Manhunt. Tyler Snell Anne
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taken her healthy eating habits and thrown them clear out the window. The walk back was more sluggish but she couldn’t deny she felt better having eaten.
An unfamiliar car was parked two spots next to her own when she rounded the station, though it didn’t take long for her to guess it belonged to Richard’s attorney. The BMW was black and slick and probably worth more than she made in two years. She hurried inside to see the new suit but was stopped by another man she hadn’t seen until now.
“Miss Hardwick,” he said, extending his hand. “I’m Captain Jake Westin.” They shook—his hands were rough and large.
“Nice to meet you, sir.” The man wasn’t much taller than Sophia, but he exuded authority through his uniform and impeccable posture. She placed his age in the upper fifties.
“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