Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 78732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
"I looked up that address in the industrial park, and it's registered to A-1 Janitorial."
"A cleaning service? So they have women dressing up in kinky maid costumes and—"
"They do large jobs like casinos and massive offices. I didn't see anything about maid costumes, man."
"Doesn't sound too nefarious," I say, turning back to the coffee pot, grateful he was up before me to get it going. I don't know if I could handle waiting for it to brew.
He sets his coffee cup down on the counter. "I searched the dark web, and word in certain circles is that they're running a mail-order bride-type business out of there."
This information fully catches my attention. "Really?"
"You know the story. Men who have too much money who can't get a woman the old-fashion way pay to buy one. The men usually align with that involuntarily celibate group of white heterosexual males that blame everyone else for their inability to get laid. The women are usually from a foreign country and are promised citizenship in exchange for marriage."
"A lot of that shit ends up with very abusive outcomes, and a lot of those women are never seen again."
"Exactly," he says. "So that's why I owe you the apology. I gave you shit for thinking it was your ego that was suspecting something was wrong when, in reality, that girl might be in a bad situation."
"She's American," I argue. "What did you find out about the car and the house?"
"The car is in her name. The house is a rental. Diving deep into that person's background, I don't think they have any link to the janitorial service. I can't tell you why she'd be driving by there at night, but maybe you can go to the store and ask?"
"Just ask?" I scoff. "I'll have to explain that I was being a creep and followed her all over the place last night. She'll call the cops on me."
"I'm monitoring 911 and non-emergency traffic through the dispatchers already. If she calls, I can easily have it forwarded to my contact with the Vegas police department." He shrugs. "No big deal. It's all in here."
I look down at the folder he hands me, opening it up to find a lot more detail on the situation than I ever expected.
"I'll hold off on alerting New Mexico about it until we know we might have an actual case. I can tell you that the direction is going to be to stand down until at least the guy from Tennessee gets here and can go over everything."
"That won't be until next week," I mutter, flipping through the paperwork, my eyes landing on her information sheet.
Kaylee Renee Rhodes, twenty-six. A former resident of Midlothian, Texas. Las Vegas resident for two years and four months.
"It'll be here before you know it," he says. "Don't get into trouble with that."
"Thanks, man," I tell him as he leaves the kitchen.
I feel like I'm holding a ticking time bomb. All of me feels like I should do something while there's that hint of a whisper that says I need to do things the way Cerberus expects me to do them. There's a reason for every direction we've been given, and I know Kincaid and the men under him have decades of experience. I also know I won't be able to just sit on this information. The whispers will grow until they're a roar in my ears and impossible to ignore.
After making myself a steamy cup of coffee, I continue to flip through the information Rooster gave me, committing it all to memory, unsure which bits and pieces I'll need if I decide to look deeper into this situation.
One cup of coffee turns into two as I read the dossier on the men who are known to be connected to this sort-of mail-order-bride organization.
Edmon Vasilev, the big bastard that he is, came to the United States fifteen years ago and has been an employee of the janitorial service the entire time. He pays his taxes and was prompt in taking care of the one traffic citation he got nine years ago.
Dima Tkachenko is a first-generation Russian American, born to immigrant parents who started out on the East Coast and moved to Nevada when he was in middle school. His father started the janitorial service shortly after moving, and he took it over after his father's death eight years ago. Rumors of the shift in business practices didn't start until after Dima took the helm. He's been listed as a witness on more than a hundred marriage licenses in the state of Nevada which should raise a million red flags if there was anyone watching for such a thing.
"What a way to honor your father's legacy," I mutter.
I make note of all the information on the man, including the places he's known to frequent. Rooster was very fucking thorough and so detailed that I know this man likes to eat Philly cheesesteaks, but only from one of the restaurants in the MGM.