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“What was that about?”
Braydon didn’t know what answer to expect but it sure wasn’t what came next.
“Cal Green, you know him?”
Braydon nodded. “The mechanic?”
“Yeah, well he left a message a few minutes ago. He says his secretary, Trixie Martin, hasn’t shown up to work for two days. He got worried because she wasn’t answering her phone and headed to her place. All the lights were on, the TV, too, and the front door was unlocked. He talked to the nearest neighbor but they didn’t see or hear anything. Her car was even in the driveway.” He didn’t wait for Braydon to respond. “If that woman in your office is telling the truth, then that means—”
Braydon felt like he was waking up—all of his senses stood alert.
“That means that we have three missing women.”
* * *
SOPHIA WAS FED UP with all of the interruptions Culpepper had to offer. From the moment she had stepped foot inside the police station it had been a stream of one after the other—keeping her from asking whole questions, let alone getting full answers.
She had been bounced from officer to officer only to be told to keep quiet and wait for the lead detective to come in from a call. So, there she had stayed, sans the quiet. The four-hour trip had strung out her already thin patience as she left voice mail after voice mail on Lisa’s phone. It wasn’t her fault that the Culpepper PD wasn’t prepared for her volley of loud complaints.
Sophia smoothed out the invisible wrinkles in her slacks and tried to keep her temper in check as the minutes ticked by and the detective hadn’t returned. On a normal day she would have been more understanding, perhaps more patient. She knew that if she were back home in the city, the chances of her still waiting in the department’s lobby would be great. At least here she had been ushered into an office. Small blessings and silver linings.
Being alone was something Sophia had grown accustomed to throughout the past few years, but she found the lack of communication now was grinding into her anxiety. Lisa might fly by the seat of her pants 80 percent of the time, but she had never been so irresponsible as to leave without saying a word. Their relationship may have become strained lately, but it wasn’t that strained.
“Sorry to step out like that.” Detective Thatcher walked back into the office with a notebook under his arm. Instead of sitting behind the desk, he leaned on its corner and tilted his head down to meet her gaze. His eyes were the color of the sea—swirls of aquamarine. They were the kind of eyes that captured a person, making them want nothing more than to get lost within the bright pools. Sophia hadn’t noticed their allure until he was so close.
He had a swimmer’s build—tall, lean, but with muscles that peeked through his clothes. His shirt was pulled taut over broad shoulders, while his sun-kissed skin was a rich bronze—a shade she hadn’t been able to achieve in the muck of Atlanta. In contrast to his partner’s thinning blond hair, Thatcher had a mass of dark brown locks that were mussed to mimic what she thought would be his bed hair.
Sophia realized she had been staring. She needed to pull it together for Lisa. She cleared her throat and pushed her back straight.
“Now, if you would start from the beginning,” he prompted. His long, and ringless, fingers wrapped around the pen. He wrote with controlled precision as she spoke.
“My birthday was four days ago, on Sunday,” Sophia started.
“Happy belated birthday, then.”
She waved her hand dismissively but said thanks. Turning twenty-six hadn’t felt any different than turning twenty-five. “Lisa was supposed to come celebrate and she didn’t. And before you come up with a bunch of excuses as to why she didn’t show, let me stop you. My sister is an intelligent woman who, despite her occasional bout of forgetfulness, is one of the most responsible women I know. I’ve been trying to get a hold of her since yesterday. I called her cell phone, her house and even her work.”
“Have you been to her residence?” Thatcher asked, his eyes piercing. Sophia shifted, suddenly uncomfortable.
“Yes, she obviously wasn’t there.”
“Was there any kind of disturbance? Did it look like someone had been there recently?”
“No, but that doesn’t really surprise me. From what I’ve heard she practically lives with her boyfriend.” Thatcher raised an eyebrow, this quiet gesture asking more than any verbal question would. “She isn’t at his place, either. He’s the one who called me yesterday asking where she was.”
“Wait, didn’t you say she missed your birthday was four days ago? Why did you wait until yesterday to try to contact her?”
“We haven’t really been on the best of terms this past year.” Sophia’s face heated. “I assumed she didn’t come because she didn’t want to. It wasn’t until Richard called that we realized she had been missing for two full days already.”
“And Richard is the boyfriend?”
She nodded. “Richard Vega, I think he owns a company in town.”
Thatcher’s expression sharpened, his brow furrowing together as he paused writing.
“Your sister is dating Richard Vega? As in Richard Vega of Vega Consulting?”
Sophia nodded, more hair fell away from the bun atop her head. Whatever Thatcher was thinking, it wasn’t showing in his expression. His calm demeanor had turned utterly blank.
“And why didn’t he file a missing persons?”
Sophia felt her eyes widen. “You mean he didn’t?”
Thatcher stood and beckoned his partner from the other room.
“Did Richard Vega file a missing report a few days ago?” The blond man didn’t leave to go check. He instantly said no.
“We would have heard if Vega came here.”
Thatcher scratched his chin. It was smooth—void of facial hair that would hide the perfection that outlined his face. How kissable it looked, Sophia would have thought, had anger, fear and suspicion not been vying for the top emotional spot. Richard had called her with a voice drenched in worry. When she admitted she had no idea where Lisa was, he had assured her he would have it taken care of—that he would take all of the necessary steps to find her sister. Sophia had assumed that meant talking to the police.
“Why wouldn’t he have talked to you?” she asked.
“That’s a good question,” Thatcher said before leveling his gaze. There was a look she couldn’t decipher behind the eyes of the detective. All she knew was that it comforted and scared her at the same time. “That’s a very good question.”
Chapter Two (#ulink_e4a9fd2f-57a1-584e-a769-3007f0b7d70e)
Detective Thatcher’s cool expression returned as he ordered Sophia to stay in his office. He sent in one of the beat cops, Officer Whitfield, to take down an official statement with all of the contact information between her sister and her. Whether he sent in a woman thinking it would make her more cooperative, she didn’t know.
Cara, as she was told to call the woman, was curt but kind and even though her gender didn’t affect Sophia’s mood, she managed to dot all the i’s and cross all the t’s.
“Don’t worry too much,” Cara said with a smile that contrasted her darker skin. “Detective Thatcher is one dedicated man. He’ll locate your sister and bring her back, no problem.” She went as far as to pat Sophia’s knee. “I’m sure she’s just lost track of time or is staying with a friend.”
Sophia resisted the urge to disagree and instead pasted on a smile. Maybe the woman had softened her attitude a bit, but that was only patching one spot in a dam that was ready to burst. If she didn’t get some answers soon, there would be no man or woman in the whole town who could keep her from exploding.
“Thank you for waiting,” Detective Thatcher greeted when he came back in. He nodded to Officer Whitfield as she collected her things and exited.
“Well, I seem to be doing that a lot here.”
Thatcher ignored the pointed response and leveled his gaze at her.
“Miss Hardwick, do you know any women by the names of Trixie Martin or Amanda Alcaster?”
Sophia didn’t have to think about that long. She shook her head. “No.”
“Those names don’t ring a bell at all? Maybe your sister, Lisa, has mentioned them?”
She crossed her arms across her chest. “No, I don’t recall her talking about them. As I stated before, Lisa and I haven’t been on the best of terms recently. There’s a chance she may know them, but I couldn’t help you with that,” she answered honestly. “What does that have to do with Lisa being missing? Do you think they took her?” She compiled a quick list of why someone would kidnap Lisa. For one, she was beautiful—long legs, big bust, thick black, tangle-free hair and a pair of lips that drew men’s attentions from a mile away. Lisa was also annoyingly perfect when it came to socializing. She knew how to command a room and entertain an audience. She also seemed to be dating a man who carried a lot of weight in town. Surely any or all of those reasons could make a few women jealous.
Detective Thatcher scratched at his chin, staring through her as he thought. When he realized she needed an answer, he straightened.
“I don’t think so.” His answer was made to put her at ease, but it wasn’t as concrete as she would have liked.
“Then why are we talking about them and not about Richard and the fact that he did not report my sister missing?”
“I’m about to go question him myself,” Thatcher said, pushing off the desk. He handed her a piece of paper.
“That’s my office number and my cell number along with Detective Langdon’s numbers.”
Sophia raised her eyebrow. “And you’re giving this to me why?” It was his turn to look confused.
“So you can contact us if you hear from Lisa or think of anything else that could help this investigation.”
“But you just said you’re going to go talk to Richard, right?”
“Yes, I certainly am.”
“I’m coming with you, then.” Sophia stood and pushed her bag up her shoulder. Detective Thatcher looked less than pleased but she didn’t care. She had up and left her job as an office manager at Jones Office Supply, traveled from the big city to a town that in comparison would barely fit in a shoe box, all while being submerged in a pool of worry. She didn’t want answers—she needed them.
“We’d like it if you would stay here and answer a few questions to help us, Miss Hardwick. Don’t worry, I’ll ask Richard all of the important questions.”
“I can answer questions later, Detective. Right now I want to go see what Richard has to say.” She crossed her arms over her chest. She was glad she hadn’t changed her outfit since work that morning. The heels gave her the height to feel intimidating.
Thatcher mirrored her stance, crossing his arms over his chest. The biceps that flexed at the movement didn’t lie about his workout habits.
“Listen, you’ve made it pretty clear that you don’t know much about your sister’s boyfriend or this town, so let me enlighten you on a few things.” He made sure she was focusing on what he said next. “Richard Vega is the wealthiest man in Culpepper. He is also one of the most loved residents. Pissing him off and yelling at him won’t get you any answers. At least, no truthful ones. If you want to come with me you need to calm down and try to keep a level head. Got it?”
Sophia nodded, slightly offended. It was true that she wasn’t the best with confrontation but why Richard didn’t report Lisa missing was a big question she was more than capable of asking. Unless Thatcher was arresting her for something, there was no way he could stop her regardless. She knew how to work the GPS on her phone—she could get to Richard’s by herself. Sophia would go over the detective’s head or behind his back if necessary. He must have guessed as much. After a tense moment he let out a long sigh.
“You’re riding with me, then,” he said, not trying to hide his annoyance.
“I have my own car, thank you.”
“Listen, if you want to come along, you’re riding with me.”
“Why?” she asked, voice raised. Was this some kind of cop-civilian power trip? She wasn’t afraid to start yelling again.
“Because I want to make sure you come back to answer those questions.” He took his keys out of his desk and motioned for her to go through the door. “I have a feeling you aren’t a person who respects any kind of rules.”
Sophia tried not to blush as she struggled to get into the cab of the detective’s truck. Her heels, now more cumbersome than intimidating, snagged on the small step up making her look like a drunken fool as she stumbled inside. At least Thatcher kept his mouth shut and pretended not to notice. If she had been Lisa, the movement would have been effortless and graceful.
“How far is it to Richard’s?” Sophia asked as they turned out of the station’s parking lot.
“You’ve never been there?” he asked.
“No, I haven’t.” She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, guilt starting to move through her stomach. “I’ve never met the man, either.”
“And how long have Richard and your sister been dating?”
Sophia rolled her eyes. “Over a year now.” She set her jaw and mentally dared him to ask why she hadn’t met him. He must have picked up on her body language—he shut his mouth and they rode in silence until he finally answered her.
“Richard Vega lives on Loop Road. We have about ten more minutes until we get there. He lives on a large piece of land so it’s farther from the town center.”
She nodded. The anger she had felt toward the detective was lessening as she struggled to bat down her aversion to his authority.
“I do follow the rules, by the way,” she said after a few minutes had passed. “I just—” She looked down at her hands. “Lisa is the only family I have left. Well, the only one who counts at least. So, I’ve been kind of high-strung lately.” She felt her cheeks heat up again as she tried to apologize for her rude behavior without actually having to say it.
The detective glanced over before he sighed for the second time that day.
“It’s okay. Situations like these are stressful.” He hesitated before continuing. “We were late into the station because we were on a call about a woman named Amanda Alcaster who was reported missing. There’s also another woman, named Trixie Martin, who was reported missing within minutes of us arriving.”
Sophia sucked in a breath. She didn’t know what to process first.
“I wanted to tell you so when I bring it up to Vega, you don’t freak out,” he continued. “This all could just be a misunderstanding or some women who want to escape their lives for a little while. But on the off chance that it isn’t, I need to make sure I approach the only suspect we have with caution.”
“I’ll keep quiet, then,” she said after a moment. “But I still want to be in the room.”
“Deal.”
* * *
IF THE DETECTIVE hadn’t told Sophia that Richard was the wealthiest man in town, she would have known the moment she saw his house—if it could even be classified as something as typical as a house. It sat at the end of a small one-lane road and could only be accessed by being buzzed in at a gate just outside the large loop driveway. The more Sophia looked at the place, the more she wanted to classify it as a mansion. It was only two stories but it expanded wide on both sides, looking like an old plantation home. An expansive garage sat to the left of the main house and beautiful, meticulously groomed landscaping was placed in between as a testament to some gardener’s handsomely paid green thumb. Large white columns lined the front porch a few feet from the driveway while the double, red, arched front doors were held open by someone who looked suspiciously like a butler.
“Who’s that?” Sophia asked as Thatcher opened her door and helped her out. Normally, she wouldn’t have accepted his help but she didn’t want another awkward moment in front of such an impressive abode.
“I never remember his name, but that’s Vega’s assistant. He’s a mousy fella, but you can’t see Vega without getting through him.” Sophia let Thatcher lead the way to the well-dressed man. She wondered if his boss bought him the suit that he wore despite the humidity which played havoc with her hair.
“Detective Thatcher,” the man greeted, shaking his hand. He looked over his shoulder to Sophia. Recognition flared behind his mud-colored eyes. “Miss Hardwick, it’s nice to finally meet you.” On reflex she shook his hand.
“I’m sorry, but do I know you?”
The man laughed and shook his head. “No, but Lisa loves to show us pictures.” Sophia had to roll her eyes again. That certainly sounded like Lisa.
“Mr. Vega is finishing up a meeting with some vendors. He shouldn’t be long.” He led them through the front door and immediately to a large open room to the left. Sophia was almost disappointed she couldn’t take a tour of the house. Just from the front door she had seen a large, marble-white staircase with a banister worthy of being a makeshift slide. “Make yourselves at home. He’ll be in here shortly.” The assistant scurried off, shutting the door behind him.
They were obviously in what was used as a formal study. Built-ins lined the walls from floor to ceiling and were filled with matching sets of thick-spined books. A large, formidable desk faced the door, no doubt to keep an eye on those who might enter, while high windows were draped in translucent cloth. A rug the size of Sophia’s living room cushioned the noise of her heels on the hardwood. She walked around the room, wondering if Lisa spent any time in it reading.
“I knew Richard had money, but I didn’t realize how much,” she admitted to the detective. He kept still in the middle of the room, looking as out of place as she felt. His jeans and plain shirt were a few leagues below the apparent dress code that Vega’s staff employed on a regular basis.
“They say he works hard,” Thatcher replied.
“They?”
“Like I said, this town loves Richard Vega.” Sophia wanted to ask what his thoughts on the man were, when the door opened.
Richard Vega was all suit, hair product and posture. He walked into the room as if it had been his idea. As if he had been the one to invite Detective Thatcher into his home. Watching him make his way over, Sophia immediately understood why Lisa was so drawn to the man.
There was an undeniable overriding sense of confidence that rolled off of him in waves. Lisa had always been drawn to, not just strong, but powerful men. She had a track record of getting involved with the big dogs only to realize what they had in confidence they lacked in kindness. Lisa had assured Sophia that this man was different, that Richard Vega had a good heart, but now Sophia didn’t know if she bought that assessment.
