“Braydon, I’m only going to tell you this once. I don’t, and will not, blame you for the actions of a psychotic man. You did nothing wrong.”

“But now I’m afraid he’s after you.” She may not have known Braydon long but she did know that the vulnerability he was showing now was rare. It pulled at her heartstrings.

“We don’t know that for certain,” she said.

“He wants to make me suffer. What better way than to use you.”

“You care about this entire town and all of its people. He can use any of us.” She said it to lighten the mood. They were skating around saying something significant again. Sophia could feel it. She watched as the conflicted man next to her chose his words carefully.

“He knows you’re different.”

Manhunt

Tyler Anne Snell

www.millsandboon.co.uk

TYLER ANNE SNELL genuinely loves all genres of the written word. However, she’s realized that she loves books filled with sexual tension and mysteries a little more than the rest. Her stories have a good dose of both. Tyler lives in Florida with her same-named husband and their mini “lions.” When she isn’t reading or writing, she’s playing video games and working on her blog, Almost There. To follow her shenanigans, visit www.tylerannesnell.com.

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This book is for my mother, Robin.

Who, against all odds, has never stopped believing that I can do no wrong. Without her support and never-faltering love, this book might still be a tangled web caught in my head. I love you, Ma!

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Detective Braydon Thatcher looked at the dock with an anger he had learned to contain burning in his chest. No matter the time that passed, that spot was his personal hell.

“I just don’t understand! Amanda and I fight sometimes, but nothing so bad that she’d just leave.”

Braydon tore his eyes away from the dock, no longer in the Bartlebee name but that of the Alcasters, and took in the rumpled Marina Alcaster. She was upwards of sixty but looked as frail as if she were pushing eighty. Her slumped frame and thin bones were deceiving at best. Everyone in Culpepper knew she had a temper that often boiled over and ran hotter than the Florida heat. Her screech could be heard like a car crash in the town square.

Which was why no one, not Braydon or his partner Tom Langdon, was surprised to hear that Amanda had gone. Though, her mama refused to entertain such a thought.

“When’s the last time you two had it out?” Tom asked, sending Braydon a significant look when Marina hesitated. “Did y’all fight last night?”

Marina pursed her lips and shifted a hip out. “I wouldn’t call it a fight...but we did have a conversation.”

“A conversation?” Braydon raised his eyebrow as Tom wrote that one down. “What kind of conversation?”

Marina put a hand on her hip. “A loud one.” She huffed.

“Was Amanda mad when this loud conversation ended?” Another hesitant look.

“Well, yeah. She got in her car and left.” Before Braydon or Tom could point out that Marina had called to file a missing-persons report, she rushed on. “But she came back later! Look—” she pointed over her shoulder at a blue Honda “—that’s her car!”

“And you haven’t seen her since?”

“No, that’s why I called you two.” Marina’s temper was starting to flare and Braydon didn’t have the patience to deal with it today. Not with the dock looming in the distance with its invisible stain of agony. Tom, one of the only constant friends Braydon had kept since the incident eleven years ago, knew his partner was distracted by the closeness of it. He took down Marina’s contact information and assured her they’d look into it.

“We’ll give you a call when we find her,” he called, already following Braydon to the truck. “I bet you thought after your promotion to detective you’d have a lot more interesting cases than dealing with a little Alcaster dispute, huh?”

Tom was trying to lighten the mood Braydon had fallen into—he smiled big, exposing teeth slightly stained by too much coffee. Braydon appreciated the gesture and shook himself as they pulled out of the driveway and took the winding dirt path back to the main road.

Tom was right, though. Braydon expected—and hoped—for more exciting work than looking for Amanda, who was twenty-six years old and probably at a friend’s house waiting for her own anger to sizzle out. Not to mention, her being gone wasn’t an actual case until she had been missing for forty-eight hours. The only reason they had driven out was due to a lull in between cases. Also, it wasn’t wise to anger the elder Alcaster, which is exactly what would happen if they had told her to wait her daughter out. So out they had come, ready to help a member of the community. Though, again, trying to patch up a fight between mother and daughter hadn’t been on Braydon’s mind when he signed up for law enforcement. For the better part of his career, he had worked hard for the promotion to one of the two detectives in Culpepper. The town wasn’t big by any means, and mostly sleepy, but there were still investigations that needed working and cases that needed solving.

Plus, it wasn’t the promise of excitement that had pushed him into the profession—it was the pursuit of justice.

“Have you ever met Amanda?” Tom asked, facing ahead so the sun lit up his blond hair.

Braydon nodded. “I’ve been to a few parties with her but that was when we were in school,” he answered. “I had to be about seventeen...maybe eighteen.” That had been almost eleven years ago, Braydon calculated. Back when he was going through the wild and rebellious stages of being a teenager—drinking, partying and feeding hormonal impulses at every turn. He had been one of the undesirables then, on the wrong side of the law that he now tried to uphold. His mother had sent him to church every Sunday as if it would absolve whatever demon had possessed him, but there was nothing Pastor Smith could preach that would end Braydon’s lust for the wicked.

That is, until one rainy night changed everything.

Tom seemed to realize the bad mood was relapsing. He shifted in his seat and turned up the radio. The cool sounds of 103.1’s program of all things ’80s pumped through the truck’s speakers. Normalcy returned in the small cab.

The end of September had crept up on the town, though the Culpepper heat still radiated like it was August. Sweat pooled beneath Braydon’s white polo shirt, adhering it against his suntanned skin. One of the perks of his promotion—shedding the uniform. Despite his reformed sensibilities, wearing the cop getup pricked against his inner rebel.

It was a twenty-minute trek from the Alcasters’ back to the station at the heart of town. Braydon spent the rest of the drive watching the rural part of Culpepper transform into neighborhood turnoffs, industrial buildings, shopping boutiques and the few dilapidated structures littered in between.

This part of town had once been run-down—a meeting place for drug dealers, prostitutes and people who liked and used both. It wasn’t until six years ago that Richard Vega had pumped life, and money, back into the four-block stretch. The New York City native had a business acumen to be reckoned with and enough funds to open Vega Consulting—a company of marketing strategists created to serve not only Culpepper, but all of North America.

Braydon didn’t know the extent of how Vega Consulting operated, but he had to believe they were doing well. Richard Vega lived at the end of Loop Road with an electronic gate surrounding the five acres of land he had purchased without batting an eye.

The partners had fallen back into a comfortable silence the last few minutes of the drive. It was as though the growing distance from the dock was lifting a sour weight from Braydon’s shoulders. When the police station came into view, the ill feelings had all but disappeared, though Braydon knew he wouldn’t get any sleep tonight.

“Langdon,” Tom answered after his phone did a vibrating dance.

Braydon pulled into the parking lot that butted up against the side of the station. The building dated back to the ’50s and had been renovated at least three times. It was all brick, cracked tile and offices that were small enough to pull double duty as closets. When most officers, Tom included, complained about the state of the building, Braydon found he didn’t share their sentiments. He never felt more at home than when he set his eyes on the place.

He turned off the truck and met the humidity with a deep breath. It was midmorning, and the heat was at its worst. The rain that had bathed the town hours earlier had done little to reduce the temperature. He smiled to himself. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. Despite all of the opportunities he’d had to leave his hometown, it was beautiful days when the sun was shining that reaffirmed his decision to stay. A person just couldn’t beat a beautiful day in Florida.

“Okay, we’re right outside now.” Tom hung up the phone and followed Braydon around the building to the front double doors with Culpepper Police Department hung in rusting letters above them.

“There’s a woman waiting in your office,” he said, holding the door open. “And apparently she’s not too happy.”

Braydon quickly ran through the list of women he had been with in the past few years, trying to find a name that stuck to someone who might be pissed. Well, recently pissed. Angela had been the last woman he had been with but that had been two months ago. Surely, she wasn’t the one in his office pitching a fit.

“She’s from out of town,” Tom offered, cutting off Braydon’s line of thought. “Probably got a ticket from John and wants to complain to someone.” John was a policeman who loved giving tickets to tourists passing through. Some people loved golf, John loved giving tickets. Braydon sighed.

“I’ll deal with her,” he said, feeling his nerves switch to annoyed. He’d never had much of a stomach for outsiders.

“Sounds good to me. I’m going to call around and see if I can’t find Miss Alcaster.”

They parted ways after walking through the lobby and into the largest room in the station. Rows of desks, computers, chairs and coffee cups filled the room. Some were occupied with Uniforms—a few colleagues Braydon didn’t like and a few who didn’t like him. John the Ticketer’s chair was empty. He was probably writing someone up right now, Braydon mused. Along the far side of the room stood four doors that led to a break room, Tom’s office, Braydon’s office and the conference room. To the left, with the blinds always shut over the window in the door, was Captain Westin’s domain.

A man was smart to avoid that office when the captain’s temper was high.

Braydon walked across the room and let out a sigh as he saw his door was closed. Why they had left a stranger unsupervised was an issue he would bring up as soon as he ushered her out. Not only was it an invasion of privacy but also breaking regulation.

He reached out to grab the doorknob when the old oak slab flung open.

“It’s about damn time!”

Braydon stepped back, caught off guard. He furrowed his brow at the woman standing before him. No one in Culpepper would believe she was anything but an outsider. Despite the heat and humidity, she was wrapped in a black pantsuit with a blazer that covered the length of her arms and a shirt that dipped low in a V. Although Braydon tried to keep his gaze up, he couldn’t help noticing the suit hugged her chest and hips in a very attractive way. Her skin was creamy porcelain, another sign that Florida was not her home. It stood out like a shock against the glossy dark hair that was pulled high in a bun. Although her eyes were a deep shade of sage, there was no denying the fire that sparked behind them.

“I’ve been waiting in here for almost half an hour!” she fumed.

Braydon put up his hands. “Whoa, calm down. Why don’t you take a seat and we’ll get this all straightened out.” He moved around her, catching a whiff of perfume. It filled his senses with its sweet aroma.

The woman hesitated, as if unable to immediately obey, before she dropped down into the seat across from his desk.

“Now, Mrs....”

She waved her hand through the air. “Miss,” she corrected impatiently. “Sophia Hardwick.” The name sounded vaguely familiar but Braydon couldn’t quite place it. The red-lipped Sophia had scrambled his attention. “And like I told the man out there, I’m here about my sister.” She was gearing up to explain, her hands intertwining on the top of the desk. The way she leaned forward a fraction, didn’t improve the hold on his concentration.

Before she could start, Tom appeared in the door. His brow was furrowed. He didn’t bother with knocking.

“Braydon, we need to talk.” He tipped his head toward Sophia. “This will only take a minute, ma’am.”

Sophia slammed her hands onto the desk. She stood with such speed that Braydon mimicked the act, hand flitting to his holster.

“Are you serious? You just got in here. I’ve only had time to tell you my name for heaven’s sake! You will not put me off anymore,” she said, looking between the men. “I’m here because my sister is missing and I need you idiots to do something about it.” There was a pause as all of the air seemed to rush out of her. Color tinted her cheekbones, whether from the exertion or her makeup, Braydon didn’t know.

“I didn’t know Amanda had a sister,” he said, lowering his hand but still on guard. Sophia may have been petite but her passion was seeping out of every pore.

“What? Who’s Amanda?” she huffed. “I’m here about Lisa.” Braydon looked at Tom, who had turned white as a sheet. Something must have happened as soon as Tom had gone to his office.

He looked down at a paper in his hands. “Lisa? Does she happen to go by Trixie?”

Sophia shook her head. A few strands of hair came loose at the movement. Tom’s upbeat mood was gone—an issue that brought Braydon’s nerves back to the edge.

“No. She goes by Lisa. Lisa Hardwick.”

Tom’s mouth set in a deep frown. Without explanation to Sophia he turned to Braydon. “We need to talk,” he said. “Now.”

“Unbelievable! I just tell you that my sister is missing and you just—”

“Ma’am. We will be with you in a second,” Tom snapped. It was a rare occurrence to hear the shorter of the two men so tightly strung that Braydon didn’t hesitate. He followed Tom into the conference room two doors over.

“What was that about?”

Braydon didn’t know what answer to expect but it sure wasn’t what came next.

“Cal Green, you know him?”

Braydon nodded. “The mechanic?”

“Yeah, well he left a message a few minutes ago. He says his secretary, Trixie Martin, hasn’t shown up to work for two days. He got worried because she wasn’t answering her phone and headed to her place. All the lights were on, the TV, too, and the front door was unlocked. He talked to the nearest neighbor but they didn’t see or hear anything. Her car was even in the driveway.” He didn’t wait for Braydon to respond. “If that woman in your office is telling the truth, then that means—”

Braydon felt like he was waking up—all of his senses stood alert.

“That means that we have three missing women.”

* * *

SOPHIA WAS FED UP with all of the interruptions Culpepper had to offer. From the moment she had stepped foot inside the police station it had been a stream of one after the other—keeping her from asking whole questions, let alone getting full answers.

She had been bounced from officer to officer only to be told to keep quiet and wait for the lead detective to come in from a call. So, there she had stayed, sans the quiet. The four-hour trip had strung out her already thin patience as she left voice mail after voice mail on Lisa’s phone. It wasn’t her fault that the Culpepper PD wasn’t prepared for her volley of loud complaints.

Sophia smoothed out the invisible wrinkles in her slacks and tried to keep her temper in check as the minutes ticked by and the detective hadn’t returned. On a normal day she would have been more understanding, perhaps more patient. She knew that if she were back home in the city, the chances of her still waiting in the department’s lobby would be great. At least here she had been ushered into an office. Small blessings and silver linings.

Being alone was something Sophia had grown accustomed to throughout the past few years, but she found the lack of communication now was grinding into her anxiety. Lisa might fly by the seat of her pants 80 percent of the time, but she had never been so irresponsible as to leave without saying a word. Their relationship may have become strained lately, but it wasn’t that strained.

“Sorry to step out like that.” Detective Thatcher walked back into the office with a notebook under his arm. Instead of sitting behind the desk, he leaned on its corner and tilted his head down to meet her gaze. His eyes were the color of the sea—swirls of aquamarine. They were the kind of eyes that captured a person, making them want nothing more than to get lost within the bright pools. Sophia hadn’t noticed their allure until he was so close.

He had a swimmer’s build—tall, lean, but with muscles that peeked through his clothes. His shirt was pulled taut over broad shoulders, while his sun-kissed skin was a rich bronze—a shade she hadn’t been able to achieve in the muck of Atlanta. In contrast to his partner’s thinning blond hair, Thatcher had a mass of dark brown locks that were mussed to mimic what she thought would be his bed hair.

Sophia realized she had been staring. She needed to pull it together for Lisa. She cleared her throat and pushed her back straight.

“Now, if you would start from the beginning,” he prompted. His long, and ringless, fingers wrapped around the pen. He wrote with controlled precision as she spoke.

“My birthday was four days ago, on Sunday,” Sophia started.

“Happy belated birthday, then.”

She waved her hand dismissively but said thanks. Turning twenty-six hadn’t felt any different than turning twenty-five. “Lisa was supposed to come celebrate and she didn’t. And before you come up with a bunch of excuses as to why she didn’t show, let me stop you. My sister is an intelligent woman who, despite her occasional bout of forgetfulness, is one of the most responsible women I know. I’ve been trying to get a hold of her since yesterday. I called her cell phone, her house and even her work.”

“Have you been to her residence?” Thatcher asked, his eyes piercing. Sophia shifted, suddenly uncomfortable.

“Yes, she obviously wasn’t there.”

“Was there any kind of disturbance? Did it look like someone had been there recently?”

“No, but that doesn’t really surprise me. From what I’ve heard she practically lives with her boyfriend.” Thatcher raised an eyebrow, this quiet gesture asking more than any verbal question would. “She isn’t at his place, either. He’s the one who called me yesterday asking where she was.”

“Wait, didn’t you say she missed your birthday was four days ago? Why did you wait until yesterday to try to contact her?”

“We haven’t really been on the best of terms this past year.” Sophia’s face heated. “I assumed she didn’t come because she didn’t want to. It wasn’t until Richard called that we realized she had been missing for two full days already.”

“And Richard is the boyfriend?”

She nodded. “Richard Vega, I think he owns a company in town.”

Thatcher’s expression sharpened, his brow furrowing together as he paused writing.

“Your sister is dating Richard Vega? As in Richard Vega of Vega Consulting?”

Sophia nodded, more hair fell away from the bun atop her head. Whatever Thatcher was thinking, it wasn’t showing in his expression. His calm demeanor had turned utterly blank.

“And why didn’t he file a missing persons?”

Sophia felt her eyes widen. “You mean he didn’t?”

Thatcher stood and beckoned his partner from the other room.

“Did Richard Vega file a missing report a few days ago?” The blond man didn’t leave to go check. He instantly said no.

“We would have heard if Vega came here.”

Thatcher scratched his chin. It was smooth—void of facial hair that would hide the perfection that outlined his face. How kissable it looked, Sophia would have thought, had anger, fear and suspicion not been vying for the top emotional spot. Richard had called her with a voice drenched in worry. When she admitted she had no idea where Lisa was, he had assured her he would have it taken care of—that he would take all of the necessary steps to find her sister. Sophia had assumed that meant talking to the police.

“Why wouldn’t he have talked to you?” she asked.

“That’s a good question,” Thatcher said before leveling his gaze. There was a look she couldn’t decipher behind the eyes of the detective. All she knew was that it comforted and scared her at the same time. “That’s a very good question.”

Chapter Two

Detective Thatcher’s cool expression returned as he ordered Sophia to stay in his office. He sent in one of the beat cops, Officer Whitfield, to take down an official statement with all of the contact information between her sister and her. Whether he sent in a woman thinking it would make her more cooperative, she didn’t know.

Cara, as she was told to call the woman, was curt but kind and even though her gender didn’t affect Sophia’s mood, she managed to dot all the i’s and cross all the t’s.

“Don’t worry too much,” Cara said with a smile that contrasted her darker skin. “Detective Thatcher is one dedicated man. He’ll locate your sister and bring her back, no problem.” She went as far as to pat Sophia’s knee. “I’m sure she’s just lost track of time or is staying with a friend.”

Sophia resisted the urge to disagree and instead pasted on a smile. Maybe the woman had softened her attitude a bit, but that was only patching one spot in a dam that was ready to burst. If she didn’t get some answers soon, there would be no man or woman in the whole town who could keep her from exploding.

“Thank you for waiting,” Detective Thatcher greeted when he came back in. He nodded to Officer Whitfield as she collected her things and exited.

“Well, I seem to be doing that a lot here.”

Thatcher ignored the pointed response and leveled his gaze at her.

“Miss Hardwick, do you know any women by the names of Trixie Martin or Amanda Alcaster?”

Sophia didn’t have to think about that long. She shook her head. “No.”

“Those names don’t ring a bell at all? Maybe your sister, Lisa, has mentioned them?”

She crossed her arms across her chest. “No, I don’t recall her talking about them. As I stated before, Lisa and I haven’t been on the best of terms recently. There’s a chance she may know them, but I couldn’t help you with that,” she answered honestly. “What does that have to do with Lisa being missing? Do you think they took her?” She compiled a quick list of why someone would kidnap Lisa. For one, she was beautiful—long legs, big bust, thick black, tangle-free hair and a pair of lips that drew men’s attentions from a mile away. Lisa was also annoyingly perfect when it came to socializing. She knew how to command a room and entertain an audience. She also seemed to be dating a man who carried a lot of weight in town. Surely any or all of those reasons could make a few women jealous.

Detective Thatcher scratched at his chin, staring through her as he thought. When he realized she needed an answer, he straightened.

“I don’t think so.” His answer was made to put her at ease, but it wasn’t as concrete as she would have liked.

“Then why are we talking about them and not about Richard and the fact that he did not report my sister missing?”

“I’m about to go question him myself,” Thatcher said, pushing off the desk. He handed her a piece of paper.

“That’s my office number and my cell number along with Detective Langdon’s numbers.”

Sophia raised her eyebrow. “And you’re giving this to me why?” It was his turn to look confused.

“So you can contact us if you hear from Lisa or think of anything else that could help this investigation.”

“But you just said you’re going to go talk to Richard, right?”

“Yes, I certainly am.”

“I’m coming with you, then.” Sophia stood and pushed her bag up her shoulder. Detective Thatcher looked less than pleased but she didn’t care. She had up and left her job as an office manager at Jones Office Supply, traveled from the big city to a town that in comparison would barely fit in a shoe box, all while being submerged in a pool of worry. She didn’t want answers—she needed them.

“We’d like it if you would stay here and answer a few questions to help us, Miss Hardwick. Don’t worry, I’ll ask Richard all of the important questions.”

“I can answer questions later, Detective. Right now I want to go see what Richard has to say.” She crossed her arms over her chest. She was glad she hadn’t changed her outfit since work that morning. The heels gave her the height to feel intimidating.

Thatcher mirrored her stance, crossing his arms over his chest. The biceps that flexed at the movement didn’t lie about his workout habits.

“Listen, you’ve made it pretty clear that you don’t know much about your sister’s boyfriend or this town, so let me enlighten you on a few things.” He made sure she was focusing on what he said next. “Richard Vega is the wealthiest man in Culpepper. He is also one of the most loved residents. Pissing him off and yelling at him won’t get you any answers. At least, no truthful ones. If you want to come with me you need to calm down and try to keep a level head. Got it?”

Sophia nodded, slightly offended. It was true that she wasn’t the best with confrontation but why Richard didn’t report Lisa missing was a big question she was more than capable of asking. Unless Thatcher was arresting her for something, there was no way he could stop her regardless. She knew how to work the GPS on her phone—she could get to Richard’s by herself. Sophia would go over the detective’s head or behind his back if necessary. He must have guessed as much. After a tense moment he let out a long sigh.

“You’re riding with me, then,” he said, not trying to hide his annoyance.

“I have my own car, thank you.”

“Listen, if you want to come along, you’re riding with me.”

“Why?” she asked, voice raised. Was this some kind of cop-civilian power trip? She wasn’t afraid to start yelling again.

“Because I want to make sure you come back to answer those questions.” He took his keys out of his desk and motioned for her to go through the door. “I have a feeling you aren’t a person who respects any kind of rules.”

Sophia tried not to blush as she struggled to get into the cab of the detective’s truck. Her heels, now more cumbersome than intimidating, snagged on the small step up making her look like a drunken fool as she stumbled inside. At least Thatcher kept his mouth shut and pretended not to notice. If she had been Lisa, the movement would have been effortless and graceful.

“How far is it to Richard’s?” Sophia asked as they turned out of the station’s parking lot.

“You’ve never been there?” he asked.

“No, I haven’t.” She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, guilt starting to move through her stomach. “I’ve never met the man, either.”

“And how long have Richard and your sister been dating?”

Sophia rolled her eyes. “Over a year now.” She set her jaw and mentally dared him to ask why she hadn’t met him. He must have picked up on her body language—he shut his mouth and they rode in silence until he finally answered her.

“Richard Vega lives on Loop Road. We have about ten more minutes until we get there. He lives on a large piece of land so it’s farther from the town center.”

She nodded. The anger she had felt toward the detective was lessening as she struggled to bat down her aversion to his authority.

“I do follow the rules, by the way,” she said after a few minutes had passed. “I just—” She looked down at her hands. “Lisa is the only family I have left. Well, the only one who counts at least. So, I’ve been kind of high-strung lately.” She felt her cheeks heat up again as she tried to apologize for her rude behavior without actually having to say it.

The detective glanced over before he sighed for the second time that day.

“It’s okay. Situations like these are stressful.” He hesitated before continuing. “We were late into the station because we were on a call about a woman named Amanda Alcaster who was reported missing. There’s also another woman, named Trixie Martin, who was reported missing within minutes of us arriving.”

Sophia sucked in a breath. She didn’t know what to process first.

“I wanted to tell you so when I bring it up to Vega, you don’t freak out,” he continued. “This all could just be a misunderstanding or some women who want to escape their lives for a little while. But on the off chance that it isn’t, I need to make sure I approach the only suspect we have with caution.”

“I’ll keep quiet, then,” she said after a moment. “But I still want to be in the room.”

“Deal.”

* * *

IF THE DETECTIVE hadn’t told Sophia that Richard was the wealthiest man in town, she would have known the moment she saw his house—if it could even be classified as something as typical as a house. It sat at the end of a small one-lane road and could only be accessed by being buzzed in at a gate just outside the large loop driveway. The more Sophia looked at the place, the more she wanted to classify it as a mansion. It was only two stories but it expanded wide on both sides, looking like an old plantation home. An expansive garage sat to the left of the main house and beautiful, meticulously groomed landscaping was placed in between as a testament to some gardener’s handsomely paid green thumb. Large white columns lined the front porch a few feet from the driveway while the double, red, arched front doors were held open by someone who looked suspiciously like a butler.

“Who’s that?” Sophia asked as Thatcher opened her door and helped her out. Normally, she wouldn’t have accepted his help but she didn’t want another awkward moment in front of such an impressive abode.

“I never remember his name, but that’s Vega’s assistant. He’s a mousy fella, but you can’t see Vega without getting through him.” Sophia let Thatcher lead the way to the well-dressed man. She wondered if his boss bought him the suit that he wore despite the humidity which played havoc with her hair.

“Detective Thatcher,” the man greeted, shaking his hand. He looked over his shoulder to Sophia. Recognition flared behind his mud-colored eyes. “Miss Hardwick, it’s nice to finally meet you.” On reflex she shook his hand.

“I’m sorry, but do I know you?”

The man laughed and shook his head. “No, but Lisa loves to show us pictures.” Sophia had to roll her eyes again. That certainly sounded like Lisa.

“Mr. Vega is finishing up a meeting with some vendors. He shouldn’t be long.” He led them through the front door and immediately to a large open room to the left. Sophia was almost disappointed she couldn’t take a tour of the house. Just from the front door she had seen a large, marble-white staircase with a banister worthy of being a makeshift slide. “Make yourselves at home. He’ll be in here shortly.” The assistant scurried off, shutting the door behind him.

They were obviously in what was used as a formal study. Built-ins lined the walls from floor to ceiling and were filled with matching sets of thick-spined books. A large, formidable desk faced the door, no doubt to keep an eye on those who might enter, while high windows were draped in translucent cloth. A rug the size of Sophia’s living room cushioned the noise of her heels on the hardwood. She walked around the room, wondering if Lisa spent any time in it reading.

“I knew Richard had money, but I didn’t realize how much,” she admitted to the detective. He kept still in the middle of the room, looking as out of place as she felt. His jeans and plain shirt were a few leagues below the apparent dress code that Vega’s staff employed on a regular basis.

“They say he works hard,” Thatcher replied.

“They?”

“Like I said, this town loves Richard Vega.” Sophia wanted to ask what his thoughts on the man were, when the door opened.

Richard Vega was all suit, hair product and posture. He walked into the room as if it had been his idea. As if he had been the one to invite Detective Thatcher into his home. Watching him make his way over, Sophia immediately understood why Lisa was so drawn to the man.

There was an undeniable overriding sense of confidence that rolled off of him in waves. Lisa had always been drawn to, not just strong, but powerful men. She had a track record of getting involved with the big dogs only to realize what they had in confidence they lacked in kindness. Lisa had assured Sophia that this man was different, that Richard Vega had a good heart, but now Sophia didn’t know if she bought that assessment.

Although he was handsome—tall, blond and tanned, angled facial features—Sophia found herself thinking that the detective had him beat. A thought that made the color rise in her cheeks. She glanced at Thatcher from the corner of her eye. He was straight-backed and concentrated on the approaching man. She doubted he was thinking about how she might be more attractive than Officer Whitfield or any of the other women in the station.

“Detective,” Richard said, extending his hand. Thatcher shook it, though there was a stiffness to it. “And you must be Sophia. Your pictures don’t do you justice.” They shook hands. “I’m sorry we had to meet under these circumstances.”

“Yes, let’s talk about those circumstances.”

“Of course, let’s sit.” Richard was at least smart enough to know that sitting behind his desk while the two of them sat in chairs on the other side was not the best move. If this had been a business meeting, he would have been the man in charge, but this was an investigation and Detective Thatcher was the one calling the shots. Richard instead situated himself on one of two leather love seats at the far side of the room.

Sophia and Thatcher took the one opposite, the small furniture making their legs touch. She made a point not to look at him as he leaned forward, slipping into detective mode. She also tried to ignore how her heart sped up at his closeness. At the station she had been at the man’s throat but now he was pulling at her concentration. She didn’t need distractions right now. Lisa couldn’t afford it.

“Let’s jump right into this,” Thatcher started. “You called Sophia Hardwick on Tuesday morning around six-thirty asking for the whereabouts of her sister, the woman you’ve been dating for over a year. Correct?”

“Correct.”

“When she told you she didn’t know, you told her you would take care of the situation. Again, is this correct?” Richard nodded. At each question his jawline tensed. “Sophia says that her sister never made it to see her. You found this out, so that puts Lisa Hardwick unaccounted for since Sunday morning. That’s four days, not even including today, that Lisa has been missing.” Slowly, Richard nodded. “So tell me, Mr. Vega, why the hell you didn’t call us or file a missing-persons report?” There was no mistaking the anger in Thatcher’s voice—nor the hidden accusation beneath his question. Having the whole situation recounted had a similar effect on Sophia. She wished she had as much experience as the detective at spotting a lie or pressing on a weak point to get the right information. Instead she kept her mouth shut and decided to follow whatever lead the man next to her would take.

Richard kept his face calm, not at all surprised at the question or its parallel series of thoughts. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and looked between them.

“I had a potential client come in Saturday night. It was a last-minute announcement but I wanted to show this person that I could be flexible and that I was very interested in taking on his business. If he agreed to work with me, then I could get him to participate in or donate to the Culpepper Fund-raiser this year.”

“The what?” Sophia had to ask.

“It’s a fund-raiser scheduled for next week. I started hosting them a year after I moved here. The town buys tickets while various organizations hold different auctions to raise money. It’s also a banquet of sorts—champagne, food and music.”

Sophia’s eyes widened as she remembered where she had heard about that before.

“That’s where Lisa met you.”

“Yes, the first one she came to she picked it apart, saying the vendors had ripped me off and that she could do it better if she was in charge.” He smiled. “I thought she was joking but Details did a great job last year.”

It was Detective Thatcher’s turn to raise his eyebrow. “Details? Why does that sound familiar?”

“It’s an event-planning business Lisa started when she first moved to Culpepper,” Sophia responded. It was also one of the reasons that they had drifted from each other.

“Got it. Now continue, Mr. Vega.”

“Lisa helped me host a very small, informal gathering here in the house with said potential client and a few of my employees.”

“And does this potential client have a name?” Thatcher asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I’d like to keep that confidential, if you don’t mind. We don’t want any rumors going around before anything is official.”

“I do mind,” the detective said with seriousness. “But we can get back to that later.” Richard didn’t miss a beat as he continued.

“We stayed up well into the next day. However, Lisa turned in early and left early. I, on the other hand, ashamedly slept in until almost noon. She had left me a note saying she was heading to the birthday party and would call when she made it. I turned my mind back to the potential client’s entertainment needs as well as business and before I realized it, it was Monday.” He balled up his fist. “I didn’t question the fact that she never called until Monday night after my guest left. I called her and got her voice mail.” He switched his gaze, now intense, to Sophia. When he spoke his anger was palpable. “I assumed you would have called if she hadn’t shown up. I just thought the silence was the two of you doing some sisterly bonding thing and Lisa just forgot to call. Why didn’t you call when she didn’t show up?”

Sophia’s face flushed red—a mix of embarrassment, guilt and anger.

“Lisa and I haven’t been on the best of terms this past year,” Sophia almost spat, trying to defend herself. “You should have known that. She didn’t tell me she was coming, so when she didn’t show up I assumed it was on purpose.”

There was a heated silence, not at all like the thoughtful one she seemed to share with the detective when they were sorting through new information. This was weighted. This was bogged down with ill feelings and regret.

“Continue, Mr. Vega,” Thatcher said, commanding the two of them to snap out of it. Richard looked back at the detective and let out a loud breath.

“When I still hadn’t received any word by Tuesday morning, I decided it wasn’t just Lisa’s forgetfulness. The phone call with Miss Hardwick here just confirmed it. I left work and began looking for her, only to come up empty.”

“Why didn’t you call us?”

Richard sat up straighter. “At first I thought...” He paused, trying to find the right words. “I thought that Lisa had left me, using Sophia’s party as an excuse to disappear.”

“Why would she leave you?”

“Over the past year, I’ve grown to trust Lisa more than I’ve ever trusted anyone else. She has become not only a woman I care about, but a confidante.” At this admission, Richard for the first time seemed uncomfortable with what he was saying.

“She knows secrets about you,” Thatcher said.

“Not only personal, but professional. Secrets my competitors would pay big for. Secrets that could undo everything I’ve worked for my entire life. I’ve had much worse attempted by people who want my money or business before.”

“Lisa wouldn’t do that, though.” Sophia spoke up with certainty. “From what I know, she has been very happy with you.” Richard’s intense expression softened at that.

“I couldn’t rule it out entirely. So I called in a few favors and had her phone traced.” He didn’t bother acting sheepish. “I found it.”

He shared a look with Detective Thatcher. It sent a chill through Sophia.

“And?” she prodded.

Richard stood and went to retrieve a box under his desk. He presented it to Thatcher. The contents made Thatcher’s brow furrow. Sophia was almost afraid to look but she had to be strong. She had to be strong for Lisa.

Holding her breath she peeked in.

“Is that it?”

Richard nodded, frowning deeply while Thatcher pushed around the several pieces of what once was a cell phone. Sophia felt her stomach drop.

“Before it was smashed, I was able to follow it to the main road, just past Tipsy’s Gas & Grill.” Sophia looked at Thatcher questioningly.

“It’s a family-owned gas station and mini-restaurant off of the main road,” Thatcher explained. “Busiest gas station in town.” He motioned to Richard to continue.

“When I went to where it last was turned on I found it scattered along the side of the road.” He sent another significant look to Thatcher.

“I’m assuming you already tried to salvage the SIM card inside? To recover any pictures or—”

“None of it could be saved.” Richard dropped back into his seat. “I couldn’t even find the remnants of the card.”

“So, what does that mean?” Sophia asked.

“It means,” Richard began, running a hand through his hair, “that either Lisa doesn’t want anyone to find her or someone doesn’t want us to find Lisa.”

* * *

THE AIR SEEMED to zip out of the room—leaving behind an unsettling silence. Braydon felt Sophia tense next to him. It was a response he was familiar with when bad news was flitting around.

“Did you find anything else?” Braydon asked. He wanted to know if Richard was aware of the other missing women.

“I called the hospitals and even morgues in the neighboring cities looking for her or a Jane Doe who matched her description, but nothing came up.” He pulled out a card and handed it to Braydon. “I even hired two PIs from this firm to search the cities.”

“You hired out-of-town private investigators before you contacted your local PD?” Braydon said incredulously.

“I hired them to stay out of town to find her. Culpepper is small. I had faith, if she was here, that I’d run into her.”

Braydon was fighting the urge to yell at the very rich, very pompous man in front of him. If he had just called the police when he first realized Lisa was missing, it could have made all the difference, but instead he wanted to handle it himself. He had as much pride as he did wealth.

“You still should have filed a report,” Sophia barked out, breaking her silence. “Did you ever think ‘What if she didn’t run away?’ ” Braydon could tell her composure was cracking.

“Of course I did. I’m not an idiot.”

“Well, you could have fooled me!” Under different circumstances, Braydon would have smiled at Sophia’s brashness. She didn’t bottle up her emotions—she let them pour out instead. The two of them would have kept on, but Braydon had had enough.

“Do you know Trixie Martin or Amanda Alcaster?” Braydon watched the man’s facial expression closely. He could see wheels turning but there was no concrete recognition of either name.

“Not personally. The Alcaster name sounds familiar, but what has that got to do with Lisa?”

Braydon took a breath. Sophia’s hands fidgeted across her lap. He wanted to hold them still, to keep her worries at bay. Personal experience had taught him that as long as a loved one was out there in trouble, no one, not even he, could quell all worries. That didn’t mean he didn’t want to, though. He cast another look at Sophia; the realization that he wanted to make sure she was okay was an odd one. He’d only known her for two hours at best and yet he empathized with her completely.

“They were reported missing today,” he said, squaring his shoulders. Richard’s brow furrowed, his frown deepened. Braydon balled his fists again, his body winding up. “This is why you let us know when something like this happens. This is why you call the police. It doesn’t matter if you’re taking time off of your job to locate Miss Hardwick because it’s my full-time job to do that. I help people for a living, Richard.” Braydon wasn’t yelling. In fact, his voice had taken on an eerie calm. That calm voice indicated how furious he was that Richard had not reported the disappearance of Lisa. The missing woman who had a sibling drowning in a sea of worry—one beautiful woman desperate for answers. Professionalism was dialing his volume back but it wasn’t diluting his intensity. “Now let me do my job and tell me everything else you found out or I’ll arrest you for impeding an investigation.”

It turned out that Richard was almost as clueless as they were. Apart from the cell phone, he hadn’t found any evidence of blatant foul play or anything that pointed to Lisa running away. He had instead kept eyes and ears out for the woman he loved, hoping above all else that everything had been a misunderstanding. She hadn’t run. She hadn’t been taken. Braydon knew better than to cling to such false hope. If someone dropped off the face of the earth for four days, there was something wrong. Like kicking an addiction, admitting there was a problem was the first step.

Richard Vega hadn’t handled that step well.

They wasted little time in unnecessary back-and-forth before Braydon told Richard he needed to see the exact place where the cell phone had been recovered. As far as they knew, it was the last place Lisa had been—tied by electronic tracking and hard evidence. If he could see it with his own eyes, then maybe he could see more of what had happened through hers.

“Am I riding with you or him?” Sophia asked as Richard pulled his car out of the garage. Like most houses on Loop Road it had more square footage than the resident had known what to do with.

“You can ride with either,” Braydon said, watching Richard for any signs of fleeing. He didn’t think the wealthy man would run, but he couldn’t be too sure he wouldn’t. Just because the whole town seemed to love the upstanding, well-groomed businessman, didn’t mean Braydon was going to put his faith in Richard’s good intentions. “We’re all going to the same place.”

Braydon walked over to the 370Z and inclined his head down to meet Richard’s gaze.

“It should go without saying but if you try to leave or do anything suspicious, I’ll find you and arrest you.”

“I understand.” He responded without hesitation. “I assure you that you now have my full cooperation.”

“Good.” Braydon patted the top of the car and went back to his truck. He was surprised to see Sophia already sitting in the cab with the air conditioner blasting. “How did you turn the car on?”

She remained still as she answered, her eyes closed in the cold air stream. “I used the key. You know, the things that people use to start cars?”

“Your sarcasm is noted, but what I meant was how did you get my keys?”

“You threw them on the dash here.” She opened one eye, watching as he climbed into the driver’s seat. “Not the best hiding place.” He shifted into Drive and began following Richard out onto Loop Road.

“Tom says I have a nasty habit of doing that.” Being a cop in Culpepper had seemed to activate an invisible barrier around the truck. No one wanted to steal or strip down his vehicle. The townspeople knew better. “That still doesn’t give you the right to turn it on.”

“Listen, it feels like it’s over 100 degrees in this place. I needed some air and I needed it fast.” She closed her eyes again and let the air conditioner push against her face. It was flushed from the heat, he could now tell. There were patches of red across her soft skin, though she was still attractive.

“That outfit isn’t helping,” he observed.

“And that is also noted.”

They dove into a small silence. Sophia’s perfume was slowly filling the space of the cab. He marveled at the contrast between its airy sweetness and her hard resolve.

“I’m surprised you didn’t want to ride with Richard,” Braydon admitted. “I thought you two would want to catch up.” She had picked him, a stranger, over someone she knew of and who had close ties with her sister. Plus, that man had been Richard Vega. He could charm his way out of a jail cell faster than Braydon could lock the door. Another reason why he hadn’t yet arrested the man. Though, he would in a heartbeat if he needed to.

Sophia snorted.

“Remember when I said Lisa and I weren’t on the best terms this past year?” She motioned to the sports car in front. “Meet Richard Vega. He was the hammer to our nail.”

Braydon glanced over at her. “What happened?”

Sophia turned her head so fast that her bun released the rest of her hair. “It’s none of your business,” she snapped.

“It is if you want me to find your sister, I need all of the details pertaining to her and Richard.” Her anger seemed to fade.

“Why? Do you think Richard had something to do with her disappearance?”

Braydon thought about it before he answered. Richard certainly had the means to make a person fall off the radar but there had been an unmistakable concern that had covered every word and movement when he spoke of Lisa. “I personally think the only thing he’s guilty of is being a prideful son of a bitch, but I don’t want to rule him out, either. So, if there was a fight between all of you, there could potentially be a motive.”

She went back to fidgeting with her hands.

“I really don’t think that has anything to do with what’s happening....”

“A good detective can’t leave clues half-uncovered.” He prodded with a gentler tone, “If we’re going to find your sister, I need all of the information.”

She put her hand up to the vent and quieted. The past wasn’t a pleasant place to frequent, he knew that, but sometimes it was a necessity. He remained patient and watched as Richard turned off Loop Road and onto a connector that would get them to the main one. His red little car could easily outrun the truck. Braydon imagined the only reason he was going the speed limit was to avoid pissing him off any more.

Sophia sighed, touching her face with her now-cold hand.

“It was over money,” she started. “And we never really had a fight. It was more of a buildup of things we didn’t say. My dad died when we were little and Mom worked full-time while doing odd jobs along the way to support us. The years went by and we could see her trying to not blame us for her having to work so hard, but eventually the resentment set in. Lisa and I picked up the slack and looked out for one another—encouraged good grades, gave each other rides to work and helped take care of everything else. Lisa was my older sister, but she didn’t raise me—we raised each other.” Her voice shook and Braydon had to look to see if she was crying. Her head was bent, her fingertips suddenly fascinating. “Lisa has always been the prettier, more charming sister. As we got older, she was handed more opportunities, but she never really took them. That is until she started dating Richard. He offered her a world on a gold platter and she just took it. No questions asked. We spent years working so hard to make something of ourselves and then it was like she took the easy way out.” Her voice softened. “We never fought about it—I never said those exact words—but she picked up on how I felt.”

“And that was?”

“Anger...with a touch of resentment.” Her face flushed red. “Saying it out loud seems stupid, especially now with everything going on. I should be happy for her, but Richard was just a hard pill to swallow, I suppose. Still, I don’t think that has anything to do with her disappearance. The times we did talk this past year, she seemed genuinely happy.”

Again, Braydon was surprised by the woman next to him. Just like that she had not only told him a personal story, but she had admitted her true feelings about it. He understood her stubbornness; however, it was the ease at which she told the truth that made the younger Hardwick sister more and more intriguing.

“Does your mother know about Lisa, then?” He couldn’t remember her bringing the woman up in detail before. Surely she would have been there.

“No.” She didn’t elaborate and Braydon didn’t push her. The way her body tensed like the string on a bow, he knew he had hit a deep nerve. Her openness apparently had its limits.

“What about you, Detective? Any family drama to share?” Sophia said it as a joke, something to lighten the dark mood, but she couldn’t have picked a worse topic. Years of experience saved his composure. He smiled and shook his head.

“Nothing worth talking about.”

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