Manhunt. Tyler Snell Anne
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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 able 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?”
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