“Pulled out?”

He nodded. “Their network worked a bit like the Underground Railroad, only taking the girls to slavery rather than out of it. They would move them from location to location, sometimes under false pretenses—telling them they were going to be an actress, a model, something. When we got intel on a girl or group of girls, we slid in. The three of us, some of our security staff, it depended on the situation.”

“But didn’t that blow the whole operation? They’d know they were made before there was sufficient evidence to convict.”

“That’s why we couldn’t get out all the girls. We had to play it safe. Go in as if we were clients. Or representing some foreign royal who was looking for a mistress. Sometimes we just initiated a car wreck and otherwise made it look like the girls simply escaped. Point is, we were creative.”

“And you got the girls. That’s wonderful,” I said, meaning it.

“Not all of them,” he said, his voice heavy.

“You made a difference,” I countered, reaching out to brush my hand over his. “And you brought them here?”

“Most. Some had homes, but most were lost already. Runaways, homeless. Wannabe actresses who got sucked into the seamy side of the dream. If they didn’t have a place to go home to, we gave them one, and we gave them a job. Dancing if they were able. Waiting tables if they weren’t.”

“And more,” I said. “Maisie said something about a scholarship?”

“She’s exaggerating, but yes. If they stay clean and keep their grades up, we help them get an education. And if they need help finding a job, we help them with that, too.”

“You three are amazing,” I couldn’t keep the emotion out of my voice. It felt a little like pride, and a whole lot more like respect. “Thank you for telling me. For bringing me here.”

We were standing on the front porch, looking out at the beautiful lawn and the graceful old trees and the women who were making a better life there.

He hesitated before speaking. “It was important to me that you see it.”

“Why?” My word was so soft, I feared he couldn’t hear it. And I held my breath, waiting for his reply.

“Because I’m proud of it. And because I wanted to share it with you.” He reached for my hand, then twined his fingers in mine.

“Thank you,” I said softly, and squeezed.

Behind us, the door banged open. “Tyler! Hey!”

I turned to find a twenty-something girl with a pixie haircut and dancing green eyes.

“Caroline, what are you doing here? I thought you were living on campus these days.”

“Yup,” she said. “Loving it. But Sunday, right? Maisie and I are gonna take in a movie.” She blew a pink bubble and popped it.

He nodded, then turned to me. “Caroline used to live here.”

“Loved it, too,” Caroline said. “But the dorm is super convenient. So you’re looking for Amy?”

She said all of that without taking a breath as far as I could tell. “I am,” I said. “Do you know her?”

“Not well, but I’m friends with Darcy, and she and Amy hung.”

My stomach twisted with disappointment. “Tyler already talked to Darcy. Amy sent her a postcard from Vegas. I’m trying to figure where in Vegas she landed. A friend’s having a baby. I want to make sure she comes back in time.”

Caroline shook her head. “Don’t know. But the guy with the other job might know.”

I met Tyler’s eyes. “What other job?” he asked.

“A customer. One of the guys who gets a lap dance every once in a while. Big guy. Handsome, but gray at the temples. He does all the Cokes and stuff.”

“Big Charley,” Tyler said, then glanced at me. “Vending machine sales, rental, and maintenance. Cole and I contract with him for some of our properties, actually.”

“Yeah.” Caroline smiled. “That’s him. She told me he’d offered her a job. Guess she ended up going with another offer—I figure there was a guy—but maybe she told Big Charley where she was going instead.”

“Thanks,” I said. “That’s really helpful.”

She nodded, then glanced at Tyler, her expression turning sad. “Emily and Amy were pretty tight,” she said. “They only overlapped for a few weeks, but they totally hit it off.”

“I remember,” he said.

“Any news?” she asked, before I had a chance to ask where I could find Emily.

“None,” Tyler said. He turned to me, his face grave. “Emily’s one of ours. She quit a couple of months ago, and then was found dead not long after.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“What they’re saying is bullshit,” Caroline said. “Emily wouldn’t turn tricks.” She turned to me. “The cops said that a john messed her up. Left her for dead.”

“You don’t believe it?”

“No way.”

Tyler shook his head. “It’s hard to fathom. She was strong-willed and smart. I never thought she’d turn tricks. And if she was down on her luck, she knew she could come to me. But it’s possible she hooked up with the wrong guy. Someone who thought that because she was a dancer he could take what he wanted.” I heard the tight edge of control in his voice. “Bastard.”

He gave Caroline’s hand a squeeze. “If I hear anything more, I’ll tell you. Promise.”

We followed her into the house, where the conversation turned from Emily to advice about how to milk the customers for the best possible tips. When we returned to the car an hour or so later, I was full up on donuts and coffee, and overloaded with information about dancing at Destiny. But despite the passage of time and the many conversations in the interim, my mind was still on Charley.

“Do you want me to call him?” Tyler asked.

“Not yet. Caroline said he was a lunch customer. So if he’s not at the club today, maybe I’ll have you call. But I’d like to chat with him first.”

“Fair enough.”

“In the meantime,” I added, “I’m going to see if I can’t find her in Vegas the old-fashioned way, detective way.”

As he maneuvered the streets and highways of Chicago, I pulled out my phone and hit the only speed dial number I had programmed. Two rings later, my dad answered.

“Hey, daughter o’ mine,” he said, in the kind of gravelly baritone that could be either soothing or scary depending on whether he was helping a victim or interrogating a suspect. “How’s the hip?”

“Hey, yourself. It’s fine. They’re idiots for keeping me off the job.”

“No argument there. To what do I owe this call?” I could hear the clatter of the station behind him, and imagined him in front of a battered desk covered two feet thick in paperwork. “You just wanted to hear your wonderful father’s voice, or do you need something?”

I laughed. “If I said both, would you see right through my ruse?”

“Pretty much.”

“Okay, then I need something.”

“And I’m happy to help. If you can answer one question.”

“Shoot.”