Page 38 of The House Beyond the Dunes

“Nikki.” I jab my thumb toward Nikki’s trailer. “The young woman who lives here.”

“Don’t know a thing about her. Has she lived here long?”

“A couple of weeks.” I glance at the group. Most of them are so drunk I doubt they can remember their own names. “Anyone else seen Nikki?”

One guy with thinning shoulder-length brown hair, deeply tanned skin, and a gold front tooth sips a beer. “I saw her Friday night. She was rushing to work.”

“Was she with anyone?” I ask.

“Nope,” the guy says. “All alone. But she’s had guys here before.”

“Who hasn’t?” the first woman says.

“Any of these guys hurt her?” I press.

The man sips his beer again. “I don’t put my nose in anyone’s business.”

“Did anyone hear screams or shouts coming from the trailer in the last twenty-four hours?”

A few folks shake their head no.

Back in my car, I’m frustrated that it’s so easy for any of us to vanish. Women like Nikki go missing all the time, and generally someone has heard something, even if they won’t admit it.

I grab my bat and get back out of my car. I call out to the woman I just spoke to. “Hey, is there a manager here?”

She lights a cigarette. “Lois takes the rent for the slots. She’s in the first trailer.”

“Thanks.” I still might get lucky and find someone who’s seen her or noticed something.

As I approach the manager’s trailer door, music pulses. Sounds like country western. Not my cup of tea, but what the hell. I bang one fist on the door and grip the bat with the other.

The music stops, and footsteps thud across what sounds like a carpeted floor. There’s a hesitation, and then the door opens. The woman standing in front of me is tall and heavyset, and she wears her salt-and-pepper hair in an uneven ponytail.

“I’m Stevie Palmer.” Attitude is critical. Can’t let them get a whiff of nerves or indecision. “I’m here about Nikki.”

“Why?” the woman asks.

“She owes me money. I’m looking for her. Trying to collect.” If I sound the alarm about the blood in her trailer, this woman’s going to lock up.

“Good luck. Haven’t seen her in days. Rent is due each week, and this will be the third time she’s been late.” There’s a slight hesitation in her gaze. “Who are you?”

I ignore the question. “Any idea where she went?”

“None.”

“Does she have a roommate or a friend who might know where she’s gone?”

“She did have a roommate for two weeks. Jana moved out a few days ago.”

That was before Nikki went missing. “Were Nikki and Jana having troubles?”

Lois’s expression fills with frustration. “As long as the rent arrives on time and I don’t have to deal with cops, I don’t ask.”

“Did Jana leave a forwarding address?” I’m shoving questions at her as fast as possible before she starts firing her own back.

“She did, but I’m not giving that out.”

I pull two twenties from my back pocket. “Just a little hint. I’m not looking for trouble. Just what’s owed me.”

---