"Just got here," Nicky said. "We're outside. You sure this guy's in there?"
"Yeah, pretty sure it's him," Grace said. "I pinged the cell phone of his last known alias. He goes by Tucker here, not Darren, so keep that in mind."
"Thanks, Grace. Talk soon." Nicky hung up and stared at the strip club. It was a two-story, square-shaped building adorned with neon lights. This was definitely not the place a couple of FBI agents could just casually walk into.
Nicky glanced Ken over. He was wearing a full black casual suit, jacket and all, while she was wearing a black blouse and slacks.
"Jesus," she said, "we couldn't look more like feds. Ditch the jacket, Walker."
"What are you thinking?" He lifted an eyebrow.
"We can't go in there flashing our badges--we'll spook the guy, and he could make a run for it. We should try to blend in, at least to get past security.”
Outside the door was a wide-chested bouncer with a tattoo on his bald head. Nicky had a feeling that guy wouldn't let two agents in without a fight.
Nicky flipped down the car's mirror and pulled her long, brown hair out of its ponytail, letting it fall over her shoulders. She undid a few buttons of her blouse and allowed the top of her red, lacy bra to show. Maybe it'd distract the bouncer enough for him to not notice how much of a stiff Ken was.
Ken eased his jacket off and tossed it in the back seat. "How's this?"
His hair was too perfect, too in place, so Nicky ruffled it up. Ken leaned away from her, then shot her a scowl.
"Better," she said.
With that, they got out of the car, into the warm evening. It was time to get into the club.
The bouncer eyed them as they approached the door. He was enormous and looked like he was carved out of stone. His dark eyes were focused on them, unmoving.
"ID, please,” he said, his voice rough and domineering.
Nicky allowed her top to show a little more and put on a smile. "We're just trying to get in," she said.
"ID," the bouncer repeated.
Pouting, Nicky took out her wallet and slid out her ID card, then showed the bouncer.
"Wouldn't have guessed you're pushing thirty," he said, glancing at her.
Nicky gave him a pleasant smile to hide the fact that she wanted to claw his eyes out.
He checked Ken's ID too, then nodded, and allowed them to pass.
Nicky strolled into the strip club known as 'The Happy Beaver'. It was aptly named: neon, flashing lights, and scantily-clad women in animal costumes greeted her at the door. This was the type of place middle-aged men visited on their nights off to lecherously watch women dance and look at their asses. It was the type of place where the booze flowed and it was not out of the ordinary to see a fight break out.
They'd have to keep their wits about them, because one wrong move could turn this night around for the worse. Nicky didn't want herself, or Ken, to get into any fights with the crowd here. They had to find this man if they wanted to find Meghan. And they had to take him in as cleanly as possible.
Nicky spotted the bar off to the left and headed in that direction. Ken followed her, glancing around with his usual, stoic expression.
Two bartenders and a bouncer stood behind the bar, and the room was crowded. This club was packed. The music was blaring. There were two women dancing on the stage, both revealing more skin as the song went on. The first dancer wore a yellow leotard, and had a big, plastic beaver head on her head. She was writhing around the stage and giving off a sexy pout, while her partner moved erratically behind her. The second dancer wore a blue beaver head and was letting her hips grind all over the pole.
Nicky kept her head high, gaining a few looks from men by the bar. But she was only here for one reason.
Grace had forwarded Nicky a photo of Darren McMillan--or Tucker, as he was known here. She knew she was looking for a skinny, bald-headed, overly tattooed thirty-year-old. Not exactly a discreet-looking guy, and Nicky couldn't help but wonder why the hell the previous investigators had given up on him so quickly. Nicky had never seen a father more certain than Terry had been that Darren was responsible for Meghan's disappearance.
As Nicky scanned the sea of faces, she spotted a woman by the bar--and a guy who looked just like Darren was leaning over her. The woman had long, flowing red hair, just like Meghan's. In fact, she looked so much like her that Nicky nearly had a heart attack.
The entire case almost fell on top of her head. For a moment, she thought maybe, Meghan was right here, alive, and she'd run off with Darren...
But then the girl turned her head to the side. She had a much longer nose.