I’ve known Jack for over a decade. Met him when I started to work for Lanigan.
Murray Lanigan was about eighty when I met him in an alley where two idiots were trying to rob him. I say idiots because the fools didn’t realize who they were fucking with.
I knew. I knew from the minute I set foot on the strip.
What the old man thought he was doing without his bodyguard I have no idea. To this day, I’m certain he suffered from some sort of dementia.
The casino I own used to be his, but by the time I started working for him, he was old news. A legend, but old news.
I beat up the two-bit thugs trying to rob him, and he hired me on the spot. I still think it’s because he mistook me for one of his sons, long dead by the time I came on the scene. It was partly my accent, heavier then since I’d just gotten into the country about a month earlier.
During one of his rare lucid moments, he changed his will, leaving the casino, hotel and the building itself to me. His children were pissed, but fuck them. I was the one who was with the old man the last years of his life. I was there when he was sick. When he was scared. I held his hand when he died.
And in some ways, he was like a father to me.
They contested the will, of course, but by that time I was eighteen, legally an adult, and thanks to him, a citizen of this country.
The will was iron-clad. They couldn’t touch me.
It’s because of me the casino’s standing and profitable today at a level it never was when he was alive. At his request, I honor my promise to make sure his family is taken care of. Even the vultures.
Jack was Lanigan’s attorney and I guess I inherited him, too.
His office is off the strip and by the time I arrive, he’s waiting on me.
“Giovanni, it’s good to see you,” Jack says, shaking my hand.
“Good to see you, Jack. I hope I’m not too late.” I take a seat in his office and he tells the secretary to bring whiskey.
“No, you’re right on time. And I’ve got some information for you.” He takes his seat behind his desk and opens a file on his computer.
After the secretary brings the whiskey, she leaves and he begins.
“You know the Williams family, I take it?” he asks as he pours and hands me my glass.
“Sean Williams Sr. was a senator on the east coast. Maine. Lived in D. C. for a time. Had a wife and son. Had fostered another girl for a year before taking Sienna Williams in when she was eleven.”
That’s as far as I got but I want more.
He knows me well enough not to ask why I’m interested.
“Wife died a few years ago. Cancer,” he says. “The senator just recently passed away of a heart attack. He was involved in multiple scandals throughout his political career but nothing seemed to stick. The son, Sean, is twenty-six, and Ciara, the other girl they fostered was actually adopted by them.”
“Where’s the son?”
“Maine. He’s following in his father’s footsteps.”
“Another dirty politician?”
Jack smiles. “Something like that. The girl, Ciara Williams, is in town. Has been for a few months. You may know her current whereabouts better than I.”
I nod once.
He mimics my motion and goes on, not mentioning Ciara’s current state.
“Now the girl they fostered but didn’t adopt, her real name was Sienna Jacobs. Chase is new.”
“Where does the Jacobs come from?”
“She was found when she was about a year old. Left in a public restroom, poor kid.”
He hands me two print outs of a too-skinny baby. I know it’s her the minute I see her face. It’s the eyes. Almond-shaped, and whiskey-colored and already scared.
I feel my chest tighten.
“She was filthy and starved. Had a gold bracelet with the name Jacobs on it wrapped around her wrist.”
I remember the only piece of jewelry she wore last night was a thin gold bracelet. At least she had it on when she was first brought to me. They would have stripped her of everything before the auction. No personal effects.
“She kept Williams as her name.”
“Did she legally change it to Chase at some point?”
“Not legally, no. Not as far as anything I found. And she’s been off the grid for seven years. No social media accounts. No publicly listed number. Nothing. There was some talk about an accusation she made against the senator and his son some years back. Went to the police to report abuse.”
“What kind of abuse?”
Jack looks through something on his computer, shakes his head. “There’s no file. Just says it was disproved. This I’m getting from a gossip magazine. No police report to prove she ever even went to them. If there was ever a file, it’s gone now. And then the girl disappeared. I’m guessing after what she did, she’d probably overstayed her welcome at the senator’s house.
“Now as far as the name Sienna Chase goes…” he trails off, he turns his monitor around. “Three living in the state of Nevada, none in Las Vegas. A Sienna Chase did pass away some years ago. It’s probably where the driver’s license she’s using comes from.”
“Huh.” I study the screen. What are you hiding from, Sienna Jacobs?
Jacobs.
Like she doesn’t exist.
“All right. Thank you, Jack.” I stand. “Let me know if you find out anything else. Dig for that police report. And find more gossip if you can.”
He stands too, extends his hand to shake mine. “I will. You take care now.”