Page 29 of Blind Luck

Ouch. “Yikes. I mean, I’m sorry.”

“Can we just get on with the job we’re here to do? We should book a sightseeing trip—I’ll pay.”

“I already thought of that, and there are no spaces left.”

“So now we go back to the hotel and wait for Kelsey to show up?”

“No, we wait here for the helicopter to take off. She’s on the eight thirty tour.”

I steered Rusty toward a spot in the shade and checked my phone. Nothing from Ari. She hadn’t magically solved the Cole-slash-Galaxy case and wrapped everything up before breakfast. Her breakfast, not mine. On a regular day, she woke up three hours later than I did and sleepwalked around the house until she’d downed her first cup of coffee. I began typing out an update.

Rusty fiddled with his phone too, and I got the impression he’d told me more than he wanted to about the girl he’d lost. Was it the homecoming queen? His high-school sweetheart? I felt kind of bad for him.

At eight thirty-two, a red helicopter rose over the top of the building, and I squinted at its tail. N-997CJ. That was the registration number, and it meant I’d be able to track the aircraft.

N-997CJ.

N-997CJ.

I added the number to the message I’d written and sent it to Ari along with the six names. When Kelsey returned, I’d be waiting to meet her, and hopefully, I’d be armed with a few facts too.

CHAPTER 9

ARI

Bite Delite was the shittiest diner in the shittiest part of Las Vegas. Right now, I was sitting in the parking lot, waiting for Big Daddy to show up for breakfast. His daughter called him “Papa,” but the “big” part was accurate. The guy had to be six and a half feet tall and almost the same wide.

The last time I saw him, he’d been driving an ancient Jeep with the suspension sagging noticeably on the driver’s side. Despite having the aesthetic of a small mountain, he didn’t worry me as much as the trio of kids eyeing me up from the table just inside the door.

If I left my car for long, I wouldn’t be surprised to find my wheels missing when I returned.

So, why was I waiting outside the diner that held the dubious record of the most Vegas health violations in a single year? Because Big Daddy’s brother owned it, and even the health inspectors were too scared to shut it down completely. Big Daddy had long been an acquaintance of the Sad Hatter, not because of any affinity with drugs but because they’d gone to high school together. I checked mywatch again. Eight twenty-seven—maybe slightly early for Big D. He was more of a night owl.

Ironically, Big D was also the nickname of one of Zach’s former housemates, but I’d met Dawson Masters, and I suspected he’d gotten the moniker for a very different reason. I loved Zach, of course I did, but I wasn’t blind.

Anyhow, I figured I might as well do something useful and call Alexa. Her whereabouts were a mystery, and her sleep pattern was more of a Jackson Pollock painting, so there was a fifty-fifty chance she’d pick up. I dialled her through the app she’d installed on my phone without permission, and she answered on the third ring.

“What?”

“Do you greet everyone so cordially?”

“That depends on whether I like them or not. If this is a social call, I’m going back to sleep.”

Oh, so shedidsleep.

“I need a favour.”

“That’s more like it.”

“You have access to the security cameras at the Galaxy, right?”

“Of course,” she said.

“Is there a camera in the Library?”

“The library-library, or the Library bar?”

“There’s a library-library?”

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