Maddie Hicks

"And what about you, Ms. Hicks?" I countered, my own gaze hardening. "Are you just a tourist with a press pass, or are you one of the town's permanent residents, a fixture in its particular brand of haunted history?"

"I'm the one who writes the stories, Mr. Draven," she said, a slow smile spreading across her lips. "And this town has a story that's begging to be told, a story that involves more than just wandering spirits and missing geologists."

"So, you're saying my client's brother isn't just another victim of Calico's spectral shenanigans?" I leaned closer, the scent of her perfume — something wild and floral, like desert jasmine after a rainstorm — doing little to clear my head.

"I'm saying," Maddie began, her eyes narrowing, "that the 'ghosts' here have very real, very human motives, and they operate with a precision that would make any supernatural entity blush."

"And what kind of precision are we talking about, Ms. Hicks?" I asked, my voice a low growl. "The kind that leaves behind a body, or the kind that makes a body disappear without a trace?"

"Both," she answered, her gaze unwavering. "The Mongols don't leave loose ends, Mr. Draven. They tie them off with a clean, brutal knot."

"Mongols?" I scoffed, the name an unwelcome echo from my past. "You think this is about some biker gang?"

"They're not a biker gang, Mr. Draven," Maddie corrected, her voice sharp. "They're a global syndicate. And they've decided Calico is their new playground." Is she another one of those yahoos who think that the mafia runs everything? Yes, they exist, but even they can be brought to justice.

"New playground? Like adult Disneyland?" I jest.

"Think of it as a strategic acquisition," Maddie said, her tone dry. "They're not here for the cheap thrills, Mr. Draven. They're here for what's in the ground, and what they can do with it, far from prying eyes."

"And you know this because…?" I prodded, enjoying the sparring match even as a part of me screamed for self-preservation.

"Because I'm the one who keeps tabs on the shadows in this town, Mr. Draven," Maddie said, her voice a low, confident purr. "And the Mongols cast a very long, very dark shadow indeed."

"A shadow that swallows people whole, no doubt," I replied, swirling the coffee in my mug. "The question is, what do you want from me, Ms. Hicks? You're not just here for small talk about international crime syndicates and their desert hideouts."

"You're right," Maddie conceded, leaning back. "I want to know what you really think about your client's missing geologist. Because 'mineral deposits' doesn't quite cover the kind of hush-hush operation I suspect your Mr. Vance is really after, and I suspect you're the only one who can uncover it."

"Vance's brother was looking for more than just rocks," I admitted, the words feeling heavy on my tongue. "He found something that wasn't on any map, and that's a discovery that makes a lot of people very nervous."

Maddie's lips curved into a slow, knowing smile that sent a jolt through me. "Exactly. And the Mongols, Mr. Draven, are the kind of people who don't like surprises that might disrupt their carefully laid plans."

"So, you're saying Vance's brother stumbled into something big," I stated, my eyes fixed on the condensation trailing down her whiskey glass. "Something that put him on the Mongols' radar."

"Or on someone else's," Maddie countered, her voice dropping again. "Someone who might want the Mongols to notice Calico. Someone who might even want them here."

My gaze snapped back to her, the pieces clicking into place with a sickening certainty. Vance. The polished desperation, the oddly specific details about the mine, the way his eyes skittered away when I mentioned his brother's discovery. He wasn't just a grieving brother; he was a puppeteer, pulling strings from the shadows. And Maddie, with her razor-sharp mind and her hidden agenda, was a fellow player in a game far more dangerous than I had anticipated. The air in the saloon, already thick with secrets, now felt charged with a new, more potent kind of deception.

"You think Vance wants the Mongols here?" I asked the question in a low growl.

"I think Vance wants trouble here, Mr. Draven," she replied, her lips curving into a predatory smile. "And the Mongols are very good at providing it."

"And you are simply a reporter, observing this strategic acquisition of trouble?" I leaned back, my hand instinctively seeking the familiar weight of the .38 Special beneath my jacket.

"I'm the Dark Rose, Mr. Draven. And this town is my garden, which has recently been invaded by a most unwelcome blight."

Dark Rose, what in the hell does that mean? "I obviously don't speak your clipped language. Just what is Dark Rose?"

"It's a name," she said, her eyes glinting like polished obsidian. "A name whispered in the dark corners of Calico, a name that means I control the shadows here, Mr. Draven, not the other way around."

"The Dark Rose, huh?" I mused, a slow, incredulous laugh escaping my lips. "And here I thought I was the one who dealt with the ghosts."

Maddie's smile widened, a dangerous, triumphant curve. "Oh, you deal with them, Mr. Draven. I cultivate them." Her eyes, once sharp with inquiry, now held a predatory gleam, the practiced calm of a hunter assessing its prey. "And you, Detective," she added, her voice a silken threat, "are about to become my most interesting specimen."

"And what makes you think I'm the specimen, and not you?" I shot back, my eyes narrowing on her, daring her to meet my gaze without flinching.

"Because," Maddie began, a slow, dangerous smile spreading across her lips, "you're the one who walked into my garden, Detective, and I've always been very particular about the weeds."

The bartender, a man whose face seemed permanently etched with the fatigue of a thousand bad nights, slid a fresh glass of whiskey across the sticky counter towards me. It landed with a soft clink, a dark, amber promise in the dim light. Maddie didn't even glance at it, her focus still locked on me, a predator assessing the distance between hunter and prey.

"So, this whole 'Dark Rose' thing," I began, picking up the glass and letting the potent fumes tickle my nostrils. "Is that why you're so interested in my little mining expedition? Trying to weed out the competition?"