Page 24 of Diamonds & Deception

Avery grins. “Save that for the ladies. I never paid much attention, but from what I remember, Trey talked about him being a whiz with numbers. Kinda the same thing Owen said. He’s got a good business mind. The casino gig was his first out of college and kinda stuck with him. That’s all I really know. Drake doesn’t talk much about work?”

“No. Not at all.”

“Then he’s a keeper. I hate when I’m on a date, and all I hear is workplace gossip or complaining about shit I couldn’t care less about.”

“True.”

We finish our nachos, ward off a handful of guys who attempt to hit on us and say good night around ten. I don’t check my phone until I’m home, and I have two missed texts from Drake.

At first, I worry he’s being stalkerish or controlling with my time, but then I open them.

Drake: Not gonna lie. I’m a little envious of Owen right now. He texted me and bragged about seeing you while I’m stuck here at work.

And by the way, I’m only kidding. Well, not really. Owen did brag, but it was just to bust my chops. Counting down until Monday.

I resist the urge to respond and plug in my phone to charge while I’m sleeping. In the morning, I text him back.

Me: Sorry I missed your text. I had a good time with Avery. Trey’s lucky to have a sister like her. He must be a good guy too.

It sounds lame, and even lamer after I hit send. I’m not the best at hedging. I want information on Trey. He looks like the type who could kill someone. Or the guy you’d call if you need a body buried.

Drake texts immediately.

Drake: I’m blessed to have good friends. In a business meeting now so I can’t chat. Sorry!

He’s in a meeting but still takes the time to respond. What guy does that? A killer? A guy covering for a killer? I spend all day Sunday researching every person I’ve heard Drake or Avery mention, which isn’t many.

Trey Baxter from New Orleans doesn’t show much other than a work history at the casino. Avery Baxter has a few articles connected to her name. I skim through the ones announcing the dean’s list and her master’s degree at the University of New Orleans and the ones about her internships.

What catches my eye is an older article from twelve years ago. Lisa and Dean Baxter, parents of Avery Baxter, eighteen, and a sixteen-year-old son, were arrested on multiple drug trafficking charges. They had over five hundred thousand dollars’ worth of heroin and fentanyl on them, as well as more than a hundred grand in cash.

Also confiscated was an arsenal of illegal guns and bullets. They were sentenced to fifteen years with a chance of parole after ten.

There’s no mention of what happened to Avery and her brother, but she told me about having guardianship of him when he was sixteen.

Damn. Trey may be the missing link. There’s the possibility the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, and he’s picked up where his parents left off. Or maybe their parents are out of jail and work here at the casino and trouble followed them.

It still doesn’t explain my sister’s involvement. She was a blackjack dealer and not even in the high-stakes room. Maybe Trey was interested in her, and he got jealous of Owen?

No. That wouldn’t make any sense. The two of them seemed friendly at the bar last week. It just doesn’t make sense that there’s no urgency from the Boston Police to investigate her death. Sure, they’ve told my parents that they’re following everything by the book to make sure they don’t miss anything or taint any evidence, but I’m not buying it.

I haven’t seen them around the casino, and Drake hasn’t even hinted that the police are investigating not one, but two murders that could be connected to Four Aces. He doesn’t seem worried in the least, which is worrisome on its own.

My brain hurts from hitting so many dead ends. I close my laptop and change into my pajamas. No sooner am I slipping under the covers with a book than my phone chimes. I assume it’s Drake since he’s been quiet all day, but it’s a message from Avery.

Avery: Sorry to bug you at eight-thirty on a Sunday night, but I’m wondering if you wouldn’t mind grabbing a drink with me? I need someone to talk to.

I sit up and instantly respond.

Me: Absolutely. Do you want to meet somewhere, or do you want to come to my place?

Inviting her over is dumb. This isn’t even my place, not that Lenora will mind.

Avery: What’s your address?

I text her the location, put a bra on, and change into leggings and a large sweatshirt. It’s times like this I wish I took a self-defense class or a gun safety course. Hell, I’ve never even seen a gun in person before.

I glance out my windows every few minutes and then realize how stupid that is. I drop the blinds and step away from the windows, hoping I’m not being watched by the street. What if Avery is followed here?

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