Page 7 of Girl Long Gone

“My sister and I are very close. She even moved into my apartment five years ago when our parents were killed. She’s all I have.” His voice cracked, and he took a deep breath before continuing. “I know her friends, her habits, her work schedule. I know her favorite candy is yellow M&M’s. Dammit, I know her better than I know myself. Nothing unusual has happened in the last few weeks except one thing. Monica joined a dating app.”

A warning siren screamed in her head. “What app?”

“EternalMatch.”

Evelyn dropped her gaze to her clasped hands still resting against the smooth silk of her blouse. She couldn’t blame this man for assuming whatever happened to his sister was connected to a dating app. She had always been skeptical of them and the people who used them. The only reason she got on EternalMatch was to get her roommate off her back about dating.

A thread poked out from one of her buttons and she twirled it between her fingers. “Had your sister been dating Gabriel?”

“Not that I know of.”

She lifted her head and tilted it to the side as she studied what could have been Dwayne Johnson’s stunt double. “I don’t understand. Then why do you think he’s responsible? Is there something else the police have found?”

His jaw tightened, and he shifted in his seat. “No. The police haven’t found anything to indicate Gabriel Wilson is responsible, but he’s the only man she’s talked to on the app. I’m a firm believer in trusting my instincts, and right now my instincts are screaming that he’s the one who took her. He’s too⁠—”

Evelyn held up her hand and shook her head. “Stop. I don’t want to hear any more. I’m sorry about your sister and I hope you find her soon, but you’re grasping at straws. I can’t even say I blame you. But I have no reason to suspect what you think is true.”

“What was he like in high school? Did he ever get in trouble? Was there ever anything weird that happened to him or people who hung around with him?” He hurled the questions at her one after the other with such intensity she reared her head back as if the force of his tone was enough to slap her.

Images of another man, another smack, another intimidating presence flashed in her mind. Sweat pooled at the back of her neck, and her heart thwacked against her breastbone with the rhythm of stampeding stallions. She anchored her hands on the edge of the table and fought to keep her composure. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

The earlier intensity slid off Detective Mitchel’s face, and concern clouded his blue eyes, turning them the most unusual shade of gray. He leaned forward and laid his hand on top of hers.

Electricity shot through her system, and the attraction that had consumed her when she’d first laid eyes on him morphed into a liquified lust.

She pulled away her hand and jumped to her feet. The detective was dead wrong. Gabriel Wilson wasn’t the man she needed to stay away from...she needed to keep her distance from Detective Mitchel.

Connor sat in his car outside the police station and rested his forehead against the steering wheel. The early evening streets bustled with activity, but it all blurred together in his mind. He’d stopped by the station to talk to Officer Sanders about Gabriel Wilson’s interview the day before. Mark had mentioned the asshole had an iron-clad alibi, but Connor wanted to watch the footage of the interview for himself. It had taken some convincing, but Sanders had snuck him into a room with the recording. Gabriel had been good. His demeanor concerned, his lies all too believable.

But it was the slight curve of his lip that gave him away. The same arrogant smirk he’d given Connor as he’d passed him in the coffee shop. There had to be a hole in the story Gabriel gave about the night Monica disappeared. Either money or connections had given Gabriel the lie he needed to cover his ass. Connor just had to prove it.

He also needed to keep his eye on Evelyn Price. He hated himself for upsetting her earlier, but it wasn’t just his remarks about Gabriel that had made her flee. She had been rattled before he’d mentioned his suspicions.

At least she’d taken his card before she’d run away. Maybe a little time to think would shake something loose from her memory. But God, he hoped she reached out to him before it was too late. Every second that passed was one closer to him never seeing Monica again.

Tiny grains of fatigue burned his eyeballs. Fear filled his brain to the brim, and his lack of sleep didn’t help keep his emotions at bay enough to focus on his next step. He’d get some rest and pray a new thread would appear for him to pull.

The clogged traffic didn’t claw at his nerves on the way home. The blasting horns and angry shouts of pedestrians rolled off his back as he tried to stop his mind from wandering into dangerous territory. But the more he tried not to worry about Monica, the more the sultry brown eyes and slightly flushed face of Evelyn Price snuck into his thoughts. From the moment his gaze had caught her haunted, doe-like eyes, a new ache had taken residence in his chest, followed by a longing he hadn’t experienced in a very long time.

Blinking back the wayward thoughts, Connor shook his head and slid into a vacant parking spot in front of his building. Thank God for small favors. From the moment he’d decided to finally catch some shut-eye, the weight he carried on his shoulders seemed to have doubled, making it hard to move. He lumbered out of the car and pushed past a few passersby to make his way inside.

The wooden steps shrieked under his weight. Monica always joked it was a good thing they lived on the second floor or he’d bust through the steps if he had to go to the top. Pain tugged his heart, and he banged his fist against the wall of his apartment. The door creaked open.

What the hell?

His pulse picked up, and he studied the locks. No way Mark left the door ajar when he left. Adrenaline spiked in his gut and he reached around to grab the gun he’d tucked under his shirt in the back of his jeans. Sitting at a desk all the time, he didn’t usually carry a weapon with him, but he hadn’t left home without one since Monica disappeared.

Lifting onto the balls of his feet, he inched open the door and stepped inside. His fingers curled around the butt of the gun and he held it in front of him, ready to shoot any sonofabitch who’d been stupid enough to break into his apartment. He held his breath and swept his gaze across the tidy room.

Nothing.

Silence echoed around him. No creaking floorboards or shifting foundation. He continued around the living room and kitchen. Nothing appeared to be missing, but it was hard to tell with the place being such a mess.

Realization struck him, and a wave of nausea pitched in his stomach. No noise, no snoring, no dog.

Sweat moistened his palms, and he tightened his grip on the gun. He had to fight the urge to run down the short hall to the bedroom calling out his dog’s name. Porkchop had two speeds. Lazy dog who curled into a ball in the corner of the couch or crazy dog who wouldn’t leave him alone. One hundred percent of the time, he was welcomed home by crazy dog.

If someone had broken in and hurt his dog...he’d kill them.