Chapter One
TARA
"You're sure this is the woman you saw?" I ask, shoving another picture of my sister Samantha in front of the former stripper's face.
She snaps her bubble of gum in my face. "Yes, for the last time. I saw her brought into the Viper's Nest just after Christmas. I remember her long dark hair. I wish I had hair like that."
She twirls a lock of her thin, light brown hair around her finger.
"Viper's Nest, where's that?" I ask, my hands shaking as I try to make a neat pile of the photos I've been showing her.
She chuckles, revealing two rows of teeth in need of a serious cleaning, and flips a lock of my long, blonde hair off my shoulder. "Not somewhere you’d want to be, Princess. It's a bikers club HQ, and they're all true outlaws there; killers, not something you can handle."
"Tell me," I snap.
A few other women edge closer to where we're standing just outside the large dining hall of the shelter, leaning in and trying to listen in on our conversation.
"Why's this girl so important to you?" the stripper asks, tapping the stack of photos in my hand with a broken fingernail.
"She's her sister," one of the eavesdropping women explains. "Been missing almost a year now. Right, Tara?"
I'm glad she butted in and answered the question, because there's no way I could've done it without my voice cracking.
"That's right," I manage to mutter.
"It's the HQ of Viper's Bite biker club in Arbor, right on the county line. You must've heard of it," the stripper says, brushing down her tight skirt. "You don't want to make the mistake of going there by yourself, and you don't want to involve the cops either. They're all connected. And if you do, don't tell them I sent you."
Fear is plain in her eyes, as she stares at me, waiting for some sort of confirmation. Despite her tough words, she's scared.
"I won't," I assure her.
She nods curtly, then snaps another bubble and enters the dining hall.
My hands are shaking even worse now, my heart racing in my throat. But excitement is rising too, hope blossoming around my heart, filling my chest so fast it's hard to breathe. This is the first real lead I've had since my sister disappeared last September. It's the end of May now.
"She's right, Tara," the woman who butted in says. "Don't go there by yourself. Hell, I'd go with you, but you and the other counselors here keep telling me I should stay away from my old life. Though I could use a good time once in awhile."
She laughs after she says it, a grating sound with no mirth to it. The women at the shelter laugh a lot, but it's never a happy sound. Living a hard life will take away your laugh. I hardly remember my own anymore.
"Go into the dining room now, it's almost dinnertime," I say, stuffing the photos of my sister into the back pocket of my jeans. "You just have a nice rest tonight, and don't worry about me."
That's right, no one should worry about me. Just like no one ever has. No one ever cared for my sister either. I'm all she has. Sure, the cops and the FBI are looking for her, Daddy made sure of that. That’s all just for show. He hasn't actually contacted the cops working the case since New Year's. I know because I pester the detective for new information almost daily. I don't speak to my dad much. Most days, I'm sure he'd prefer both Samantha and me to be gone.
The sun has almost set, and a cold wind blowing in from the ocean hits me directly in the face as I exit the women's shelter I've been working at for the past two years. I'd planned to leave early today, go for a swim before I went home, but I ended up staying all day, like I always do. At least I got a solid lead on where Samantha might be. Unless the stripper was lying.
Samantha never stopped making fun of me for getting a degree in social services, and for taking a job here in this shelter for former sex workers and abused women. But it's the only place where I ever felt like I matter, like I can do some good. I can help these poor women heal, which helps me in return. Despite her insistence that I should have more fun, worry less, get a job that didn't dredge up old pain daily, I think Samantha understood that, even admired me a little for it. I can almost hear Samantha's harsh laugh as I think that last thought. She lost her laugh too. If I think really hard, I still remember it from back when we were kids, building sand castles in the playground on my father's huge estate.
