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Tonight, instead of focusing on the girls, she was going to pay extra attention to the men who came through the club. On previous trips, her focus had been on hearing what the women who worked in the industry had to say. It irritated her she hadn’t spotted Corbit Upwood the last time she was there even though the timestamps on the back of the photos showed they’d been in the club at the same time. Maybe she would get lucky and he would visit tonight.

It was barely five in the afternoon, early for a strip club, but some timestamps on the photos from the package were from early in the evening. Perhaps the quieter time of day made it easier to conduct nefarious business.

When she arrived at the Doll House Cabaret, she gave a flirty wave to the well-dressed bouncer. He winked and let her in. “Have a good time, darlin’.” She would like to think they’d struck up something of a friendship during her visits here, even though she’d never gotten his name.

Inside, it was mostly empty, but two girls were on stage performing for the meager crowd of three or four men.

She spotted a waitress she’d befriended and ordered a vodka cranberry and settled in at the bar to watch the women dance. The stage was entertaining enough, but the actual show happened in the dark corners where the girls probably made their biggest tips doing things that were skirting the line of legal.

Savannah, who had just exited the stage, came and gave her a hug, thoroughly coating her in glitter.

“I knew you couldn’t stay away, honey.”

Carrie grinned up at the pretty redhead. She’d always had a weakness for redheads—hence her attraction to Darci. “Lola makes the best drinks in town.” She raised her glass before taking a sip.

“Pshhh. You know you want to get up on that stage. You’d make a killing just for being so damn short.”

Carrie giggled and took another sip of her cocktail. Savannah was convinced that she secretly wanted to be a stripper. The scantily clad woman straddled the barstool and leaned forward on her palms. “I thought you said you had what you needed.”

“I did, but I want to confirm a few things, and sometimes before I write a piece, I like to just sit in the environment and get in the zone.”

Savannah nodded as if she understood. They had bonded over Carrie’s multiple visits, and she had revealed that she was a novelist at heart. Stripping just paid the bills until she found a publisher.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here. I gotta get back up there. It’s a slow night but it should pick up soon. The big shots are all leaving their offices and will be ready to drown their sorrows between my tits.” She shook her ample breasts dramatically.

Carrie grinned and returned to her drink. As she turned, her eyes stopped at the entry to the club. “I’ll be damned,” she muttered. Peter Mercer stood talking to a bouncer she didn’t recognize. Her body buzzed with unwanted attraction as she stared at him. She didn’t want him to spot her, so she reached for a drink menu and obscured her face, wishing she’d worn another wig.

He looked annoyed. Handsome, but annoyed. A moment later, Peter and two other agents, one of whom had handcuffed her on Friday stepped through the door. CIA Director Corbit Upwood was with them, putting her on high alert. This is why she’d come here.

So far, she had spotted no one who seemed like they were sending her anonymous packages, but then what would such a person look like? Was it a stripper? A patron? Carrie had no idea. Now that Upwood was here though she had something to focus on.

Upwood and the posse of secret service agents took over a large booth in the back corner of the club. Carrie kept her head turned as they walked past her table. When they were settled again, she repositioned herself so she could watch them without getting caught staring.

A few minutes later, a Hispanic man showed up and sat at the table with Upwood. This outing was already paying off. It was the same man Upwood was meeting with in the photograph. To Carrie’s eye, it looked like Agent Mercer tried to object, but Upwood insisted on talking to the man.

“Lola,” she whisper-shouted across the bar to the woman slinging drinks.

“What’s up babe?”

“Who is Corbit Upwood meeting?” Carrie asked when Lola got close enough for her to whisper.

Lola glanced at the booth and back at Carrie. “I wouldn’t go poking around there if I were you, honey. Nothing but trouble.”

“Lola,” a man barked. “Quit talking and get back to work.”

The bartender jumped and quickly picked up a glass and moved away from Carrie. As she did, she said, “I mean it, honey, don’t go poking your nose into things. It’s dangerous.”

Bingo. There was no way Carrie would halt her investigation now. Turning on her stool she scanned the room looking for someone else to talk to who might answer her questions. Savannah was stepping off the stage again, so she ordered another drink from Lola. The bartender was curt and slammed the drink in front of her. “You’ve probably had too much to drink tonight. You should finish this and go home.”

Carrie was surprised by Lola’s rude behavior, but didn’t have time to analyze it because she wanted to get to Savannah before she found a customer and became unavailable again.

“Hey sugar, did you like the show?” Savannah asked, slinging an arm around Carrie’s shoulder when she approached.

“You know I did.” Carrie winked and hoped she sounded casual.

“Hey, I have a weird question. See that booth over there? I’ve seen them in here several times, but they never tip the dancers or buy lap dances, and they stick to water. I know the one is the Director of the CIA, but who is the guy he’s talking to?” She didn’t actually know that they always drank water, but went with her gut, hoping to get more information.

The other dancer Savannah had been talking to backed away, shaking her head. Savannah leaned in close so she didn’t have to shout over the music. “His name is Dino Carranza. I’d stay out of that can of worms if I were you.”

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