“Humor me.”

Bauer sighs dramatically, then looks at the phone for a long moment. “Like I said, I don’t know the kid. I don’t know what else you want me to tell you.”

“You’ve never seen him before?” Astra asks.

“What, are you deaf? Didn’t I just tell you I’ve never seen him before?”

His eyes shift from me to Astra and back again, and I can see the wheels turning. With his fake tan, slicked back hair, mobster-inspired sense of style, and Jersey attitude, it’s tempting to not take him seriously. It’s easy to underestimate him. I will say, though, Joey Bauer isn’t a stupid man, and as the silence in the room lingers, I can see him putting some things together in his mind.

“What’s really going on here, Agents?” he asks.

“What do you mean?”

“The first time you came in, you were asking me about a girl. Now, you’re asking about this kid,” he says. “Are these two kids missing or something?”

“Look, Mr. Bauer—”

“If these kids are missing and you think I have something to do with it, you’re way off base, Agents,” he says. “I’m telling you—I had nothing to do with it.”

“We never said these kids are missing,” Astra tells him.

“You didn’t have to,” he replies. “I’m not an idiot.”

It doesn’t really matter if he knows. Peter Olange’s abduction is already in the news, and he doesn’t have Ashley’s real identity, so he’s not going to be able to blow the whistle on her. If confirming his suspicions helps him loosen up and talk to us, so be it. I still don’t think Bauer is our guy, but if he’s half the gangster he pretends to be—something else I’m still not convinced of—he might have some bit of useful information.

“Okay, these kids are missing. You’re right,” I tell him.

“I didn’t have anything to do with it.”

“I believe you,” I say. “But do you know anybody who might be involved?”

“What in the hell are you talking about? Why would I know anybody involved?”

Astra leans forward. “You’re a big-time gangster, aren’t you? I mean, you certainly lean into the Jersey mobster type pretty hard. And if there’s one thing we’ve learned from all our years on the job, it’s that mobsters are into all kinds of things. They run drugs, guns, girls—”

He scoffs. “Are you kidding me right now? You think I’m some kind of Jersey mobster?”

“Like I said, you lean into that image pretty hard.”

“And that’s all it is,” he cries. “An image. That’s it. I swear.”

“Did you know that clubs like yours are often used as fronts?” Astra asks.

“Fronts?”

“For running drugs and guns as well as boys and girls,” she presses. “You’d be surprised how many clubs like yours turn out to be party in the front, child trafficking ring in the back.”

Beads of sweat form on his brow, and he stares back at us with wide eyes and a look of absolute horror on his face.

“That ain’t me—I’m tellin’ you—that ain’t me,” he stammers.

“I might believe you and walk out of here right now, but I’m having a real problem with your involvement with the whole sugar baby thing, Joey. Something like that just screams child traffickers to me,” I say.

Bauer pinches the bridge of his nose and grimaces like he’s got a massive migraine coming on. Or maybe we’re giving him one. He lets out a long breath and seems to be trying to calm himself down, so I give him a minute. When he’s composed, he turns to us.

“You’re on the wrong path here, Agents. It’s not me,” he says, his voice flat.

“Like I said, I believe you, Joey,” I reply. “But living this pseudo-gangster lifestyle you seem to be living, surely, you’ve run across some folks who might be into something like trafficking. Surely you know a few people capable of abducting teenagers. Have you heard anything from any of them? Any chatter about trafficking?”

“No. Nothing. I’m telling you—I don’t deal with people like that.”

“Why did you start this whole sugar baby thing?” Astra asks.

“It’s a legit matchmaking service,” he argues. “Do you go and hassle the people at eHarmony when people go missing?”

“eHarmony isn’t usually selling young girls to older men,” Astra points out.

“Nobody’s selling anything here. Like I said, it’s a legit matchmaking service. I provide a venue for people to meet, and what they do from there is all up to them. Period. End of story.”

We both cast skeptical looks at him, but he doesn’t waver. We’re leaning on Bauer as hard as we can, and I’m not seeing the first crack in him. It only reinforces my belief that he’s not involved with this, and we just wasted our time. But we do have an obligation to turn over every stone, no matter how unlikely. He runs a hand over his face and scowls.

“Okay, fine. Listen,” he says. “I’m going to tell you something nobody else knows.”

“We’re listening,” Astra says.

“I host the Sugar Shack because it makes me a lot of money. Enough to keep my club afloat,” he says. “And also, because the guys who take part are influential. They know people. Important people I want to connect with.”

“Like who?” I ask.

He sighs. “Some record company execs. Other times, it’s producers and sound engineers. That kind of thing.”

Astra and I share a look, the confusion I see on her face mirrored on my own. We turn back to Bauer; his cheeks flush, and an expression of embarrassment crosses his face.

“What is this about?” I ask.

He frowns and squirms, finally getting to his feet, and paces the floor behind his desk. Whatever it is he’s not telling us obviously makes him uncomfortable.

“Joey? What’s this about?” I press.

He finally stops pacing and leans on the back of his chair, his face a picture of torment. Bauer looks down and sucks in a breath before raising his eyes to us.

“Look, I’m going to tell you something about me. Something personal,” he says. “But I need your word that it goes no farther than this office.”

“I can’t make that promise, Joey,” I tell him. “If this has any bearing on our case—”

“Trust me, it don’t.”

I look at him evenly. “Okay, if it doesn’t, then it won’t leave this office. If I think it could be connected, even tangentially, then I have a duty to report it.”