“Oh, like you’re above serving the underage?” Aster frowned, as annoyed with Tommy as she was with herself. She hadn’t meant to cast suspicion on Ira. He’d been the only one on her side—the only person who’d volunteered to help. “The only reason no one turned you in is because it would shut down the club, get Ira in a load of trouble, and hurt all of our chances at winning the contest.” She shook her head, still fuming inside, but forced herself to focus on the point she was determined to make, resolving not to get sidetracked. “I went home with Ryan. . . .” She took a deep breath, forced herself to look at them. Relieved to find it wasn’t as bad as she’d thought. Where she’d expected judgment, she found encouragement. “And all I know is when I woke up the next morning in his ridiculously decorated cliché of a man cave, Ryan was gone.”
Layla and Tommy both stared.
Aster nodded, swallowed past the lump in her throat. “I have no idea where he went. I never saw him again. I haven’t told the cops. Haven’t told anyone. It’s too humiliating to admit. But then, the other day—” She lowered her head, needing a moment before she could divulge the worst part. “Someone delivered a video of me, doing disgusting things in Ryan’s apartment.”
She peeked through her long, angled bangs, trying to read their reactions. Layla looked angry, Tommy disturbed. Their lack of blame made it easier to continue.
“I just wish I could rewind my life and start over.” She buried her face in her hands. It was out there now, no taking it back. Strangely, the confession didn’t make her feel better, but it did make her feel lighter, maybe even more connected to Tommy and Layla, which probably wasn’t such a bad thing, considering they were all in this together.
“You know—” Tommy turned to her, his tone much softer than it had been a few moments before. “Madison mentioned she’d been wanting to break it off but was afraid of how Ryan would react. When she caught him with you, she decided to take her chances and end it.”
Aster was stunned by his words. Madison had always seemed so remote, not at all like a person who would share intimate stuff with someone she barely knew. “Sounds like she really opened up.” She studied him closely. Just how much time had they spent together?
Tommy shrugged.
“What about that text she received?” Layla asked. “Can’t the cops trace it?”
“They told me it was untraceable. Sent from a burner.” He ran a hand through his hair, clenched and unclenched his jaw, clearly needing a moment to put his thoughts together. “Madison went to Night for Night,” he finally said, his voice almost reduced to a whisper.
“How’d you—”
Before Layla could finish, Tommy said, “I know, because I followed her. I mean, not right away. At first I went back inside the club, but then . . . yeah, I went outside and headed in the same direction until I more or less caught up.”
“Does Larsen know?” Aster leaned toward him. Finally, they were getting somewhere.
Tommy made a face. “You kidding? It’s bad enough I’m the last known person to have seen her. If I told him I followed her, I’d be behind bars instead of sitting here, talking to you.”
“But the club was closed.” Layla squinted.
“She knew the code.” Tommy glanced between them.
“Did you see anything?” Aster asked, trying to keep her voice soft, encouraging, free of the excitement that was building. He seemed jumpy, paranoid, not at all like Tommy, and she didn’t want to scare him off by pushing him to reveal things when he didn’t feel ready.
Tommy shook his head. “I tried to follow, but the door locked behind her, and by that time I was feeling pretty embarrassed for stalking her like that, so I bailed and went back to the Vesper. I was kind of keyed up, so I hung out for a while, had another beer. It wasn’t until I was locking up that I discovered Madison’s keys in my jacket. But when I went to move her car so it wouldn’t get towed, it was gone.”
“Who moved the car?” Layla asked.
Tommy shrugged.
“And the keys—you still have them?” Aster looked at him.
He dipped his head. “Yes.”
“What’s on them—anything of note?”
Tommy peered at Aster. “I don’t know. They’re just keys.”
Aster fought to keep her face neutral. Why were guys so clueless when it came to girls and their things? “What I meant was, what kind of key chain are they on? How many keys are there? Are there little charms attached?”
“Does this really matter?” His blue eyes squinted against the fading rays of the sun.
“It might.” Aster lifted her shoulders, rubbed her lips together. “I know it sounds like a long shot, but there could be something useful, some kind of reveal. I mean, keys are really personal, since they unlock your world.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.” He stared into the distance as though trying to remember. Shaking his head, he said, “I’ll take a look and let you know.”
What Aster really wanted was for him to offer to let her take a look, since she had absolutely no faith in his detective skills when it came to deciphering girls, but she nodded instead.
“Well, I hope you hid them somewhere safe,” Layla said. “If the cops discover you have them . . .” She left the threat unspoken.