He cupped her face, his tongue finding hers, and she pressed herself against him, pulling him closer. His lips moved to her cheek, and then her throat, and then back to her lips again as his hand slipped under her T-shirt, his fingers caressing her bare skin. She made a little sound when his hand found her breast, somewhere between a soft moan and a gasp, and his other hand slipped into the waistband of her sweatpants. He had never wanted anyone so much in his life. He lifted her onto his lap, and she straddled him as he lifted up the hem of her shirt.
And then suddenly, Joey pulled away.
“I can’t,” she gasped. She sprang off his lap and fell onto the sofa cushion beside him. When he tried to move closer to her again, she stuck her arm out, blocking him. “I can’t. You only want me because you think you can fix me, Drew. But you can’t. I can’t be fixed.”
“That’s not true—”
“I’m broken,” Joey said. “I’m no good to you. I’m no good to anyone.”
Being the stupid, selfish tool he was back then, all Drew could hear was that he was being rejected. The next day, when Simone asked him if he’d made his decision, he told her he would go with her to Vancouver.
It was the wrong decision even before Simone cheated on him.
* * *
Drew’s phone rings, snapping him out of the memories. It’s Sergeant McKinley. He hits accept, and the call connects through the car’s Bluetooth.
“Hallo, Drew Malcolm,” McKinley says. “Is this a good time?”
“It’s the perfect time,” he says. “I was just going to call you—”
“Hang on, let me go first.” She sounds excited, buoyant, and he can hear her shuffling papers. “You’ll be pleased to know that I finally figured out the full name of Joelle’s friend. The licensing office emailed me a list of the four hundred entertainer’s licenses that were issued in 1998. Let me tell you, that was a lot to sort through, but by approximating her age and restricting her home address to a twenty-kilometer radius around the Golden Cherry, it turns out there were only thirteen licenses issued that year to women performers.”
“Actually, I—”
“Not finished yet. So then I looked them all up in our database and found one that looks just like our Betty Savage. Her name is Mae Ocampo, and it turns out she has a record. The earlier arrests are for shoplifting and public intoxication at a concert—that one actually sounds grossly unfair—and she had one minor drug arrest. But two of the arrests were for assault. The first was dismissed because apparently the other girl started it, but the last one, she broke the girl’s nose and arm. She did three months in jail, which means it wasn’t just her boyfriend who was violent. Mae was, too.”
“I’m glad you—”
“Still not done. Her last known address was an apartment near Humber College, which she shared with two roommates. I tracked them down, and both confirmed that the last time they saw Mae was a couple of days before New Year’s Eve. They didn’t file a missing persons report because Mae often disappeared for chunks at a time without telling them; the word they used was ‘flaky.’ So now all that’s left to do is track her down. She’s out there somewhere, I can feel it.”
McKinley is so revved up, Drew doesn’t have the heart to tell her that he’s a step ahead of her. But Mae serving time for assault is something new, and neither Cherry nor Tony Tranh had mentioned it. Cherry likely didn’t know. Tranh likely didn’t care.
He feels that damned tingle again. What if it was Mae who killed Joey?
He mentally slaps himself. Stop it. No more dumb theories.
“I appreciate all this,” Drew says. “But after having a bit of time to think it over, I think we should let it go. I don’t think we should look for her.”
“Wait. What?” McKinley sounds dumbfounded. “Why not?”
Drew chooses his words carefully. He can’t tell the sergeant his theory that Vinny killed Mae and that Tony Tranh killed his own brother. McKinley is a homicide detective, after all, and he can’t be sure what she’ll do with that information. And like Cherry said the other day, the last thing he needs is a target on his back.
“Whatever happened back then, Mae probably had no choice but to run,” Drew says. “She was involved with a dangerous guy, who was involved with dangerous people. Wherever she is now, I think it’s best to leave her there. For her own safety.”
“I worked on this for almost two hours.” McKinley doesn’t sound happy.