Manhunt

Although he was handsome—tall, blond and tanned, angled facial features—Sophia found herself thinking that the detective had him beat. A thought that made the color rise in her cheeks. She glanced at Thatcher from the corner of her eye. He was straight-backed and concentrated on the approaching man. She doubted he was thinking about how she might be more attractive than Officer Whitfield or any of the other women in the station.

“Detective,” Richard said, extending his hand. Thatcher shook it, though there was a stiffness to it. “And you must be Sophia. Your pictures don’t do you justice.” They shook hands. “I’m sorry we had to meet under these circumstances.”

“Yes, let’s talk about those circumstances.”

“Of course, let’s sit.” Richard was at least smart enough to know that sitting behind his desk while the two of them sat in chairs on the other side was not the best move. If this had been a business meeting, he would have been the man in charge, but this was an investigation and Detective Thatcher was the one calling the shots. Richard instead situated himself on one of two leather love seats at the far side of the room.

Sophia and Thatcher took the one opposite, the small furniture making their legs touch. She made a point not to look at him as he leaned forward, slipping into detective mode. She also tried to ignore how her heart sped up at his closeness. At the station she had been at the man’s throat but now he was pulling at her concentration. She didn’t need distractions right now. Lisa couldn’t afford it.

“Let’s jump right into this,” Thatcher started. “You called Sophia Hardwick on Tuesday morning around six-thirty asking for the whereabouts of her sister, the woman you’ve been dating for over a year. Correct?”

“Correct.”

“When she told you she didn’t know, you told her you would take care of the situation. Again, is this correct?” Richard nodded. At each question his jawline tensed. “Sophia says that her sister never made it to see her. You found this out, so that puts Lisa Hardwick unaccounted for since Sunday morning. That’s four days, not even including today, that Lisa has been missing.” Slowly, Richard nodded. “So tell me, Mr. Vega, why the hell you didn’t call us or file a missing-persons report?” There was no mistaking the anger in Thatcher’s voice—nor the hidden accusation beneath his question. Having the whole situation recounted had a similar effect on Sophia. She wished she had as much experience as the detective at spotting a lie or pressing on a weak point to get the right information. Instead she kept her mouth shut and decided to follow whatever lead the man next to her would take.

Richard kept his face calm, not at all surprised at the question or its parallel series of thoughts. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and looked between them.

“I had a potential client come in Saturday night. It was a last-minute announcement but I wanted to show this person that I could be flexible and that I was very interested in taking on his business. If he agreed to work with me, then I could get him to participate in or donate to the Culpepper Fund-raiser this year.”

“The what?” Sophia had to ask.

“It’s a fund-raiser scheduled for next week. I started hosting them a year after I moved here. The town buys tickets while various organizations hold different auctions to raise money. It’s also a banquet of sorts—champagne, food and music.”

Sophia’s eyes widened as she remembered where she had heard about that before.

“That’s where Lisa met you.”

“Yes, the first one she came to she picked it apart, saying the vendors had ripped me off and that she could do it better if she was in charge.” He smiled. “I thought she was joking but Details did a great job last year.”

It was Detective Thatcher’s turn to raise his eyebrow. “Details? Why does that sound familiar?”

“It’s an event-planning business Lisa started when she first moved to Culpepper,” Sophia responded. It was also one of the reasons that they had drifted from each other.

“Got it. Now continue, Mr. Vega.”

“Lisa helped me host a very small, informal gathering here in the house with said potential client and a few of my employees.”

“And does this potential client have a name?” Thatcher asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I’d like to keep that confidential, if you don’t mind. We don’t want any rumors going around before anything is official.”

“I do mind,” the detective said with seriousness. “But we can get back to that later.” Richard didn’t miss a beat as he continued.

“We stayed up well into the next day. However, Lisa turned in early and left early. I, on the other hand, ashamedly slept in until almost noon. She had left me a note saying she was heading to the birthday party and would call when she made it. I turned my mind back to the potential client’s entertainment needs as well as business and before I realized it, it was Monday.” He balled up his fist. “I didn’t question the fact that she never called until Monday night after my guest left. I called her and got her voice mail.” He switched his gaze, now intense, to Sophia. When he spoke his anger was palpable. “I assumed you would have called if she hadn’t shown up. I just thought the silence was the two of you doing some sisterly bonding thing and Lisa just forgot to call. Why didn’t you call when she didn’t show up?”

Sophia’s face flushed red—a mix of embarrassment, guilt and anger.

“Lisa and I haven’t been on the best of terms this past year,” Sophia almost spat, trying to defend herself. “You should have known that. She didn’t tell me she was coming, so when she didn’t show up I assumed it was on purpose.”

There was a heated silence, not at all like the thoughtful one she seemed to share with the detective when they were sorting through new information. This was weighted. This was bogged down with ill feelings and regret.

“Continue, Mr. Vega,” Thatcher said, commanding the two of them to snap out of it. Richard looked back at the detective and let out a loud breath.

“When I still hadn’t received any word by Tuesday morning, I decided it wasn’t just Lisa’s forgetfulness. The phone call with Miss Hardwick here just confirmed it. I left work and began looking for her, only to come up empty.”

“Why didn’t you call us?”

Richard sat up straighter. “At first I thought...” He paused, trying to find the right words. “I thought that Lisa had left me, using Sophia’s party as an excuse to disappear.”

“Why would she leave you?”

“Over the past year, I’ve grown to trust Lisa more than I’ve ever trusted anyone else. She has become not only a woman I care about, but a confidante.” At this admission, Richard for the first time seemed uncomfortable with what he was saying.

“She knows secrets about you,” Thatcher said.

“Not only personal, but professional. Secrets my competitors would pay big for. Secrets that could undo everything I’ve worked for my entire life. I’ve had much worse attempted by people who want my money or business before.”

“Lisa wouldn’t do that, though.” Sophia spoke up with certainty. “From what I know, she has been very happy with you.” Richard’s intense expression softened at that.

“I couldn’t rule it out entirely. So I called in a few favors and had her phone traced.” He didn’t bother acting sheepish. “I found it.”

He shared a look with Detective Thatcher. It sent a chill through Sophia.

“And?” she prodded.

Richard stood and went to retrieve a box under his desk. He presented it to Thatcher. The contents made Thatcher’s brow furrow. Sophia was almost afraid to look but she had to be strong. She had to be strong for Lisa.

Holding her breath she peeked in.

“Is that it?”

Richard nodded, frowning deeply while Thatcher pushed around the several pieces of what once was a cell phone. Sophia felt her stomach drop.

“Before it was smashed, I was able to follow it to the main road, just past Tipsy’s Gas & Grill.” Sophia looked at Thatcher questioningly.

“It’s a family-owned gas station and mini-restaurant off of the main road,” Thatcher explained. “Busiest gas station in town.” He motioned to Richard to continue.

“When I went to where it last was turned on I found it scattered along the side of the road.” He sent another significant look to Thatcher.

“I’m assuming you already tried to salvage the SIM card inside? To recover any pictures or—”

“None of it could be saved.” Richard dropped back into his seat. “I couldn’t even find the remnants of the card.”

“So, what does that mean?” Sophia asked.

“It means,” Richard began, running a hand through his hair, “that either Lisa doesn’t want anyone to find her or someone doesn’t want us to find Lisa.”

* * *