Manhunt

by Tyler Anne Snell

“So when you saw Trixie like that, you knew,” she said, hand still on his knee. Its warmth could be felt through the material of his jeans.

  “I wasn’t a hundred percent sure that it was Nathanial. Everyone in town knows the story and he could have told someone all of the gritty details. I mean, I even entertained the thought that maybe the kidnapper put it together to throw me off—to bring up the past to try and confuse me, but then Nathanial showed up. It’s all intended to be personal, I’m sure of that.”

  “You think he took Lisa and Amanda, too?”

  “Yes. It would be too much of a coincidence if he didn’t.” He cast a worried look at Sophia. She took her hand off of his knee and placed it on her lap. There she began to wring them together in small circles. Braydon was coming to find out it was her nervous twitch.

  “But why Lisa, Trixie and Amanda? What’s the connection between them? And why did he talk to me? Why didn’t he kill me like the officer?”

  “Nathanial is a complicated man. Always has been. As of right now, I have no idea why he chose to take those women, kill a cop, yet not try anything with you. Maybe it was convenient, maybe it was random... Either way, I’ll find out. We still don’t know his endgame. I can only assume he just wants to show me who he is right now.”

  That’s what worried Braydon the most. Setting up Trixie’s body like Terrance’s then talking to Sophia and killing the officer outside, these were the actions of a man who wanted his presence known. Why? It almost ensured he didn’t have any place to run, to hide. Letting Braydon know who he was had effectively ended the man’s normal life.

  Why? Why now?

  Sophia remained quiet. It was Braydon’s turn to try to comfort her. He took her intertwined hands in his. There was a new feeling of guilt as her smooth skin pressed against his. Getting too close to her hadn’t been his plan but he couldn’t deny it seemed to be happening. Sophia was a part of the investigation. It wasn’t professional of him to entertain a closer relationship than cop and civilian. It could endanger the case or, even more, his career. Yet, as he felt her hands in his, he pushed that guilt and worry out of his mind. He wanted to help her, to be there for her.

  “Nathanial has a plan he’s working through. Lisa and Amanda are still out there. We’ll find them.”

  Sophia gave him a weak smile. He hoped he hadn’t just lied to her.

  Chapter Nine

  Braydon drove to the police station, reasoning it was the safest place for Sophia while he worked. He hadn’t said it out loud, but he was sure she was Nathanial’s newest target. However, why he had taken Lisa and Amanda he could only guess. The Nathanial he had known before the incident had been a smart guy. This Nathanial was completely foreign to him.

  The station felt like a modern-day tomb as they walked inside. All officers, minus the two assigned to stay, had been dispatched to Dolphin Lot and Lisa’s house. No one would be getting speeding tickets today. The only other person left was the part-time receptionist named Lynda Meyer. She met them at the door with a flurry of blond curls and Press-On nails.

  “Is it true, Braydon?” she asked. “Is James really dead?”

  He nodded and a cry erupted from her throat. She threw her arms around Braydon for what she hoped would be a bonding hug. Braydon returned it, albeit awkwardly, before she let go and noticed that he wasn’t alone. Her eyes turned into slits as she finally acknowledged Sophia. The blonde had been the most territorial woman he had ever dated, even if they had only gone on a handful of dates two years ago. She had more jealous bones in her body than probably even she knew what to do with. Braydon reached back and took Sophia’s hand, showing Lynda that she needed to watch herself.

  “Lynda, if you see Nathanial Williams at all I want you to lock the doors, grab a gun and call me immediately,” Braydon instructed.

  “Nathanial Williams...” Her eyes widened. “Is he the one who killed James?”

  Braydon didn’t answer but instead led Sophia through the door to the main room. Even with everything going on, he took small pleasure in how perfectly her hand seemed to fit in his.

  “The conference room has a couch in it. You’ll probably be the most comfortable in there.” He ushered her into the room. The couch he referred to was a worn, uncomfortable piece of furniture that gave more neck and back cricks than anything the Culpepper PD had to offer, but Braydon didn’t want Sophia sitting in his office. He didn’t think Nathanial was stupid enough to walk into the station with a gun or a bomb, but, on the off chance he did, at least Sophia wouldn’t be in the one room the crazed man would immediately search. Plus, he had to remember that this was the same man who just strangled a cop to death. “I need to go make some calls and I’ll be back. The break room is the next room over and the bathrooms are off the hall that leads to the lobby.” He dropped her hand, though he realized he didn’t want to let it go, the heat their touch had generated leaving as they parted. “Will you be okay?”

  Sophia nodded.

  “I need to tell Richard what’s going on,” she said. Braydon was still unhappy with the rich man giving a stranger the key to Lisa’s house, knowing Sophia was staying there, but he had to admit that same stranger had given them a big clue.

  “That’s a good idea. See if he’s found anything.” Like they all knew would happen, Richard’s attorney had cleared the man with relative ease. He had returned to his house on Loop Road as far as Braydon knew. Unless the stranger and Richard’s usefulness took a turn for the worse, Braydon might as well let him do what he was going to do anyway.

  “On it.” She took out her cell phone and sat at the conference table. He hadn’t noticed until now how petite she looked not dressed in her power suit and heels. It was deceiving to think she was fragile. He was learning that Sophia Hardwick was anything but. She had been through a lot more than most and yet her head remained level, her resolve unbreakable. It alarmed him how much he wanted to protect her, to see her happy and to reunite her with her sister.

  If Nathanial harmed Sophia in any way, Braydon would kill him.

  * * *

  THE CLOCK ON the wall was broken. It ticked with an uneven rhythm while the second hand was frozen over the six. For the past hour Sophia had begun to despise the clock and the stream of time it was tasked to track.

  Sophia felt a stab of guilt in her stomach. She had been so wrapped up in worry for her sister that she hadn’t given much thought to Trixie Martin’s death. According to Thatcher, this woman had chosen to live a life away from normal social interaction. If it hadn’t been for her boss, Cal Green, she may not have been flagged as missing for quite some time. The thought created a pocket of misery within her chest.

  Did she have family or friends who would mourn her? Surely, her boss and coworkers would? Had they already been notified? Sophia closed her eyes, overtaken with sadness. She hadn’t thought about any of these things until now. What did that say about her character? The image of Trixie’s lifeless body flashed behind her eyelids. Sophia shuddered. Her eyes flew open.

  What about Amanda? Did she care about the other missing woman? It was a horrible question to ask herself but she knew it needed confronting. She was so determined to find Lisa that her concern for Amanda had been minimal. It put ice in her blood to realize it. I do care, she thought. I just want my sister back. She’s all I have. The guilt that stabbed at her cut deeper.

  “Knock, knock.” Officer Whitfield stood in the doorway, a cup in each hand. She offered one to Sophia. “It’s not the best brew in town but it’ll keep you awake.”

  “Thanks.” She was grateful for the warmth. It soothed the troubling doubts surrounding her quality of character. “I managed to sleep for a few hours but I still feel tired. This definitely helps.”

  “Can I join you?” Cara asked.

  “Of course. It is your conference room, but I’d love the company.” It was someth
ing Sophia didn’t often confess but in the moment it rang true. She was dancing dangerously close to self-loathing while she was by herself.

  Cara took the seat opposite and sipped at her coffee. Her eyes were red and puffy. She had been crying.

  “I know you probably don’t want to, but can you tell me what happened to Officer Murphy?” She looked sheepish, yet determined. “I’ve heard the condensed version but I need to hear what happened from you.” There was a desperation there, underlined in shed tears and visible heartbreak. Officer Murphy had clearly meant something to her.

  “Sure, I don’t mind.”

  Sophia recounted everything that had happened from the time she began to bake to Nathanial’s appearance to feeling for a pulse on Officer Murphy’s neck to running inside. What Thatcher had told her about Nathanial on the car ride to the station only reinforced her past reasoning to flee the scene. Though, when she said it aloud, she felt that self-loathing again.

  Cara was quiet when Sophia finished. She stared down into her coffee, a deep frown etched in her dark skin. Sophia wanted to comfort the woman but what could she say that would ease her sorrow? Officer Murphy had been found dead less than two hours ago. There was nothing she could say to Cara that could heal the pain. She instead gave her the silence she needed to sort through her thoughts. The clock ticked unevenly in the background.

  “James was a good man,” Cara finally said, her eyes beginning to water. “He was a damn good man.” Sophia grabbed her purse and pulled out a pack of tissues. Cara didn’t seem like the kind of woman who would appreciate being consoled with hugs and soft coos. She was like Sophia in that regard. Sometimes a person had to mourn alone for a while before she could mourn with others.

  Sophia slid the pack across the table. Cara didn’t look up as she took one and blotted at her eyes.

  “He had a kid, you know?” A deep waver shook her voice as she spoke. “He’s in fourth grade. James always was bragging on him, showing off his soccer trophies and honor roll ribbons. It got annoying after a while.” She laughed. It was laced with tears. Grabbing another tissue, she wound it in between her hands.

  “You two were close?” Sophia asked. She hoped it wasn’t too much of an intrusion but the way Cara spoke seemed to tell two different stories. The cop nodded.

  “When I first transferred here five years ago, I was the only female cop. Not saying that it was anyone here’s fault, it’s just that no woman had ever applied before. Most of the cops here now are good people but there are a few I could do without.” She gave a weak smile. “When I first came in there were a few that didn’t like that I was here. It didn’t help that I was black, either. One night after my shift, I went home to find my house had been trashed. Windows broken, horrible things spray painted on the walls, my flower beds destroyed, and I won’t even tell you what I found in the mailbox.”

  “That’s horrible!” Sophia exclaimed. The woman waved off the concern.

  “It’s okay now, but back then I was devastated. It was clear that the people who did it wanted me gone but I didn’t have enough money to leave. I also didn’t have enough money to pay someone to help me repair everything. I remember sitting on my porch just crying my eyes out when a truck pulled up.”

  “James,” Sophia guessed.

  “Yeah. He got out and without saying anything he just started pulling out buckets, sponges, garbage bags and almost everything I needed to fix the house. When I told him I couldn’t accept all that he had bought, he just smiled and told me I’d owe him one day. He came over after every shift and helped me repair everything. He wasn’t the only one, Tom, Braydon and a few others helped, too, but it all started with James.” She smiled. “We became close friends throughout the years.”

  There it was again, that feeling that the cop was leaving something unsaid. Sophia didn’t question her this time. She didn’t have to ask to understand that Cara had loved James. Had he realized? Did he love her, too? If Sophia wanted to know, she was sure Cara wanted those answers with every fiber of her being.

  She looked up to meet Sophia’s gaze. There were tears and fire swirling in those brown eyes. “We’ll find him, Sophia. We’ll find Nathanial and make him pay for everything he’s done. Braydon will see to that, especially since—” The cop caught herself. “There’s history there,” she amended, trying to keep Braydon’s past personal.

  “Braydon told me on the way here.” There was no mistaking the surprise that jumped into the officer’s eyes. She tried to hide it by blowing her nose again. Sophia took it that Braydon didn’t often talk about his sister’s murder. Not that she blamed him. If Lisa was killed, how would she handle it? That would be a bridge she would cross if the time came.

  “I’m sorry about James,” Sophia said, shaking herself. She had to keep hope that Lisa was still alive. That Nathanial was a man of theatrics with an unknown, devious plan and Lisa’s turn in the spotlight hadn’t yet come.

  Cara wiped at a few tears that had escaped, then blew out a shaky breath. “Thank you.” They fell into a silence that stretched between them, lost in their own thoughts, but connected by a common enemy. Nathanial could blame a lot of emotional trauma on the death of his little brother, of finding him in a field with a gun to his head, but he would never be able to justify the lives he had taken since.

  Cara excused herself to the restroom, leaving Sophia alone once again with the unforgiving clock. After a few minutes of its broken ticking, she pulled out her phone and, for the first time in days, checked her email. Nothing new but advertisements and newsletters she had signed up for then promptly forgotten about. There were no messages from her boss, which made her nervous, though in comparison to everything that had happened so far it was almost silly to worry about job security. He’d given her “as much time as you need.” She would have to take his word that her position as office manager would be waiting for her when all of this was over.

  Thatcher won’t be. She blushed at the unexpected thought. He won’t be waiting there for you. He’ll be here. The blush only seemed to deepen as the detective chose that moment to enter the room. The worry across his face hadn’t ceased to exist—it was a constant mask he wore each time she saw him.

  “I need your help.” He handed her a large Ziploc bag with a thick, spiral notebook inside.

  “This is Lisa’s!” she cried, recognizing the blue book that rested inside. She’d given it to Lisa when she had started her business. It was jam-packed with sticky notes, magazine clippings, and had enough dog-eared pages to make a librarian cringe in disgust.

  “We found this under the passenger seat of her car. I need you to look through it to see if you can find any information about who contacted her about going to Dolphin Lot and why. Also look to see if you can find a time that she went there. I would look through it myself but I figure you know her best and have a better chance of catching something I could miss. Plus, we’re being stretched thin at the moment. We need all the help we can get.” He ran a hand through his messy hair, only making it messier. She wondered briefly what it would feel like to run her hands through it. Would it be soft? Would it be coarse? If she pulled her hand away from it, would the smell of his shampoo linger across her fingertips? “We know who took them but we still need to figure out where. Maybe we can answer that by figuring out what happened at the beginning.”

  * * *

  SOPHIA HAD FORGOTTEN how much of a scatterbrain her sister was until she was wrist-deep in the notebook. It seemed every idea she had ever produced had been transferred into the small pages in the form of sloppy notes, picture cutouts and the occasional doodle. Not only was the notebook filled with the aftermath of an ADD bomb, but it was also hard to navigate. For the first fifty pages or so, the notes were in chronological order. After that, as far as Sophia could tell, her brain had seemed to skip around, writing whatever she needed to in any space she could find. It was like l
ooking into the mind of a hyper child. Sophia downed her coffee while trying to find reason within the chaos.

  Thatcher had taken root at a desk closest to the conference room door, trying to figure out what Nathanial had been up to since he left Culpepper all those years ago. Cara had been ordered to go through all complaints filed in the past month from anyone and everyone in the hopes of finding one that involved Nathanial. Braydon believed that the man had been in town a lot longer than the past week. The crime scene on Dolphin Lot had been dissected and was still being processed, while a K-9 unit was searching the immediate area.

  Sophia didn’t know where Detective Langdon and the rest of the officers were at this point but she did know that Richard was at Lisa’s house. When she had called him from the police station to update him on the situation he had already known what was going on.

  “I’m well connected, Sophia. There’s not much that goes on in this town that I don’t know about.” He had grown quiet for a moment. He didn’t know where Lisa was, but she knew she didn’t need to point that out. Braydon had come in then and spoken with the local tycoon. Richard had offered to stay in Lisa’s house just in case Nathanial decided to come back. He reasoned that the cops needed to be out in the streets looking for the madman instead of watching a house.

  “Plus, I own several guns,” he’d said.

  When Braydon asked about the man with the missing tooth and his current whereabouts, Richard had admitted that the man had left town saying kidnappers he could deal with but killers was where he drew the line. Sophia guessed everyone, even those who tangoed with the line between legal and illegal dealings, had a limit and that had been his, though she was disappointed that there was one less person looking for the women. So there she sat, going through Lisa’s almost hieroglyphic handwriting, trying to find a missing piece to the puzzle of what had happened Sunday.

  “Any luck?” Cara asked after another chunk of time had slipped by. She had brewed a second pot of coffee and refilled Sophia’s cup without asking. A gesture Sophia was grateful to receive.