Page 64 of Duty and Desire
Mo just stared at him.
Hawk got his meaning and because he did, he shared, “Callin’ in a favor with a friend at the FBI. That religious fanaticism shit, Lottie might not be the first for this asshole. Sent him a copy of the letter, he’s gonna run it through their system to see if there’s any language quirks that match.”
Good.
Mo nodded.
“Postmark gives us nothing,” Hawk carried on. “Doing an analysis on printer, toner, paper, envelope, stamp. Stamp was self-adhesive, so no DNA, also no print, which does not bode well. Could be some on the flap. Took prints off the letter. Got one of our friends at DPD to run ’em.”
Lottie hadn’t touched the actual letter, just a copy.
The actual letter would have his, Hawk’s, Smithie’s and maybe the perp’s prints on it.
Mo hoped like hell if it did, the guy was in the system so this could all be over and quick for Lottie, but also for him.
“Jorge and I had a sit down with all the bouncers and bartenders on tonight. Tomorrow, we’ll hit any who were off tonight. And the dancers,” Hawk continued. “Askin’ if anyone’s seen someone that gives off a bad vibe, a regular that creeps them out, anyone who’s said something that’s off.”
“Know the drill, Hawk,” Mo reminded him. But he asked, “Anyone give you anything?”
“It’s a strip club. Every second asshole out there gives off a bad vibe, creeps someone out or says something that’s off.”
Great.
“We’ll get him and we’ll get him quick, Mo,” Hawk assured him.
Mo nodded again.
The music ended, the crowd went wild, and without an order from Hawk, or a word to him, Mo pivoted fully and strode swiftly down the hall.
He met Lottie coming off the stage, shrugging on a robe.
She barely glanced at him before she rushed across the hall to the dancers’ dressing room.
“Man coming in!” she called as she pushed through the door.
He hesitated a beat, two, but that was all he gave it for the girls to get situated before he followed her.
He was fighting a sea of strippers heading the other way as he walked in.
“Got it covered, Mo,” he heard Hawk call.
Mo glanced over his shoulder, lifted his chin at his boss, then looked away before the door closed him in on Lottie.
He’d been in there earlier as she got ready, sitting in front of one of those mirrors with the lights all around that you see in movies, makeup and hair shit scattered all over the shallow counter in front of it. She’d gotten dressed behind a screen, something that had surprised him, considering what she did for a living, but after watching her act the first time, he was grateful for it.
The other dancers had clearly been warned about his presence before they’d showed.
Some of them did the behind-the-screen thing, some of them did their thing right out in the open.
He didn’t watch. He wasn’t there for material to have a yank later.
But he was beginning to understand the difference between life and performance.
This was their space, and for some of them, they needed it safe.
Out there, it was a job for bills only.
Other than that, Mo hadn’t bothered to take much else in because he didn’t give a shit what a stripper’s dressing room looked like.
