CHAPTER
Drisklay glanced at his watch and waved away the pesky, over-attentive waiter. The worst part about Las Vegas was how shamelessly everyone groveled around for a few extra bucks. All those tips added up, Drisklay supposed, but it was still degrading.
Where had his wife gone to? Probably to fix her makeup. She really took this idea of a formal dinner seriously. Maybe she was sitting in the bathroom pouting because he wasn’t paying enough attention to her. Well, she knew he was working this case. And she of all people knew how all-absorbing this kind of investigation could be. What was he supposed to do? Just turn off his brain and ignore the fact that a young girl was missing?
He couldn’t give up. He owed Mrs. Linklater that much, at least.
Closure. That’s what the parents in cas
