Page 35 of Forbidden Wish

“Even from here I can see you’ve got a figure,” she said. “Play the field, baby, and put Jagg out for the rest of us to share too.”

“Would you tell me if he was coming here?”

“Confidentiality is important to our clients… So probably not.”

At least she was honest. “Can I talk to the other girls?”

“You start knocking on doors and Kenny will bust something. Boss is on his ass already. Supposed to have finished the work on ten and the plumbing’s still fucked. Don’t think he needs someone else riding his ass.”

“Sure.”

“But come back,” the woman said, wandering to her seat. “Any time. If Jagg’s here, you wait long enough, you’ll see him around.”

Good point and just the excuse she needed. The more time she spent there, the more she’d learn… and they’d be more open as they got to know her.

“Thanks,” she said, putting her hood back up. “I’ll do that.”

Damn, well, that wasn’t as informative as she’d hoped it would be. If Yvonne’s picture was there, she could call Lachlan and save the woman straight away.

Marathon. If it was a marathon instead of a sprint, she could only hope Yvonne had enough time. With every second that passed, the woman was enduring more pain, more torture, more… she couldn’t even imagine.

Hope.

Yvonne better be holding on. They needed time… would they have enough?

SIXTEEN

IN THE MORNING, they trawled the newspapers with breakfast. Nothing on more missing persons. Nothing on bodies found. Good. That was something. No other women had died. As far as the cops and the papers knew anyway.

Mila didn’t even ask about the jeans, so she didn’t offer an explanation. Wardrobe was low on the list of priorities.

Getting to Yvonne’s workplace was higher on the agenda.

That lunchtime, the building was bustling. People came and went. Commandeering colleagues on the street or in dark alleys may be more discreet, but they had to go inside to ensure they talked to the right people.

“Hi,” she said, projecting confidence in her voice. “I need to talk to someone about Yvonne Ingham.”

The startled receptionist glanced at Mila, then back at her. “Are you with the police?”

“I just have a few questions.” Not a denial, not a confirmation either. “I’d really appreciate it if someone could help us out… We can wait… as long as we have to.”

Something no business would want. People loitering around for all to see. People interested in the employee who’d gone missing under suspicious circumstances. Maybe she added that last part, but it was true.

“Let me see if I can…” Though the receptionist was hesitant, she picked up the phone. “I’ll see if her supervisor’s available.”

“Thank you.”

Reversing a step from the desk, she held her chin high. Confidence. She was a Stratford. Her father’s daughter. Her dad could talk his way in anywhere. The Ritz? No problem! A back-alley dive bar? Would be his home within the hour. Her high school French teacher’s panties? Easy as pie… or was that easiest pie? That had been a hell of a parent-teacher conference. Especially with her mom and Ted there too… But she got an A, which, come to think of it, she’d never thanked her dad for.

The receptionist jumped up as a door in the corner opened. The guy who came out didn’t look happy to see them. Could be a lead. Maybe this guy was their perpetrator. Did he and Yvonne have a thing? Had he wanted them to? Had the young beauty told him no one too many times?

Jagg came to mind. Hadn’t she told him she wasn’t the paranoid tweaker? Now everywhere she looked, there were clues and duplicity… Her father would be proud. “Suspect everyone” was one of his mottos. Though“always make friends with your enemy” was his favorite. How did those gel?

“Hello,” the guy said. “I’m Simon Langspring, Yvonne’s supervisor. What’s the problem?”

“No problem,” Imogen said, pleased to see the starch leave his shoulders as his eyes flicked between them.

That’s right. Just two pretty ladies, innocent, unthreatening… felt a little like drawing the fly into her web. Was she a predator? Some might say. Jagg, for example.

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