I quickly text him back. Better keep things vague in case anyone is tapping into our messages.

  I’m okay. Will be leaving Aces soon.

  I feel terrible, throwing him out on the street wearing next to nothing. But I still think he was safer out there than he was in here.

  I’ve never felt unsafe at Aces.

  In many ways it’s been my sanctuary.

  I’ve never been head over heels in love with my position here, but it’s better than working a nine to five. I’m getting paid a living wage to sing, to perform. It wasn’t exactly what I envisioned when I first got off that plane in NYC all those years ago, but it’s a hell of a lot closer to the dream than a lot of people get.

  I’ve worked here nearly five years. The Reflections callback was in early summer, and I started at Aces soon after that.

  I’ve seen so many people come and go. I’ve made very few friends here—the one time I tried to do so, it failed catastrophically—because of how impermanent everything is. Once a server fulfills their contract, they go off into the world.

  Or so I thought.

  Just like the waitstaff at Rouge’s other clubs, we never see them again.

  And now I know why.

  A cooler of human hearts hidden away is damning evidence, but I have no hard proof that they’re connected to the disappearances. It could be circumstantial. They could have been planted.

  But how the fuck is a cooler full of hearts circumstantial?

  Ugh. But how can I know for sure?

  I almost slap myself in the face when I realize how simple it is.

  Harrison works in a hospital. The same hospital Rouge sits on the board of.

  He can look into this. See if any unexpected organ donations made their way to him. Alissa mentioned an older couple who got organs that were perfect matches out of the blue. They had signed a form indicating they’d refuse treatment if a match wasn’t found in a month. Then, miraculously, a heart and a pair of lungs showed up.

  As soon as I finish up here tonight, I’ll go to Harrison’s and we’ll figure out how he can investigate this further. He’s an attending physician in the hospital, so he must have access to records my sister would rather keep private.

  Now I just have to keep my head⁠—

  A knock at the door.

  Oh, God. Please be an old creep wanting to fuck me.

  Anyone but⁠—

  “Bianca!”

  Damn it.

  It’s her. My sister. It’s like she’s clairvoyant. She always shows up at the worst possible moment.

  I take a deep breath in. She doesn’t know that I know. She doesn’t know that I know.

  The mantra does nothing to ease my nerves.

  I paste on a smile and open the door. “Good evening, Rouge.”

  She bustles into the room, brushing past me. She takes a seat at my vanity and crosses her legs. “I just had the most fascinating conversation with Mona.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Mona?”

  “Mona Roth. One of our patrons.”

  Right. Mrs. Roth. The woman who was trying to get into the bathroom.

  Time to think on my feet.

  I crinkle my eyes in a way that I hope looks like innocence. “Of course. What did you two talk about?”

  Rouge cocks her head. “She said you locked yourself in the ladies’ restroom. That you blocked off the entrance, kept her waiting on the outside for several minutes.”

  I force a laugh. “It was all a big misunderstanding.”

  “I told her as much,” Rouge counters. “I asked her why you would possibly be using the ladies’ restroom when you have your own private toilet here in your dressing room.”

  “There’s a logical explanation, as I told her.”

  Rouge curls her lips. “You told her your bathroom was out of order, and you were experiencing a particularly turbulent menstrual cycle.”

  “Well, I was a bit more discreet than that⁠—”

  “Even though”—Rouge’s eyes shine with amusement—“you and I both know you’re not due to bleed for another week or so.”

  I widen my eyes. “You and I both? Have you been tracking my period?”

  She sniffs. “Don’t act all surprised. I keep track of the cycles of all my female employees, especially those who sell their services to the gentlemen of Aces in the private suites. I need to know when one of my workers will be out of commission for a few days, unless of course the patron in question prefers it that way.”

  I almost gag at her words, but I swallow it down. “Fine. If you must know, I ate something that didn’t agree with me. I was experiencing some…gastrointestinal distress.”

  “Then why not wallow in your own private toilet? Why take it public? I know as well as you that your bathroom is not out of order.”

  I think fast. “It was on my break. You know that sometimes the musicians hang out in my dressing room during the break. I was afraid it would be noisy. I didn’t want them to make fun of me. And the feeling hit out of nowhere, so I panicked. Ran into the ladies’ room. It was empty, and I didn’t want anyone else walking in, so I pushed the chaise against the door.”

  She clasps her hands across her lap. “That’s an awfully big chaise for a petite woman like you to handle all by yourself.”

  “I scooted it. It’s not that heavy. I’m stronger than I look.”

  Rouge narrows her eyes. Then she gets to her feet and glides to my dressing room door, glancing dismissively over her shoulder. “I hope you feel better, Bianca.”

  I blink. “I already am. Thank you, Rouge.”

  She opens the door slowly, keeping her eyes on me until she’s finally departed.

  I lock the door and lean against it.

  She didn’t buy it.

  I gave her an answer to every question, but she’s my sister. She knows when I’m lying.

  But what she doesn’t know yet is why I was lying.

  There are lots of reasons I could have gone into the restroom and not wanted anyone in there with me. Maybe I took a lover in there and hooked up with him. I couldn’t have used my dressing room because the musicians were in there.

  Maybe I was shooting up some illicit substance. I wouldn’t be the first Aces patron to do something like that in the bathrooms. We’ve dealt with a lot of overdoses.

  The least likely explanation is that I was uncovering my sister’s organ harvesting ring.

  At least that’s what I’m hoping she’ll think.

  Rouge is smart. Smarter than I am. I’ll be the first to admit it.

  But she underestimates my intelligence. She couldn’t possibly think I’d uncover her deepest, darkest secret.

  God willing that’s the case.

  I look at my watch.

  Thirty minutes until closing.

  One more set and I’m home free.

  4

  HARRISON

  “Every time Harry doesn’t come home from school, the first place I check is the ravine behind our neighborhood.”

  My mom’s said that countless times. And it’s true.

  This is my place to hang out by myself. It’s a half mile or so away from my parents’ trailer park. The school bus drops me off nearby, and I’ll usually hang out here for an hour or two before finally going home.

  There’s not a whole lot there waiting for me after school lets out anyway. Mom and Dad both work at least until five, sometimes later if they need overtime. My older brothers Harold, Harrow, Harvey, and Harker usually hang with their own friends. My one younger sibling, Harlan, thinks he’s my best friend and will glom onto me the second I get home. He’s two years younger than I am, just started first grade. He’s having a hard time adjusting and I’m like a security blanket to him.

  My time in the ravine is the only time I have to myself. The only time I’m not in school or packed with my family like a bunch of sardines in our tiny mobile home.

  Sometimes I’ll catch bugs while I’m down here—one time I got a praying mantis—and sometimes I’ll throw rocks into the little creek. Sometimes I can make one skip across the water. Harold is really good at it, but he’s good at most things.

  But mostly what I just do here is think. I think about a lot of things. What I want to be when I grow up. What kind of girl I’m going to marry. What kind of house I’d like to build.

  One thing is for sure. I’m going to get out of this part of Des Plaines. I want to live in downtown Chicago. Maybe I’ll be a doctor at a big hospital or something.

  I get off the bus and head down to the ravine. But today, for the first time, another boy is there. He looks about my age, and he’s dressed in a fancy striped sweater with a white dress-shirt collar sticking out. Pressed khaki pants and fancy-looking brown shoes—the kind Dad saves for special occasions, like Nana O’Rourke’s funeral.

  This kid’s going to mess up his fancy shoes. It can get muddy in the ravine.

  I approach him. “Be careful. Those clothes look expensive.”

  He looks up at me. His eyes and hair are both dark. He looks a lot like me, come to think of it, except cleaner. More put together.

  He rolls his eyes. “I don’t care if I mess up my clothes. I don’t care about anything.”

  “You don’t? Not even your mom and dad?”

  He huffs. “Especially not them. My dad only cares about one thing. His job. And Mom just cares about her ladies’ clubs and stuff.” He kicks at a nearby pebble. “They don’t care about me at all.”

  “That can’t be true.” I take a few steps toward him. “Moms and dads care a lot about their kids. Maybe they’re just super busy with life.”

  My mom and dad aren’t perfect, but they do love all six of their children with their whole hearts. They give us everything they can. It’s just not a lot.

  The boy shakes his head. “My parents could care. They just choose not to.” He sits on the edge of the ravine, stares into the rushing water. We had a big rainstorm last night, so it’s flowing faster than usual.

  I sit down next to him. “Well, that sucks. I’m sorry about that.” I extend a hand. “My name is Harrison. Harry for short. What’s yours?”

  He looks me up and down and gives me a small smile. “Maddox.”

  “Nice to meet you, Maddox.”

  He looks around. “Do you live around here?”

  “Yep. My family and I live in the trailer park just a few blocks from here.”

  “A trailer park?” He wrinkles his forehead. “I’m sorry.”

  I cock my head. “What’s there to be sorry about?”

  He swallows, blinks a few times. “Sorry. I mean… I’m sorry that I said I was sorry.”

  I chuckle. “You’re not from this area, are you?”

  He bites his lip. “Not exactly. My family’s driver picked me up from school on the way to the airport. He’s picking up Dad from a business trip. I… I pretended I was going to be sick, made him pull over as he was getting off the highway. And then I just…ran.”

  I drop my jaw. “You ran away?”

  He smirks. “I guess so.”

  “Where are you going to live?”

  He shrugs. “I’ll figure it out.”

  I decide to change the subject. “What do you like to do for fun?”

  “Dad’s trying to get me into fencing. Water polo. Horse racing. It’s not really my thing.”

  “What is your thing?”

  He shrugs. “I don’t know. I had this uncle—he died about a year ago—who ran this men’s clothing store in Chicago. I always thought it would be cool to run a store like that.”

  Men’s clothes. There’s a subject I know nothing about.

  “What else?”

  He shrugs. “I don’t know.”

  “What’s your favorite food?”

  “Cake.” He laughs. “You?”

  “Spaghetti. But I also love cake. Favorite drink?”

  He frowns. “Okay… Don’t make fun of me, but I really like tea.”

  I jump to my feet. “Really? Me too!”

  He narrows his eyes. “You’re kidding.”

  “I’m not. I freaking love tea. I brew a pot almost every night.”

  “What kind?”

  I shrug. “The Lipton kind?”

  He stands, pats my shoulder. “There’s so many more kinds than that. You ever try Earl Grey?”

  “Who the heck is he?”

  He laughs. “It’s like black tea with an orangey flavor. And that’s just the beginning. There’s all kinds of⁠—“

  Maddox’s eyes widen as he steps toward me and slips in a patch of mud. He falls backwards, right into the rushing water.

  My heart pounds as the roaring stream carries him away.

  “Hey!” I call out. “Try to get your footing!”

  But I don’t think he can hear me. He’s not used to this waterway. I am, though. I’ve fallen in countless times. I know how to get out. But Maddox needs help.

  I quickly take my shoes off and jump in after him. I swim down to him and wrap an arm around his waist. Once I get a tight grip around him, I reach up and grab a tree branch and pull us to safety.

  I lay Maddox across the bank. His eyes are closed. I place an ear against his mouth and nose. I don’t think he’s breathing.

  I’ve seen CPR on TV. I’ve never tried it before. But there’s always a first time.

  I push down on his chest a bunch of times and then plug his nose and perform a rescue breath. A couple of more compressions and his eyes shoot open. He spits out a bunch of water.

  I slap his back a few times. “You’re okay, Maddox.”

  He finally gets his breath under him before looking over at me, his eyes wide. “You saved me, Harry.”

  Tea.

  That was the first thing Maddox and I ever bonded over. The one thing that we had in common, despite coming from different worlds. Right before I pulled him out of the ravine and saved his life.

  Eventually, a teapot became a symbol of our friendship. It became our go-to gift for birthdays and Christmases. Often we’d give the same teapot back that we’d just received. It was a fun little tradition that laid a base for a lifelong friendship.

  And now, I’m holding a small, elaborately decorated teapot. Hand painted with tiny blue leaves and vines across its surface. Too small to be an actual teapot. There’s a windup key on the side. I slowly turn it and let it go.

  A tune tinkles out of its spout.

  It’s a music box.

  Huh?

  But no one else knows what the teapot means to us. Maybe Maddox shared that information with Alissa, but it’s always been an inside joke between the two of us. Dinah certainly wouldn’t know about it, so this can’t be a gift from her as I previously thought.

  No. This has some deeper meaning.

  The tune has stopped, so I wind the key up again and listen to it in full.

  It starts off with four disjunct notes and then plays an unrelated tune. It’s a lilting waltz in a minor key that sounds like something out of a Tim Burton movie. Something must be wrong with the cylinder inside the music box, though, because there’s a weird pause toward the beginning of the waltz, and then it keeps playing notes that sound like they don’t belong with the tune. Halfway through, a note plays that sounds too long. Pretty soon it starts over with the same weird four notes.

  Very strange.

  Who the hell left this in my car?

  It’s not from Bianca. I’m pretty sure it’s not from Dinah. It’s certainly not from Maddox or Alissa. No one else has had access to my car the last few days.

  Except…

  The valet driver at Bianca’s apartment!

  Of course, that’s a nonstarter. I have no idea what he looks like. His face was entirely obscured by a large scarf, a high collar, and a large pair of sunglasses.

  Maybe he was disguised on purpose.

  A different guy was on duty when we left Bianca’s apartment. He seemed confused when I told him someone else had taken my car. We told him it was a guy who was bundled up, and he said it was probably some guy named Chad.

  But maybe it was somebody else entirely. Someone who dressed up as a valet driver to get access to my car, plant this mysterious gift in my trunk.

  It must be a message, but I have no idea what on earth it could be.

  Some of the notes sound like they’re wrong, but I have no idea where to start since I don’t know the actual tune that’s playing.

  Maybe the move is to go back to Bianca’s apartment, see if there’s security footage of this valet driver, try to identify him.

  That might help. It’s late, but I can hop in my car and go to Bianca’s apartment right now and⁠—

  My phone buzzes.

  It’s a text.

  Two texts, actually. The first one came in a few minutes ago, but I didn’t notice it because I was looking at the teapot.

  They’re both from Bianca.

  The first just says, Made it home safe. Let me know how you are.

  The second?

  On my way to you now. Don’t move.

  5

  BIANCA

  I didn’t give my sister any time to waylay me after my last set. I flew into my dressing room, grabbed my things, and went straight to the Aces parking garage.

  Part of me wanted to leave right after that awkward conversation with her. If she suspects the worst, then the clock is ticking.

  But an early departure would have really tipped her off, so I decided to stay. Keep things routine so as not to arouse any suspicion.

  No matter what, our time is limited. It will only be so long before Rouge visits the Caterpillar Hotel. She’ll see that Maddox and Alissa’s rooms have both been broken into, and then she’ll follow our tracks and figure out what we know.

  She checks the Caterpillar weekly. She won’t be there for a few more days.

  As luck would have it, I’m not due back at Aces until Friday. This is Tuesday, a night that the club is normally closed, but Rouge opened it specially for St. Patrick’s Day. I have the next few days off, and hopefully that will be long enough for Harrison and me to pinpoint our next maneuver.

  Just in case Rouge visits the Caterpillar earlier than we anticipate, though, it’s best that I lie low. I don’t think returning to my apartment is a good idea, which is why I’m on my way to Harrison’s now. Rouge has no way of connecting this to him, so he’ll have to let me hunker down with him for a few days.