Karen Olson - The Missing Ink

He took a step back, adjusting his shirt and jacket as he nodded. “All right, I guess I deserve that. But maybe I’m just looking for love in all the wrong places.” He ran a hand through his hair and gave me another intense look, one that I felt between my legs.

I caught my breath. I had to change the subject.

“Why did Elise want to meet you here? What’s going on with her? Have you known all along where she was?” I asked, not sure what direction to go in.

It was a wrong turn. If I could do a U-ey, I would.

“I don’t know why you keep pushing this,” he said.

I wasn’t sure why, either, but I was like a dog with a bone. I didn’t want to let it go. He saw that, too, and sighed.

“I’m going back inside. Maybe you should figure out what you want.” He turned and started back for the bar.

I stared after him. He thought I kissed him only because I wanted information about Elise. I opened my mouth to call him back, but I shut it again and watched him go inside without turning around. I still wasn’t sure what he was up to, and I didn’t want to get in too deep, just in case. There were too many unanswered questions.

I had dropped my bag on the ground when he’d kissed me, so I reached down to pick it up, slung it over my shoulder, and went inside.

Joel had stopped singing and was now sitting at the bar with Bitsy, who had another big, colorful cocktail in front of her. Joel was nursing something that could have been a gin and tonic or just a tonic. I didn’t see Simon Chase anywhere.

I slid up on a bar stool next to Joel.

“Where’d you go?” he asked. Before I could answer, he said, “Hey, you got up and sang. Good for you.”

“Glad you enjoyed it, because you’ll never see it again,” I muttered.

The bartender asked if I wanted a drink and I shook my head. “I need to get out of here,” I said.

“What about Elise?” Bitsy asked as she slurped her drink through a straw.

“She’s gone. Don’t know where.” I got off the stool.

Joel made a face at me. “I can’t go home with Bitsy. I can’t fit in that car,” he said.

“Well, the Mustang’s leaving, so if you want a ride, you have to come with me now.”

Joel looked from me to Bitsy and back again. “I want to stay,” he whined.

Why anyone would want to stay here baffled me. It had gotten more Elvis-congested since I’d been outside; the music was blaring, the singing atrocious. But Joel and Bitsy did seem like they were having a good time. Go figure.

I pulled a twenty out of my bag and dropped it on the bar in front of Joel. “Cab’s on me,” I said. “Sorry, but I really do need to go.”

Bitsy waggled her fingers at me as she turned her attention to an Elvis who’d come up behind her and started chatting. Joel pocketed the twenty and asked for another drink before leaning over and air-kissing my cheek.

“See you tomorrow, hon,” he said cheerily.

I did a quick look to try to find Simon, but when it seemed futile, I wandered back out through the black-lit hall and pushed the door open. The sun had almost set now, streaks of red and yellow dancing across the desert sky, the air almost comfortable.

I climbed into the Mustang and turned the key in the ignition. As I waited a few seconds for the air-conditioning to kick in, movement in the rearview mirror caught my eye.

Simon Chase was coming out of the bar. He hit a button on a key fob and opened the door to his vehicle.

A white Dodge Dakota.

I watched it ease out of the lot, and I didn’t waste any time. While I hadn’t followed it before, I certainly wasn’t going to miss the opportunity now. Especially since Simon was driving, and even if he were mixed up in something criminal, I didn’t think he’d hurt me.

Of course, that’s what abused wives always tell themselves, too.

I pushed my concerns away and concentrated on the Dakota in front of me. He was going about ten miles above the speed limit, which was ten miles above my comfort zone, but I wanted to keep up. I also didn’t want him to see me behind him, so I kept a couple of cars between us. The Mustang was low enough to the ground and the Dakota high enough off it so maybe I was out of his line of sight.

He turned toward downtown, and soon we were heading along the Strip.

I knew where we were going.

The Dakota pulled into the Versailles entrance, and I parked along the side of the road with my flashers on. Pretty anticlimactic. I shouldn’t have assumed he would lead me to Elise and Matthew.

But then a thought crossed my mind.

What if he had?

What if he was hiding them in plain sight?

He was the manager. He could give them a room easily. Granted, Chip and his father were also at Versailles, but the place was enormous. How hard would it be to stay out of someone’s way?

I told myself that as I made an executive decision to go back in there. Even though I was banned. But this time I wouldn’t go through the lobby. I’d go into the casino, where there were plenty of people to mask my arrival and plenty of slot machines to hide behind if I needed to. Granted, I was taller than most women, and I had tats, short bright red hair, and rows of piercings in my ears, but odder-looking people than me hung out in casinos. It was worth a shot.

The room was buzzing with activity, the cocktail waitresses barely able to keep up and keep their bosoms in their corsets. I thought about Robbin, the girl I’d met in the ladies’ room. She had a hot date with the guy who ran the place. Was that why Simon had come back?

A short man with a bad toupee bumped into me.

“Excuse you,” he muttered, wandering away.

I weaved around the slot machines, the flashing lights making me blink, the little musical dinging sounds bouncing off the ceiling. Sheryl Crow was singing about leaving Las Vegas, piped in from undisclosed speakers, no one really hearing it-it was background noise to replace that of the coins dropping into metal bins. I was a little dizzy as I approached the blackjack tables, Tim’s old stomping ground. He could still count cards, but only if there was a one- or two-deck shoe. It looked like these tables had at least six decks. No way to win, every way to lose.

I didn’t like casinos; they had never managed to win me over. I used to like the heavy feel of the plastic cups holding five or ten dollars’ worth of quarters or nickels, slipping the coins into the machines. But now that they’d done away with the coins-you just put in a bill and got back a little ticket that you slipped into a machine like an ATM to get your meager winnings-it had lost any magic for me it might have once held. There were other things I’d rather throw my money away on, like Kenneth Cole shoes. While I’d be poor, at least I’d look hot.

Hot like Simon Chase, who was standing about fifty feet away from me as I stumbled around a slot machine that wore a guillotine hat. Quickly, I ducked back behind it, peering over the top. The woman playing it didn’t even notice, she was so intent on pushing that little PLAY AGAIN button. Another downside to the new ticket system: Put in a bill and there was no reminder of just how much you were losing.

Matthew approached Simon, who looked like he’d been expecting him. They shook hands, Simon nodding, Matthew’s mouth moving. I can’t read lips, so I was at a loss. I could read expressions, and Simon’s was exasperated as he straightened his shoulders and stood taller. I could see his mouth form the word “no.”

So maybe I could read lips a little.

Add it to the résumé.

I scanned the room, looking for Elise. The way Matthew had pushed her out of Viva Las Vegas worried me. Maybe she was in a room upstairs somewhere, locked in, these two guys arguing about her fate. Would she die like Matt Powell? Like Kelly Masters?