Wild Rabbit (Tyson Wild Thriller #91)

Chapter 1

“I’m worried about her,” Bebe said. “I haven’t seen or heard from her in a few days.”

With raven hair worthy of a shampoo commercial, lustrous blue eyes, and a figure that could give you heart palpitations, Bebe was easy to talk to. Though she could leave most men speechless.

“Could she have run off with somebody?” I asked, standing in the hallway just outside the apartment she shared with Kendall.

“I mean, yeah. That wouldn’t be unusual. But she always tells me where she’s going and who she’s with. She always checks in with me when she gets there. It’s like a buddy system.”

“When was the last time you talked to Kendall?”

“I don’t know. Thursday, maybe?”

“Did she talk to you about her plans for the weekend?”

“She said she had a date lined up for Friday night. That’s all I remember.

I was out Thursday night and didn’t get back to the apartment until Saturday.

I just thought it was weird. All her stuff is here—makeup, suitcase, clothes.

It doesn’t look like she went anywhere,” Bebe said with worried eyes.

I exchanged a look with JD.

“Do you know who she had a date with?”

Bebe shook her head.

“So this was a new guy?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

“Is she seeing anybody else?”

“She’s got her regulars, but no steady boyfriend.”

"Regulars?” I asked.

Bebe cringed and gave me a sheepish look.

Her expression told me everything I needed to know. "She's a working girl?"

"That's one way of putting it."

“And the guy she went out with on Friday is a customer.”

"As far as I know.”

"What about you?"

She gave another sheepish shrug. "Just so we’re clear, we’re not like street hookers or anything.”

"Of course not.”

"We both offer a more refined girlfriend experience. Dinner, drinks, a good time. Cuddling afterward. The only difference is we don't nag or bitch.” She smiled. “We listen to all your problems and tell you how wonderful you are. And by the way, nobody's paying for sex, they’re paying for company.”

I regarded her with a high degree of skepticism.

“Sex is always at my discretion. Hell, half the guys aren’t even interested in that. They just want somebody to appreciate them."

"Relax. I'm not gonna bust you. We’re Special Crimes, not vice.”

Bebe looked a little relieved.

"Do you mind if we take a look around the apartment?” I asked.

"Sure. No problem.” A quizzical look tensed her brow. "Do you think she could have been abducted from here?”

"Do you ever bring clients back to the apartment?”

She shook her head emphatically. "No. No clients here. That would be weird. We like to separate our professional and private lives.”

"Do you currently have a regular boyfriend?"

The question made her a little uneasy. "Sort of.”

"Does he know about your line of work?”

"We’re getting to that point, I think. But no. I haven't told him yet. Why?"

"Just curious.”

Bebe stepped aside and motioned us into the apartment.

The Delphine was a nice, upscale midrise, popular with young professionals.

The unit was typical with gray hardwood floors, modern furniture, and coastal accents.

Pastel seascapes hung on the wall. There was a 10-speed bike on the balcony, along with a barbecue grill and a few plastic lounge chairs.

The unit had a split design with bedrooms on either side of the living room.

A large flatscreen display sat atop the entertainment center in the living room.

Bebe showed us to Kendall's bedroom. She opened the door, and we stepped in and looked around. It was tidy with a few articles of clothing strewn on the floor. There was a laptop on a desk. A closet full of clothes and a roller case. In the bathroom, makeup and toiletries were scattered about.

Just as Bebe had said, it didn't look like Kendall had gone anywhere for the weekend.

On the dresser was a photo of Bebe with a striking blonde. They were both dolled up, wearing skimpy cocktail dresses. With drinks in hand, it looked like they were out on the town. I picked it up and took a closer look. “Is this Kendall?”

Bebe nodded. “We got so wasted that night.”

I studied the image. Kendall was a heartbreaker, alright—tawny eyes, tan skin, long legs, all the right curves.

I set the picture down, then took a seat at the desk. I tapped a key on the laptop, and the security screen flashed. "You know her password?"

Bebe shook her head.

I tried several common passphrases, but nothing worked.

“How do you normally get your bookings?”

"Mostly through social media. We both have websites, and sometimes clients contact us from the email address listed. We also have For the Fans sites, and a lot of the requests come through there."

"I would think with the kind of money you could make online, you wouldn’t need to do in-person services," I said.

Bebe frowned. "Some of those girls are making $1 million a month. Some of them more. But those are outliers. I guess it takes time to build up a large following. Right now, that’s not paying the bills.

I'm just going on dates. The guys pay for everything, take me to exotic locations, and if the mood hits me, they get lucky.

I can't really see how that's different than a normal relationship, except everybody knows the score. It’s a little more honest.”

"How often does the mood hit you?" JD asked.

She gave him a flat look.

"I can’t imagine you’d have a lot of repeat business if expectations weren’t met."

"Honey, I meet all expectations,” she said in a sassy voice. “Let's just say I can make myself get in the mood whenever I need to.” She looked at Jack with sultry eyes.

"I bet you can."

"You mind if I take the laptop and have our computer guys look at it?” I asked. “Maybe we can find some communication from Kendall’s last client.”

Bebe hesitated. Her face tensed, and she bit her lip. "What if Kendall’s not missing? What if she really did just go away for the weekend? I don't want to violate her privacy or anything like that.”

"If she turns up, just give me a call, and we’ll bring the laptop right back. I promise if we find anything incriminating on her laptop, we’ll ignore it. I just want to make sure she's okay.”

Bebe nodded. "Sure. Do whatever you need to do.”

I closed the laptop, took the charger and wrapped it up, then scooped the device from the table. “Do either of you have a manager?”

“You mean, like a pimp?”

“Yeah.”

“No, we’re independent.”

“How do you keep clients in line?”

“We vet them thoroughly. Online research. And then there’s always Smith and Wesson.”

“You carry?”

“Always. But I’ve never had an issue. Like I said, at the rate these guys are paying, you get treated well. They’ve got too much to lose to do anything stupid.”

“If that were true, we wouldn’t be here, would we?”

She frowned, and fear crept into her eyes.

I gave Bebe a card and told her to get in touch if she heard from Kendall. “Be careful out there.”

Another grim frown tugged her lips, and she nodded.

Bebe escorted us to the door, and we said our goodbyes.

JD and I banged on neighboring doors, but no one remembered seeing anything suspicious. The Delphine had video cameras in the lobby and the parking garage, but not in the hallways. We talked to the property manager and pulled feeds from Friday afternoon and evening.

We huddled around Patty’s desk and watched the monitor. A glimpse of Kendall walking through the lobby around 7:00 PM flashed on the screen. Somebody had either picked her up or she had hopped into a rideshare. There wasn’t an angle on the parking lot.

The property manager exported the clip, and I sent it to the sheriff. It wouldn’t do us much good, but might be handy to have in evidence.

We thanked Patty, then headed down to the lobby and stepped outside. The Florida sun beamed bright.

I texted Isabella and asked her to track Kendall’s phone. As the head of one of the largest clandestine agencies, she had quite a few intelligence resources at her disposal.

As we walked back to the Porsche, Jack said, "That girl is either on a yacht somewhere or in a dumpster."

He was probably right about that. I hoped it was the former.