Minutes to Kill (27 page)

Chapter Thirty-Six

If she doesn’t stop humming, I won’t have to worry about the men with guns. I’m going to kill myself.

Jewel rolled onto her side, pressing one ear into the pillow and covering her other ear with her hand. On the cot next to her, Penny hummed something that sounded like a nursery rhyme, not that Jewel had many warm or fuzzy memories of those.

She was pretty sure her mother had never acted like Penny. She stopped herself from speculating about the girl. She was
not
getting to know her roommate. She glanced toward the closed and locked door. Cellmate.

The muffled sound of boots running came through the door. Jewel sat up.

“What’s happening?” Penny asked.

Jewel ignored her. She got up and pressed her ear to the door. Men were running.

“Get the girls,” one yelled.

Sweat broke out under Jewel’s arms as she backed away from the door. Something was going on. Penny sat up on her cot. Her belly fell between her open thighs. Had it gotten bigger in one day? Her belly button was popping through the T-shirt. Penny cradled it with one hand and pushed off her cot with the other. She waddled to stand next to Jewel.

The door banged open. A man with a rifle passed. “Everybody out. Move it.”

Jewel shuffled toward the door. Penny hung behind her. In the hallway, girls paused, eyes wide. A few clung to each other.

“Move it!” a man shouted.

Girls flinched. They shuffled in a pack down the halls. The men herded them into the loading area like livestock. A truck was backed into the cavernous space, the tractor portion extending through the open bay door. A cool breeze blew under the vehicle and chilled Jewel’s bare feet. She looked past the truck at the darkness outside. It was night.

The back door of the vehicle gaped open. The engine was still running. Jewel froze. A man pushed past the girls, not looking at them. Instinct stopped her feet.

She could not get into that truck. Her gaze was drawn back to the darkness. She gave her surroundings a furtive scan. The men seemed distracted. One ran by, carrying a gas can in each hand. They were going to burn the warehouse down.

They were cleaning up loose ends.

Jewel watched the first of the girls climb the ladder into the trailer portion of the eighteen-wheeler. There were at least thirty loose ends right there.

She sidled to the edge of the group. Penny grabbed her arm, her grip tight and scared.

Damn it.

A girl fell off the ladder.

The man in charge of loading the girls reached down to haul her to her feet. “Move it.” He changed position, moving to the base of the ladder to shove each girl into the truck as she hoisted herself up the ladder. His back was to Jewel.

She slipped along the side of the truck and peeked around the doorframe. No one was outside. She glanced back at the group. Penny was looking for her. There were no other men in sight except the one with his back to her.

No. The massively pregnant girl would slow her down. Jewel took a step through the doorway.

Shit.

She slid back to the group, grabbed Penny by the arm, and tugged. She pulled her through the doorway with her. Outside, she put a finger to her lips. Penny nodded. The moon shone from a clear black sky. Jewel backed into the shadow of the building, frantically scanning for a hiding place or avenue of escape. The warehouse was on a large slab of pavement. A hundred feet away, another building loomed dark in the sky. They’d have to cross a football field of open pavement to get to it. They’d never make it. She glanced at Penny. No way.

Two big SUVs were parked parallel to the warehouse. Beyond them, what appeared to be random construction debris littered the cracked concrete.

She tugged the girl toward a stack of pallets and collection of concrete barriers, the kind used by construction crews, scattered on the blacktop twenty feet or so from the warehouse. They hurried across the ground, gravel and other bits of debris digging into the soles of her feet.

In the center of the barriers, they dropped to the ground, crouching in the shadows.

The cold night air washed over her bare skin. Her feet went numb. Not a bad thing, considering. The truck pulled away and rumbled off into the darkness. A few minutes later, smoke plumed out a broken window.

Jewel held her breath. Next to her, Penny shivered.

A half dozen men ran out of the building and climbed into the SUVs. One paused, his foot on the running board, his eyes scanning the lot around him.

Jewel shrank into the shadow, closed her eyes, and hoped.

“
Thank you for coming with me.” Hannah opened the car door.

“Like I’d let you come here alone. I’ve got your back, counselor.” Brody shut off the car. He got out of the rental, rounded the front, and opened Hannah’s door. His chest tightened as he gazed up at the giant club, Carnival. The surrounding area looked industrial, empty and flat, the nearby businesses closed. “This is where it happened?”

“Yes.” Hannah pointed. “Over there, closer to the motel. The lot was full that night. I guess no one goes out clubbing this early in Vegas.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked.

“I’m just going to talk to him.”

“Uh-huh.” Brody crossed his arms over his chest. It appeared he wasn’t buying it for a second.

“You need to wait here.” She touched his arm. “He won’t talk to me if you’re there, giving him your death-ray stare.”

“I don’t like it. If you’re not out in fifteen minutes, I’m coming in after you.”

“Twenty.” She kissed him.

He frowned. “All right, but not a second more.”

At seven in the evening, Carnival was quiet. She stopped at the security desk. The guard recognized her. “Ms. Barrett. Are you here to see Mr. Fletcher?”

“Yes. I don’t have an appointment. He told me to drop by if I was in town.”

The guard pulled up a screen of approved visitors and scrolled to the Bs. Hannah’s name was third from the top. He made a call. “Mr. Fletcher is in his office. He says come right up. You know the way.”

“I do. Thank you.” Hannah walked down a corridor to a bank of elevators. The car shot smoothly to the twentieth floor. She exited the elevator and went through a huge set of glass doors. After checking in with the cool blond secretary, she waited by a bank of windows that overlooked the city. Other than the Strip, Vegas spread out in an array of randomness, as if the city planners had tossed high-rises, cheesy motels, and empty lots on a game board and built them where they landed.

“Ms. Barrett, Mr. Fletcher will see you now.” The secretary opened her boss’s door.

“Thank you.” Hannah crossed the threshold.

The room was absurdly large. Herb’s desk was a mammoth slab of mahogany faced by a semicircle of chairs. In the corner, a conversation area had been formed with a black leather sofa and two matching chairs. An acre of empty space yawned between the workspace and more intimate seating. He might dress like a regular joe, but his office was wall-to-wall swank.

Herb stood as she entered his office. He came out from behind his desk to greet her. “I’m so glad you dropped in.” He offered her a hand.

Yeah, that was not going to happen.

Hannah stopped short. Confusion crossed Herb’s face. He gestured toward the conversation area. Hannah preceded him, but instead of sitting, she paced in front of the window. The backdrop of Sin City felt appropriate for the conversation they were about to have.

She’d been in Herb’s office several times before, but it had never been just the two of them. Alone with him, the cavernous space felt oddly intimate.

“You look like you’ve recovered. I’m glad to see that. I hope you’ll be back to work soon.”

“I’m sure I will.” Hannah finally took a seat, perching on the edge of the sofa. The thought of her going back to her jet-set career with people like Herb Fletcher gave her indigestion. She felt like she was treading water, working hard and getting nowhere. How did she measure her accomplishments? With dollar signs. She wasn’t much different from Herb.

“I’m glad.” Herb stopped in front of a chair. He gestured to a wet bar by the window. “Can I get you a drink?”

“No, thank you.” Hannah gathered her thoughts.

Herb crossed to the bar. He took a tumbler off the shelf, flipped it over, and set it on the granite top of the bar. He brought his drink back to the chair and eased into the leather. “Something is bothering you, Hannah. What is it?”

She hesitated.

“Please, I’m not one of your smooth-talking, beat-around-the-bush suits.” Herb sipped his drink. “If you have something to say, let’s hear it.”

Right. There was no way to tactfully ease into this conversation. Hannah leaned forward. “The man who assaulted me was involved in a human trafficking ring specializing in underage girls. The night of the party, these girls were working out of the motel behind the club. I also know that someone at that party arranged for a group rate with their pimp.” Hannah watched his eyes. No shock. No outrage. “You knew, didn’t you?”

Herb waved a hand. “Men have appetites. You saw that during the party. You can take the richest man and reduce him to his basest instincts with the lure of sex with a beautiful woman.”

“Not all men,” Hannah said, her thoughts flickering to Brody.

He snorted. “Most of the men I know.”

“You need to upgrade your social circle,” Hannah said. “So, were you in on it? Did you pay to appease your
appetites
?”

Herb looked disgusted. “I like women, probably too much, but I don’t fuck children. To be blunt, I like my women stacked, the key word being
women
,” he emphasized. “I certainly don’t need to use prostitutes. I have a whole club full of gorgeous young women who would be thrilled to have sex with me.”

Revulsion curled in Hannah’s belly. Herb might not have participated, but he still viewed women as objects to be acquired and used. “If you didn’t make the arrangements, then who did?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes.”

“Why? Money can buy anything. It’s the way of the world.” Herb returned to the wet bar. Setting his glass on the black granite top, he lifted the lid from an ice bucket and used tongs to add a few cubes to his tumbler. Ice cracked as he poured from a bottle of The Macallan. He leaned an elbow on the bar and brought the glass to his lips. He rolled the liquor in his mouth, pleasure lighting his eyes as he appreciated the taste.

His casual stance emanated indifference and arrogance. He thought he was in complete control, that he was above reproach.

“Good scotch?” she asked.

“Very. Distilled in 1939, it was introduced while World War Two was breaking out in Europe. It’s one of the earliest additions in The Macallan Fine and Rare series. It’s like drinking a piece of history. I paid ten thousand dollars for this one bottle. Do you know why?”

“Because you wanted it,” Hannah said. “And as you told me once, you always get what you want.”

“Yes. I do.” Ego flashed in his eyes. “But in this case, I bought it simply because I could. It reminds me that I’ve come to a place where I don’t have to scrounge for coins in the ashtray of my car to buy food.

“My father was what you would consider
a good man
. If a man took a week off because his wife was ill, my father paid him anyway. He hired drunks just to give them a second chance. Even though he owned the company, if the crew was a man short, my father would climb on a roof and nail shingles. I have a distinct memory of him taking me along with him to visit one of his workers in the hospital. After he gave the guy’s wife some cash to help tide her over, he said to me, ‘Herb, we might not be rich with material things, but we are wealthy in our hearts.’ What a load of bullshit. He was giving money to other people while our family was living in a two-bedroom shack.”

“He sounds like a kind man who had his priorities straight.”

“Do you know what all that kindness got him? Nothing. He worked himself into an early grave.” Herb gestured with his drink. “After he died, I took that limping, pathetic excuse for a company and built an empire out of it.”

“So now you can have anything you want.” Hannah’s body was stiffer than the chrome sofa frame.

“Exactly.” Herb took another sip.

“So if you didn’t make the arrangements for teenage prostitutes, who did?” she asked.

He raised a shoulder.

Hannah let out a disgusted breath. “I thought you knew everything that happened in your club.”

“Of course I know, but I’m not ratting anyone out.” Herb finished his scotch.

“That’s some sense of misplaced loyalty, Herb.” Hannah rose. “Next time you need a lawyer, don’t call me.”

“Watch your back, Hannah.”

She headed for the door. One hand on the knob, she whirled. “Is that a threat?”

“You have nothing to fear from me. You don’t threaten me. But curiosity and integrity can be a dangerous combination, and you should be worried about what’s going on in your own house instead of mine.”