Debra Webb - The Longest Silence

Tony grabbed him by the throat. “I know what you mean. Now, how do I find this Hailey?”

He held up his hands, fear back in his eyes. “I don’t know, man.”

Tony tightened his grip on the scrawny bastard’s throat.

“Kayla knows her,” he squeaked. “She works here. She...she can tell you all about Hailey.”

Tony shoved him loose. “Take me to Kayla. Now.”

Clinton Road, 5:50 p.m.

Kayla Maples opened the door of her shabby duplex and immediately tried to close it. Tony used Waldrop as a doorstop.

Waldrop squealed. “Goddamn, man, you trying to kill me?”

Kayla screamed and ran for the kitchen. Tony shoved Waldrop aside and rushed after her.

“He’s a fucking fed!” Waldrop shouted from where he’d landed on the floor.

Kayla stopped and held up her hands. “I swear to God, I didn’t do whatever you think I did.”

Almost as good as a confession. Tony ordered, “Sit down.”

She inched her way back toward him but didn’t sit. Kayla was maybe twenty. She had short, curly red hair. She might be five feet tall and weigh all of a hundred pounds. Her face was clear; her skin looked healthy. Not the first visible tattoo. Since she wore shorts and a tee, he spotted no visible needle tracks either. But then there were a million ways to get high that didn’t show.

“I swear to God the pot’s not mine. It’s my brother’s. He lives here, too.” She turned big round eyes up to Tony. “Please, I’m a nursing student. Any trouble could get me tossed out of the program.”

“I don’t care about your brother or his pot.” Tony pointed to the sofa. “Sit. Tell me about Hailey.”

The girl frowned. “Why do you want to know about Hailey?”

“That girl she’s been hanging out with,” Waldrop piped up, “is missing.”

Kayla’s eyes rounded. “Tiffany? Tiffany Durand?”

Tony nodded. “You a friend of hers?”

“Not really.” Kayla shrugged. “I’ve seen her around the campus. I’m a sophomore at the same college. She started coming to the club last month.” She frowned. “I thought she was going to the beach or something for the weekend.”

“She’s missing.”

“Oh my God.” Kayla clasped her hand over her mouth.

Tony followed her gaze to the silenced television screen. The alert for Tiffany and Vickie Parton flashed on the screen.

“Tell me about Hailey,” Tony repeated. “Tiffany was hanging out with her?”

Kayla took a moment to compose herself. Waldrop collapsed on the sofa next to her and complained, “This guy is seriously fucking with my schedule.”

Kayla waved him off. “Shut up. I’ll help you open.” She lifted her attention to Tony. “Hailey Martin. She’s like thirty something. She comes to Wild Things a couple times a week. She’s a big tipper. She’s usually with someone younger and female, like Tiffany.”

“Did you ever see Vickie Parton, the other missing freshman, with Hailey?”

Kayla shook her head. “I’ve never seen Vickie before.”

“Are you and Hailey friends?”

“Not really.” Kayla glanced at Waldrop. Waldrop shrugged.

“What?” Tony demanded.

“They say,” Waldrop said, “she always has X handy.”

Son of a bitch. “Was Tiffany getting Ecstasy from her?”

Kayla shook her head adamantly. “I’m pretty sure Tiffany doesn’t do drugs. I didn’t get that vibe from her at all. She’s more like me—about getting her education.”

Tony looked to Waldrop. He shrugged again. “Who the fuck knows? I try my best not to see shit.”

This was getting him nowhere. “Where can I find Hailey Martin?”

“I don’t know where she lives,” Kayla said, her eyes relaying the honesty in her words.

“Cell number?”

Kayla shook her head. “She acknowledges my existence but that’s about all. I’m not her type.”

“Hell, man,” Waldrop wailed, “you’re a fed. Just ask your po-po friends to get the 411 on the bitch. I got shit to do.”

“Did you ever see Tiffany with an older man? Dark hair?”

Kayla did some more of that frowning as if she were searching her memory banks. “Are you talking about Miles? Hailey has a friend named Miles who hangs out with her sometimes.”

“You have any other details on Miles? A last name?”

She made a face. “Sorry. I don’t. He’s tall, dark hair, late thirties maybe.”

“You talking about that guy who drives the Ferrari?” Waldrop asked.

“That’s him,” Kayla said. “I just figured he’s some older rich dude who likes to go after younger women.”

Tony had a bad feeling she was closer to being right than she knew.

Waldrop stood. “I gotta go, man. I do not want to get fired.”

“I appreciate your help.” Tony headed for the door.

“Wait!” Waldrop called. “You brought me here, man.”

“Kayla said she’d help you open,” Tony tossed over his shoulder. “Ride with her to the club.”

He walked out the door and scanned the neighborhood. At least he had a lead. It might not pan out but it was better than the nothing he had a few hours ago.

8

Doe Run Road

7:15 p.m.

Hailey Martin was forty and lived in a Mediterranean-style home on a good-sized lot overlooking the lake. Her income last year was listed as 41k. The house was at least a half-million-dollar estate. The same property in Atlanta would be worth four or five times that much. The Jag coupe parked out front was not only new but also registered in her name. The damned car alone cost more than she made in two years.

Either the lady was earning extra income off the books or she’d married well. Tony’s resource hadn’t found any information on her marital status. He climbed out of the BMW and walked toward the front steps. The sun was dropping behind the trees. He had hoped to get back to Milledgeville before dark but that wasn’t going to happen. He checked his cell. Ang had left two voice mails. Phelps had left one. None of the messages included an update. They only wanted to know where Tony was and what he was doing.

At the moment he wasn’t entirely certain, but he would continue to follow his instincts until he felt he’d found all he was going to or his need for alcohol lured him to his room.

He pressed the doorbell. The chime echoed through the house. The double doors were more glass than wood. No curtains or blinds obscured the view into the entry hall and to the staircase that stood in the middle of it. He saw a woman’s bare feet first, then her lean calves as she descended the stairs. The sides of the white robe she wore came together but not before he got a glimpse of toned thighs. Martin tightened the sash as she walked runway style toward the door. She didn’t look forty, more like thirty. Long blond hair hung in thick waves around her silk-clad shoulders. Her eyes were pale. Gray, he decided as she neared. But it was her mouth that gave him pause. Wide with full, lush lips. The kind women paid the big bucks to have and men paid even more to taste.

“You lost, honey?” she asked through the glass.

A sleek black Doberman pinscher trotted up beside her. Black eyes scrutinized Tony.

“Hailey Martin?” Tony showed his official ID—the one he’d lost years ago and had to replace, then found in his glove box just this morning when he’d dug around for a pair of sunglasses.

Her face registered surprise. “Well, alrighty then.” She opened the door. “Come on in.”

Tony glanced at the dog.

“Brutus, go.”

Perfect name for the animal that stared suspiciously at his owner’s visitor. With one last glower at Tony the dog walked away, toenails clicking on the gleaming hardwood.

Martin cocked her head, scrutinizing Tony much as the dog had done. “You staying or am I going? I’ll need to get dressed if we’re going somewhere.” She pushed the door closed, the move causing the robe to show even more of her generous cleavage.