Manhunt

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However, the fact remained, Lisa was her sister, not his. He hadn’t grown up with her, cared for her, been there at the lowest points in life or the highest. He didn’t know that her favorite movie was The Little Mermaid or that she was deathly afraid of owls. He didn’t know about the scar across her ankle that she had gotten from falling off a swing set when she was nine or that, despite their rocky childhood, she had always been kind to their mother. Detective Thatcher didn’t know Lisa, so he couldn’t love her the way Sophia did.

No matter how dedicated he was to his job, he would never have the drive she had to make sure Lisa was found.

It was almost six by the time she pulled into 302 Grandview Court. The street was the farthest from the entrance to Pebblebrook, all houses backed up a thick stretch of woods, and all Sophia could hear were insects and frogs—the music of the South. The loud but subtle sound annoyed her, as it always had. In the city there were still the sounds of insects but car horns and loud neighbors drowned them out. Here, there were no such distractions.

Lisa lived in a single-family home that was a mix between contemporary and ranch-style. Alternating shades of beige and brown brick wrapped around the three-bedroom, two-bath home while a well-tended garden lined the entryway. Sophia didn’t know how Lisa had kept the plants alive and healthy. If it had been her garden, there would be more weeds than flowers and a lot less color—she just didn’t have enough patience to have a green thumb. The inside of the house, admittedly, made Sophia a little green with envy.

The entryway led past an open front room and into an open-floor-plan kitchen, dining area and living room. Off the kitchen was a hallway with the two guest bedrooms and a full bath; off the living room was the very large master bedroom and en suite. Plus a walk-in closet that was bigger than Sophia’s bedroom in her apartment. It wasn’t enough that the house was large, but it was also upgraded. Granite countertops, dark-wood cabinets, vaulted-and-tray ceilings with exposed wooden beams, and hardwood throughout. The house had been done to the nines. It was beautiful.

Sophia felt a stab of guilt as the green monster inside poked his nose up into the air. She should be happy that her sister lived in such a nice house—that she had such a nice life. However, Sophia couldn’t swallow the lump that Richard had had a hand in securing the house. It would have been different if he also lived there but he stayed in his mansion on Loop Road. Sophia may have lived in a tiny apartment but it was a tiny apartment she had earned, not been handed. Lisa, although older, had always skirted the line of earning things versus being handed them—something made easier by her good looks and charm.

Sophia sighed.

This was an old fight between the Hardwick sisters, a useless, petty one now that Lisa was missing.

Sophia grabbed her duffel and changed into a striped tank top, blue jeans and a pair of Nikes. Relinquishing the heels and stuffy pantsuit was a welcomed feeling. There was no boss here that she was trying to impress, no promotion she was chasing with professional work wear and impeccable posture. She was in a safe zone—one lacking work-related worry yet lined with stress-induced questions about Lisa’s future.

Packing had been quick and careless. She noticed the absence of her shampoo, razor and sleep clothes, though they hadn’t seemed too important at the time. She wondered if it was a note about her character that she hadn’t forgotten her work laptop. She rummaged through the bag until she found her cell phone charger. It wasn’t like anyone was anxiously awaiting her to text or call but with Lisa out there, she wanted it to at least be fully charged. She plugged the ancient phone into a wall socket before stretching wide.

Even though sleep had been a rational thought, Sophia couldn’t bring herself to settle down. All notions of getting some rest had evaporated. Instead she found the coffee and thanked the high heavens that there was enough creamer left for one cup. One very large cup. With the silky goodness sliding down her throat and warming her belly, she decided to search the house again.

She went through each room much slower than when she had first blown into town, searching high and low for any clue that could peg a time frame or place Lisa had gone to. The detectives left the house in the same order they had found it, thankfully, and this time around she was able to note the details—the decorations that made the house innately Lisa’s.

The front room had been set up as an office. A desk and bookcase lined one wall while a bright blue love seat sat opposite. From first glance there was nothing that screamed, “This is where I went and this is who took me!” There was also no laptop, just a pristine area of minimal clutter.

Sophia opened the desk drawers and searched its contents. She found coupons for a clothing store two cities over, enough sticky notes to create a note-taking army, and bundles of multicolored pens scattered throughout. Lisa had always loved what she called “nontraditional” pens.

“They dare to be different!” she would say after signing a check with electric-green ink or writing her name in a birthday card with an annoyingly loud shade of fuchsia. It was a habit she had picked up in grade school and hadn’t been able to shake since. When Sophia was little she had been so angry with her sister that she’d replaced the colorful pens for a ten-pack of black and blues. To this day she had never seen Lisa so angry. The then-girl had turned such a bright shade of red, she would have probably liked to add it to her collection of odd inks.

Sophia took care to shut the drawers without snapping or pinching the writing utensils. If Lisa came back to find them busted open it would be another round of older-sibling rage.... She paused. When Lisa came back.

Picture frames and knickknacks lined the bookcase. From little elephant figurines to frozen scenes of Lisa, Sophia, friends she didn’t know and even Richard. The two of them were pressed together in an intimate hug—both smiling, both happy. Another pang of jealousy twisted in her stomach. She physically tried to tamp it down with her hand. There was no time or reason for her to be envious again.

The guest bedrooms were also unhelpful. They both housed a bed and night tables but were neat and orderly—no one had stayed in them recently. The guest bathroom told the same story as well as the pantry and refrigerator. Both were barely stocked. She moved through the living room, warily eyeing the yellow sectional and glass coffee table that was decorated with neon-colored candles, and once again was met with the master suite.

If ever a room could capture the essence of Lisa Gale Hardwick, it was this room. The walls were a light pink that traveled up and across the double-tray ceiling while white trim lined the two windowsills on either side of the bed. That bed. It was a king-size, another luxury Sophia hadn’t been able to experience yet, covered in a loud pink silk comforter with flowers of varying sizes sewn in. There were six fuzzy pillows piled high, all neon green, yellow, orange and pink. They were soft to the touch. Sophia smiled.

She remembered how annoyed she used to be at Lisa’s love for pillows. Even though their bedroom was small and they each had a twin-size bed, there always seemed to be more pillows than bedroom. The older Hardwick would pile them high during the day only to throw them on the floor between their beds during the night. It had driven Sophia crazy.

But you’ll sure thank me if you roll out of bed while you’re asleep, she would say. If that didn’t appease the younger, grumpier girl, Lisa would go as far as to demonstrate by rolling out of bed. She would laugh as the pillows cushioned the fall. See? I’m kind of brilliant. If this second attempt still didn’t work, she would tug Sophia down with her. No matter her mood, this always did the trick. She would laugh and feel the sisterly bond that connected them. Over the years it became a skit between them—an inside joke. Sophia hadn’t realized how much she missed those moments until now, staring at a much bigger bed, standing in a much bigger room.

Her lips went slack, the smile fading. She put the pillow back, wanting to stop the trip down memory lane and find the lost woman instead. If there were no clues to find in the house, she would just have to continue the search elsewhere.

The coffee was doing its wonderful job. It pumped energy throughout Sophia’s body like water down a twisty slide. The heaviness in her eyelids had been replaced by an almost nervous twitch as she hopped into her car and drove down the road, fingers drumming against the steering wheel along with an alternative rock song she didn’t quite know and her mind set on Details. Most of Culpepper were getting into bed, their heads heavy but hearts happy that Friday was only a deep sleep away.

The rest of the house search had been uneventful. There were no hints or clues to where Lisa had gone or why, but Sophia hadn’t been too surprised—the house looked barely lived in. If there was anything she had left behind it was either at her work or at Richard’s house. She didn’t know how either search would go considering Richard and his motley crew of “friends” had probably already gone through both, but she wanted to try. Once she went through Details, she would be giving Richard a call.

The sound of buzzing made Sophia swerve. Her heart thudded hard as she reached for her cell phone, expectations high. An unknown local number flashed on the screen.

“Hello?” she answered, hope pouring through the sound.

“Sophia Hardwick?” The hope that her sister was on the other end of the line evaporated as the man answered.

“This is she.”

“It’s Detective Braydon Thatcher, sorry to call so late.” A new feeling of alarm followed.

“Have you found Lisa?” She wanted and didn’t want an answer. What if they had found her and she was—

“No, but we’re working hard on that.” She let out a breath. “I wanted to—” There was a pause. Sophia pulled the phone out to make sure the call hadn’t dropped. “I just wanted to check in. How are you doing?”