despite her occasional bout of forgetfulness, is one of the most responsible women I know. I’ve been trying to get a hold of her since yesterday. I called her cell phone, her house and even her work.”
“Have you been to her residence?” Thatcher asked, his eyes piercing. Sophia shifted, suddenly uncomfortable.
“Yes, she obviously wasn’t there.”
“Was there any kind of disturbance? Did it look like someone had been there recently?”
“No, but that doesn’t really surprise me. From what I’ve heard she practically lives with her boyfriend.” Thatcher raised an eyebrow, this quiet gesture asking more than any verbal question would. “She isn’t at his place, either. He’s the one who called me yesterday asking where she was.”
“Wait, didn’t you say she missed your birthday was four days ago? Why did you wait until yesterday to try to contact her?”
“We haven’t really been on the best of terms this past year.” Sophia’s face heated. “I assumed she didn’t come because she didn’t want to. It wasn’t until Richard called that we realized she had been missing for two full days already.”
“And Richard is the boyfriend?”
She nodded. “Richard Vega, I think he owns a company in town.”
Thatcher’s expression sharpened, his brow furrowing together as he paused writing.
“Your sister is dating Richard Vega? As in Richard Vega of Vega Consulting?”
Sophia nodded, more hair fell away from the bun atop her head. Whatever Thatcher was thinking, it wasn’t showing in his expression. His calm demeanor had turned utterly blank.
“And why didn’t he file a missing persons?”
Sophia felt her eyes widen. “You mean he didn’t?”
Thatcher stood and beckoned his partner from the other room.
“Did Richard Vega file a missing report a few days ago?” The blond man didn’t leave to go check. He instantly said no.
“We would have heard if Vega came here.”
Thatcher scratched his chin. It was smooth—void of facial hair that would hide the perfection that outlined his face. How kissable it looked, Sophia would have thought, had anger, fear and suspicion not been vying for the top emotional spot. Richard had called her with a voice drenched in worry. When she admitted she had no idea where Lisa was, he had assured her he would have it taken care of—that he would take all of the necessary steps to find her sister. Sophia had assumed that meant talking to the police.
“Why wouldn’t he have talked to you?” she asked.
“That’s a good question,” Thatcher said before leveling his gaze. There was a look she couldn’t decipher behind the eyes of the detective. All she knew was that it comforted and scared her at the same time. “That’s a very good question.”
Detective Thatcher’s cool expression returned as he ordered Sophia to stay in his office. He sent in one of the beat cops, Officer Whitfield, to take down an official statement with all of the contact information between her sister and her. Whether he sent in a woman thinking it would make her more cooperative, she didn’t know.
Cara, as she was told to call the woman, was curt but kind and even though her gender didn’t affect Sophia’s mood, she managed to dot all the i’s and cross all the t’s.
“Don’t worry too much,” Cara said with a smile that contrasted her darker skin. “Detective Thatcher is one dedicated man. He’ll locate your sister and bring her back, no problem.” She went as far as to pat Sophia’s knee. “I’m sure she’s just lost track of time or is staying with a friend.”
Sophia resisted the urge to disagree and instead pasted on a smile. Maybe the woman had softened her attitude a bit, but that was only patching one spot in a dam that was ready to burst. If she didn’t get some answers soon, there would be no man or woman in the whole town who could keep her from exploding.
“Thank you for waiting,” Detective Thatcher greeted when he came back in. He nodded to Officer Whitfield as she collected her things and exited.
“Well, I seem to be doing that a lot here.”
Thatcher ignored the pointed response and leveled his gaze at her.
“Miss Hardwick, do you know any women by the names of Trixie Martin or Amanda Alcaster?”
Sophia didn’t have to think about that long. She shook her head. “No.”
“Those names don’t ring a bell at all? Maybe your sister, Lisa, has mentioned them?”
She crossed her arms across her chest. “No, I don’t recall her talking about them. As I stated before, Lisa and I haven’t been on the best of terms recently. There’s a chance she may know them, but I couldn’t help you with that,” she answered honestly. “What does that have to do with Lisa being missing? Do you think they took her?” She compiled a quick list of why someone would kidnap Lisa. For one, she was beautiful—long legs, big bust, thick black, tangle-free hair and a pair of lips that drew men’s attentions from a mile away. Lisa was also annoyingly perfect when it came to socializing. She knew how to command a room and entertain an audience. She also seemed to be dating a man who carried a lot of weight in town. Surely any or all of those reasons could make a few women jealous.
Detective Thatcher scratched at his chin, staring through her as he thought. When he realized she needed an answer, he straightened.
“I don’t think so.” His answer was made to put her at ease, but it wasn’t as concrete as she would have liked.
“Then why are we talking about them and not about Richard and the fact that he did not report my sister missing?”
“I’m about to go question him myself,” Thatcher said, pushing off the desk. He handed her a piece of paper.
“That’s my office number and my cell number along with Detective Langdon’s numbers.”
Sophia raised her eyebrow. “And you’re giving this to me why?” It was his turn to look confused.
“So you can contact us if you hear from Lisa or think of anything else that could help this investigation.”
“But you just said you’re going to go talk to Richard, right?”
“Yes, I certainly am.”
“I’m coming with you, then.” Sophia stood and pushed her bag up her shoulder. Detective Thatcher looked less than pleased but she didn’t care. She had up and left her job as an office manager at Jones Office Supply, traveled from the big city to a town that in comparison would barely fit in a shoe box, all while being submerged in a pool of worry. She didn’t want answers—she needed them.
“We’d like it if you would stay here and answer a
