Page 163 of Five Mountain Daddies

“Yeah, yeah.” She slams the door in ourfaces.

We get back in the car and Wyatt puts Smokey’s House into his GPS. It’s not too far away, maybe a fifteen-minute drive. On the way there, we talk idly about the case, mostly speculation, but I have to admit, it feelsgood.

I like just talking to him, like everything’s normal, and not totally fucked up beyondbelief.

Smokey’s House is a casino in the next town over. It’s a big concrete building with lots of parking. The outside looks drab, but as soon as we get in the door, it’s exactly what you imagine a casino would be, all flashing lights and screamingmachines.

The place is surprisingly packed. “How are we gonna find her here?” I askWyatt.

“I have my tricks.” He pulls up a picture of Kristi on his phone. “Got this from herFacebook.”

I watch as he approaches a waitress. He flashes his badge, and soon we’re in a back room with a manager, a portly older guy who’s balding ontop.

It doesn’t take long for the guy to find Kristi. Apparently, casinos have a million cameras all over the place, and they’re constantly watching people. They have some seriously intense facial recognition software boiled in, although he doesn’t need to use it. Since we have her name, he can just look up the room shebooked.

And ten minutes later, we’re in the elevator. “Told you I could find her,” hesays.

I roll my eyes. “All you had to do was flash yourbadge.”

“Pretty much. Casinos get a lot of bad apples, so they’re used to having cops moving throughhere.”

“They always cooperate?” Iask.

He nods. “Always. They want as little trouble as humanlypossible.”

“Lucky forus.”

He laughs as the elevator stops. We step off and head down a few hallways before finally stopping outside of adoor.

Wyatt knocks a few times. A voice from inside shouts something incomprehensible, so Wyatt knocks somemore.

Eventually, the door creaks open. Kristi’s standing there, bleary-eyed, the room behind her pitch dark. She does a double-take when she realizes who’s standing there in front ofher.

Wyatt doesn’t give her a chance to do anything. He steps forward, charging right into theroom.

“Hey!” Kristisays.

I follow Wyatt in there, giving her an apologetic look that dies on my face when I see the state of theroom.

It’s a mess. The covers are piled up in a corner, there’s trash on the mattress, and Wyatt’s holding a syringe. There’s more gear next to it, and clearly she’s been holed up in here, probably since the last time we saw her, doing drugs. It hasn’t even been that long, but the place smells like body odor anddecay.

“Get off that, asshole,” Kristi snaps, walking up toWyatt.

He smirks at her. “You know I’m a cop,right?”

She shrinks back. “Come on, man. It’s just, I need it,okay?”

She’s jittery, fidgeting, eyes wide. She’s clearly still high. I look at Wyatt and hesighs.

“How fucked up are you?” he asksher.

“I’m fine,” she snaps. “Fucking fine, okay? Fine, I know what I’mdoing.”

“I bet you do.” He sighs and puts the syringe into the leather case with the rest of her gear. He grabs a plastic bag from the floor and throws the gear inthere.

“Hey!” Kristi says. “What thefuck?”

Wyatt stares her down and she shrinks away. “You’re coming with us,” hesays.

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