“No, they’re not.” He opened the app. “She’s in downtown Austin near Thompson’s Market.”

“Rawlings’s place. Why would she be back there?”

“Did you tell her about Rawlings?”

“No.” She accepted the phone back.

“I can call Santiago.”

“This kind of micromanaging drove her away from me the last time. She needs me to trust her.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

“Look at it this way: if she’s alive and well and pissed at you, it’s better than feeling good about you and dead.”

“You’re right.”

“I’ll have Santiago appear. He’s good about that.”

She dialed Avery’s number. It rang twice and went to voicemail. “Avery, this is Jordan, just letting you know I’m home. We’ve also had a red flag come up on Mr. Rawlings. Be careful around him.” She gripped the phone, hoping she would get an immediate callback. Finally, she ended the call and said, “Do it. Call Santiago and ask him to drive by the area.”

“Consider it done.”

Avery moved down Sixth Street toward the alley that had once been her refuge and her prison. The streets remained full of tourists and shoppers, but some of the girls who worked the street were already out.

She had not spoken to Stacey or any of the other girls in two years. Nowadays, she walked these streets while the sun was shining but refused to linger once it set.

On the corner, she spotted a woman dressed in tight jeans and a halter top. She wore a red wig and was lighting up a cigarette. Stacey.

Avery hurried down the block toward her. “Stacey.”

The redhead regarded her with a narrowing gaze. There were no hints of recognition, and then Avery detected a knowing nod. “Well, well. Thought I’d seen the last of you. How long has it been?”

“Two years.”

“You look clean,” Stacey said.

“I am.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I was looking for you.”

“I don’t have any supply on me right now. Inventory has been spotty since Walker offed himself.”

“I’m not looking for that.”

Stacey inhaled, exhaled smoke slowly. “What do you want?”

“You heard about the Mummy murders?”

“A few tidbits.”

“I knew Tammy Fox. We met in group and did art together.”

A car drove by Stacey, and a window rolled down, but she waved the driver on. As he drove past, Avery glimpsed the man’s face. He looked like Rawlings. She was not totally surprised. All kinds drove these streets.

“Talk fast, Avery. You’re costing me money,” Stacey said.

“Did you ever see anyone bothering her? Anyone watching her?”

“It’s all I can do to keep up with myself.”

“What about Casey Andrews?”

“Is she dead, too?” Stacey asked.

“Still missing.”

“She hooked up with Walker about ten days ago. I saw her go into one of the abandoned buildings. She looked ready to fly high.”