Page 59 of Another Girl Lost

“No, upstairs in his bed.”

I’d never seen the upstairs.

“He couldn’t get it up,” she whispered. “I told him it was okay, but that made him mad. Then he tied me up. It hurt. And then he was rock solid.”

I rubbed my aching wrist. “That’s your idea of nice?”

“He said he liked me. He said he wanted us to live together. I liked that idea. And then he locked me in the house when he went to work. And then one day, he came home with a girl tossed over his shoulder.”

“The Other Girl?”

“I was so pissed. I told him I didn’t share. That’s when he started locking me down here. For a couple of days, the music blared upstairs. I heard screams.”

“Did he lock her in here with you?”

“No. He said he kept her chained somewhere in the house.”

“How long?”

“The last time I saw her was right before you came here.” She scooted her body closer to mine. Our shoulders brushed. “I haven’t seen her since.”

I didn’t move away this time, but suddenly I wondered if Della was working with Tanner. Was this one of his tests? But I couldn’t not ask. “How did he hide her from his girlfriend?”

“Some of us see what we want to see.”

“You mean his girlfriend knew there was a girl here suffering?”

“I don’t know how she couldn’t have seen something.”

Chapter Seventeen

SCARLETT

Sunday, July 14, 2024

6:00 p.m.

Date night: part two.

I’d walked around the block a couple of times. There had been no more Della sightings, and I was beginning to wonder if my obsession with her painting was now playing tricks on my brain.

I entered Ben’s, the small Italian-style eatery, taking in the white tablecloths, intimate tables, and long mahogany bar backed by hundreds of glistening liquor bottles. The servers wore dark pants, white shirts, and neat green aprons. I saw three marked exits. Luke, to his credit, wasn’t taking a shortcut tonight.

A young hostess greeted me with a smile. “May I help you?”

“I’m meeting someone. Luke Kane.”

The hostess glanced at an iPad. “Yes, he’s here. Let me take you to his table.”

I was a couple of minutes early, but he was already here. I couldn’t decide whether this was a good thing. He didn’t strike me as the anxious or eager type.

When I saw him, he was sitting with his back to the wall and reading something on his phone. Dressed in a blue button-down rolled up to his elbows, he wasn’t wearing a tie. A tuft of dark hair peeked out from the V created by the few unfastened buttons.

As the hostess and I approached, he looked up, our gazes locked, and he turned his phone face down and rose. He smiled but didn’t move around the table. Instead, he allowed the hostess to pull out my chair. I’d bet he’d done his internet search.

“You look amazing,” he said.

I’d been working nonstop after I left the Judge’s house and, when I’d realized the time, had showered quickly and scrubbed hard to remove the paints from my hands and arms. I left my hair loose around my shoulders and now it curled softly. The dress was a simple sapphire sheath, the crystal necklace a find at an art show, and the gladiator sandals a go-to. “Thank you.”

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