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She turned her gaze toward the officer once more. “You are bound by duty, as am I. But be warned, sir, loyalty bought by fear or favor is a fragile thing.”
He stood motionless, a statue bearing witness to her plight. There was no comfort in his stance, no solace in his presence—only the stark reminder of the battle lines drawn.
“Miss, I understand your distress,” he said, his voice betraying nothing more than professional detachment. “But you must accept the situation as it stands.”
“No, I will not.” Nicole’s retort was calm, yet it carried the weight of conviction.
As he exited, locking the door with a click that echoed through her bones, Nicole wrapped her arms around herself. Loyalty and duty, those twin stars by which she navigated her life, now seemed blindingly distant. And yet, they burned all the brighter within her, defiant flames amid the encroaching darkness.
Theodore, wherever you are, hold fast. For I am coming, and our cause shall not be forsaken.
Chapter Twelve
Theodore’s fingers drummed a rhythm on the passenger door of Inspector Lyle’s unmarked police car. Inspector Lyle maneuvered the car with a practiced hand, eyes scanning the sea of vehicles for any sign of Nicole.
“Keep an eye out, Theodore,” the inspector murmured. “She could be anywhere, but my gut tells me we’re closing in.”
“Nicole has always had a knack for slipping away unnoticed.” Theodore’s gaze was hawk-like, darting from street to alley. “But this time, it’s not by choice, is it?”
“No, it’s not,” Lyle replied, his tone grave. “And we won’t rest until we find her.”
As they passed Marquis Christopher’s opulent residence, Theodore’s attention snagged on something amiss—a glint of broken glass on the pavement. “Stop the car,” he commanded.
Inspector Lyle obliged, bringing the vehicle to a halt. They both stepped out, their boots clicking in unison against the cobblestone drive. The marquis’s elegant car sat in the driveway, its usual perfection marred by a tail light that hung precariously, its red eye dimmed.
“Would you look at that,” Theodore remarked, tilting his head to inspect the damage. He felt a mix of vindication and dread—this could be the clue they were waiting for.
“Curious,” Lyle said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “A man of his standing driving about with such an obvious flaw—it’s unlike him.”
“Too unlike him,” Theodore agreed, feeling the puzzle pieces shifting, aligning into a semblance of sense. “It’s as if he wanted to be noticed, or...” His voice trailed off, replaced by the gears turning in his mind. What game was the man playing?
“Perhaps it’s time we pay our dear marquis a visit,” Lyle suggested, his eyes flickering with a spark of suspicion.
“Let’s not delay, then,” Theodore replied.
Together, they strode toward the grand house, wrapped in the cloak of duty, ready to confront whatever secrets lay within.
Moments later, Theodore and Inspector Lyle stood before Marquis Christopher.
“Marquis,” Lyle began, his voice steady and authoritative, “we require access to your vehicle. A matter of urgency.”
Christopher raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a sneer. “On what grounds?” he asked.
“Compliance would be in your best interest,” Theodore told him. He watched as the marquis weighed his options, the decision flickering behind his eyes.
“Very well,” Christopher conceded with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Follow me.”
They trailed after him, the click-clack of their shoes on the polished marble flooring a stark contrast to the hush that pervaded the home. Christopher led them to the car, where he fumbled slightly with the keys—a minor betrayal of his cool exterior.
He unlocked the car, and watched as the two men looked all over the interior for something—anything—that would give them a clue to Nicole’s whereabouts.
“Now the trunk,” the inspector said.
With a metallic groan, the trunk swung open, revealing its grim contents. Inspector Lyle didn’t flinch as he leaned in, his experienced eye discerning the dark stains on a blanket there.
“Is this blood?” Theodore’s query broke the silence, but his voice was stable, almost detached—his mind already churning with the implications.
“Impossible,” Christopher retorted, yet he was unable to meet Theodore’s gaze.
