“I wanted to let you know that we’re doing everything we can and we’ll find your sister.” His small smile wasn’t charming but it was infused with confidence. She nodded and thanked him. “I’m afraid I can’t talk long. I have a meeting with Mr. Vega and his attorney.”
“I understand,” she said before shaking his hand once more. Though his grip was solid, she couldn’t help but compare it to Detective Thatcher’s. “Let me know if I can do anything to help.”
“Will do.” He turned and then disappeared into the conference room—all blinds were closed over the windows. If Cara and another cop hadn’t been in the room with her, Sophia would have pressed her ear against the door to listen.
The Florida sun raged on as the hours dwindled into night before Sophia finally left the station. She had stayed around to see what would happen with Richard, but Captain Westin hadn’t come out of the room by the time Thatcher had called to give the okay to go back to Lisa’s house. She had even waited another half hour but decided it was a lost cause for the moment. With Richard’s attorney in there, the man had probably not even spoken yet. She said a quick goodbye to Cara and headed to her car.
Sophia’s adrenaline from the day’s events was also on the decline. She hadn’t lost her drive to find Lisa, in fact it felt stronger than ever knowing even Captain Westin was personally involved, but she couldn’t deny the weight of exhaustion settling on her shoulders.
She was practical enough to realize that she was no help to her older sister if she was constantly battling the droop of her eyelids.
Lisa lived in Pebblebrook, a neighborhood on the outskirts of town. It was a community of nice brick houses, man-made ponds and flowers galore. There always seemed to be a mother and her children walking the seemingly unending sidewalks—geared up to lose weight and release toddler-induced stress. When Lisa had moved into the neighborhood two years before, she hadn’t been able to hide her happiness. It was a giant leap above her last apartment.
Sophia drove on autopilot deeper into Pebblebrook’s belly with the soft sounds of a local talk radio show in the background. Since she didn’t have as much to contribute in the ways of police detection, she was already forming a proactive to-do list in her head.
Check Lisa’s house more thoroughly.
Go to Lisa’s work and search for a work schedule or appointment books.
Get an update from Detective Thatcher—
Her train of thought derailed. Thatcher’s voice when he promised to find her sister blanketed the ever-present fear inside her, comforting Sophia for the moment. She believed his sincerity—it was strong and determined. His blue eyes had pierced her own with a ferocity to undo all of the bad and replace it with the good. The reaction had been a lot more than Sophia had expected from the small-town detective.
However, the fact remained, Lisa was her sister, not his. He hadn’t grown up with her, cared for her, been there at the lowest points in life or the highest. He didn’t know that her favorite movie was The Little Mermaid or that she was deathly afraid of owls. He didn’t know about the scar across her ankle that she had gotten from falling off a swing set when she was nine or that, despite their rocky childhood, she had always been kind to their mother. Detective Thatcher didn’t know Lisa, so he couldn’t love her the way Sophia did.
No matter how dedicated he was to his job, he would never have the drive she had to make sure Lisa was found.
It was almost six by the time she pulled into 302 Grandview Court. The street was the farthest from the entrance to Pebblebrook, all houses backed up a thick stretch of woods, and all Sophia could hear were insects and frogs—the music of the South. The loud but subtle sound annoyed her, as it always had. In the city there were still the sounds of insects but car horns and loud neighbors drowned them out. Here, there were no such distractions.
Lisa lived in a single-family home that was a mix between contemporary and ranch-style. Alternating shades of beige and brown brick wrapped around the three-bedroom, two-bath home while a well-tended garden lined the entryway. Sophia didn’t know how Lisa had kept the plants alive and healthy. If it had been her garden, there would be more weeds than flowers and a lot less color—she just didn’t have enough patience to have a green thumb. The inside of the house, admittedly, made Sophia a little green with envy.
The entryway led past an open front room and into an open-floor-plan kitchen, dining area and living room. Off the kitchen was a hallway with the two guest bedrooms and a full bath; off the living room was the very large master bedroom and en suite. Plus a walk-in closet that was bigger than Sophia’s bedroom in her apartment. It wasn’t enough that the house was large, but it was also upgraded. Granite countertops, dark-wood cabinets, vaulted-and-tray ceilings with exposed wooden beams, and hardwood throughout. The house had been done to the nines. It was beautiful.
Sophia felt a stab of guilt as the green monster inside poked his nose up into the air. She should be happy that her sister lived in such a nice house—that she had such a nice life. However, Sophia couldn’t swallow the lump that Richard had had a hand in securing the house. It would have been different if he also lived there but he stayed in his mansion on Loop Road. Sophia may have lived in a tiny apartment but it was a tiny apartment she had earned, not been handed. Lisa, although older, had always skirted the line of earning things versus being handed them—something made easier by her good looks and charm.
Sophia sighed.
This was an old fight between the Hardwick sisters, a useless, petty one now that Lisa was missing.
Sophia grabbed her duffel and changed into a striped tank top, blue jeans and a pair of Nikes. Relinquishing the heels and stuffy pantsuit was a welcomed feeling. There was no boss here that she was trying to impress, no promotion she was chasing with professional work wear and impeccable posture. She was in a safe zone—one lacking work-related worry yet lined with stress-induced questions about Lisa’s future.
Packing had been quick and careless. She noticed the absence of her shampoo, razor and sleep clothes, though they hadn’t seemed too important at the time. She wondered if it was a note about her character that she hadn’t forgotten her work laptop. She rummaged through the bag until she found her cell phone charger. It wasn’t like anyone was anxiously awaiting her to text or call but with Lisa out there, she wanted it to at least be fully charged. She plugged the ancient phone into a wall socket before stretching wide.
Even though sleep had been a rational thought, Sophia couldn’t bring herself to settle down. All notions of getting some rest had evaporated. Instead she found the coffee and thanked the high heavens that there was enough creamer left for one cup. One very large cup. With the silky goodness sliding down her throat and warming her belly, she decided to search the house again.
She went through each room much slower than when she had first blown into town, searching high and low for any clue that could peg a time frame or place Lisa had gone to. The detectives left the house in the same order they had found it, thankfully, and this time around she was able to note the details—the decorations that made the house innately Lisa’s.
The front room had been set up as an office. A desk and bookcase lined one wall while a bright blue love seat sat opposite. From first glance there was nothing that screamed, “This is where I went and this is who took me!” There was also no laptop, just a pristine area of minimal clutter.
Sophia opened the desk drawers and searched its contents. She found coupons for a clothing store two cities over, enough sticky notes to create a note-taking army, and bundles of multicolored pens scattered throughout. Lisa had always loved what she called “nontraditional” pens.
“They dare to be different!” she would say after signing a check with electric-green ink or writing her name in a birthday card with an annoyingly loud shade of fuchsia. It was a habit she had picked up in grade school and hadn’t been abl
e to shake since. When Sophia was little she had been so angry with her sister that she’d replaced the colorful pens for a ten-pack of black and blues. To this day she had never seen Lisa so angry. The then-girl had turned such a bright shade of red, she would have probably liked to add it to her collection of odd inks.
Sophia took care to shut the drawers without snapping or pinching the writing utensils. If Lisa came back to find them busted open it would be another round of older-sibling rage.... She paused. When Lisa came back.
Picture frames and knickknacks lined the bookcase. From little elephant figurines to frozen scenes of Lisa, Sophia, friends she didn’t know and even Richard. The two of them were pressed together in an intimate hug—both smiling, both happy. Another pang of jealousy twisted in her stomach. She physically tried to tamp it down with her hand. There was no time or reason for her to be envious again.
The guest bedrooms were also unhelpful. They both housed a bed and night tables but were neat and orderly—no one had stayed in them recently. The guest bathroom told the same story as well as the pantry and refrigerator. Both were barely stocked. She moved through the living room, warily eyeing the yellow sectional and glass coffee table that was decorated with neon-colored candles, and once again was met with the master suite.
If ever a room could capture the essence of Lisa Gale Hardwick, it was this room. The walls were a light pink that traveled up and across the double-tray ceiling while white trim lined the two windowsills on either side of the bed. That bed. It was a king-size, another luxury Sophia hadn’t been able to experience yet, covered in a loud pink silk comforter with flowers of varying sizes sewn in. There were six fuzzy pillows piled high, all neon green, yellow, orange and pink. They were soft to the touch. Sophia smiled.
She remembered how annoyed she used to be at Lisa’s love for pillows. Even though their bedroom was small and they each had a twin-size bed, there always seemed to be more pillows than bedroom. The older Hardwick would pile them high during the day only to throw them on the floor between their beds during the night. It had driven Sophia crazy.
But you’ll sure thank me if you roll out of bed while you’re asleep, she would say. If that didn’t appease the younger, grumpier girl, Lisa would go as far as to demonstrate by rolling out of bed. She would laugh as the pillows cushioned the fall. See? I’m kind of brilliant. If this second attempt still didn’t work, she would tug Sophia down with her. No matter her mood, this always did the trick. She would laugh and feel the sisterly bond that connected them. Over the years it became a skit between them—an inside joke. Sophia hadn’t realized how much she missed those moments until now, staring at a much bigger bed, standing in a much bigger room.
Her lips went slack, the smile fading. She put the pillow back, wanting to stop the trip down memory lane and find the lost woman instead. If there were no clues to find in the house, she would just have to continue the search elsewhere.
The coffee was doing its wonderful job. It pumped energy throughout Sophia’s body like water down a twisty slide. The heaviness in her eyelids had been replaced by an almost nervous twitch as she hopped into her car and drove down the road, fingers drumming against the steering wheel along with an alternative rock song she didn’t quite know and her mind set on Details. Most of Culpepper were getting into bed, their heads heavy but hearts happy that Friday was only a deep sleep away.
The rest of the house search had been uneventful. There were no hints or clues to where Lisa had gone or why, but Sophia hadn’t been too surprised—the house looked barely lived in. If there was anything she had left behind it was either at her work or at Richard’s house. She didn’t know how either search would go considering Richard and his motley crew of “friends” had probably already gone through both, but she wanted to try. Once she went through Details, she would be giving Richard a call.
The sound of buzzing made Sophia swerve. Her heart thudded hard as she reached for her cell phone, expectations high. An unknown local number flashed on the screen.
“Hello?” she answered, hope pouring through the sound.
“Sophia Hardwick?” The hope that her sister was on the other end of the line evaporated as the man answered.
“This is she.”
“It’s Detective Braydon Thatcher, sorry to call so late.” A new feeling of alarm followed.
“Have you found Lisa?” She wanted and didn’t want an answer. What if they had found her and she was—
“No, but we’re working hard on that.” She let out a breath. “I wanted to—” There was a pause. Sophia pulled the phone out to make sure the call hadn’t dropped. “I just wanted to check in. How are you doing?”
That caught her off guard. She answered honestly.
“Frustrated. I also went through Lisa’s house but didn’t find anything. I’m heading over to her work right now to see if I can find something.”
“We already went through Details,” he said.
“Well maybe you missed something only I would pick up on.”
“You know, you aren’t supposed to go over there. I’ve already had to section it off because so many people think they are cops.” There was no mistaking the anger that lined his tone. Though Richard seemed to be popular among most of Culpepper, that didn’t seem to count for much in Detective Thatcher’s book. “I can arrest you for going, you know. For impeding a police investigation.”
“But I’m her sister!” she said in a rival degree of anger. “I have more right to be there than you!”
“Not by law, ma’am.”
“Don’t you ‘ma’am’ me!” If Thatcher hadn’t been in law enforcement she would have hung up the phone then. No one was going to tell her what she could and couldn’t do when it came to finding Lisa and they certainly weren’t going to do it while calling her ma’am.
Maybe Thatcher realized she was ready to have an all-out verbal phone fight. He waited a beat before the sound of a heavy sigh escaped on his end.
“Fine, but go through the back door so you don’t break the tape. I’m assuming you have a key?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Call me if you find anything, but don’t get your hopes up. We already swept that area thoroughly.”
She bit her lip. “Fine. I’ll call if I see anything.”
They ended the call and Sophia tried to ignore that continued thud of her heart.
Details was housed in a small, narrow building that had once been home to a florist’s shop.
“It’s the perfect fit, Sophy!” Lisa had exclaimed after the first walk-through. “I don’t even have to change the colors!”
She sure was right about that. The outside brick concealed an inside of varying shades of blue and yellow that popped from natural light from the mostly glass front waiting room. Details was attached to a home decor store dedicated to everything wood. Lisa had told her that the couple who owned it were “more religious than God himself” but that information was neither here nor there for Sophia. She was on a mission to find something, anything that would help her locate her sister.
Like Detective Thatcher ordered, she pulled out her key and walked around back. She knew this building as well as she knew Lisa’s house. It was the whole boyfriend area that she had missed out on. She moved through the building, checking the lobby, Lisa’s office, the break room and the bathroom. It was ridiculously neat. If there were any colored pens they were hiding. What’s more, she couldn’t find anything that resembled a calendar or appointment book that could help peg where and when she had gone.
That seemed like a clue in itself but she refrained from calling Thatcher to tell him so. Instead, after an hour of searching high and low, she admitted defeat and drove back to Pebblebrook, yawning the entire way there. The cup of coffee had been big, but not big enough.
* * *
SOPHIA DIDN’T HAVE the heart to move
the pillows aside when she decided she needed a few hours of sleep. Without her older sister’s giggles or beaming smile as she threw one pillow after the other to the ground, it didn’t seem worth the effort. She grabbed a blanket from the hall closet and made the couch her target instead.
She tried to sleep with all of her might, but worries plagued her thoughts. A few minutes of rolling around turned into an hour before she decided sleeping couldn’t happen yet. What she needed was something to snack on but after going through the pantry and refrigerator again she came up empty. Another defeat to add to the growing list of disappointments.
“You don’t even have some crackers, Lisa,” she said aloud. “I would have been happy with only a few.”
She stood back and patted her stomach, uncertain of her next move. The sound of the lock turning from the back door sounded like a bomb going off in the silent kitchen. She whirled around as hope sprung through her so violently that she stumbled backward. It had to be Lisa. It just had to be.
Before she could run to greet the long-haired beauty, the door opened to reveal a man Sophia didn’t recognize. A grin split open his face. He shut the door behind him and flipped the lock.
Sophia may not have been perfect under pressure, but she had enough sense to grab a knife from the holder on the counter. She brandished it like a sword and tried not to scream.
Chapter Four
Sophia held the knife tight—both hands clasped around the grip. She didn’t know if it was sharp but it sure didn’t look dull. The blade was almost as long as her forearm. If this man came at her, he’d be the first to know how easily it could cut through skin.
“Who are you?” she asked, a noticeable tremor in her voice. “What are you doing in my house?”
The man walked into full view, a missing front tooth showing a dark, endless void.
“You aren’t Lisa Hardwick,” he stated. “This isn’t your house.”
Manhunt Page 5
