Page 30 of Shaken Knot Stirred

“She was a child. That doesn’t mean she was an active participant.”

Another shrug. “Just before her 16th birthday, she convinced a security guard to let her go out for ice cream. By herself. She never came back.”

“And then what?”

“Nothing,” Houston said with a shrug. “She was totally off the grid. In the wind. No medical records, no tax records until about 10 years later. She was issued three paychecks by the Hotel Pantheon. Her base pay was meager, but her tips and gratuities were staggering.”

“Fuck.” I sat back for a second, thinking about that. No wonder Moxie could go up against alphas four times her size. She knew exactly what buttons to push to get the effect that she wanted.

“How long ago was that?” I asked.

“Little over 2 years.”

“And then she bought the bar.”

“The bar isn’t in her name. Shell company. I couldn’t find any information on that.”

“Can I…” I shook my head slightly to focus. Moxie’s haunted eyes stared up at me. Retribution for past hurts could come later.I stacked up the papers and pinned them to the table with my coffee cup.

“You said you would canvas the area around the Delta Lounge for cameras?”

“Not a lot of luck there,” he said. “I got a few folks who hung up on me, not wanting to talk to outsiders. I might have better luck if I went in person, but you wanted speed, not depth.”

I nodded, barely able to keep my eyes off her picture.

“I did manage to get a video from a gas station,” Houston continued. He handed me his phone and pressed play. I watched it over a couple of times. It was a five-second clip. A woman ran into the parking lot. A man followed, made a grab for her, got her wig, and then got her around the waist before she could get away.

The wig made me think it was Moxie, but it was grainy. I couldn’t see her clearly or the guy.

“That’s it?” I asked.

“The camera isn’t positioned well. Here.” He brought up another video. “This is about a minute later.” An image of a truck sped down the street like it was chased by demons.

“Okay. If you were stealing a girl, what would you do next?”

All emotion wiped from Houston’s face. “She’s not a girl. She’s an auracle.”

“Meaning?”

Houston blew out a breath and tugged on his cuffs, before interlacing his fingers and resting his fists on the table.

“We all know and refuse to talk about it in polite company, about the black market trade for omegas. Auracles are said to have mystical powers, mind reading, healing, you name it. Real or not, that makes them a rare commodity. And according to her employees, there was money involved.” He shrugged again, but this time, it was forced almost, like he was feigning disinterest.

I closed my eyes briefly to push aside all the implications.

“I need to know where she is.”

“I’ll have to go canvas in person. See if I can pull up any more video footage.”

I stood. The room was getting too small. I needed space to breathe.

“Bill my brother.” I went to snag the stack of papers. Houston held them down with a finger.

“Something about this doesn’t sit right with me. You’re going to go off half cocked and make a mess. Call me, and I’ll help you clean it up.”

He let go of the papers and I transferred them to my inside pocket before heading out the door. The air outside was crisp and smelled like money. Corinthia Boulevard was home to boutiques and wine bars, landscaped within an inch of its life to cater to the disposable income set.

I walked past the first subway station and the second. Being confined might not be safe for others right now.

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