Page 21 of Serving my Dragon
“Might not be fake.”
“Well, how do you explain the most recent ones?”
“I don’t think they’re recent,” I murmured, zooming in. “If you look, you’re wearing the same outfit in three of these pics.”
“No, I’m not…” Her voice trailed off. “The color of my shirt is different, but you’re right, it’s the same clothes, only I don’t own that top in blue or green. Just the pink.” She poked one of the canyon images. “Someone’s making it seem like these were taken on different days, but why?”
“Could your friend Sally be trying to avoid panicking anyone while she searches for you?” I offered the most plausible explanation.
“If she was looking for me, wouldn’t she have gone to the police?”
“You’re assuming she could. Could be she’s in trouble too,” I opined.
“Then who’s the one replying to her emails?” Kayleigh countered. “Let’s look up her profile. Sally Johanson.”
I typed in the name and Kayleigh poked one of the profile pics. “That’s her page.”
Once it loaded, I whistled. “The exact same images were used. And look, just like you, her clothes are the same, just the hues of her top are different.”
“Which I know for a fact Sally would never do because even if she likes something, she will only buy one of it. Dress, shirt, shoes. She’s always been more fashion-conscious than me. No way she’d wear the same outfit over and over.” Kayleigh gripped my arm. “Oh my god. Do you think Sally’s in trouble?”
I wanted to say no just to wipe the anxiety from her expression. “I don’t know. But this situation is more than weird.” Surely now the police would listen. Or would they? While not something openly admitted, trafficking, especially of attractive women, did happen, and I knew some—ahem, Tío Juan—claimed the police enabled it by covering up the crimes.
“What should we do, Matty?” She clutched my arm and leaned close, the scent of her, the heat, the everything overwhelming my senses so much I didn’t protest the ridiculous name she used for me.
“I think we need to talk to my uncle.”
“Can he help us find Sally?”
She would be more worried about her friend than herself. “I don’t know, but Tío Juan has friends in less than savory places. He might be able to find out something.”
“Thank you.” Her warm breath practically kissed my lips, she leaned so close.
I wanted to close that gap. To press my mouth to hers. I wanted her. Ached with it. But it didn’t seem right to seduce her. She had nowhere to go. Might feel obliged to say yes to sex. The man raised by a bevy of woman wouldn’t put her in that position.
Polly stirred and whimpered in my lap and I stroked the scales of her back.
“The poor thing,” Kayleigh murmured. “I wonder if an ice pack would help.”
“Seeing as how she supposedly hatched in a volcano, I’d say she prefers hot to cold.”
“Would a hot soak help then?”
“I don’t know. Maybe?”
“I should have asked before,” Kayleigh grumbled. “I don’t want to do anything that would harm her.”
I understood that feeling.
“Here, why don’t you give her a cuddle while I give my uncle a call?” I transferred Polly to Kayleigh’s lap and then headed to the yard with my phone.
Juan answered on the second ring. “What is it, pendejo?” My mother’s only brother never coddled me like Papa’s side of the family. I was a boy, and he’d always been the one to balk most at what he considered my emasculation by my female relatives. I’d often heard him fighting with Mama about how she was raising me to be soft. To which Mama would reply that better than a forro. Basically, an asshole. Which, funny enough, was kind of what pendejo meant as well.
While Juan knew some of the basics of Kayleigh’s rescue, I explained the rest to him. The fact she’d not been declared missing. How her friend insisted they were together. And now the manipulated images of not just her but her friend.
Juan went quiet and listened. At the end of it, he grunted. “Sounds like your lady friend might have gotten embroiled in some trouble.”
“Obviously. The question is, do I need to worry about her safety? And what of her companion, Sally?”
