How could she help? What could she do?
She sat up, swinging her legs around and setting her feet on the floor.
She didn’t come through medical school in the top five of her class to sit here and do nothing while her sister could be dead.
She stood, grabbed her purse and strode out of the room and to the elevators. She jabbed at the button and waited, her thumb tapping against her hip. Waiting wasn’t something she enjoyed, and she didn’t often have to do it. She was far from her comfort zone now.
Her purse rattled against her arm, and she pulled her vibrating phone out. She glanced at the screen, and it simply said UNKNOWN. She almost didn’t answer it... It was probably a robocall or a telemarketer. But something in her gut whispered, and she listened.
“Hello?”
There was breathing on the other end.
“Hello?” she repeated.
No answer, but there was a slight rustle, like paper grazing a piece of clothing. Then breathing.
“Who is this?” she demanded.
The line went dead just as the elevator dinged and the doors opened.
It must’ve been a wrong number.
But the weird feeling stayed in her gut, and she was still chewing on it as she erupted into the light outside of the hotel and hailed a taxi.
She climbed inside. Could it possibly have been Gen on the line?
Surely not.
But still.
Was it someone who was holding Gen hostage? Did someone want money?
She quickly told the cabdriver to take her back to the police station, and within fifteen minutes, she found herself in Hawkins’s office again. This time he was in a meeting and she had to wait for them to pull him out.
He stared at her, his eyes piercing and intense.
“Someone called me,” she announced.
This got his attention.
“And?” He waited.
“They didn’t say anything. But it gave me an odd feeling.”
Hawkins remained still and then finally lifted an eyebrow.
“You came here and had me pulled out of a squad meeting because you have an odd feeling?”
She squirmed in her seat.
“Listen, it seemed strange,” she insisted.
“What number was it?” he asked, reaching for a pen.
“It said Unknown.”
Hawkins laid the pen down and sighed. “Sounds like a telemarketer.”
“That’s what I thought at first, but it wasn’t.”
“Tell me, then. Why do you think that and who do you think it was?”
“Don’t you think... I mean, is it possible...that someone is holding her against her will? That they want money?”
“Is there money for them to get?”
“Well, Gen’s husband is quite well-off. And Gen herself makes good money with her books. They’re probably worth a couple million as a married couple. I’ve got money. I’m a surgeon.”
“And your husband?”
Was Meg imagining the emphasis on that word? She swallowed.
“He’s a contractor. But he does well for himself.”
“I’m sure. I do well enough for myself. But no one would want to ask me for a ransom,” Hawkins pointed out. “However, we can’t rule it out, and we won’t. If it happens again, call me.”
“Don’t you want to trace the call?” she demanded. “It could lead us right to my sister. I mean, wouldn’t it be worth trying?”
“Haven’t you ever seen NCIS or Criminal Minds? It doesn’t work like that.” He shook his head.
“You can’t believe everything you see on TV,” she told him, a bit haughty.
“Well, you can believe me,” he answered. “Listen, believe it or not, I actually am trying to find your sister.”
“No, you’re not,” she replied. “You’re trying to see how you can prove I did something to her.”
Hawkins’s head actually snapped back. “Why would you say that?”
Meg shrugged. “It’s true, isn’t it? That’s why you told me to stay in the city. You think I did something to my own sister.”
Hawkins leveled his shoulders and drew in a breath. “First, the percentage of times when the perpetrator is related to the victim is actually quite high. Second, you were the last to see her. Of course, you can’t leave the city, nor should I think you would want to, in case you can answer questions that might be helpful.”
“You’re patronizing. Do you realize?” she asked.
His mouth stretched into a tight smile. “Some have mentioned. You’re kinda difficult yourself. Do you realize that?”
She actually smiled without meaning to. “Some have mentioned.”
Hawkins stood and poured a cup of coffee. “Want a cup?” He turned to her.
She started to say no but changed her mind.
He poured some into a disposable cup and gave it to her.
She sipped it and coughed. “This tastes like dishwater,” she announced.
He raised an eyebrow.
She grimaced. “I mean, this isn’t great coffee.”
He smiled. “Then let’s go get a decent cup.”
He grabbed his jacket, and in surprise, she stood up.
“We’re going out for coffee,” she repeated.
“Yeah. Unless you want to drink dishwater?”
She shook her head and silently followed him out, threading their way through the station and out onto the busy sidewalk.
“There’s a place just down the street,” Hawkins said, and he walked fast, his long strides stretching out effortlessly. She was determined to keep pace without complaining, and she did. Although she was happy when they reached the coffee shop and were shown to a table.
They ordered, black for him and a macchiato for her. While they waited, Hawkins stared at her, his hand under his chin. She met his gaze with purpose.
“I don’t mean to be difficult,” she said. “I’m just anxious...and I’m a no-nonsense kind of person, I guess. It must be the surgeon in me. I’m direct. Efficient. But my husband is always saying that it comes across as condescending.”
“Trouble in paradise?”
She shook her head. “No. Just normal marriage stuff. We got married young, and we aren’t the same as we used to be.”
He studied her without answering. When he finally spoke, he changed the subject.
“Tell me about your sister,” he directed.
“What do you want to know more about? The books she writes? The life she leads?”
“Yes. But tell me first...what is she like? As a person?”
Meg had to think on that. “Well, she’s very capable. And hard. But soft. Moody. And funny. And sarcastic. Creative. Dramatic. Protective.”
“You look up to her,” he observed.
“She’s my big sister. I think that’s a given,” she answered. “When we were younger, I always wanted to be her.”
“How so?” Hawkins took a gulp of coffee and studied Meg. “You seem just fine all on your own.”
She flushed at that, couldn’t help it. All of a sudden, she couldn’t ignore that he was attractive. His rolled-up shirtsleeve displayed his toned forearm, and it was apparent he worked out. He seemed strong, capable.
Focus, Meg, she thought.
“I am fine on my own,” she agreed, snapping herself back. “But when we were in school, you know how it is. All the teachers who had Gen before me compared us. All I ever heard was, Well, your big sister Genevieve... It got a bit annoying. Plus, she and I have always been opposites. She was creative and dreamy and mercurial, and I was the staid, no-nonsense, scientific one. So everyone compared oranges and apples, and that’s not fair. Do you have siblings?”
“Just one pain-in-the-ass little sister,” he told her. “I won
der, hearing you talk, if she feels the same way about me?”
“Oh, definitely.” Meg chuckled. “She may love you to bits, but you also annoy her. Trust me.”
“Did Gen annoy you?” The question was casual, but Meg caught the undertone and flinched.
“Yes, of course,” she said firmly. “And I annoyed her. But we love each other fiercely. Like only siblings can. I’m sure it’s the same with your sister.”
“It is,” he agreed. “No one better mess with her, or they’ll answer to me. And that includes her husband.”
She laughed, and he joined in. She sipped her drink, then licked the foam off her lip.
“Are your parents alive and are they still together?” he asked, ever so casual.
Meg was smart enough to know that she was being interrogated now.
“Yes, they are,” she answered. “And they’ll be stubbornly together till the end.”
“Oh, not happily married, then?” Hawkins said.
“Oh, they’re happy enough. My father is laid-back, and my mother is uptight. So I guess they balance each other out.”
“People do tend to do that,” he agreed.
“Have you ever been married?” she asked. She regretted it as soon as the words were out, but it was too late.
He didn’t even blink.
“Divorced. Life is too short to be unhappy.”
“That’s Gen’s philosophy, too,” she told him.
“Why are your sister and her husband getting divorced?” he asked. “What happened?”
Meg cleared her throat and stared at her hands.
“Thad cheated on her, and she found out.”
“That’ll do it,” Hawkins said stiffly, in a way that made her wonder if his wife had done the same. She didn’t ask, of course.
“Who was it?” He pulled out his notebook now, and Meg startled.
“Why? You think...”
“We have to consider every angle.”
“I don’t know who it was,” Meg finally answered. “Thad would never tell Gen. It has really bothered her, as it would anyone.”
Hawkins nodded in agreement. “But Gen never had any clue? She never dug around and found out?”
“Not to my knowledge,” Meg replied. “And if she had, she would’ve told me. She told me everything.”
“Do you have any suspicions?”
Meg thought. “Thad is a lawyer and has an assistant, but she’s a lot younger. I don’t know that he’d go for that. He’s more into mutual wealth, if you know what I mean.”
“Meaning, he wants his partner to be as well-off as he is?”
“Pretty much.”
“Was Gen?” Hawkins paused, his pen waiting above the paper.
“I don’t know exactly how much money my sister makes. But she’s had a few bestsellers, and she didn’t appear to be worried about supporting herself.”
“But you don’t know for sure? I thought you shared everything?”
“We never really talked about money, which is why I assumed she’s fine on that front. She’s buying a house back in our home state. She would’ve said if money was tight.”
“Is she going to get alimony or any kind of remuneration from her soon-to-be ex-husband?”
Meg cocked her head. “I truly don’t know. It never occurred to me to ask that. I doubt it, though. That’s not Gen’s style. She wouldn’t want anything from him. She’s done.”
“I think I’d like your sister,” Hawkins decided aloud.
“Everyone does,” Meg agreed. “So it wouldn’t be unusual.”
“Someone doesn’t,” Hawkins pointed out, and goose bumps formed along Meg’s arms.
“So you definitely think something happened to her? That someone did something to her?”
“It’s still early to say. But so far there isn’t a body, and if there had been an accident, it would’ve turned up by now. She either ran away, or she was taken, I think.”
“She didn’t run.” Meg was insistent.
Hawkins flipped his small notebook closed. “I’m treating it as an abduction,” he told her. “We will follow every avenue, even if some of them make you uncomfortable.”
“Because you have to consider me a suspect.” She glanced into his eyes, and he didn’t look away.
“I have to consider every possibility.”
“Very diplomatic.” She smiled tightly.
“I need to talk with her husband next,” Hawkins said. “When will he be getting here?”
“I don’t know,” she answered. “You’ll have to call him and ask.”
“I can do that.” Hawkins stood up, and Meg did the same. “In the meantime, we’ll be tracing her credit cards, to see if they’ve been used recently. If she went somewhere on her own volition, she’d have to pay for it.”
“You haven’t done that yet?” Meg was surprised.
“I’m waiting on the warrant. It should be approved anytime now.”
“There’s a lot of red tape involved in an investigation,” she observed, frustrated.
“Tell me about it,” he agreed.
As they walked toward the door, her phone rang again. She pulled it out of her purse and found UNKNOWN on the screen again.
She stopped and answered immediately.
“Hello?”
Silence greeted her.
“Hello?”
Nothing. Hawkins took the phone.
“Who is this?” he asked.
The call ended.
“Now do you believe me?” she asked.
He handed the phone back to her. “In this era of rampant robocalls, it’s hard to say. I’ll get a warrant to get the call traced so we can see where it came from.”
“Why didn’t you say so earlier?” she demanded, annoyed.
Hawkins smiled, for the first time since she’d met him. “Because I didn’t have cause to believe you then.”
She rolled her eyes and sighed as they walked out into the rain.
8
Gen, Then
Gen’s phone rang, and her agent’s name displayed on the phone screen. She smiled. She’d been waiting for this call.
“Gen,” Karen said, and Gen could tell right away she was pleased. “We have an offer for Too Much. You’re going to be happy.”
She detailed out the amount and the publisher, and she was right. Gen was happy. She wouldn’t have to worry about money all year.
“This is the perfect news for today,” she said, as they got ready to hang up. “I have a date tonight.”
“Ohhhhh, with the lawyer you told me about last week?”
Gen laughed. “Yes. I’ll give you the details tomorrow.”
“Don’t hold anything back. Take notes. Use them in a book.”
“I always do,” Gen answered, right before she ended the call.
How true that was... Literally everything that happened in her life ended up in a book eventually. She wondered if her readers even knew the extent of it. How everything they read was related to her in some way or another.
She showered and got dressed, and checked her phone.
Right on schedule, there was a text from Thad.
I’ll be there in twenty minutes. I can’t wait.
She smiled, excitement bubbling up in her belly. He was so charming, so handsome. Normally, she’d never go for a lawyer. But there was something about this one. He was funny, smart. Genuine. And like Meg said, maybe he’d keep Gen’s feet on the ground.
But that almost made her laugh. Fat chance. Her head was always in the clouds, and she didn’t care.
Her doorbell rang fifteen minutes later.
“Sorry I’m early,” Thad said when she opened the door, his chestnut hair dripping from the rain. But he didn’t look sorry, and she certainly wasn’t. “I
couldn’t wait to see you.”
He smiled, and her heart fluttered.
“I wanted to go to Navy Pier, but it’s raining,” he told her, his eyes scanning her face, then her body.
“I won’t melt,” she informed him. He grinned at that, and they set out. There was something about rain, something about the way it clung to warm skin and cleansed the soul. She felt close to Thad, and he pulled her up next to him while they were waiting to go on the Ferris wheel.
“You smell so good,” he said softly into her ear. She leaned into him, and he kissed her.
His lips were soft, and his breath was minty.
They tumbled into the gondola and never looked at the scenery once as the wheel went round and round. They were too invested in each other, in their hands that were on each other’s bodies and their heat that was fused together, two lit fireworks, waiting to explode.
The tension was delicious, and they kept it up all day.
They walked in the rain, touching constantly. His arm slung over her shoulders, hers around his waist.
He told her jokes; she laughed.
She spun stories; he listened.
“Look over there.” Thad pointed toward the water where a houseboat bobbed on the waves. “Would you like to live on the water?”
She shook her head. “No. I wouldn’t want my house to sink.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I thought you weren’t scared of anything?”
She tossed her head. “I’m not. I just prefer my bed to stay dry.”
“Anything else I should know about the way you like your bed?” he asked, his eyes mischievous, and she knew in that very moment that he was the one.
“All in due time,” she said with a laugh, as flirtatiously as she could.
He laughed, too, and later that night, under the twinkling stars, he received his first lesson in her bed. He was an apt pupil, checking to see what she wanted, so tentative, then so sure. He licked and touched and stroked, and she arched and moaned and smiled.
In the morning, he leaned up on an elbow.
“Good morning,” he said, confident and handsome.
“Morning,” she mumbled, burying her face in the covers.
“Not a morning person?” he asked with a laugh.
He swung his legs over the side of her bed. “I’ll go get you coffee.”
The Last to See Her Page 5