she said in the return text. Where?
Anywhere she wants to go.
Have fun.
We definitely will. See you soon, darling! Until then, all my love.
Lily couldn’t return a sentiment she no longer felt. She let Stephen’s text be the last in the conversational chain then turned back to her work on the Forrester’s design. She was deep into color selection for the sunroom overlooking the water when the call came from Detective Yancy. He had a lead on Debbie Waycaster and needed her to drop by the station to look at some video footage.
“Of course. I’ll be right there.”
Lily parked at the Ocean Spring Police Department and went inside.
Detective Yancy wasted no time getting to the point. “Follow me.” As they wound through the bowels of the station, he continued his explanation. “We’ve found video footage of Debbie Waycaster at the Lucky Strike Casino in Biloxi.”
Biloxi was only two miles across the bay bridge, but Lily rarely went there, particularly since Mississippi gambling laws had transformed it from a beach town with nothing more than gift shops, hotels, and great restaurants along the man-made, white sand beach to a gamblers’ paradise where massive casino boats blocked the view of the water.
“I don’t frequent the casinos, and I don’t know Debbie.”
“I thought you might recognize somebody on the footage.” He opened the door of a conference room with a long scarred table and eight chairs, a screen set up in the front and the lights dim.
He started the film, and the interior of the casino was exactly as she’d imagined, except gaudier. Throngs of people crowded between the red velvet walls where ornate sconces competed with even more ostentatious chandeliers in an attempt to throw some light through a fog of cigarette smoke. Row after row of slot machines lined up like sentinels watching over a giant roulette wheel and the felt-covered tables, where men and women across the strata of society tossed dice in hopes of beating the house.
Lily hadn’t a clue what she was supposed to be looking for.
“There.” Detective Yancy froze the video on a bank of tables where card dealers played against small groups of people with money to blow and the desperate hope that lady luck would be on their side. His pointer highlighted a young woman with dark hair, holding her red parka over her arm and standing behind a man in jeans and a cowboy hat. “Debbie Waycaster. The date on this footage is the last reported time anyone ever saw her.”
“You certainly have lots of witnesses.” As Lily scanned the screen, she suddenly felt cold. There. Sitting at a corner table in the bar facing the card tables was a man with long silver hair, his right hand wrapped around a glass, his face turned toward the table where Debbie stood.
“You see him?” Yancy asked, noting her attention on the man.
“Yes. But I’m not sure who he is.”
“Watch this.” The detective enlarged the screen and focused on the man’s left hand. The little finger was missing. “It’s Clive Allistair.”
“How do you know? He can’t be the only gray-haired man in the world who lost his finger in an accident.”
“When I was twenty, I got tired of being beat up in the wrestling ring and worked a couple of years on Clive’s security team.”
“Why’d you quit?”
“I didn’t see a future there. My old man was a cop, and I decided to give it a try. I’ve never looked back.” He hovered the pointer over Clive’s finger stub. “Until now.”
“I don’t personally know if Clive has ever been to a casino.” Lily felt lightheaded. Toni had been telling the truth about his gambling habits. Regardless of whether it was relevant to the case, she couldn’t keep it a secret. “But I did hear he likes to gamble, so I’m not surprised he’s there.”
“Look at this.” He panned to a dark corner near Clive. The man standing in deep shadow was tall and dressed in black. She couldn’t make out his features, but his dark hair was unmistakable. “See the angle of his body? He’s positioned so he can see both Clive and Debbie. Do you recognize him?”
Stephen? She tamped down her growing apprehension. But then she noticed the man in the video was far bulkier than the aristocratic-looking third generation Allistair. And there was something about his arrogant stance that was all too familiar.
“I can’t be certain that’s Graden Young, but I think it is. If Clive went to a casino, he’d most certainly have his most