It probably wasn’t smart, what I was about to do, but I had a feeling that Kat had been lying to me about Molly’s whereabouts. She never came right out and said whether or not she and Terry had found my sister and each time I asked for an update on her alleged search, her answers grew more and more vague. There was one person I knew had the answers I was search for, the question was, would she give me those answers?
She might have changed her name from Savannah Rhymer to Savannah O’Connor, sold off her fancy family estate, and bought a shiny new office building, but that didn’t change who or what she was.
She was still a fucking monster. And for some damn reason, I was headed right into the belly of the beast.
Inside the lobby of the five-story building, I faced a giant black desk manned by a woman with straight blonde hair, pale skin and a bitchy smile on her face. “How may I help you?”
“You can’t,” I told her and strolled right past the desk toward the bank of elevators on the left.
“You can’t just walk in without warning,” she barked at me, her heels clicking at a fast clip behind me. “You need an appointment and an escort.”
“I’m here to see your boss, Savannah. She’s available, right?”
Ms. Heels sighed and nodded toward the sleek black desk. “Why don’t you follow me, and I’ll see if I can get you in to see her?”
“Or you could just escort me up?”
A moment later, a burly security guard came down on the second elevator and eyeballed me warily. “You Madison?”
“Yep.”
“Come on,” he grunted and stepped back inside the elevator. The ride up wasn’t that long but the guard managed a few good warnings. “Next time, just call.”
“I couldn’t risk she’d say no. Or worse.”
The guy shrugged his wide shoulders as the doors opened. “She’s not all that pleased at the moment, so good luck.”
“Yeah, thanks. Sorry for the hassle.”
“Don’t worry about it. Just worry about pissing off the boss.” He tapped on the door and pushed it open. “Good luck.”
I walked into an enormous corner office with Savannah sitting behind an impressive desk.
“Madison.” She flashed a pearly white grin that almost seemed genuine and I probably would have believed her, if I didn’t know firsthand just how full of shit she was. “How are you?”
“I’m worried, Savannah. Mostly about my sister, Molly. Remember her?” I knew it was silly, some might say crazy, to taunt Savannah, but I needed answers, dammit.
She gave a short nod and motioned for me to take a seat, which I considered refusing, just so I could stand over her. Then I relented. It seemed a stupid move and slid into a chair opposite her. I could be badass at eye level.
“I know you came to Nevada to search for Molly, but I don’t know your sister, Madison.”
“But you know where Mueller buried her body?” My voice sounded as desperate as I felt. “Right?”
“No, Madison, I don’t know that, and I wouldn’t even be able to guess where she, or her body, might be.”
Savannah let out a frustrated sigh and set her blue gaze on mine, sympathy evident for all to see even though we were completely alone.
“Why would I know her whereabouts?”
I sat back in the seat and folded my arms, glaring at her stupid, pretty face. “Don’t act stupid with me. Mueller and your old man were thick as thieves, or traffickers. I know he was directly involved in my sister’s disappearance, so don’t even bother denying it. Just tell me where she is.”
I knew I should be afraid or at the very least, cautious, but this was my chance to get answers. Real answers about Molly.
“Contrary to what you or the Ashby’s think, I wasn’t that involved in the details of the family business. I had ideas, but mostly I handled the books.”
“Sure,” I snorted, ignoring the glare she sent my way. “You told Sadie Ashby you knew where the bodies were buried. Back when they held you captive. I just want to know where my sister is. Is she alive? Dead? How fucking hard is that?”
The bitch let out a long sigh. “I don’t remember saying that, but if I did, I was lying. Probably negotiating for my life at the time. The Ashby’s aren’t known for their hospitality.”
“So you don’t know where she is?”
“I don’t. I know you probably don’t believe me, but I’m trying to be helpful.”
She was right, but none of that mattered, not when I thought of Molly sad and scared somewhere, alone. Or worse, dead. “Try harder, then. Please.”
“Mueller was getting weak,” she began and shook her head. “My father complained more than once about how he was lax enough to let some girls….. escape. Maybe Molly was one of the escapees.”