“A good detective can’t leave clues half-uncovered.” He prodded with a gentler tone, “If we’re going to find your sister, I need all of the information.”
She put her hand up to the vent and quieted. The past wasn’t a pleasant place to frequent, he knew that, but sometimes it was a necessity. He remained patient and watched as Richard turned off Loop Road and onto a connector that would get them to the main one. His red little car could easily outrun the truck. Braydon imagined the only reason he was going the speed limit was to avoid pissing him off any more.
Sophia sighed, touching her face with her now-cold hand.
“It was over money,” she started. “And we never really had a fight. It was more of a buildup of things we didn’t say. My dad died when we were little and Mom worked full-time while doing odd jobs along the way to support us. The years went by and we could see her trying to not blame us for her having to work so hard, but eventually the resentment set in. Lisa and I picked up the slack and looked out for one another—encouraged good grades, gave each other rides to work and helped take care of everything else. Lisa was my older sister, but she didn’t raise me—we raised each other.” Her voice shook and Braydon had to look to see if she was crying. Her head was bent, her fingertips suddenly fascinating. “Lisa has always been the prettier, more charming sister. As we got older, she was handed more opportunities, but she never really took them. That is until she started dating Richard. He offered her a world on a gold platter and she just took it. No questions asked. We spent years working so hard to make something of ourselves and then it was like she took the easy way out.” Her voice softened. “We never fought about it—I never said those exact words—but she picked up on how I felt.”
“And that was?”
“Anger...with a touch of resentment.” Her face flushed red. “Saying it out loud seems stupid, especially now with everything going on. I should be happy for her, but Richard was just a hard pill to swallow, I suppose. Still, I don’t think that has anything to do with her disappearance. The times we did talk this past year, she seemed genuinely happy.”
Again, Braydon was surprised by the woman next to him. Just like that she had not only told him a personal story, but she had admitted her true feelings about it. He understood her stubbornness; however, it was the ease at which she told the truth that made the younger Hardwick sister more and more intriguing.
“Does your mother know about Lisa, then?” He couldn’t remember her bringing the woman up in detail before. Surely she would have been there.
“No.” She didn’t elaborate and Braydon didn’t push her. The way her body tensed like the string on a bow, he knew he had hit a deep nerve. Her openness apparently had its limits.
“What about you, Detective? Any family drama to share?” Sophia said it as a joke, something to lighten the dark mood, but she couldn’t have picked a worse topic. Years of experience saved his composure. He smiled and shook his head.
“Nothing worth talking about.”
Chapter Three
Richard took them west on Highway 20, following the slight curve of the two-lane until they passed Tipsy’s Gas & Grill on the left. Sophia was surprised at the appearance of “One of the Best Eats in Culpepper” gas station/eatery. It was bigger than she had imagined—the original convenience store attached to another building, twice its size. She didn’t know if it was the city girl in her, but she hadn’t expected it to look as cozy as it did. Her stomach growled at the idea of Tipsy’s advertised fried shrimp. The last thing she had eaten was a granola bar the night before.
They drove a few miles past Tipsy’s before Richard turned on his blinker and pulled to the shoulder. Thatcher followed, the moment of vulnerability on Sophia’s part gone. Why had she given him so much detail about Lisa and herself? Why did he need to know about their childhood or the fact that a part of her had started to resent Lisa? Maybe it was sleep deprivation. She hadn’t been able to sleep all that well since Richard had called.
That was it. She’d blame it on that and not the mysterious man next to her.
Richard pointed at the tall grass a few feet from the road. They followed him, examining the area around it for something he might have missed. There was nothing.
“I’m going to call over a car and have them sweep farther back.” Thatcher walked to his truck and pulled out the radio to make the call. Sophia and Richard kept to the grass.
“I’m sorry,” he said, using his foot to move some rocks around. If it was meant to make him look vulnerable, it wasn’t working. “I should have kept you updated. I was too caught up in finding her.”
“You should have called the cops.”
“Sophia, just because I chose not to call them doesn’t mean I didn’t have people looking for her.”
“You mean the private investigators?”
“They aren’t the only ones.”
Sophia gave him a questioning look.
“I’m a very wealthy man with a lot of friends. I have contacts that operate outside of the police purview.” He turned his body so his back was facing the cars. “I know people who don’t get stopped by red tape.”
“What does that mean?”
“Cops sometimes slow down investigations.”
“I don’t understand what you’re trying to tell me.” Sophia crossed her arms over her chest. The tip of her heels sunk into the ground. “You don’t want the cops looking for Lisa because you have ‘friends’?”
He made a frustrated noise.
“I’m just saying, there are reasons why I didn’t call the police in the first place.”
“You said you didn’t call because you thought she just ran off?” A feeling of alarm was starting to rise within her. “Are you saying you knew she didn’t just leave?”
There was the underlying implication again. A man with that much money, good looks and charm—though she didn’t see it—could get away with a lot. If he had “friends” like he claimed, couldn’t he use them to help him... Help him what? Dispose of Lisa?
Just thinking it sent a chill through Sophia.
“No, it’s just— We were so happy, Sophia. I didn’t think she just left.”
Sophia dropped down to a whisper, eyeing Thatcher’s back as he talked to the dispatcher.
“You lied to us,” she said in a rush.
“I didn’t lie. There was a moment where I wondered if she had gone on her own accord but, you know your sister, she wouldn’t do that.” She felt her defenses flare—of course she knew her sister. Even though they had grown apart didn’t mean she had forgotten her.
“So, who are these friends of yours? Where are they?”
“All you need to know is that they are doing whatever they need to do to find Lisa.” He stopped there and didn’t make any sign of elaborating other than maybe using the whole “I’ve already said too much” excuse for keeping silent. In his black suit, the sun shining bright around them, Richard Vega looked a lot more threatening than he had in his home. He was shorter than Thatcher but had a solid body frame with muscles hidden beneath his custom-made suit, a gift from his personal trainer no doubt. Sophia wasn’t a string bean or anything. She had muscles, too. They were just a little harder to see. Work had become hectic in the past two years. Going to the gym had been low on her priority list. That didn’t mean she was completely defenseless.
Now, standing so close to a man she hardly knew but was admitting freely that he had connections that didn’t pay heed to law enforcement, she was second-guessing if she could really hold her own and defend herself if needed.
Maybe her face showed the new sense of trepidation she was feeling. Thatcher tilted his head slightly to the side when their eyes met. His own expression was heavily guarded.
“A car should be here soon. They’ll sweep this area again and then go farther back, just
to make sure,” he said. “If there’s anything out here, they’ll find it.”
He brought his gaze to Richard now. There was no mistaking he was in detective mode—his feet spread apart, his back straight as a board, determination seeping through his stance.
“Now,” he went on, “I’m going to have to ask you to come down to the station, Mr. Vega.”
Richard seemed taken aback. Anger flashed across his face.
“I’ve already told you everything. Shouldn’t we be using our time more wisely?”
Thatcher crossed his arms. Sophia couldn’t help but think about how handsome he was in that moment. No-nonsense, authoritative, and all wrapped within a rock-hard body. She would have liked to meet Braydon Thatcher under different circumstances.
“Richard, I’m not giving you a choice. You’re coming to the station.” Thatcher pointed to his sports car. “The only decision you have to make is which car you ride in to get there.”
Sophia rode with Thatcher again as they went back to the station. Richard had opted to ride in his car, barely keeping his cursing below his breath, while the detective had spent a good five minutes once again warning him against fleeing.
“Are you going to arrest him?” Sophia asked as soon as they pulled onto the highway.
“Yes.”
“Why? Can you do that?” Sophia asked, adjusting the air so that it was blowing on her face again. Florida heat didn’t agree with her. Thatcher’s teeth ground together, his jaw muscles clenching. Whatever he had learned had upped his aggravation level exponentially.
“We just got word that a colleague of Vega’s has been going around asking people about Lisa, using the man’s name as an unofficial police badge.” He turned to her, nostrils flared. “That’s impeding an investigation.”
Sophia jumped up and down in her seat once. It caught Thatcher off guard but she didn’t care. She repeated her recent conversation with Vega. It didn’t improve his mood. When they pulled into the station’s parking lot, he turned to her with a silent ferocity.
“I want you to go in there and answer every question we have about your sister.” Having been given the instruction made her want to run the other way, but she knew it had to be done. “And, Sophia.” He grabbed her hand. “I swear to you that I’ll find your sister and bring her back safely.”
The station seemed to stand at attention when Richard Vega walked in with Thatcher close behind, watching with expressions of interest mixed with disbelief. Even Cara looked up from her computer as the two men marched into the interrogation room.
Sophia wanted to follow them but doubted Richard would say anything else without an attorney—one dressed to the nines and with a bank statement that would be too good for the town of Culpepper. She instead was guided into Thatcher’s office where she sat with a sigh. Back to the drawing board, she thought, crossing her legs like the dignified woman she hoped she appeared to be.
“Give us a minute,” Detective Langdon said, popping out of the room before she could object. It wasn’t as if she had any pressing matters to deal with or anything. Just because she had bonded with Thatcher during their field trip didn’t mean her impatience would keep its head down. She waited for a few minutes, with tried calmness, until only Thatcher breezed in.
His thick eyebrows were furrowed—his lips thinned in contained anger. He sat down behind his desk and ran a hand through the dark mass of hair. The obvious frustration he was feeling put Sophia further on edge.
“Well?” she prompted. “What did Richard have to say?”
“That he won’t say anything else until his attorney arrives.” Well, she called that one. “But, I hadn’t expected anything different. With the amount of money that man has, I’m surprised he even talked to us as much as he did.” A sigh rumbled out.
“So, what now? Do you want me to go talk to him? I can try to—”
Thatcher held up his hand to silence her.
“Right now you need to answer some questions about your sister.”
“Fine.”
They were able to slip into the civil roles of detective and citizen as Thatcher asked a series of questions that would help him form a “psychological profile” on Lisa. Even though they believed Lisa hadn’t disappeared on her own accord, Thatcher had to still get a feel for the woman’s mental and emotional states as well as any health issues she might be experiencing. Sophia did her best to answer each question in an objective manner, but, the truth was, she couldn’t be sure how happy Lisa had been before the disappearance. Nor could she tell the man in full confidence that her sister had been upset.
“In general Lisa has always been an optimist,” she confessed. “She always smiled and had something nice to say growing up—compliments on the tip of her tongue at all times. It’s part of the reason why she charms everyone she meets.” Thatcher raised an eyebrow but lowered it before she continued. “Like I said before, the times I did talk with her she seemed genuinely happy while here in Culpepper.”
“Was there a particular reason she moved to Culpepper?” Sophia sent him a questioning look. “I only ask because you said the two of you were very close until this past year.”
A smile crept across her lips before she could stop it.
“Her moving to Culpepper had nothing to do with our relationship. Lisa and I were the best of friends—annoyingly inseparable.” Sophia hesitated on the past tense and sobered. “But Lisa hated Atlanta. I couldn’t blame her for leaving. She was passing through Culpepper on the way to a wedding almost two years ago when she said she fell in love with the town. She moved a few months later.”
“And you didn’t follow?”
“No, but she tried really hard to get me to.” Lisa had in fact boxed up Sophia’s room while she’d been at work. She’d just smiled when Sophia had started yelling.
I’m not moving, Lisa!
Why not? Your stuff is already packed! she’d reasoned. Sophia had found it annoying then, but now she couldn’t stop the ache in her heart.
“I don’t blame her,” Thatcher said under his breath.
“Excuse me?”
“Sorry, I meant I don’t blame her for not liking the city. I’m not a big fan, either,” he said with conviction.
“It’s not too bad,” Sophia defended. “It can be lonely at times and the traffic leaves more to be desired, but the opportunities are great.”
“Lonely, huh? I take it you aren’t married, then.” It wasn’t a question and his eyes stayed down on his notes. Sophia picked at invisible lint on her pant leg and tried to keep her voice even.
“Not that it matters to this investigation but, no, I’m single.” A blush rose fast to her cheeks. Thatcher looked up. She had only meant to say she wasn’t married, not divulge that she was single and had bouts of loneliness.
“What about you?” Sophia wanted to stick her head in the sand. She had blurted the question in an attempt to save face. She had to give it to the detective, he answered without skipping a beat.
“No, I’m not married. Now, are there any health issues Lisa has that we should be worried about?” The change in subjects left her speechless for a moment, but still able to feel the heat in her cheeks, she finished the rest of his questions without any more awkward outbursts.
“The other two women who are missing...” she started after he closed his notebook.
“Amanda and Trixie.”
“Are their families being asked the same questions?”
Thatcher nodded.
“Amanda’s mother and Trixie’s boss are in the other rooms with Tom and Cara.” His cell phone started to vibrate against the desktop. The noise made Sophia jump. He didn’t notice as he read the message.
“What happens now that I’ve answered your questions?”
“Now we are going to go to each missing woman’s
house and place of work.” He stood and stretched, his biceps rippling at the motion.
“All right.” She started to stand but he stopped her.
“By ‘we’ I mean Detective Langdon and myself. You can’t come this time and that’s final.”
“Then what do you want me to do? Sit here and twiddle my thumbs?”
“We have an all-points bulletin out on all three women. We have good men and women on the job, Miss Hardwick. You need to stay out of Lisa’s house until we’re done with the search but after that you can go wherever you please. There’s a diner down the road that has a great dinner special or you can stay here until we’re done with each search. It’s really up to you at this point.”
Sophia chewed the inside of her lip. Thatcher took her silence as compliance.
“I’ll let you know when we’re done at Lisa’s.”
The detectives left soon after while Sophia remained behind. She wanted to snoop to fill the void of helplessness within her but decided against it—she was in a police station after all. Cara, as she was told once again to call the officer, showed her to the restroom and then the break room. Unlike the many cop-related clichés found on TV, there were no doughnuts or cream-filled pastries. Instead she walked a block over and ate a burger at Sal’s Diner, all the while fighting the heat and humidity. Worry had taken her healthy eating habits and thrown them clear out the window. The walk back was more sluggish but she couldn’t deny she felt better having eaten.
An unfamiliar car was parked two spots next to her own when she rounded the station, though it didn’t take long for her to guess it belonged to Richard’s attorney. The BMW was black and slick and probably worth more than she made in two years. She hurried inside to see the new suit but was stopped by another man she hadn’t seen until now.
“Miss Hardwick,” he said, extending his hand. “I’m Captain Jake Westin.” They shook—his hands were rough and large.
“Nice to meet you, sir.” The man wasn’t much taller than Sophia, but he exuded authority through his uniform and impeccable posture. She placed his age in the upper fifties.
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