Page 93 of A Love Like Candle Light

“Please tell Gabriella thank you,” I mumbled and stare at the image, awestruck. A face, eerily similar to mine, stares back at me from the small screen.

"It looks so different to the sketch they drew up," I mumble and zoom in a little. She even included the scar on the upper lip I told Kylie about.

"Obviously there is never a guarantee," Kylie mumbles, "but I think this is about as close as it can get."

"Thank you." My heart is so full it's about to burst. "You don't know how much it means."

"Trust me, I have an idea." She squeezes my thigh. "And I really hope you find her."

"I hope so too."

Fuck. Everything coming together almost chokes me up. My chest is so full with my love for her and the hope she just sparked.

Maybe I should go meet up with her ex and thank him for fucking it up with her, because she's the best thing to ever happened to me.

Chapter 32

Erik

My phone practically burns a hole into my jeans as I walk inside the station.

Jodie is at her usual spot behind the reception and greets me with her usually cheery “good morning.” I force myself to reply with a smile and a mumbled “morning” when all I want to do is rush into my office and have the picture Kylie sent over compared to any data bank, I have access to.

A spark of newfound hope lights a fire in my chest and it turns into a damn wildfire.

I don't know what it is, but this feels different. This feels like a real shot.

Yes, we had a great sketch artist, and they did a wonderful job, but this, the person in the image Kylie sent me, looks completely different.

“Come on, come on,” I mumble under my breath, willing the computer to boot faster.

I know Kylie went back home to talk to her ex. Am I worried?

Well, I’m not not worried. I mean, she was married to the guy, for Christ's sake. What if she discovers how much he still means to her? She's not a big fan of the guy, that much is clear. But she doesn't seem to hate him, either. I wasn’t lying when I said I trusted her, though. This is only a stupid voice in my head assuming the worst case. Like it assumes the worst case for Lilith, so I can be positively surprised instead of disappointed.

Finally, the screen turns on. Immediately, I open up my inbox, cursing when the program takes forever to load, as well.

“Hey Erik, here's your coffee.” Jodie comes inside and sets my mug down.

“Thank you, Jodie,” I grit out, not daring to take my eyes off the screen.

“You’re welcome. Holler if you need anything.”

“Actually…” She stops in the doorway and turns around. “Could you please get Frank Spade on the phone for me?”

“Sure.” Her eyes narrow. Frank Spade is the cop who investigated my sister's disappearance back then. Over years, he used to pay us the occasional visit, only to tell us there had been no development. In my teens I was convinced he still bothered to visit us because he had a crush on aunt Molly.

Damn, he must be close to retirement by now. I pull up the first database, feed it the picture, and then I wait for it to compare.

“Coming through!” Jodie shouts.

“Thank you!” I pick up the phone as soon as it rings. “Hey, Frank.”

“Erik?” he greets me with his friendly baritone voice. “I'm surprised to hear from you.”

“Trust me, I'm surprised to call you, but we might have a break-through.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. Oh, if this doesn’t work out I’ll be devastated, but my gut tells me it will. “Listen, Frank, I'm going to forward you a picture. Can you please check your databases for her?”

“I mean, sure thing,” he mumbles and I hear him type on his ancient keyboard. “But Erik, after all these years, it might just be time to accept you're not going to find her. I've been searching for two and a half decades now. Do me a favor and don't get your hopes up too high.”