Vicarious by Paula Stokes Page A

bedspread.
    â€œIt looks like the place,” I say. “Will you go there with me?”
    Jesse reaches out for my hand. My fingers fall easily between his. He squeezes gently. “Are you sure you’re up for this?”
    I nod. “I have to know for certain.”
    *   *   *
    Jesse parks in the hotel’s garage, so we have to cut through the casino to get to the Riverlights lobby. Solitary elderly people are lined up at the slot machines, their jaws going slack as they press buttons repeatedly. Ignoring them, I scan the small clusters of men hunched over the craps and blackjack tables. I don’t know if I’ll be able to identify either the recorder or the man who shot Rose full of drugs with almost nothing to go on, but both Jesse and I are wearing headsets under our winter hats so we can record everything we see. I search the whole room, looking for anyone who might be the same size and shape. Anyone who might look or feel familiar.
    Jesse strides up to the hotel’s front desk, where a red-haired clerk is flipping through a celebrity gossip magazine. Her long manicured nails curl under at the ends like talons.
    â€œExcuse me, miss,” Jesse says. “Did you work last night?”
    Her eyes narrow. “Maybe. Why?”
    He flashes her his perfect smile. “Do you remember seeing a blond woman in a red dress in here?”
    The woman snorts as she flips another page in her magazine. “That’s half of our weekend clientele,” she says. “You got a picture?”
    He turns to me. I fumble in my pocket for my phone. Flipping to the photo gallery, I am not surprised to find I have only one recent picture of Rose. She’s been known to sneak through people’s phones and delete any images of her she feels are even the slightest bit unflattering. The one she’s left me is dreamy-looking and slightly out of focus.
    The clerk raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Sorry. Don’t recognize her,” she says.
    â€œShe’s Korean,” I say. “Really pretty.”
    â€œShe might’ve been with two guys,” Jesse adds.
    The clerk smirks but then shrugs helplessly. “It doesn’t ring a bell.”
    Discouraged, I turn away from the front desk and walk to the large picture window that looks out onto the river. The twisting water beckons to me, its curves flashing deadly white. Jesse follows me and puts a hand on my arm.
    I shake off his touch. My heart pounds inside my chest, light and fast, a rabbit being chased by a cat. “I need to find her, Jesse. Even if she’s in the water.”
    He sighs. “Come on.” He tows me past the desk clerk who is busy texting on her phone. He bypasses the elevators and ducks into the stairwell. Our feet echo on the cold metal as we ascend to the second floor.
    â€œWhat are we doing?” I ask.
    â€œMaking sure this is the right hotel. We can’t check the whole Mississippi.”
    He’s right. We might not even have picked the correct river. There are other ones within driving distance of the city.
    The second-floor hallways are both empty. Undaunted, Jesse proceeds to the third floor. Empty. Then the fourth floor. A pair of doors are propped open halfway down the hall, a housekeeping cart parked just outside. Jesse takes my hand like we’re a couple returning from a leisurely lunch. As we stroll past the rooms where the maids are working, he looks into one and I scan the other. It’s more obvious in person than online. It’s the same gray curtains, the same navy-and-gold coverlets.
    We’re in the right place.
    â€œNow what?” I ask.
    â€œNow we can check the water.”
    My chest tightens as we descend back to the main level. We cross the gaming floor and head out into the cold. A MetroLink train hisses by on an elevated track, slowing near the far end of the parking lot to let off a group of casino patrons and hotel employees. I watch