She closed her eyes, bile burning the back of her throat. No way would she survive either of his suggestions. “Let me make a few more calls. I’ll let you know if I need your friend’s help.”
“You know where to find me.”
“Why’d I even bother?” Brynn hung up her office phone and rubbed her forehead, a piercing headache hatching behind her eyes. Two days with hardly any sleep, and her body was no longer responding to caffeine.
A light tap on her open door made her lift her gaze. Mel stepped into her office, lines of concern creasing her forehead. “Still no word from your sister?”
Brynn shook her head. “I just keep calling her like all of a sudden she’s going to come to her senses and answer her phone.”
Mel plopped into the chair across from Brynn’s desk. “So what now?”
Brynn sighed, her shoulders sagging. “I have no idea. I’ve talked to everyone I can think of, and I can’t even officially report her missing to the police until tonight.”
“What about Reid’s friend? Have you given any more thought to trying to get into that resort? Sounds like a good lead.”
Her stomach flipped over. “Mel, I don’t know if I could pull that off. I thought I was past all this crap. I did the therapy, took the self-defense classes, but the minute that guy put his hands on me the other night, the panic sucked me in. I was completely useless.”
Mel eyed her for a long moment, and Brynn could almost hear the gears grinding in her friend’s head.
Brynn pursed her lips. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“What if…” Mel said, then waved her hand. “Never mind.”
“Oh, no,” Brynn said, shaking her head. “Just say whatever it is you’re thinking. It’s not like you’ve ever held back before.”
She leaned forward and straightened the papers in Brynn’s outbox, adeptly avoiding eye contact. “I don’t know, it’s just, maybe this is exactly what you need, you know? Exposure therapy.”
Brynn stared at Mel as if her friend had sprouted antlers. “Are you being serious? Exposure therapy?”
She shrugged, but still didn’t raise her eyes.
“Don’t you think turning myself over to some stranger’s sexual demands is a bit of an extreme prescription? I was raped, Mel. It’s not like I’m trying to kick a fear of spiders or something.”
She cringed. “I’m sorry, B. I’m not trying to minimize what you’ve been through. I just wish I could help you get past it. Exposure therapy is brutal, but you know it can be effective.”r: Roni Loren
He nodded. “Yeah, I saw that. Not sure what a hooker could do to warrant a twenty-five-thousand-dollar fee. No lay is that good.”
Reid gave him a humorless smile. “Celia LeBreck used to work in the high-end strip clubs. Not until after she had her second child did she start turning tricks on the street. Maybe she still had connections to someone she met in her glory days.” He pointed at the photocopies he’d made of Celia’s appointment book. “This J. Kennedy person listed on the last day. He’s in there a number of times before that, but only for a thousand bucks at a time.”
Will’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe she had something on him and was upping the ante.”
“That’s what I’m thinking,” Reid said, nodding. “And maybe he didn’t want to pay up.”
“This definitely throws suspicion away from your client. I never did believe that kid was the guy, but I don’t know if this is enough to get you an appeal.” The detective stared at the copies again, rubbing his chin. “Unless we can figure out her code and actually get some solid suspects. Every name in here is a fake one.”
Reid sank back in the booth and sighed. “Yeah. J. Kennedy, C. Eastwood, S. Poitier, A. Lincoln. All celebrities or historical figures. Smart lady—protecting her ass and her clients.”
The waitress stopped by and refilled Will’s coffee cup. He dumped a few packets of sugar in and stirred, the contemplative look crossing his face again. “My guess would be that she didn’t pick the names randomly. If this was her way of keeping people straight, she probably had some reason to assign each name. Like Sidney Poitier probably isn’t a young white guy.”
Reid nodded. “Right. And she may have let clients pick their own code names as well.”
“Was Kelsey any help with who the names belonged to?” he asked, sipping his coffee.
Reid shifted in the booth. “Well, I haven’t exactly been able to talk to her about it.”
Will nailed him with shrewd eyes. “You have her evidence, but haven’t talked to her? How’s that work, Counselor?”
Reid cleared his throat. “Um, well, I sort of had the opportunity to get this from Kelsey’s apartment… without consent.”