Chapter 9
nine
It took exactly three seconds for Naomi to remember why she hated casinos.
The Lucky Feather was a hellscape of slot-machine shrieks, piped-in pop music, and the chemical tang of sanitizer fighting a losing battle against cigarettes, alcohol, and cheap body spray.
Ghost stalked in behind her.
“Place gives me a headache,” she muttered, glancing over at him. His expression was as flat as always, but somehow she could still tell he hated it here, too.
His gaze swept the banks of slot machines, the clusters of regulars hunched over poker tables, the bar and its parade of lost souls.
The man missed nothing.
He nodded toward the back corner. “Manager’s office is past the buffet, left side. You want me with you, or invisible?”
“Let’s try invisible for now,” she said, already marching toward the glazed-glass door labeled STAFF ONLY. “But if someone throws me out, you have permission to go full John Wick.”
A flicker—maybe a smile—crossed his face, but then he was gone. He didn’t so much blend as recede; you looked away for one second and he’d evaporated.
No wonder they called him Ghost.
Naomi ducked through the door into a drab corridor that was the exact opposite of the casino floor. Industrial white walls, utilitarian gray carpet, and ugly fluorescents that made everything look like a crime scene photo.
Luckily, the hall was empty. She didn’t really want to explain why she was back here when she clearly wasn’t a staff member.
She passed a locker room, a break room where one dealer sat sipping coffee, and found the manager’s office door open at the end of the hall.
Taya Finley was perched behind a massive desk, phone sandwiched between her shoulder and ear. She wore a blue suit, glasses pushed up to her hairline, and the look of a woman five seconds from a nervous breakdown.
“No, I said comp his drinks, not give him the entire bottle. — Yes, I know he’s a ‘valued customer.’ — Yes. No. Yes. I’ll be right there.” She hung up without further pleasantries, then looked up and froze.
“Naomi Lefthand. I wondered when you’d show.”
“Hope you don’t mind me dropping by unannounced.”
Finley made a face. “This really isn’t a good time.”
“It’ll only take a minute.”
Taya pursed her lips, looked at her watch, then sighed and waved to one of the guest chairs. “Take a seat.”
Naomi did. “I need to see your time sheets. All of Leelee’s clock-ins, plus anyone who worked security the night she went missing.”
“Already sent them to the sheriff, but fine. I’ll print a copy.” Taya’s fingers blazed across the keyboard, her nails so short they looked bitten. The printer whined, spitting out paper at a glacial pace.
Naomi looked around. “You short-staffed tonight?”
“We’re always short-staffed.” She turned in her chair, gathering the sheets from the printer, and pushed them across the desk.
“Leelee was scheduled from four p.m. to midnight. Won the staff costume contest at ten-thirty.” A slight smile touched her lips.
“She was Cher from Clueless. The plaid outfit?”
“Her mom mentioned that.”
“It was a good costume. Accurate.” Her smile faded. “That night, I was closing out in the cash cage until almost one. I saw her leave through the side door, headed to the employee lot. I made a note of it because she waved. She always waved. Not everyone does, you know.”
“Did you see anyone follow her out?”
“No.” Her brow furrowed. “I wish I had.”
“What about inside? Any customers get too friendly that night? Anyone she had words with?”
Taya’s mouth twitched. “Not that night. She was a favorite with regulars. She could shut down a creep without making a scene, but if anyone pressed, she’d have reported it. And she didn’t.”
Naomi had read the HR files. She knew Leelee was universally liked—smarter than her job, but not so proud she let it show.
“Can I see the security footage?”
Taya hesitated. “I thought the sheriff’s office already pulled it.”
She sensed she was losing the woman and decided to go with the truth: “The sheriff has no interest in finding Leelee. Please, let me take a look.”
Taya exhaled slowly. “Okay. Come with me.” She rose, scooping up her badge and a ring of keys. She was taller than Naomi had expected, her long strides eating up the corridor as they headed for the security room. Nomai had to practically run to keep up.
At the end of the hall, Taya paused outside a locked door and tapped in a six-digit code.
Maybe she’d seen one too many heist movies, but Naomi had always thought that casinos had top-of-the-line security, with all kinds of guards and monitors and high-tech gadgetry.
This room was the size of a broom closet.
Three monitors blinked, each splitting into a grid of sixteen views—parking lot, floor, entrances, gaming tables.
Two chairs. One was occupied by a security guard who looked like he’d been carved out of wax and sadness.
Taya waved him away. “Go walk the floor. I’ll handle this.”
The guard grunted and left, leaving Naomi alone with Taya and the low hum of electronics.
Naomi slid into the still-warm seat. “Which feed shows the employee entrance?”
Taya leaned in, her perfume a sharp, clean note in the air. “That one,” she said and tapped the keyboard. “We have it saved to disk, in case there’s an incident. This is last Tuesday, right?”
“Right.”
Taya queued up the recording. The time stamp rolled from 23:55 to 00:12, and there was Leelee, clear as day, striding out in the yellow plaid getup. She high-fived a coworker, then headed for the back lot.
Naomi felt a familiar tightening in her chest. That was always the worst part of these reviews—knowing the next frame might be the last time anyone saw the person alive.
“There,” she said, jabbing a finger at the screen. “Pause. Can you zoom on the parking lot?”
Taya toggled the controls, bringing the image up. The lot was mostly empty. One car—a white Camry—crept past, but it didn’t slow down. Another, a black pickup with a crew cab, was parked under the far light, tailgate facing the exit. The license plate wasn’t readable. Of course.
“Can you roll forward?” Naomi asked.
Finley clicked ahead. At 00:14, the black truck’s lights flashed on. At 00:15, Leelee’s little green hatchback pulled out of the slot and took the side road toward the highway. At 00:16, the black truck followed.
Taya went very still. “Is it following her?”
Naomi nodded. “It’s the same model that’s shown up in three other cases. Who owns that truck? Anyone in the employee lot with a black crew cab?”
“Half the county,” Taya muttered, but her fingers moved fast. She scrolled through employee vehicle registrations, mumbling under her breath. “Not ours. Maybe a regular.”
Naomi watched the timestamp tick forward. At 00:19, the security feed flickered right when the truck’s license plate would be visible. At 00:20, the black truck was gone, the parking lot empty.
She pointed at the gap. “You see that? It skips.”
Taya frowned. “Maybe a glitch in the server.”
“Or maybe someone edited the feed.”
Finley looked alarmed. “Who the hell would do that?”
Naomi didn’t answer. She just watched the segment over and over, the little blank in the story, the neat surgical cut in an otherwise perfect record.
Either someone at the casino was covering their own ass, or Leelee’s abductor was smarter than anyone realized.
Either way, the lead had frayed to nothing.
The gaming floor was somehow louder on the way out. Naomi wove through a knot of drinkers, her mood shot through with cold fury. Four women, and the best she could tell their families was “maybe someone edited the tape.” She wanted to throw something. Or break something. Maybe both.
“Hey!” a voice slurred, and a heavy arm landed on her shoulder. The man reeked of gin and aftershave, one of those local types who thought a suit jacket over a tee made him a high roller.
“Lemme buy you a drink,” he said, squeezing her shoulder hard.
She yanked free, every muscle tight. “Not interested.”
He tried again, this time with both hands. “Aw, come on—”
Then Ghost was there, appearing from nowhere, and his hand landed on the drunk’s wrist. Just a light pressure, but the message was clear: move, or get moved.
The man looked from Ghost’s face to his hand, then back. He let go, held up his hands, and melted into the crowd.
“I had it handled,” Naomi said, rubbing her arm.
“Yeah, well, didn’t want to clean up a murder,” Ghost replied.
She tried to laugh, but it came out all jagged. “I can handle myself.”
“I know,” he said, and she almost believed it.
They stood there for a second, traffic parting around them, the electric glow painting both their faces strange colors. Naomi realized his hand was still close, not quite touching but not withdrawn. She wondered if he even noticed.
“Anything useful from the manager?” he asked.
She quickly filled him in. The truck, the footage, the missing second.
Ghost’s face didn’t change, but a muscle ticked in his jaw. “Who has access to the security server?”
“Maybe a dozen people,” she said. “But the sheriff’s office already reviewed it and didn’t say a word about the gap.”
He let out a breath. “Not a surprise.”
She rubbed at the ache in her arm where the drunk had grabbed her. Ghost’s gaze dropped to the mark, then flicked back to her face. He looked like he wanted to say something, but thought better of it.
“You want to keep at it, or call it?” he asked instead.
“Keep at it,” she answered instantly. “Always.”
His eyes crinkled, just at the corners. “Thought so.”
They started for the exit, walking side by side. Ghost didn’t say anything else, but as they passed the last row of slots, his hand hovered near her back—never quite touching, but close enough that she could feel the heat of it.
She hated how much she liked that.
They made it as far as the front lobby before a voice called out a little too loudly: “Nomi, is that you?”
She bit back a groan. Julius. Her cousin, the family’s self-appointed agent of chaos, was standing at the roulette table, a stack of chips in one hand and a whiskey tumbler in the other.
He looked almost respectable—dark shirt, crisp jeans, short black hair swept back with a little too much product—but the grin was pure trouble.
Naomi pinched the bridge of her nose. “Jules. Please tell me you’re not gambling again.”
Julius laughed, a deep, rolling sound that drew stares from half the females in the room. He always had that effect on women. “Business, not pleasure, cuz.”
She didn’t bother pointing out that there was no version of reality where wildlife officers needed to meet at a casino. He’d have an excuse. He always did.
“Yeah, I’ll tell Grandma Ava you’re working hard.”
“Aw, come on.” Julius scooped his chips off the table and swaggered over, arm already extended for a hug. “She loves me. And so do you.”
“I love you like a horse loves a fly,” Naomi said, but she didn’t dodge the hug. He squeezed her tight, smelling like Old Spice and too much alcohol, then released her with a theatrical sigh.
“You know, a call would’ve been nice. I had to hear you were home through the Solace rumor mill.”
“Yeah, sorry about that. It was…” She trailed off. Even if she could put into words the desperate need to escape her old life, how it was slowly suffocating her, now was not the time or place to do so. So she settled on, “It was a last-minute decision.”
“Hey.” His tone softened, and he cupped her face in his free hand, waiting until she tilted her head up to meet his gaze. A frown marred his handsome face. “You okay, Rabbit?”
She swallowed against the sudden lump in her throat. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
Ghost hovered just behind her shoulder, silent as always, but she felt his body heat. For a second, it actually made her want to lean back and let him take some of the weight crushing her shoulders.
Instead, she forced a smile. “I’m working, that’s all. You got a minute, or you busy bankrupting the tribe?”
“Aw, Nomi, don’t be like that.” Julius pulled her in tight for another hug, and warmth spread through her. It felt damn good to be home among her people, her family. “You know I’ve got all the time in the world for you.”
“Were you here on Tuesday?” Ghost asked, drawing Julius’s attention for the first time.
“You’re one of Walker Nash’s guys, aren’t you?” He turned back to her, brow furrowed. “What are you doing running around with a con? That can’t play well with your superiors at the Bureau.”
She dodged the question. “This is Owen.” She regretted using his real name the moment it left her lips. It felt strangely intimate. Should’ve stuck with Ghost. “He’s helping me run down leads on Leelee Padilla’s disappearance.”
The hair prickled on her arms as she watched the two men size each other up. Ghost just stood there, arms loose at his sides, not giving away a damn thing. The line of his jaw might have sharpened, but the rest of him was pure blank slate.
Julius broke first, letting out that bit-too-loud laugh of his.
“Ah, well, sorry, I won’t be much help. I wasn’t here on Tuesday.
I was handling a poaching case up by Kootenai Creek.
Didn’t even get back until Wednesday morning.
You can ask the Fish and Game dispatch. Or, better yet, ask Grandma Ava.
She’ll tell you I’m her favorite and she always knows where I’m at. ”
Naomi doubted that last part—their grandmother always complained that Julius was like the trickster Coyote, too smart for his own good, too slippery to ever pin down. But she didn’t call him out on that.
Instead, she asked, “Did you know Leelee at all?”
“Just by name. Never really talked to her, other than to order drinks.”
Yet another dead end.
He must have noticed her disappointment because he added, “If you want, I can ask around, see if any of my friends were here on Tuesday. Maybe someone saw something and they just don’t realize it.”
“I’d appreciate it.”
“Anything for my Little Rabbit.” One of the men at the roulette table called his name, and Julius flashed a two-fingered salute. “Duty calls. Try not to get into too much trouble, cuz. And Owen? Keep an eye on her, yeah? I joke, but she’s the actual favorite in our family.”
She scoffed. “Oh, shut up.”
“It’s true, which is fine by me. Frees me up to be the black sheep. Every family needs one.”
Naomi snorted. “Jules, you’re not any kind of sheep. You’re a raccoon in a human suit. Mostly out for yourself, occasionally cute, likely to bite if cornered.”
Julius pressed a hand to his chest and staggered like she’d shot him through the heart. “Love you, too, Nomi.”
“Oh, go on.”
Julius’s laugh boomed as he slipped back into the crowd, his laughter lingering long after he was gone.