Chapter One

Ella

 

It’s not that bad. Really, barely noticeable. I kept saying it over and over in my head, trying to convince myself. If I believed it, maybe it would be true. Standing in front of the mirror, fluorescent lights washing out my skin, I layered the concealer on thick from the tube. Next I dabbed on foundation that was a shade lighter than my skin color, finally setting everything with a bit of powder. Each time I pressed against the bruise I flinched, it was still tender. When I stood back and looked at my reflection in the mirror to check my work, I felt deflated. It was no use. I could still see the dark outline of my black eye, and if I could see it that meant he was definitely going to notice. Glancing at the clock, I had no more time to stall. I had to get to work or I was going to be late.

“Shit.”

I threw my makeup bag into my purse, then zipped it shut. I took my hair out of the ponytail, running my fingers through then pulling it around my face to hopefully distract from my bruised skin. In the next room I picked up my laptop and notebook and shoved them into my bag.

Where was my blouse? I looked around my bed and found it hanging by the open window where a draft was making the fabric dance around. I slipped it on over my camisole, smoothing the fabric. I opened my fridge, scanning the mainly empty shelves with a few condiments and takeout containers. I didn’t have the healthiest eating habits. I reached towards the back and grabbed a lonely apple hiding behind a jar of mustard. I gripped it between my teeth, slipped my purse over my shoulder, then locked the door behind me. Not that there was anything worth stealing in my crappy one room rental other than my laptop. That and my dignity, but who was I kidding. I gave that up a long time ago.

I walked quickly to my stop, biting into my apple, and waited with the other residents of sin city; a few casino employees in uniform, a big man in a suit I figured must be security of some kind and three housekeepers chatting amongst themselves in Spanish. It’s easy with so many tourists passing through to forget that many of us call this place home. We were all in this together, making a life for ourselves in this desert. The sun was rising higher in the sky, beating down and baking everything below. In a few hours it would be scorching hot.

I stepped onto transit, paid my fare, then squeezed towards the back where I was lucky enough to find a seat. I pulled out my notepad, going over my notes and mentally preparing myself for the morning meeting with my editor. I covered the crime beat, and in a city like Vegas I was kept consistently busy. I went farther than any other reporter, getting as close as I could to uncover secrets from the seedy underside of the city’s criminals. My name was known, and if you made a profit off illegal activity, chances were you didn’t like me very much.

I finished my apple, wrapped the core in a tissue from my bag and as I hopped off at my stop I tossed it into the trash. I shook my head at the litter on the street, left for someone else to pick up. Some people treated this world like theirs to use and abuse, no consequences. It really bothered me, but I believed in karma and a part of me thinks we all get what we have coming in the end. Checking my watch I jogged up the steps and into the building where the Las Vegas Review-Journal was located, breezing past security and walking down the halls to the main boardroom. I cracked the door open as quietly as I could and took a seat, the morning meeting had already started. Pulling out my notepad and pen I faced forward, showing that I was ready and eager to listen.

“You made it,” Seth leaned over and whispered.

“Just barely,” I replied under my breath. “How’s the mood today?”

“Harry is being, well, Harry,” Seth smiled.

Seth covered sports, which in Vegas was a big deal. A lot of money was made and lost betting on the performances of professional athletes. We both had a dark sense of humor, had both moved here from small midwest towns. I was a loner by nature, but Seth was one of my few friends. One of the few people I could confide in. Lately, I was starting to get the impression he wanted more but I tried to convince myself I was overthinking it.

“Who did you piss off?” Seth said quietly, glancing at me then back at Harry who was pacing the front of the room writing notes on the whiteboard. When Harry went off on a rant, he barely noticed anything else. Numbers were down at the paper and he was feeling the pressure, jotting down assignments. Every time he turned to write on the board, lifting his arm to screech the marker across the surface, I noticed the start of a wet stain spreading from his armpit. Seth continued to watch me, waiting for an answer.

“Oh this? It’s nothing,” I brushed him off. “I’m just clumsy.”

“You’re a shitty liar Ella. You better think of a better excuse if Harry asks you, which he probably will.”

My stomach dropped. My makeup job hadn’t been good enough to hide it. Damn.

“You’ve all got your assignments,” Harry finally barked from the front of the room. “That’s all for now.”

The room full of reporters gathered their things and stood up, moving together for the door like a school of fish. I was joining them, walking beside Seth when Harry called after me.

“Ella, stay back a minute. I need to talk to you.”

Seth mouthed good luck to me then left with the crowd. I took a deep breath, plastered on a smile and turned to face Harry.

“What’s up Harry?”

He moved his bulky body closer to me and squinted, then pointed.

“What happened to your eye?”

“Oh, this?” I shrugged. “It’s nothing. I tripped on the stairs at my building, hit my eye on the way down.”

He crossed his arms and looked unconvinced. The tip of the red marker was dangerously close to his sleeve, millimeters from staining the cream colored fabric.

“Really, Ella? This didn’t happen instead when you were investigating the prostitution ring story you wanted to work on? The one I’m betting your notepad is full of details on?”

I bit my lip and looked at my feet. I had a terrible poker face, one of the many reasons I didn’t gamble. Harry sighed, the way he always did when I did something he disagreed with.

“Ella, you can’t keep putting yourself in dangerous situations like this. Today it’s a black eye, tomorrow? It could be worse. I don’t want to turn on the news one day and hear that my best crime reporter has been found murdered.”

“If I didn’t take these risks, I wouldn’t be your best crime reporter now would I?” I smiled, tapping my notebook. “And it was worth it. I got something good.”

“You want to get me something good? Get me that interview about the big Carter Foundation donation to the LVPD I assigned you. I want to file that story today. Or better yet, get me an article about the Phantom. Did you hear he busted a drug dealer, broke his arm, then left him handcuffed outside the police station? The public loves him. He’s mysterious and he’s getting the bad guys.”

“He’s breaking the law,” I corrected. “An eye for an eye isn’t the kind of justice we should be celebrating.”

Harry sighed. “I worry about you Ella, you work too hard. You should go out, see a show or something. You’re young, go have some fun.”

“Working is fun for me.”

Harry raised his finger. “Be more careful next time Ella, I mean it. You get hurt again and I’m pulling you off crime. I’ll stick you in fashion or events, somewhere you can’t get yourself in trouble.”

“I’ll be careful, I promise.” I crossed my heart for emphasis. Harry nodded, unconvinced, gave a grunt and turned back to the whiteboard looking over his notes. It was my signal to leave. I walked out of the boardroom, Seth was waiting for me outside leaning against the wall.

“On a scale of one to fired, how much trouble are you in?”

I kept walking towards the kitchen to make coffee, I had a late night and really needed a jolt of caffeine. Seth followed. “He let me off with a warning, again.”

“You’re really collecting those at this point. So,” he pointed at my eye. “What really happened?”

I waited for my colleague Jackie from the news section to leave the kitchen and when we were alone I poured myself a mug of coffee, adding in lots of cream and sugar to hide the bitter taste. I drank coffee for its effects, not for its flavor. I stirred, not looking Seth in the eyes. I always told him the truth eventually.

“I was investigating that prostitution ring story, undercover. I was posing as a working girl looking to join them, they brought me in to meet with me. I was getting the access I needed for my story, but then one of the security guys recognized me as a reporter. They weren’t happy. I was thrown out with a warning - this,” I pointed to my eye. “Was my warning.”

“Jesus,” Seth ran his hands over his face. “You’re lucky that was all they did. Why can’t you just cover stories based on police reports, like a normal reporter?”

“Because that’s not a story, that’s just repeating information we already have. I wouldn’t be uncovering anything new. I can do this, I should have worn a disguise. They won’t recognize me next time I-”

Seth’s expression grew serious, his eyebrows pulling together and his eyes narrowing at me. I snapped my mouth shut.

“You’re going back?”

“Keep your voice down,” I hissed. “I have to, I’m so close. This is connected to the Venetti family, they have branched into prostitution and not all of those girls are there by choice. I saw one with a full cast on her leg before I was thrown out. If I can expose this, I can help them.”

Seth reached forward and squeezed my arm. He pulled me to the side, out of view of the newsroom, and kept his voice low.

“Ella, she’s gone. You’re not going to find your sister this way, I’m sorry.”

I shrugged out of his grip.

“That’s not what this is about. Anyways, I need to get back to work.”

I left him in the kitchen, not giving him time to say another word, and made my way to my cluttered desk covered in articles and police reports. Yellow post-its dotted every surface with my notes, clues and connections. Pieces of a puzzle that made crime in this city tick. Everything was connected by a thin thread, I was positive that I would see it if I looked closely enough.

Seth wasn’t wrong. The truth was, this was about Dana. Every crime scene, every interview, every source I spoke with. Maybe I would uncover a piece of the puzzle and find my missing sister. It’s been five years, but she could still be out there waiting. Hoping that someone would find her. And if I had to put myself in danger to uncover the trail that might lead to the only family I had left in the world, it was worth the risk.