Torn

by Cynthia Eden

  Dr. North’s mouth flopped a bit, rather like a fish. Then fury tightened his face. “I think I’ve answered quite enough of your questions. I don’t know where Kennedy Lane is. I don’t know what happened to her. And it’s time for you to leave.”

  Victoria nodded curtly and headed for the door. She could feel the doctor’s gaze following her—­and she didn’t like the weight of that stare.

  I don’t know him.

  Or at least . . . she didn’t think that she did.

  “Innocent men don’t hide,” Wade said flatly behind her. “And they also don’t stonewall when a woman is missing. They try to help.” His voice was mocking as he added, “Thanks so much for your help, buddy.” Then she heard his footsteps following her.

  They exited the office and paused in the little lobby area. There was a reception desk to the side but no one was behind it. No one had been there when they arrived, either.

  The door was shut—­sharply—­behind them.

  “At least he didn’t slam it,” Victoria said as she gave Wade a weak smile. “But I’m thinking that interview didn’t go so well.”

  His eyes glittered. “Do you know him?”

  “No.” She didn’t think that was a lie.

  “Then he was just trying to throw us off. Change the topic because he didn’t want to answer any more questions about her. Nice technique, but it’s not going to work for long.”

  Was that what it had been? The knot in her stomach eased a bit.

  He put his hand at the small of her back. She tensed, and hated herself for that.

  Wade leaned in close to her. His breath feathered over her ear as he said, “One day, you won’t.”

  “I . . . won’t?”

  “You won’t get nervous when I’m near. You’ll like it when my hands are on you.”

  Actually, that was the problem. She already liked it when his hands were on her. Did he think that she tensed up because she was rejecting his touch? No, far from that. She liked it too much.

  They headed toward the stairwell. She reached for the door—­

  But it flew open before she could grab the handle.

  A man stood there, a guy with sun-­bleached hair, a golden tan, and an expression carved with absolute rage. He wore a T-­shirt and loose jeans, and he rushed right by her and Wade, almost as if he didn’t even see them.

  “What the hell . . .” Wade muttered as he pulled ­Victoria back.

  Yes, that was what she’d been thinking.

  She turned and saw that the guy—­he appeared to be in his early twenties—­hurrying toward Dr. North’s door.

  “Now this could be interesting,” Wade said. And he followed.

  “Uh, Wade?”

  The blond man threw open the door. “Where the hell is she?” His booming voice seemed to echo through the building.

  “Very interesting,” Wade added as he picked up speed.

  By then the blond man in a hurry was inside the office.

  “What are you doing here?” Dr. North demanded. “Get out, you can’t—­ Ah!” His words ended in a strangled cry.

  Victoria ran toward the office and burst inside right after Wade. The younger man had Dr. North pinned against the back wall. Blood dripped down the doctor’s face—­probably from his newly broken nose. The blond attacker had his hand pulled back, ready to take another swing.

  “Where the fuck is she?” he demanded.

  “I don’t know!” Dr. North yelled. He struggled in the guy’s hold, reaching out desperately toward his desk.

  “Where is Melissa?”

  Victoria rushed toward the attacker, but Wade beat her to him. He grabbed the younger man and yanked him away from the doctor, but the guy came up swinging and drove his fist at Wade.

  “Stop!” Victoria yelled.

  No one stopped.

  But Wade did duck. The fist missed him and he swung, punching the younger man in the stomach. There was a loud ooof as the air was driven from his lungs.

  He fell to the floor, clutching his stomach.

  Wade stood poised over him, his fists still at the ready. “How about don’t attack before you look at who it is you’re hitting,” Wade advised, not even sounding a bit out of breath. “Might save your ass next time.”

  Dr. North had his hand to his nose—­a definitely bleeding nose. He lurched forward and grabbed for his phone. “I’m calling security!”

  Victoria figured that was probably a good idea.

  The blond man looked up at Wade. “Who the hell are you?”

  “I’d rather know who you are. No . . .” Wade glanced over at Dr. North. “I’d like to know why you’re so pissed at him.”

  The young man rose—­a little shakily. “Melissa is missing.”

  Victoria’s blood iced at that one word. Missing.

  “I need guards here, now,” Dr. North snapped into the phone.

  “I know he slept with her,” the blond raged. “I know it!”

  The same way he’d slept with Kennedy?

  “She didn’t come back to the apartment last night. She didn’t come home.” The man glared at Dr. North. “I want to know where she is . . . what did you do to her?”

  “Nothing,” Dr. North said, his voice sharp. The phone was pressed to his ear.

  Wade turned to confront the doctor. “I couldn’t help but notice,” he said, voice mild. “Your receptionist isn’t here today—­”

  “That’s Melissa!” the young man spat. “She’s working as his assistant while she’s in grad school!”

  And she hadn’t come home last night.

  “I don’t know where she is,” Dr. North said quickly.

  Victoria met Wade’s hard stare. She nodded, then cleared her throat and noted, “You seem to say that an awful lot, Doctor.”

  “Melissa is missing!” The young man sounded even more frantic. “She won’t answer her phone. She didn’t come home. And no one remembers seeing her after ten last night! She’s gone.”

  A chill slid over Victoria’s spine. Maybe this Melissa had just spent the night with a friend. Maybe her phone was turned off.

  Or maybe . . .

  Maybe more was at work here. A serial abductor? Could it be possible? She didn’t want to jump to any conclusions, not yet, but there were certain facts that couldn’t be overlooked.

  Two women, both with ties to Worthington University, both linked to Dr. North—­those women were gone.

  One look at Wade’s clenched jaw and Victoria knew he was thinking the same thing that she was. Coincidences didn’t happen. And if Melissa was truly missing, then LOST was needed in Savannah, needed desperately.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THE CAMPUS SECURITY guards arrived and hauled the young blond guy out of Dr. North’s office. But, a bit surprisingly to Victoria, the psychology professor didn’t demand that the fellow be arrested.

  They’d just witnessed an assault, but Dr. North was shoving tissues at his nose. Not pressing charges.

  “Take him off campus,” he huffed. “Let him cool the hell down.” He pointed at his attacker. “It’s only because of Melissa that I’m doing this. You’re her friend. And I know she’d be devastated if you lost that scholarship of yours because of this incident.”

  The other man paled.

  Way to deliver a threat, Dr. North. Victoria didn’t like that doc, and not just because he’d been staring at her so hard earlier. Something about him put her on edge, and she was desperately trying to remember . . . had they met? Surely she would have remembered him.

  Right?

  “Get your hands off me!” the blond man snarled. “I can take myself out of here!” He jerked free of the campus cops. “You guys are useless! I went to you earlier, and you did nothing! Melissa didn’t come home! Why the hell am I the only one worried about that?”
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  He marched for the door, but before he could leave, Wade locked a hand on his shoulder. “I’m worried. My partner and I . . .” He glanced swiftly at Victoria. “We want to hear your story. So how about we leave campus, and you can tell us just what is happening?”

  The kid’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “Who the hell are you, man? And why would any of this matter to you?”

  Wade pulled a card from his wallet. “Because my job is to find the missing.”

  Only they didn’t normally handle a case as recent as this one. The girl had only been gone a few hours. Some law enforcement personnel wouldn’t even characterize Melissa’s disappearance as an official missing person’s case yet, especially not if there was no sign of foul play.

  But Wade was leading the now stunned-­looking fellow from the office, so she turned to follow him.

  “Wait.”

  That was Dr. North’s cry. And he’d closed in on her.

  He still held tissues to his nose, but his eyes were on her. “We have met.”

  She shook her head.

  “Your father . . .” he said. “I remember now. I was a grad student, sitting in on his trial . . .”

  A dull ringing filled her ears.

  “Obsession can be a dangerous thing.”

  Her shoulders straightened. “Your nose is broken. You should take care of that.” And leave me the hell alone.

  Without another word, she turned and hurried from his office. The campus guards stood a bit awkwardly near the door, apparently not sure what they were supposed to do now. With the doctor not pressing charges, there wasn’t much they could do. Especially since the attacker was willingly leaving the scene.

  She quickened her stride to catch up with Wade. He glanced over at her, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. Had he heard Dr. North’s words?

  It wasn’t as if her father was a big secret. Most people knew about him. They knew he’d been charged with her mother’s death. They knew he’d been found innocent.

  Then he’d died.

  Simple facts. Cold.

  And far, far from the real truth of the matter.

  The sun felt warm on her skin when they finally cleared the ivory walls of Worthington University. There was a big park right across the street from the school, and Wade headed straight there. He pushed the blond man onto a beach and barked, “Your name. Now.”

  Instead of giving his name, the guy ran a shaking hand through his hair. “I punched the professor.”

  Yes, he had.

  “Oh, jeez, I am in so much trouble.” He hunched forward.

  “The professor didn’t press charges, so you’re fine.” No sympathy softened Wade’s voice. “Now, your name.” An order.

  Victoria glanced back toward Worthington. She could just see the side of the Life Sciences building. Actually, it was Dr. North’s window that she noticed on the second floor. Was he watching them?

  And still bleeding?

  “M-­My name’s Jim Porter.” Jim huffed out a breath. “And I just . . . I swear I just lost it when no one would listen to me about Melissa. But I know something is wrong. I know it.”

  Victoria eased onto the bench next to Jim. She made sure not to touch him. She bit her lip and tried to figure out what to say. What would Sarah say? “How do you know for certain? Maybe she just hooked up with someone last night.”

  Jim’s head whipped up and snapped toward her. His dark brown eyes locked on her.

  Crap. I did it again. Said the wrong thing.

  “She wasn’t looking for a hookup,” he gritted out. “We were hanging out, dancing with friends. I went to the bathroom and when I came back she was just gone.”

  Right. Gone. Which means that she could have found a guy and left with him. Or maybe she’d connected with other friends and gone to check out another bar.

  Lots of possibilities. Doesn’t mean something bad happened.

  Yet.

  “She didn’t answer her phone. She didn’t call all night.” Jim pushed his hand through his hair. “That’s not like Melissa. She always checks in with me.”

  “Have you contacted her family?” Wade asked as he stood a few feet away, his arms loose at his sides.

  “She doesn’t have other family. Melissa was a foster kid, just like me. I am her family, and she wouldn’t just vanish.” His face hardened. “No one would listen when I started calling this morning. Cops told me that since she was over eighteen, there wasn’t even a reason to look for her yet. She’s gone. That’s a reason.”

  “Did you check the hospitals?” Wade asked.

  Jim flinched. “No . . .”

  “That will be our first order of business. We’ll call all the hospitals and make sure no one fitting her description was brought in between last night and this morning.”

  Hope came and went on Jim’s face. “LOST.” He still held Wade’s card in his hand. Though it had gotten a bit crumpled in his fist. “You . . . you really do this shit? You find the missing?”

  They worked cold cases. Not something like this. If this Melissa actually turned out to be missing—­and not just hanging with a friend or recovering in a hospital bed—­then the local authorities would take over. LOST wouldn’t have any sort of jurisdiction. They weren’t a federal agency. They were the ones who came in when hope was lost.

  Hope isn’t lost here.

  “We try to find them,” Wade said carefully.

  Jim sucked in a deep breath. “What do you need to know? What can I do?”

  “First, I need her name. Full name.”

  “Melissa Hastings.” He hesitated, then a brief smile curled his lips. “Melissa Margaret Hastings, though she’s always hated her middle name.”

  “Tell me what she looks like.”

  “About five-­foot-­six, one hundred thirty-­five pounds. Fit, cause she runs a lot.”

  Just like Kennedy had run? Victoria’s stomach ­knotted.

  “Blond hair, long, just to her shoulders. Blue eyes. Last night she was—­she was wearing a blue shirt. White skirt. Heels.”

  “Good,” Wade said. “That’s good information.”

  Jim nodded and hurriedly said, “I can do you one better, man.” He fumbled and pulled out his phone. He tapped on the screen a few times and then lifted the phone toward them. “This is her.”

  Victoria leaned in to see the picture of the pretty, smiling blonde. Dimples winked in her cheeks, and she had her arm wrapped around Jim’s neck.

  Wade took the phone. “Mind if I text this picture to my phone? It can help in the search.”

  “Anything man, anything.” While Wade texted the photo, Jim mumbled, “I—­I tried using that Find My Phone app, but it didn’t work. I don’t know if—­if she disabled it or if . . .”

  If someone else did? “Like I said,” Wade said, his voice calm and easy as he handed the phone back to Jim. “First we check the hospitals . . .”

  BUT MELISSA HASTINGS wasn’t in any of the local hospitals, and an hour later Victoria found herself standing outside of a run-­down little bar called Vintage. They were on the edge of the historic district in Savannah, and the area was bustling with tourists, even at that time of the day.

  “The place was packed last night,” Jim said. “It’s always big at night. Melissa was dancing one moment, then gone the next.”

  Melissa Hastings, age twenty-­three. A grad student in psychology who’d worked as an assistant for Dr. North so she could help pay the bills at the apartment she shared with Jim. Jim had been quick to point out that he and Melissa weren’t involved in any relationship. He’d said they were more like family.

  Sometimes, family can be your biggest danger.

  Jim rocked forward on his heels. “I have to be at work soon, but, Jesus, I can’t just walk away! She’s out there. She needs me.”

  They’d learn
ed more about Jim and Melissa in the last hour. The two had first met when they were fifteen and they wound up at the same foster home. They bounced around after that, but something had clicked for them, and when they’d been reunited at Wellington . . .

  Jim had told Victoria that fate brought him back to Melissa.

  Victoria hadn’t been able to tell him that she didn’t believe in fate.

  “Go to work,” Wade ordered him. “We’ll look around here. See what we can find out.”

  There was no missing the relief on Jim’s face. “Thank you!”

  He shouldn’t thank them. They hadn’t done anything.

  She paced away from the men as Jim rattled off his phone number and other contact information to Wade. Then the young guy was off—­nearly running away. He seemed to do everything fast. Life passed at high speed for him.

  She headed toward the alley on the side of the building. Long, narrow. Empty. Her gaze slid over the cobblestone path back there. The place appeared to have been freshly cleaned. There was a puddle of water, as if the area had been hosed off recently.

  Footsteps sounded behind her. Victoria turned and saw Wade approaching. She bit her lower lip, then had to say, “You shouldn’t have let him think we were taking this case.”

  Wade shrugged. “Don’t know that there is a case yet. We’re here. Why not look around a bit?”

  Why not? “Because we’re supposed to be searching for Kennedy Lane. That’s what Lucas hired us to do.”

  His lips tightened. “Kennedy’s been gone five years. We both know we aren’t going to find her alive.”

  His words made her chest ache.

  “But Melissa . . . there’s hope with her.”

  She tore her gaze from his and looked back at the alley. “She could have hooked up with someone last night.”

  “You heard Jim. That wasn’t her style.”

  Victoria’s cheeks burned. I just hooked up with you last night. A hookup that she was very deliberately not talking about. “Sometimes, those close to you don’t realize who you really are. They think they know . . .” She shook her head. “But they only see what you let them.”