It was February, and the streets of New Orleans were alive with color, music, and the electric energy of Mardi Gras. Tourists flooded the French Quarter, snapping photos of floats and catching beads tossed from balconies. But beneath the festive chaos, trouble brewed, and Tasha Alexander was once again stepping into the shadows.
This was her first case after a much-needed month-long break following the intense Miami investigation. She’d spent January reconnecting with family, indulging in hobbies, and clearing her mind. But now, she was back in the game.
The case had come through an old contact from her brother Marcus’s network. A wealthy couple from Houston had reported their teenage daughter missing during a Mardi Gras parade. The parents were frantic, convinced their daughter had been abducted.
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The Missing Girl
Tasha met the parents, James and Vanessa Brooks, at a boutique hotel in the Garden District. Their faces were etched with worry as they handed her a recent photo of their 17-year-old daughter, Alyssa.
“She was with her friends at the Krewe of Endymion parade,” Vanessa explained, her voice trembling. “They got separated in the crowd, and when they tried to call her, her phone was off.”
“She wouldn’t just run off,” James added firmly. “She’s a responsible kid. Someone must have taken her.”
Tasha nodded, scanning the photo of Alyssa. “Do you know if she was with anyone else? Someone you don’t recognize?”
Vanessa hesitated. “Her friends mentioned a guy. They said he looked older, maybe mid-20s. He was buying them drinks.”
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Into the Quarter
Tasha began her investigation in the French Quarter, starting at the last place Alyssa had been seen: a lively bar on Bourbon Street. She worked her way through bartenders and waitstaff, showing Alyssa’s photo and asking questions.
One bartender remembered Alyssa and the man she’d been with—a smooth-talking local who went by the name “Trent.”
“He’s a regular,” the bartender said, leaning closer. “Likes to hang around tourists, especially young ones. Creeps me out, but he’s never caused trouble here.”
“Do you know where I can find him?” Tasha asked.
“Try the Marigny,” the bartender said. “He’s got a friend who runs a jazz club there.”
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The Jazz Club
The Marigny neighborhood was quieter than the Quarter, but it had its own energy, with jazz music spilling out of dimly lit clubs. Tasha found the club and slipped inside, scanning the room for any sign of Trent.
It didn’t take long for her to spot him—a tall man with a confident smirk, chatting up two young women at the bar. Tasha waited until he was alone before approaching.
“Trent, right?” she said, sliding onto the stool beside him.
He glanced at her, his smile faltering. “Who’s asking?”
“Tasha Alexander. I’m looking for Alyssa Brooks.”
His expression hardened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I think you do,” Tasha said, leaning closer. “I know you were with her the night she disappeared. If you tell me what happened, maybe I don’t call the police.”
Trent hesitated, then stood abruptly. “I’ve got nothing to say.”
As he walked toward the exit, Tasha followed, quickening her pace. Outside, she grabbed his arm, her voice low but firm. “You’re not walking away from this.”
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A Lead
Cornered, Trent confessed that he’d met Alyssa at the bar but claimed he hadn’t hurt her.
“She left with some guy,” he said. “Big dude, tattoos, looked like he could bench-press a car. She seemed into him.”
“Do you know his name?” Tasha pressed.
“Marcus. That’s all I got.”
With a description of the man and his name, Tasha began piecing together a profile. She spent the next day following leads, eventually tracing Marcus to a run-down apartment in the Tremé neighborhood.
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The Confrontation
When Tasha arrived at the apartment, she noticed Alyssa’s distinctive scarf hanging on a railing outside. Her gut told her this was the place.
She knocked on the door, her hand resting on the concealed weapon at her hip. The door creaked open, and a burly man with tattoos stepped out.
“Who are you?” he asked, his tone defensive.
“I’m here for Alyssa Brooks,” Tasha said, her eyes locking with his. “Where is she?”
Marcus sneered. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Tasha stepped closer, her voice sharp. “Listen, I don’t have time for games. You’ve got one chance to let her go, or I’ll make sure every cop in this city knows your name.”
After a tense moment, Marcus backed down. “She’s fine,” he muttered. “She’s inside.”
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Rescue and Revelation
Tasha found Alyssa sitting on a worn-out couch, shaken but unharmed. She quickly ushered the girl out of the apartment and called her parents to let them know she was safe.
Back at the hotel, Alyssa admitted that she’d willingly left with Marcus but soon realized he wasn’t the charming guy he pretended to be. “He got aggressive when I wanted to leave,” she said. “I didn’t know how to get away.”
Tasha reassured her that she’d done nothing wrong and promised to report Marcus to the authorities.
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Back to Gulfport
As the Brooks family prepared to return to Houston, they thanked Tasha profusely.
“I don’t know what we would’ve done without you,” James said, shaking her hand.
“It’s what I do,” Tasha replied, her tone humble.
Back in Gulfport, Tasha reflected on the case. Mardi Gras might have been a time for celebration, but it also reminded her of the dangers lurking beneath the surface. As she prepared for her next case, she felt a renewed sense of purpose.
Tasha Alexander wasn’t just chasing shadows—she was bringing light to the darkest corners of the world.