Page 9 of Vallaverse: Noir
“I know you found out what happened to him.”
I shake my head. “I lost interest during all the surgeries. My best guess is he found that opiate shipment and lost himself in it until the wrong person found him and took him for a swim.”
“That's awful.”
I nod. “It is. But it's over now. All that's left of it is the ache that reminds me not to be foolish ever again.”
“And you still want an Omega?”
“What can I say?” I give her a crooked smile. “I'm a hopeless romantic. I'm not getting any younger and this hip is only going to cause me more trouble. I want a family before I can't keep up with them anymore. I think an Omega would be more willing to deal with my baggage than a Beta, don't you?”
She glances back at the Beta behind the counter again. “Oh, I don't know. Betas are all the fun without any of the drama.”
“Maybe I like a little drama every now and then.”
“Well,” she starts. “You kept your end. What kind of Omega are you looking for?”
I draw my mouth to the side and look up at the ceiling as I recall the major details of the Westover girl. “Younger, I think. Of age, obviously, but younger. I'd like her to have blonde hair and brown eyes, I like that, and a slight build.”
“Her?”
I nod. “Yes. Her.”
“Oh,” she pauses. “I thought you'd be more interested in a man.”
“No, I think I've had my fill of men of all designations.” I feign a quick laugh to make it more personable.
“Completely understandable,” she says, not bothering to hide her smile. “There are always plenty of young female Omegas with slight builds at the Selection. You shouldn't have any trouble picking one, but I can tell you that there are only a couple brown-eyed blondes in the right age group. I can try to arrange a private meeting during the Selection, if you're interested?”
That would be perfect, and maybe a little too easy, but it would be stupid not to take the risk. “Really?”
She nods. “I'm a sucker for this kind of thing.”
That is actually surprising. “That would be wonderful. Here's my number.” I slide one of my business cards across the table before getting to my feet. “Thank you.”
~
There's a note on my door when I get to my office that afternoon. An unsigned note with a room number and a time written on it. I thought I'd get a note slipped to me when I arrived at the Selection, but this is better. If I can find a way to watch that room before the Selection opens, maybe I'll get a chance to sneak in and grab the Westover girl without going through a lot of hoops. I get the feeling that getting her out of the Selection and back home isn't going to be as simple as meeting her during my private viewing and leaving with her under my arm. There are always hoops, and I'd like to avoid them if I can.
What would be interesting is if I got the private viewing and it turned out to be somewhat ethical. Maybe The Baker acquired her through a nefarious avenue, but everything else is legitimate. It's far from the same thing, but people adopt children who have been kidnapped all the time without ever knowing. This could be a similar situation, but with an of age Omega going to an Alpha who has the money or the means to claim her before she steps a toe into the Selection. Apparently, trading the Alpha who works at the bakery gave me the means, because I certainly don't have the money.
I make my usual trip to the bakery on Friday. It's not going to do me any good to deviate from my usual activities after making an extra visit during the week. I'll just have to put the extra bagels into the freezer. Maybe I'll get wild one evening and bring someone home for the night. One night stands enjoy bagels as much as anyone else, right?
The wharf boys are harassing seagulls and anybody with a wallet when I pass by one of their usual haunts on the way home. As soon as they see me, they swarm me with demands for pizza. This has happened a few times before. Sometimes they're just hungry, but other times they want me to get them pizza because they've got something to say.
This is the latter.
“That girl,” the ring leader says. “The one you were looking for. You didn't tell us what she looks like, but we saw a car with a bunch of girls in the alley behind the bakery yesterday. And we saw you there on Wednesday. I don't know if one thing has anything to do with the other, but if we noticed, other people did, too.”
“You think so?” I ask and take a bite of my slice. I'm eating with them tonight. Dinner on a park bench with no dishes to wash is better than destroying my kitchen to make soup.
He nods, rolling his eyes. “Come on, Detective Dana. You know the whole neighborhood noticed. Nobody's talking about it, though. Everyone is kinda glad to see you actually going to the Selection. Why don't you go, anyway? I'd go if I was old enough.”
I swallow and take a drink to give myself time to come up with an answer I want him to have. He's a kid. He doesn't need the kind of detail I gave to the woman in the bakery. “I wanted to work on my career. You can't take care of an Omega or a pack if you can't pay the bills. And since we're talking about it, aren't you about old enough to start working somewhere? Maybe part time?”
“You offering to put me on payroll, Detective?” he asks, raising a brow.
“I don't know, kid. Do you have a driver's license?”
