Free The Lost Witness by Robert Ellis Page A

then promised a callback to anyone leaving their contact information. The message ended with an easy Thanks.
    Lena paused a moment before closing her cell—McBride’s voice now seared into her memory and a part of her being.
    “Jones told us that he never saw her with anybody,” she said. “And I’ll bet he spends a lot of time by that window.”
    “She didn’t bring them here,” Rhodes said. “She went to them. Somewhere around here she’s got a bag of tricks.”
    “I didn’t see it when we went through the place.”
    “We weren’t looking for it,” he said. “If she didn’t take the bag with her, then it’s here.”
    They checked underneath the bed and behind the hamper in the bedroom closet. It took them ten minutes to find it. A small black duffel bag in the foyer closet right beside the front door. Rhodes
carried it over to the coffee table in the living room. Ripping the zipper open, he turned the bag over and shook the contents out.
    Lena knelt down on the floor, picking through the lingerie and thinking about the small heart-shaped tattoo she had seen between McBride’s shaved vagina and her bikini line. She counted
three transparent baby-doll negligees with matching G-strings, a variety of push-up bras, a sheer robe, and a pair of black panties. But there was something else here: a white skirt and matching
top. Lena held the blouse up for a better look, eyeing the low neckline and the red cross that had been embroidered over the left breast pocket.
    “She wore a costume,” Rhodes said. “She played a nurse.”
    “Looks like it, huh.”
    Lena returned to the duffel bag, giving it a lift and measuring its weight. Spinning the bag around, she opened the first side pocket and fished out an array of scented oils, three different
kinds of condoms, a vibrator, and an extra package of batteries.
    She looked over at Rhodes on the couch. He was reaching down for a cosmetic case that had fallen on the floor. As he unzipped the case and split it open, his eyes danced over the contents and
widened some.
    It was a cache of pills.
    Rhodes cleared a spot on the table, shaking the plastic bottles and reading them off one by one before setting them down. The list was impressive and seemed to cover a client’s every want
or need. Viagra and Cialis were here. But so were ample supplies of Xanax, Valium, Vicodin, and Oxycodone.
    “She knew somebody,” Rhodes said.
    Lena eyed the labels. Jennifer McBride’s name wasn’t listed, nor was the pharmacy. She played the victim’s ad back in her head.
    Hot young blonde with magic hands and knockout body seeks men who want to relax under my spell. For pure joy call Jennifer at . . .
    The words relax under my spell seemed to have a new meaning. A darker meaning. She looked back at the lingerie and costume, at the condoms scattered across the table. She remembered the
belly ring Madina had removed from the corpse at the autopsy. Jennifer McBride had been more than a masseuse. As Lena mulled it over, it seemed clear that the young woman’s apparent innocence
was an asset to her business—something she probably flaunted.
    Lena glanced over at Rhodes. His eyes were turned inward; his face, troubled. She wondered if he was thinking about his sister again.
    “What is it?” she asked.
    “I was just thinking about how this will play with the chief.”
    “You mean because of who McBride turned out to be?”
    “Yeah. The chief and Klinger. You know what I’m saying. When you’re so straight you’re bent, who gives a shit about a whore on dope?”
    “You and me,” she said quietly.
    “You and me,” he repeated, still thinking it over. He got up and crossed the room to the window, rubbing his neck and gazing outside. “That guy’s still sitting by his
window,” he said. “Still waiting for McBride to come home.”
    “Now we know why. She knew that he was out there and probably liked to tease him.”
    Rhodes turned toward her and leaned against the sill.