“How safe?”
“Safe. She’s dated some of these men for years. They’re regular customers.”
“How recent was her last escort date?”
The uneasy eyes returned.
“She would’ve told me if she went on that kind of date.”
“I believe you. When was her last date you know of?”
She thought for a moment, figuring it out.
“A month ago. Maybe more. It was a long time.”
“This was a date with a regular?”
“I’m not going to tell you who she saw. She’d kill me.”
“Her date might be the reason she’s gone.”
Kimberly Laird stepped back and shook her head.
“You don’t understand how it works. She called me that night after. She was fine. We got together the next day. Everything was fine.”
“Who’d she see?”
She stepped back again.
“None of your business. She’s dated this guy dozens of times. It’s been almost a month.”
I stepped closer.
“Then where is she, Kimberly? Can you tell me, right now, Rachel is safe?”
Kimberly took another step back and bumped against the cupcake shop. She pulled and twisted her fingers so hard I thought she would pull them off.
“These are substantial people she sees. Important people. They wouldn’t hurt anyone.”
“Is this what Meredith says? When she cares more about her clients than the escorts?”
Kimberly’s breathing was fast and shallow. I took her nervous hands in mine.
“Help me find her, Kimberly. If I’m wrong, this man will never know I was nosing around. Rachel won’t know, either.”
I thought she might break her own fingers, but she suddenly took a single deep breath and told me.
“Grady Locke.”
The name meant nothing.
“Who is he?”
“He’s in city government. For a councilman. He’s very important.”
“Locke was her most recent date?”
“Yes.”
“Do you remember her other recent dates?”
“I remember them all.”
Kimberly Laird gave me two names. I recognized one, but not the other. The name I recognized belonged to a Superior Court judge. I noted the names and Kimberly’s number in my phone.
“Please don’t tell. Rachel will kill me if you tell. She’ll never speak to me again.”
“I’m not going to tell. I’m going to find her.”
I left Kimberly Laird twisting her fingers outside the cupcake shop and drove to my office.
28
The twenty-seven PDFs in Josh’s secret stash didn’t take long to read. Most were only three or four paragraphs. I skimmed through them for a general sense, then read them more slowly and took notes. The name Grady Locke did not appear, but LWL Development Inc., the Crystal Emperor Hotel, and the Crystal Future Hospitality Group were prominent.
I read all twenty-seven articles and had no idea why Josh had researched these subjects. No crimes were reported or alleged. No criminal activity was suggested. Most of the articles simply described upcoming civic development projects, the movers and shakers behind those projects, and the usual quotes from rah-rah supporters and outraged opponents. The only thread between them was LWL Development Inc., Crystal Future Hospitality Group, and Sanford L. Richter, the council member representing Council District 16 on the Los Angeles City Council. LWL was mentioned in eighteen of the twenty-seven articles, Crystal Future was mentioned in thirteen, and Richter was mentioned in nine. This suggested they were the focus of Josh’s attention, but nothing in the articles suggested why.
I read the articles a third time and listed every person and developer mentioned. I ended up with a list of twenty-three individuals and businesses. I leaned back and studied Pinocchio. I got up, took a bottle of water from the little fridge, drank some, replaced the cap, and returned to my desk.
I put the list aside and googled Grady Locke. The facts thereafter should have been surprising, but left me with a sort of jaded irritation. Grady Locke was Sanford Richter’s chief of staff.
I tipped back again and considered Pinocchio.
“Well?”
Pinocchio didn’t have an opinion.
I scrolled through the photos Pike had taken at the airport and studied the balding man from the PRC. This time he looked familiar. I opened the CFHG website and went to the company’s mission statement page. Above the statement was a stodgy corporate portrait of a balding man in his late fifties or early sixties wearing a conservative gray suit, white shirt, and dark red tie. Determined eyes made him appear commanding, responsible, and fiscally conservative. I compared the portrait to the pixelated picture Pike had taken. If I squinted, they could pass for the same person. The website’s English version translated his title as “leader.” His name was translated to Chow Wan Li.