As much as anyone could. She thought she was better than us, like her shit don’t stink.”
    “It doesn’t anymore,” Genie said. “She’s dead.”
    Cora put her hands up and leaned back. “Hey, I didn’t know.”
    “We’re trying to retrace her steps. This is the last address we have on her.”
    “There’s been a lot of steps between then and now.”
    “So send us in the right direction. Do you know where she moved? Did she give you an address?”
    “Nope. All I knew was what she told me, that she was moving to a house with a yard. Thought she was all that, you know? I said to her, found a sucker? A pimp? You know, trying to get the truth ’cuz I knew she was still hooking. And she says, no, she was making more money working less hours. I told her she was full of shit.” She shrugged.
    “You didn’t believe her?” Lucy asked.
    “I did,” Cora admitted. “But I thought she was into something. She aspired to be a high-paid call girl. I said to her, no one’s going to be paying top dollar for a two-bit whore. But she cleaned up, quit snorting—all her profits used to go up her nose.”
    Maybe Meggie Prince didn’t know everything that went on in her building, or she lied a good game.
    “I remember when she was in withdrawal,” Cora continued. “Her white bitch friend stayed here to keep Nicole straight. Never thought I’d see that goody-two-shoes stay overnight in this slum, but I guess people surprise you sometimes.”
    Lucy asked, “Her friend? Does her friend have a name?”
    “No idea. She was brave, I tell you, ’cause white girls don’t do well this side of town, know what I mean? But she stuck with Nicole for three days.”
    “You remember what she looked like?”
    “Blonde. Shorter than Nicole. Skinny. Dressed like a rich bitch slumming—new jeans, worn T-shirt, but it was designer shit all the way, and clean. She was sparkly clean.” She rolled her eyes and stuck gum in her mouth, cracking it loudly.
    “And after this slumber party?” Genie pressed.
    “They left. Both of them. Nicole gave her notice, but I don’t think she came back. Put all her stuff in a couple of boxes and disappeared.”
    “And you have no idea where they went.”
    “I said, a house with a yard. That’s all I know.”
    “And you haven’t seen her since?”
    There was something in Cora’s eyes that made Lucy think she had seen her. “Maybe not here,” she added, “but in the area.” When Cora