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“Any sign of a break-in?,” the female officer asked.
“Not that I can see,” Sage responded.
“In that case, it’s reasonable to assume your daughter ran away.” The policewoman elaborated by telling Sage there was nothing that could be done until twenty-four hours had passed. “This can’t be considered a missing person’s case until that amount of time has expired,” she said.
“I understand,” Sage uttered.
The forlorn look on her face was heartbreaking. Irving wanted to make her happy more than anything, but he didn’t know how. A potential solution came to mind. He leaned close to Sage and whispered, “Just say the word and I’ll hypnotise them to search for her.” Surprisingly, Sage did not take him up on the offer. Instead, she stood helplessly as the blue uniformed mortals crawled back into their car and drove off.
“Harper wouldn’t have run away,” Sage told him. “We connected last night, more so than we ever had. I can’t see what reason she would have for leaving. There isn’t even anywhere she would go.”
Disappointed he wasn't able to assist Sage by influencing the police to find her daughter, Irving could think of no other way to comfort her other than by physical means. He wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. The warmth of her body was heavenly. Breathing in her scent, Irving held her tighter.
Sage shivered. Uncertain as to whether this reaction was a good sign or a bad sign, Irving asked if she was alright. "No, not really," she responded.
"I'm sorry." Irving released her.
"It's okay, you can hug me," Sage said. "I'm just worried about Harper. What if she was kidnapped?"
Irving took Sage's hand. "Did you lock the door last night?"
"Yes. I always do. The door is in perfect condition." Sage tucked herself between Irving's arms, resting her head on his chest.
He could hear the sound of her heart beating. Her heart, combined with her smell and her heat excited Irving. His breath shuddered as he released it. How sublime it would be to slip himself inside her once again. He managed to rouse himself from this distracting thought, no matter how pleasing it was to him personally.
"Allow me to inspect the premises," Irving said. "My senses are more acute than yours. Perhaps I'll be able to detect a clue as to where Harper could be."
"Please do," Sage answered. Taking him by the hand, she led him into the house. Immediately after entering, Irving scrutinized the details of the door. The lock he'd installed was still intact and there was no evidence that strain had been placed on the hinges.
Satisfied with his observations, he then asked for Sage to show him into Harper's room. His eyes almost rolled back into his head upon sniffing the air. The young woman's room smelled just like Sage--superb. "I don't suppose you noticed any items out of place when you came in here this morning?"
"No. Though, I don't exactly keep close tabs on the exact location of her possessions," Sage replied.
Irving hummed in thought, fingering his long chin. He stood still for a moment next to the bed. Other than the blankets being disheveled, there was nothing destroyed. No objects were strewn about, either. There were zero signs of a struggle present. This could indicate a number of possibilities: Harper either left voluntarily, she was taken unconscious, or she was threatened to go quietly.
Which one was it?Irving pondered. He continued to scan the room. There was a stout bookcase beneath a window, the panes of which were undamaged and closed. Therefore, no one trespassed into her room by climbing through the window.
Failing to find any evidence as to where Harper could be, anxiety spiked in Irving's chest. He looked to Sage, who was standing in the doorway frowning. It was then that he noticed an imperfection on the trim that lined the door. Gasping, he moved to inspect it further.
"What is it?" Sage asked.
"Neon yellow paint," Irving replied. He pointed out the scuff to her on the siding. He recognized the color. During his jog several days ago, he'd been confronted by a motorcyclist wearing a helmet in that shade.
"Where on earth did that come from?" Sage wondered aloud.
Lost in his thoughts, Irving failed to respond. Assuming the motorcyclist had kidnapped Harper, how had he got in? Irving unintentionally said the answer out loud. “The garage.” Without so much as an explanation, Irving bolted through the kitchen to the door that led into the garage.
“Are you thinking someone broke into the house through here?” Sage questioned. The two of them were now standing amidst racks of cleaning supplies and gardening tools.
Irving murmured to himself as he studied the doorknob. The spots of residue with which it was tarnished were familiar to Irving. “I know these fingerprints,” he stated. They were identical to the ones that had been stamped upon Mark’s casket. His vampire vision allowed him to discern such minute details that were imperceptible to the human eye except under a microscope.
Completely in the dark, Sage demanded Irving to explain what he meant. He did so in great detail, going as far as defining the kind of fingerprints that had been left behind.
“There was a group of men present at your husband’s funeral who I witnessed press their sticky fingers against the lid of his casket,” Irving began. “I immediately noted that the majority of the prints were loops--the most common type of print--while a few were whorls. To the human eye, it is difficult to pick out all the differences and similarities in peoples’ fingerprints, but for a being with exceptional eyesight such as myself, it’s child’s play.”
Sage crossed her arms and looked at Irving as though he was speaking another language. Perhaps he’d gone on a bit of tangent with the lesson on fingerprints. What mattered was that he knew where Harper was, or, at least, he had a pretty good idea. The motorcyclist wearing the neon yellow helmet had been headed toward Eight Oaks and while normally the number would have bothered him, today he felt emboldened by Sage and her trust in him by calling for his help. His chest puffed out with pride.
“Is everything okay?” Sage had a hand on his back. “You’ve been acting a little, strange since you’ve arrived. You can tell me if your compulsions are bothering you.”
“This has nothing to do with my compulsions! I’m feeling better than ever!” Irving proclaimed, hotly. “I believe your daughter was brought to Eight Oaks.”
If the motorcyclist, along with the men who’d left the fingerprints on Mark’s casket had taken Harper, perhaps they’d brought her to Eight Oaks. Irving didn’t know what their motives were for taking her, but if their intentions were sour, which they probably were, he didn’t have much time to speculate.
I would do anything to protect Sage,Irving thought. Naturally, this statement extended to her daughter as well.
Without another word, Irving ran to the automated garage door, flinging it open with such force, the door crumpled upon itself. Little did he know, he could have saved that strength by simply pressing a button on the wall.
“Where are you going?” Irving heard Sage calling after him as his feet soared across the tarmac of the roads.
I’m sorry, my dear,Irving thought,I just can’t say that accursed number again.
