by Rebecca Deel
“I was patient with her.”
Eli’s brows rose. “How long?” He had a meal riding on the outcome. If the girl lasted until 10:00, his mother owed him a home-cooked meal of his choice. She had guessed Cissy, the daughter of her best friend, would at least make it until noon. Fat chance. Jon hated incompetence and he ate incompetent people for breakfast. Or at least they claimed he did.
Jon scowled, his brows beetling. “10:30.”
Eli laughed. His mouth watered at the thought of his mother’s lasagna with thick slice of chocolate cake topped with French vanilla ice cream for dessert. Since Jon had made the upcoming meal possible, he might invite him along. Maybe. “You are so predictable, dude.” He pushed away from the door frame and walked to his office. Brenna had seated herself in one of the director’s chairs in front of his beat up desk.
He swallowed hard. The lady made even his yard sale reject furniture look good.
She turned around and eyed his frowning partner, wariness in her gaze.
Eli smiled, hoped to reassure her his grumpy partner was all bark. If she knew the truth about either of them, Brenna might run screaming into the street. Unless she had a spine of steel. “Brenna Mason, this is my partner, Jon Smith.”
She remained silent a moment. “You’re kidding, right? Jon Smith?”
“Afraid not. He’s got a birth certificate to prove it.”
“One worn ragged from repeated showings.” Jon extended his hand. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Mason.”
She withdrew her hand from Jon’s and smiled. “Oh, call me Brenna. No need to stand on formality since Eli and I are practically engaged.”
Jon smirked. “Well, pretty fast work, Eli. Didn’t know you had it in you or that you had such good taste.”
“Do I tell you about the kiss now or later?” Brenna asked and waggled her brows.
Jon’s mouth quirked up on the ends. “Now. Is that how you met lover boy here?”
Brenna laughed. “Yes. He claims he saved me from a killer. Is he telling the truth or just putting me on?”
His partner straightened and sobered, attention shifting to Eli. “Sartelli?”
Eli nodded. “Brenna was talking to Sartelli in front of the Bat building. His guard dog, Mendoza, had at least one piece on him.”
“Probably the .45 he loves so much.”
“That’s what I figured. Brenna stepped on Sartelli’s feelings.”
“Woman after my own heart.”
Eli frowned. “Hands off, Smith. I already told Sartelli she was my girl and kissed her to prove it.”
His partner sat in the second director’s chair. “What business do you have with Sartelli and his goon squad?”
Brenna settled back in the chair, accepted the water Eli handed her and twisted off the cap. “I’m looking for my stepsister, Dana.”
Jon stiffened, darted a look at Eli who set his water bottle down on the desk with an abrupt thunk. “Dana Cole?”
Brenna’s eyes narrowed. “You know her.” A statement, not a question. She recognized that look. Question is, how well did Eli and his partner know her sister?
“We met.” He shared a long look with Jon. “How long has it been since you heard from her?”
“You’re not getting by with that lame answer, Wolfe.” She studied the two men over the water bottle as she drank. Dana never mentioned either of these two men when she called. She never talked about men, period. “How do you know my sister?”
“Working another case,” Jon said, his expression guarded.
“And, of course, you can’t talk about it.”
“Sorry.”
No, he wasn’t. This was probably a waste of her time. No one had ever cared enough about Dana to get involved. Why should she expect a different reaction now? She squashed the guilt, mentally forcing it aside to deal with later, as she had for years. No amount of guilt would help her find her kid sister. Couldn’t really call her a kid anymore. Dana was 25, five years her junior.
Eli leaned against his desk, hands cupped around the edge. “When did you last hear from Dana?”
“Two weeks ago.”
“It’s not possible she went on vacation?”
Brenna shook her head. “We call each other three or four times a week. I would know if she were going on vacation. She would have told me.”
“People change, Brenna. They grow apart, particularly when they’re in different states.”
People did change. In Dana’s case, it was for the better. She’d grown stronger since she left Pound, since she escaped the confines of the past. “She would have told me. We don’t have anyone else but the two of us. Dana wouldn’t want me to worry.”
“How did she sound when you spoke the last time?” Jon asked.
“Upset. She’s been having problems at work.”
“Do you know who she worked for?”
“Why do you think I confronted Sartelli? Dana is his administrative assistant. The night she disappeared, Dana had a late dinner with Sartelli. She was supposed to call me at 11:00 so we could talk about what was bugging her.” The cold knot in Brenna’s stomach grew. “She never called.”
Eli turned his head to look at his partner. He raised his brow, a silent question to see if Jon wanted to get involved in the search for Dana Cole, since they were already neck deep in a murder investigation. Jon gave a minute nod. Just as he’d thought. Eli focused on Brenna. “Do you have a dollar?”
She frowned. “Yes. Why?”
“Hand it to me.”
Brenna bent over, grabbed her purse and pulled a dollar bill from her wallet. Her hand shook as she extended her arm, the bill clutched in her fingers.
He took the money and tossed it onto his desk. “You just hired Wolfe Investigations to look into your sister’s disappearance.”
Brenna stiffened. “But I don’t have the money to pay your expenses right now.”
“We’ll work something out later.”
She stood, shook her head. “I’m sorry for wasting your time, Mr. Wolfe.”
“Aw, come on, Brenna. You can’t go back to acting as if we’re strangers. You’ll dent my reputation with the ladies.”
A slight smile curved her lips. “I can’t hire you, Eli. I’ll find Dana myself. Somehow.”
Eli straightened from the desk and laid a restraining hand on her arm. “You can’t do this alone, Brenna. If you do, you’ll end up dead.”
CHAPTER TWO
Eli glanced at the silent woman seated beside him in the Camaro, her face framed by the passenger window. He could almost see the millions of thoughts flying through her mind. She was worried about Dana. She should be worried. Sartelli played for keeps and he played dirty as Eli well knew from experience.
He turned right at the intersection of Bell Road and Zelida and made another quick right into the Hickory Place apartment complex where Dana lived.
“Apartment 631.” Brenna pointed to the left. “She’s on the top floor.”
Eli nodded and, spotting an empty space, parked the car. He opened the door. “Will we need to find the complex manager for a key?”
Brenna shook her head. “Dana gave me a key.”
They climbed two flights of stairs and walked a dim hallway to the last apartment. Eli held out his hand. “Let me unlock the door and go in first.” Just in case there was a problem. He doubted it, but you never knew in his line of work. Some surprises were deadly. As messed up as his life was, he preferred it to the alternative.
“I’ve already been here this morning. It’s empty.”
“Yeah? That was before you made Sartelli’s acquaintance.” Eli wiggled his fingers and waited.
“Fine.” She slapped the silver key on his palm and stepped to the side.
Eli unlocked the door and stepped inside the darkened apartment. The place had the stale smell of en empty, lifeless dwelling. Dana hadn’t been here for a while. A trace of vanilla scented the air.
He turned and whispered to Brenna. “Stay here. Let me ma
ke sure the apartment’s empty.”
She nodded. Eli searched the bathrooms, bedrooms and kitchen plus the closets. No hidden occupants waited to jump them. He retraced his steps down the hall to the front door. “All clear. Come see if anything is missing or out of place.”
“Like her place was searched?”
“That’s right. Have you contacted the police about Dana’s disappearance?”
“Two days after she went missing. They told me the same thing Sartelli did, that it appeared Dana went on vacation. But it’s not true, Eli. I know Dana’s in trouble.”
“Let’s get to work.” Eli headed for the living room, his gut churning. Dana might be in more trouble than her sister realized.
The first place Brenna headed was the kitchen. Her sister was a yogurt fanatic, always stocking multiple flavors. If she had been here recently, her yogurt stash would tell how long ago she’d been home. That should have been the first place she checked when she arrived earlier in the day.
She yanked open the appliance door and counted. Four containers. Only a two-day supply and Dana shopped for groceries early on Saturday mornings. She loved to shop when most people were in bed. Claimed she got the best deals and selection that way. The yogurt count meant Dana had disappeared the Thursday night she was supposed to call her.
Tears misted her vision. She blinked them away and noted the date on the milk carton. She wrinkled her nose. Two weeks past due. Yet another indication of her sister disappearing two weeks ago.
“Well?” Eli asked.
“She disappeared the night she was supposed to call me.”
Eli looked skeptical. “How can you tell that from a peak in the refrigerator?”
“My sister eats two containers of yogurt every day. One in the morning, one at night. She didn’t eat one Thursday night, Friday or Saturday morning of the week she disappeared.”
“She couldn’t have just skipped a few? Maybe she got tired of them. I know I would.” He shuddered.
Brenna eyed him. Typical male comment. “You don’t understand, Eli. My sister is a chronic list maker. She does everything the same way, eats particular foods each day of the week. Nothing can be out of place. Drives her crazy.”
“She’s OCD?”
“I don’t know about that. Dana likes things to be under her control, especially the space around her and her life. She hates clutter and disorganization.”
A pounding on the door interrupted them. “Dana! Thank God you’re back. Open up.”
Brenna stiffened and headed toward the door.
Eli tugged her back. “Let me. We don’t know who this is.”
Maybe not for sure, but Brenna could guess.
The detective pulled a gun from under his shirt, held it at his side, and yanked open the door.
Brenna’s eyes widened. He was armed. Logical, given his profession, but disturbing. The thing was black and big and looked like a perfect fit in the hand of the man who wielded it with competency. Was Eli Wolfe as comfortable with violence as he was with the tools of violence? A question for consideration later.
A man in blue-jean shorts and a white muscle shirt stood in the doorway, his fist raised for another round of pounding on the wooden door. He scowled, his arm dropping, hand still clenched. “Who are you? What are you doing in Dana’s apartment?” Then he noticed Brenna standing behind Eli. “Brenna. I didn’t know you were coming today. I can’t believe Dana didn’t tell me.”
“Are you a friend of Dana’s?” Eli asked.
“Tim Russell. I live across the hall.”
Brenna moved up beside Eli. “Do you know where she is, Tim?” If anyone would know, it might be Tim. He wanted to be so much more than a friend, but Dana hadn’t been interested.
Tim’s gaze jumped from Brenna to Eli to Eli’s gun. He paled. “You don’t know? She didn’t tell you?”
“Would I be asking you if I did?” Brenna frowned.
“She’s on vacation.”
Brenna’s mouth curled downward. “That’s not possible. She doesn’t have any money.” She ought to know. Dana still needed her help to pay the rent. Brenna wondered how much longer she could dole out money. Not much longer, if her own career didn’t turn around soon.
Tim shrugged, irritation flickering in his eyes. “Maybe not, but she’s on a cruise to the Bahamas. I’ve been getting postcards in the mail every day from her telling me how much fun she’s having.”
No way. Brenna’s heart thudded against the wall of her chest. No way on earth Dana was on a cruise. Tim was lying, hiding something. Had he hurt Dana? She opened her mouth to accuse him of just that, but Eli’s hand tapped her back. A signal to keep quiet? She closed her lips.
“How long has she been planning the cruise?” Eli asked.
A muscle ticked in Tim’s jaw. “It was a spur of the moment thing. I didn’t even know she was thinking about it before she was just gone. Who are you, anyway? A cop?”
“Take anyone with her? A friend, a boyfriend?”
A frown in response. “Not that I know of.” His tone implied great displeasure at the idea of her taking another man.
“Have you talked to her since she left?”
Tim scowled. “She doesn’t answer her cell phone. Maybe there’s no cell service on the boat.”
Amusement twinkled in Eli’s eyes as he put away his gun. “Probably not since there are no cell towers out there unless she has a satellite phone.”
Brenna knew that couldn’t be the case. Dana had a pre-paid phone that she used for emergencies and calls to her.
“Why didn’t she ask you to go with her?”
Brenna’s gaze darted to Eli. He must be fishing for information. If he knew Dana well, he had to know about her issues with men.
“How should I know?” Tim swung toward the door. “I was going to ask her that when I knocked on the door.”
“Did you two have a fight before she left?”
Tim’s eyes narrowed. “What business is that of yours? Who are you anyway?”
“Eli Wolfe.” He handed the other man a card. “I’m a private investigator. Ms. Mason hired me to look into her sister’s disappearance.”
“Disappearance?” Tim eyed Brenna. “You’re wasting your money. Pay him off and give Mr. Wolfe his walking papers. Dana just needed some time away. I’ll see him out for you and make sure he doesn’t bother again.” He puffed out his chest and flexed his hands.
Brenna shook her head. “I want to see the postcards from Dana.”
An odd look crossed his face. He shrugged. “Come to my place. I’ll get them for you.”
Brenna walked across the hall, Eli trailing a step behind. Tim’s apartment was the mirror opposite of Dana’s home. He led them to the kitchen where a pile of postcards lay on the table along with old pizza boxes stacked on one end. She wrinkled her nose. Neighbor Tim couldn’t make a trip to the nearby trash bin? Ick.
Tim handed the postcards to Brenna. Each one depicted a different scene from island paradises. Palm trees, aquamarine ocean, bikini-clad women.
She turned each card over and read the inscriptions before passing them to Eli. Most of the messages mentioned Dana having a great time. One brought up her deepening tan and a new red bikini that she was sure Tim would appreciate when she returned. Brenna licked her dry lips, fighting back a surge of nausea.
Eli must have noticed her distress because he cupped one hand under her elbow. “Mind if I keep these? I’d like to read them again later. Might be important.”
Again, Tim shrugged. “I guess. Not like there’s anything personal on them.”
And Brenna detected a hint of anger over that as well. Jerk. Dana had better taste in men than Tim Russell. “Thanks, Tim. Call me if you hear from Dana.” She pulled a business card from her pocket with her cell phone listed.
“Sure thing.” He saw them out and slammed the door behind them.
Eli led Brenna into the kitchen and guided her to the picnic-style bench. “Sit down before you fall dow
n. What happened? What did you notice, Brenna?”
“The cards. The cruise. It’s all wrong, Eli.”
He sat across from her and pulled a small notebook from his pocket. “Tell me.” So far, all the evidence pointed to a young woman taking a spur-of-the-moment vacation.
“There is no way Dana went on a cruise.” Brenna folded her arms around her middle. “She’s terrified of water, won’t get in a pool, much less a bottomless ocean.”
“Ocean liners are like floating cities. You hardly even know you’re on a ship.” He ought to know. He’d spent enough time on carriers during his years as a SEAL.
Brenna shook her head. “She had a near-drowning experience as a kid. This is more than a mild fear, Eli. It’s a phobia. She won’t even take a bath, only showers.”
Eli thought about that a minute. If this was a phobia, it would be a stretch to imagine Dana on a cruise liner by her own choice. He’d buy a seaside vacation with a gorgeous beach to walk at sunrise or sunset, but not a cruise. “What else?”
Brenna leaned against the table, her gaze focused on the pine knot in the wood grain. “The handwriting on the back of the postcards isn’t Dana’s.” She lifted her purse from the floor, dug through the contents of the mini-suitcase and pulled out a card. “Dana sent this to me a month ago for my birthday. Check the handwriting against the postcards. It’s not the same.”
Eli opened the card and examined the handwriting, compared it to the postcard inscriptions. Though untrained in the art of handwriting analysis, he noticed the difference in the swirls and loops.
An invisible band tightened around his chest. He wanted to believe she was safe somewhere, enjoying some well deserved time off. But the facts weren’t supporting his desperate wish.
Brenna pulled one postcard from the stack in front of him. She pointed at the bikini babes on the front. “She mentioned wearing a new red bikini on this one. Dana would never wear a bikini.”
