“It’s not him, you know,” she said, with all the certainty a nineteen-year-old could muster.
Seth suppressed a grin.
“Is that your professional opinion, Ms. Turner?”
“Tess,” she corrected him. “For starters, he’s not smart enough. Second, if he wanted Brooke, he wouldn’t have to work too hard. It’s not like she goes out to bars, so I figured she must like him to come here.”
“Does she have a boyfriend?”
“Not really. I mean, she hooked up with a guy at a party a few weeks back, but it was no big thing. The next day, she told me what a jerk he was.”
“Was he the type of guy who would stalk her?”
“They hooked up. That’s all. It was no big deal.”
No big deal, Seth thought. Sex had always meant more to him than that. But then, he’d married his college sweetheart. What did he know about teenage girls playing the field?
“Can you think of anyone who may have held a grudge against Brooke?”
“Well, there was that asshole at the bar.”
“The guy whose picture is posted on Brooke’s Facebook page?” Seth pulled his phone from his pocket and showed her the photo.
She nodded. “Yeah, that’s him. He was hitting on Brooke and it was creeping her out.”
“Creeping her out how?”
“Most guys will go away when you blow them off, but not him. He got angry. He started asking if she was too good for him, you know?”
“Is that why Brooke took his picture?”
“I snapped the photo, figuring if he was some kind of psycho-pervert, the fact we had his picture would freak him out.”
“Good thinking. Do you recall his name?”
“Who? Douchebag? I don’t know. I was just happy to see the back of him.”
“Did you see him leave the bar?”
Tess shook her head. “Lover boy was right about one thing: it was pretty crazy in here.”
Nobody liked getting snubbed, but was he crazy enough to do something about it—especially considering Brooke had his picture? If he took Brooke and her phone, he might have thought he was safe.
“Did you see Brooke post the photo?”
“No.”
“What happened after that?”
“I went to the bathroom. When I got back, Brooke was gone. I assume she got tired of lover boy ignoring her.”
“Did she drive here?”
Tess shook her head, the barbell stud in her eyebrow catching the light. “She’s got an app on her phone.”
Seth made a mental note to check Brooke’s account to see if she’d taken the service home.
“What did you do after that?” he asked Tess.
Cheeks turning pink, she twisted her small hands together on the table.
“Well, I met up with these other guys and left with them about one.”
“Where did you go?”
“A party at their house on Capitol Hill.”
“And when did you get back to the dorm?”
“Sunday afternoon.”
“Oh,” Seth said.
Tess looked away, and he wondered if she was thinking the same thing he was—he could just as easily be sitting with Brooke asking questions about Tess’s disappearance.
“And that’s the last time you saw Brooke?”
“I tried calling her later, but her phone went right through to voice mail. I knew her sister had some kind of music thing the next day. I didn’t think much about it until her mother called.”
“Did you think it was unusual for Brooke to take off like that?”
“I guess I didn’t think that much about it. Not until she missed class, I mean. She was pretty religious about school.”
Seth’s brow furrowed. No doubt the bar had surveillance cameras, but the quality of the video would depend heavily on how up-to-date the system was. Best-case scenario, he could track Brooke’s movements more closely, see if anyone had tailed her out of the bar. Worst case, they’d be chasing a shadow.
“Thanks for all your help, Ms. Turner, but I’ll take the investigation from here.”
Her lips pursed and she glared at him through narrowed eyes.
“I’m sure,” she snapped. She stirred her drink as a silence stretched out between them. “Have you ever considered plastic surgery for your scars?”
“What?” Seth asked. The bluntness of the question took him off guard.
“Your scars. I know it’s none of my business, but one of the guys from my brother’s unit had some pretty nasty burns from an IED in Afghanistan. The doctor he’s been seeing does really good work. You can still tell he has a burn, but it’s much better than it was.”
Seth blinked. Most people avoided uncomfortable topics, but Tess plowed ahead without the tiniest trace of embarrassment. She was honest. Real. Not something he saw much of in his line of work. Maybe that was why he liked her.
“Your brother is military?”
She nodded. “It’s the family business. He’s currently deployed. Afghanistan.”
Abruptly Tess jumped to her feet and pulled on an oversize army jacket. Her tiny frame swam in it. A patch above the pocket read Turner.
“One more thing, Ms. Turner. Do you know this girl?”
Tess’s face paled as she stared at the image on Seth’s phone. She gave her head a tiny shake.
“But you know who she is, don’t you?”
“I’ve seen the posters on campus enough times to recognize her. That’s Kim Covey.”
“Do you think Brooke knew her?”
She shifted her weight between her feet, looking grave. “You don’t think the same psycho who took Brooke also has her, do you?”
“We’re trying to rule out any connection between the two cases.”
Tess angled her head and looked away. “I don’t think so.”
Seth nodded and stowed the phone back in his jacket. He looked up and eyed Tess thoughtfully. “What are you studying in school, Ms. Turner?”
“Forensic psychology,” she said, her lips curled in a trace of a smile.
Seth shook his head. A grin spread slowly across his face. “Figures.”
His cell phone rang.
“Crawford,” he answered.
“We’ve got a match on your photo.”
Chapter 16
Jasmine-scented steam swirled from the brim of Alicia’s teacup. She wrapped her long fingers around the porcelain, leeching as much heat from the glass into her hands as possible, and shivered like a flower petal in the wind.
“How are you feeling?” Drew asked.
She certainly looked like shit. Her face was pale and her eyes glassy. She should be home under a blanket, not huddled over a teacup fighting to stay awake.
“My throat hurts and my head’s killing me. Seriously, would it kill them to turn up the heat in here?”
Drew reached across the table and pressed his palm against her forehead. She was burning up.
“It’s not cold in here, sweetheart. It’s you. Let’s get out of here.”
He looked around for the waitress but didn’t see her. She was probably in the back flirting with the cook or the dishwasher, or checking her Facebook site, or whatever it was that kept her from doing her job. Alicia burrowed deeper into the folds of her sweater.
“You finish eating first.”
Drew wasn’t about to argue. This was his favorite Thai place in the city. From the outside it looked like a dive, with its pitched roof and rotting shingles. Bar none, it had the best pad thai. He shoveled another heaping portion into his mouth and savored the sweetness of the sugar, the warm, luscious noodles, the crisp, slightly bitter tang of the sprouts, and the crunch of the peanuts. This was sex on a plate.
Alicia’s phone chirped. She pulled it out of her pocket and scowled at the screen.
“Who is it?”
“Gretchen.”
Drew’s lips twitched. Gretchen was the worst kind of friend. With no life of her own, she inserted herself in
to the lives of others, planting her poisonous little lies like seeds in fertile soil, waiting for them to sprout roots. That’s what unhappy people did. Of course, Alicia didn’t see it for what it was. They’d been BFFs since third grade, and Gretchen had probably been doing this sort of thing their whole lives.
But Drew knew a thing or two about manipulation. He knew there was nothing benign about Gretchen’s meddling. She wasn’t an overprotective friend looking out for her circle’s best interests. She was a parasite.
“So, what’s good old Gretchen up to tonight?”
“She’s getting drunk and wants me to come join her.”
Alicia held up her phone. Gretchen was a big white blur against the dark sea of humanity behind her. Even with the bad lighting, Drew recognized the U-shaped bar of the Chapel well enough.
He took another bite of pad thai, but the thought of Gretchen left a bad taste in his mouth. He swished a gulp of jasmine tea around in his mouth and swallowed.
“Are you going?”
Alicia thumbed the button on the side of her phone and stowed it back in her pocket.
“Are you kidding? It’s Tuesday night. I’ve got work in the morning and I feel like crap. The only place I’m going is home to bed.”
Drew looked up and caught the waitress’s eye. He motioned for the check.
“That’s a good idea. Some extra sleep and you’re going to feel much better in the morning.”
By the time he dropped Alicia off, she was coughing, and he figured that after downing a healthy dose of NyQuil, she’d be out for the night. He didn’t drive home though.
Opportunity awaited him on a barstool on Capitol Hill.
#
Gretchen hunched over her phone. The black wraparound dress she wore gaped away from her cleavage and dipped low enough to reveal the edges of a turquoise lace bra. From all the way back here, he could tell she was frowning.
She looked desperate. Begging to be noticed. Slamming the phone down on the bar, she looked dangerously close to tears. Drew pushed away from the wall, knowing there would never be a better time to make his move.
Poor little Gretchen needed an ally.
“So, what’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?” he asked, perching at the bar beside her.
“Fuck off,” she said without glancing up.
Drew smiled. “Ugly talk for such a pretty girl.”
“Where’s Alicia?” she asked, her words a little slurred. She wasn’t drunk yet, he realized, but she was on her way.
“She’s sick. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.”
Gretchen rolled her bloodshot eyes.
“What do you want, Drew?”
“I’m hurt, Gretch. You don’t look happy to see me.”
She glowered, but didn’t comment. A long-haired bartender deposited a fresh ruby-red drink in front of her.
“Hey, weren’t you here on Saturday night?” he asked, squinting at the two of them.
“Yes,” she said, a smile blossoming on her face.
Drew smirked. Jesus, she was easy to read. One glance from a good-looking guy pulled her right up out of her funk.
“I was hoping that maybe you’d seen a friend of mine. She’s missing.”
The smile wilted on Gretchen’s lips. She glanced at the snapshot, and Drew’s heart jolted as he recognized the girl. Brooke Parker.
“Sorry,” Gretchen said. Orange curls bobbed around her face as she shook her head.
Beneath his crisp white shirt, Drew’s pulse pounded. He was a dark blur behind Brooke’s blonde head. A clearer image would have sent Gretchen racing back to Alicia with another story he’d have to explain away.
“You’re sure?” the bartender asked.
“Sorry,” Gretchen muttered, handing back the phone.
He turned his gaze on Drew. “What about you?”
Drew had no choice. He took the phone and studied the picture. “You said she’s missing?”
“Disappeared Saturday night.”
Drew shook his head. “Sorry, man. I wish I could help.”
“Did you take any photos that night?”
“Me? No. I’ll check with my girlfriend. I’m not sure how much help they would be. We were up there most of the night.” Drew pointed to the balcony.
“Thanks,” the bartender said, pocketing the phone. With a grim look, he whisked the empty glass away, leaving the two of them alone again.
“What do we have here?”
Drew lifted the martini glass off the bar. It smelled fruity, sweet—cranberry with a slight hint of orange.
“It’s called an Angel’s Kiss.”
A wicked grin crossed Drew’s face and he took a sip. Cloyingly sweet, it slid down his throat, and he grimaced.
Angel’s Kiss? It tasted more like a Tacoma Whore to him.
“Hey.” Gretchen swatted his chest. “That’s mine, asshole.”
“And you’re welcome to it. It’s too sweet for my taste.”
“I thought you liked sweet things.”
A smile tugged at Drew’s lips. He liked Gretchen bitter. She was so much more interesting than the giggling bimbo he’d met Saturday night.
“What are you doing here anyway? Did Alicia send you on a mission of mercy?”
She didn’t look up. She propped her temple against her fist and half drained the martini glass. Drew kept his gaze focused on her until finally she raised her eyes.
“Alicia went home sick and I thought you could use a ride.”
Gretchen snorted.
“Really? So you came to my rescue all on your own? How fucking noble of you. I thought you were still mad over the coffee shop thing.”
“Look,” he said, leaning in, “I know we haven’t exactly gotten off on the right foot, and I was hoping we could change that.”
“I don’t see how.”
“Let me drive you home.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “You’re serious?”
“As a heart attack, Gretch. You’re in no shape to drive, and taxis take forever. Come on. Let me do something nice for you.”
“I don’t believe you. What do you really want?”
“We both care about Alicia. Wouldn’t it be better for all of us if we tried to get along?”
Gretchen bobbed her head, her eyes fixed on the empty martini glass. She looked sad, defeated, like she didn’t have a friend left in the world. He leaned closer, his voice so soft only she could hear.
“So, what do you say we get out of here?”
“You’re not trying to pick me up, are you?”
Drew’s lips stretched into a crooked smile.
“What do you think?”
Chapter 17
“So that’s your girl right there,” the tall, skinny cyber-tech said, pointing at the blurry footage from the surveillance video.
Seth’s hand splayed on the desk as he inched closer to the screen. It was Brooke Parker all right. “It’s grainy as shit.”
“Fred Flintstone technology. I’m surprised it records anything. Looks like the Chapel is in serious need of an upgrade.”
Seth nodded, his eyes locked on the monitor. Brooke Parker sat at the bar along with her friend, Tess Turner. A man approached them. Husky build. Frizzy, reddish-brown hair.
“That’s your guy. Charles Sully.”
“How can you tell?” Seth couldn’t make out any specifics from the video feed.
“We ran facial recognition on him from the photo you sent us and this.”
“The footage is usable?”
The tech angled his head.
“Well, not on its own. We’ve worked some of our magic on it, and even then, we needed the photo from the girl’s Facebook site.”
Seth nodded, watching the interaction between Charles Sully and Brooke. It fit with what Tess had told him. The guy was coming on strong and Brooke was pulling away and then . . .
“Who’s that?”
“The new guy?”
“Yeah.”
Seth leaned in closer to the screen. A tall, dark-haired man was standing behind Brooke. He squared off against Sully and Sully backed down. The dark-haired guy stayed with the girls. A few minutes later, Tess left for the restroom.
Why hadn’t Tess said anything about him? It didn’t make sense.
“I’m going to skip ahead some.” The tech grabbed the remote control, and the action skipped by, too fast to see, until he slowed it down again.
Seth saw Brooke trail the tall guy out of the bar. Charles Sully followed, several feet behind.
“That’s it?” Seth asked. “They left together?”
“No, the guy comes back in, like, thirty seconds later. Here.”
Seth watched the tape long enough to see the dark-haired guy stride back in through the doors. Sully did not.
“Can we figure out who the new guy is?”
“Tried that. We don’t have a good angle on his face. Even if we did, the quality isn’t good enough to run facial recognition on its own. We’d need something else to go on.”
“Thanks, man.” He clapped the tech on the shoulder and headed back to his desk.
At least now he knew the name of the guy posted on Brooke’s Facebook page. It was a start.
#
Charles Sully was the kind of sick bastard you didn’t want anywhere near your daughter. He was the kind of asshole you wouldn’t even let walk your dog, Seth concluded as he scrolled through Sully’s file. Convicted on a domestic abuse charge a few years back, Sully already had two strikes against him. One more conviction would send him away for a long, long time.
According to the police report, the beating Sully’s last girlfriend had suffered was so severe that the judge ordered a psychological evaluation before Sully was released from prison. Seth made a note. He wanted that report. First thing in the morning, he’d call the forensic psychologist to see what other details he could dig up.
The other guy Tess had mentioned—the college guy Brooke hooked up with a few weeks back, was a dead end. He’d been visiting his parents in Kelso the weekend Brooke disappeared.
In the Dark Page 10