The women hesitated, but then sat side by side on the sofa that faced the one Ashwini and Janvier sat back down on. When the café employee came in with a tray of orange juice and cookies, the three women exchanged raised eyebrows. Ashwini rose and thanked the young vampire, made a quiet request in his ear. The small bottle of blood appeared moments later.
This time, Sina’s smile was assessing. “Most people don’t realize I’m a vampire.”
“I’m a hunter.” Even then, it had taken her a minute—Sina’s fangs were the smallest she’d ever seen, small enough to be mistaken for human canines.
“Fangs work fine, in case you were wondering,” the lushly curved vampire said, opening the bottle to take a sip while the others picked up the unopened bottles of juice and twisted off the lids. “Just a weird genetic thing.”
Ashwini didn’t ask the other question she wanted to know the answer to, but she caught the understanding of it in Janvier’s eyes, knew they’d discuss it later. For now, she showed the women the facial image created by Janvier’s contact. “Is this your friend?”
“She never looked that flat, was always moving her hands when she talked. Used to drive me nuts.” Her voice hard in an effort to hide the tremor beneath, Carys pushed away the photo. “Her hair was dark gold, not white-blonde, but yeah, that’s Felicity. Big bluey-green eyes and all.”
Identity confirmed as far as possible, Ashwini asked the women to go over the details the three had shared with Ransom. Afterward, she said, “Do you remember exactly when she began talking about her new boyfriend?”
Sina frowned. “Eight months ago.”
“You sound very sure,” Ashwini said.
“She told me on my birthday, that’s why. We’d gone out for a drink, the four of us, and she was bursting with news. Do you guys remember?”
The other two women backed up her recollection.
It was Aaliyah who spoke next. “Few weeks after that, Felicity was so happy because her guy had said he’d take her to Europe, buy her things in Paris, Milan, Rome. She was always into the fashion magazines.”
Carys rubbed at the faux-fur collar of her thigh-length coat like it was a worry stone. “Girl used to blow too much money on the rags, but she said it made her happy to look at that stuff.”
“Any idea when she was meant to go to Europe?” Ashwini leaned forward, forearms braced on her thighs.
All three women shook their heads. “She just said it’d be soon.” Sina rolled her lips inside, bit down with her teeth. “That was the last time I saw her—about seven months ago. Does that help?”
“We’ll check airline records.” Ashwini would bet her entire year’s income that Felicity had never left the country, the promise of Europe a lure designed to lay a false trail.
“Do you know where your friend lived before she found her lover?” Janvier nudged the cookies toward Aaliyah, received a small smile in return.
“Yeah.” Carys told them an address in a not particularly nice part of Queens.
“And Felicity never mentioned her lover’s name, where he lived, anything?” Ashwini asked, wanting to be certain. “Even the color of his hair.”
Carys and Sina shook their heads, but Aaliyah suddenly sat up straight. “One time she said she’d be moving into a nice Quarter house like the rich bitches, and that she was going to invite us for coffee and cakes, and we’d have to wear fancy hats and say ‘oh, yes, my dear’ and ‘toodles.’” Blinking rapidly, Aaliyah whispered, “We laughed so hard.”
It was a tenuous link, but it was a link directly to the Quarter. “Do you remember anything else?”
“No . . . but I did ask her why she didn’t point out her rich john to us, you know, on the sly.”
“Aaliyah!” Sina’s mouth fell open. “You never told us that.”
“I didn’t want to make Felicity look bad, ’cause her man sounded like a first-class dickhead.” Rubbing off her tears using the sleeve of her black coat, she said, “Jerkoff told her that if she even hinted they were involved before he took her to Europe for a makeover so she’d ‘fit his lifestyle,’ the whole deal was off. Felicity wanted it so much, she didn’t want to jinx it by telling even us.”
A pause before Aaliyah added, “It was weird . . . Felicity never had a pimp, but, looking back, this guy, he got into her head like a pimp does, made her believe the whole ‘daddy’ shtick.”
That he was omnipotent, Ashwini thought, gut boiling, that if he had to be cruel, it was because Felicity had let him down. Bastard.
“We didn’t give you enough, did we?” Carys asked, blunt and up-front.
“You gave us another point on the timeline.” Ashwini didn’t disrespect the women by sugarcoating reality. “Each step gets us closer to finding out what happened to her.”
“Will you . . .” Sina took a deep breath, her breasts threatening to overflow the low-cut top she wore beneath her deep pink puffer jacket. “Will you tell us what you discover?”
“I promise.”
“We don’t have a lot”—Carys stuck her jaw out, shoulders held tight—“but we want to make sure she has a gravestone, a proper burial. Girl ain’t got no family, grew up in foster care after her grandparents got swept away in a flood when she was a kid.”
Ashwini felt no surprise that Felicity’s murderer had zeroed in on wounded prey, on a woman so hungry for love and a stable life that she’d been willing to erase herself to achieve it. “The man whose son discovered the body also wants to help,” she told the women as she took out her phone. “He’s a good guy. Maybe you can work with him to organize Felicity’s funeral once her ashes are released.”