Mackenzie turned to him finally and when they locked eyes, something in the man’s gaze shifted. He could tell she meant business, but he’d had a few drinks too many and apparently just couldn’t help himself. He placed a hand on her shoulder and smiled at her. “I’m sorry,” he said. “What I meant to say is, well, no, I meant what I said. You don’t have to be a bitch about – ”
“Get your hand off of me,” Mackenzie said softly. “Last warning.”
“You don’t like the feel of a man’s hand?” he asked, laughing. His hand slid down her arm, groping now rather than simply touching. “I guess that’s why you’re here to look at naked women, huh?”
Mackenzie’s arm came up with lightning speed. The poor drunk man didn’t even realize what had happened until after she’d thrust her forearm into his neck and he was falling off of his barstool, gagging. When he hit, it made enough noise to attract one of the security guards that had been standing by the edge of the lounge area.
Porter was then on his feet, stepping in between the guard and Mackenzie. He flashed his badge and, to Mackenzie’s surprise, stood nearly toe-to-toe with the much larger guard. “Slow down, big boy,” Porter said, all but rubbing the guy’s face with his badge. “In fact, if you want to avoid the spectacle of having someone arrested in this seedy establishment, I suggest you toss this jack-off out of here.”
The guard looked from Porter to the drunk man on the floor, still coughing and gasping for air. The guard understood the option he was facing and nodded. “Sure thing,” he said, hauling the drunk man to his feet.
Mackenzie and Porter watched as the guard escorted the drunk man to the door. Porter nudged Mackenzie and chuckled. “You’re just full of surprises, huh?”
Mackenzie only shrugged. When they turned back around to the bar area, the bartender had returned. Another man stood beside him, staring down Mackenzie and Porter as if they were stray dogs that he didn’t trust.
“You want to tell me what that was all about?” the man asked.
“Are you Mr. William Avery?” Porter asked.
“I am.”
“Well, Mr. Avery,” Mackenzie said, “your patrons need to do a better job of keeping their mouths shut and their hands to themselves.”
“What’s this about?” Avery asked.
“Is there somewhere more private we can speak?” Porter asked.
“No. Here is fine. This is the busiest time of the day for us. I need to be here to help tend bar.”
“You sure do,” Porter said. “I ordered a rum and Coke five minutes ago and I still haven’t seen it.”
The bartender scowled and then turned to the bottles behind him. In his absence, Avery leaned forward and said, “If this is about Hailey Lizbrook, I already told your other cop buddies everything I know about her.”
“But you didn’t talk to me,” Mackenzie said.
“So what?”
“So, I take a different approach than almost everyone else, and this is our case,” she said, nodding toward Porter. “So I need you to answer more questions.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Well, if you don’t,” Mackenzie said, “I can interview a woman named Colby Barrow. That name sound familiar? I believe she was seventeen when she started working here, right? She got the job by performing oral sex on you, I believe. The case is dead, I know. But I wonder if she’d have anything to tell me about your business practices that might have been swept under the rug six years ago. I wonder if she might be able to tell me why you don’t seem to give a damn that one of your dancers was killed three nights ago.”
Avery looked at her like he wanted to slap her. She almost wanted him to try it. She had encountered far too many men like him in the last few years – men that cared noting for women until the lights were out and they needed sex or something to punch on. She held his gaze, letting him know that she was much more than a punching bag.
“What do you want to know?” he asked.
Before she answered, the bartender finally delivered Porter’s drink. Porter sipped from it, smiling knowingly at Avery and the bartender.
“Did Hailey have men that came in and usually flocked to her?” Mackenzie asked. “Did she have regulars?”
“She had one or two,” Avery said.
“Do you know their names?” Porter asked.
“No. I don’t pay attention to the men that come in here. They’re just like any other men, you know?”
“But if it came down to it,” Mackenzie said, “do you think some of your other dancers might know their names?”
“I doubt it,” Avery said. “And let’s face it: most of the dancers ask for the man’s name just to be nice. They don’t give a shit what their names are. They’re just trying to get paid.”
“Was Hailey a good employee?” Mackenzie asked.
“Yes, she was, actually. She was always willing to work extra shifts. She loved her two boys, you know?”
“Yes, we met with them,” Mackenzie said.
Avery sighed and looked out to the stage. “Listen, you’re welcome to talk to any of the girls if you think it will help figure out who killed Hailey. But I can’t let you do it here, not right now. It would upset them and screw with my business. But I can give you a list of their names and phone numbers if you absolutely need it.”
Mackenzie thought about this for a minute and then shook her head. “No, I don’t think that will be necessary. Thanks for your time, though.”
With that, she got up and tapped Porter on the shoulder. “We’re done here.”
“I’m not,” he said. “I still need to finish my drink.”
Mackenzie was about to argue her point when Porter’s phone rang. He answered it, pressing his free hand to his other ear to block out the godawful noise of the current Skrillex song blaring from the PA. He spoke briefly, nodding in a few places before hanging up. He then downed the remainder of his drink and handed the car keys to Mackenzie.
“What is it?” she asked.
“It seems I am done,” he said. Then his face became set. “There’s been another murder.”
CHAPTER TEN
They drove a little over two and a half hours from the strip club after receiving the call, night falling slowly the entire way, increasing Mackenzie’s depressed mood, and when they arrived at the scene, night had fallen. They finally turned off the main highway onto a strip of unpaved blacktop, and then onto a dirt road that led to a large open field. As they neared their destination, she started to feel an impending sense of doom.
Her headlights glowed just ahead of her as she carefully drove down a bumpy dirt track, and slowly, she started to see the numerous police cars already on the scene. A few of them were pointed to the center of the field, their headlights revealing a grisly, yet familiar sight.
As much as she tried not to, she flinched at the sight.
“My God,” Porter said.
Mackenzie parked, but never took her eyes from the scene as she stepped out of the car and walked slowly forward. The grass in the field was high, coming to her knees in places, and she could see the slightly worn trail that the officers had been using. There were too many officers here; she already worried that the scene was contaminated.
She looked up and took a sharp breath. It was another woman, stripped to her underwear, bound to a pole that looked to be roughly eight feet tall. This time, seeing the woman strung up in such a way, Mackenzie was unable to repress a memory of her sister. Steph had been a stripper, too. Mackenzie wasn’t exactly sure what Steph was up to these days, but it was too easy to imagine her ending up like this.
As Mackenzie approached the victim, she glanced around the crime scene and counted seven officers in all. Two officers were off to the side, speaking with two teenagers. Up ahead, standing a few feet away from the pole and the victim, Nelson was speaking with someone on his phone. When he saw them, he waved them over and quickly ended his call.