Manhunt

“Nothing worth talking about.”

Chapter Three (#ulink_451b1c6c-d775-595e-8c36-69a1a660560f)

Richard took them west on Highway 20, following the slight curve of the two-lane until they passed Tipsy’s Gas & Grill on the left. Sophia was surprised at the appearance of “One of the Best Eats in Culpepper” gas station/eatery. It was bigger than she had imagined—the original convenience store attached to another building, twice its size. She didn’t know if it was the city girl in her, but she hadn’t expected it to look as cozy as it did. Her stomach growled at the idea of Tipsy’s advertised fried shrimp. The last thing she had eaten was a granola bar the night before.

They drove a few miles past Tipsy’s before Richard turned on his blinker and pulled to the shoulder. Thatcher followed, the moment of vulnerability on Sophia’s part gone. Why had she given him so much detail about Lisa and herself? Why did he need to know about their childhood or the fact that a part of her had started to resent Lisa? Maybe it was sleep deprivation. She hadn’t been able to sleep all that well since Richard had called.

That was it. She’d blame it on that and not the mysterious man next to her.

Richard pointed at the tall grass a few feet from the road. They followed him, examining the area around it for something he might have missed. There was nothing.

“I’m going to call over a car and have them sweep farther back.” Thatcher walked to his truck and pulled out the radio to make the call. Sophia and Richard kept to the grass.

“I’m sorry,” he said, using his foot to move some rocks around. If it was meant to make him look vulnerable, it wasn’t working. “I should have kept you updated. I was too caught up in finding her.”

“You should have called the cops.”

“Sophia, just because I chose not to call them doesn’t mean I didn’t have people looking for her.”

“You mean the private investigators?”

“They aren’t the only ones.”

Sophia gave him a questioning look.

“I’m a very wealthy man with a lot of friends. I have contacts that operate outside of the police purview.” He turned his body so his back was facing the cars. “I know people who don’t get stopped by red tape.”

“What does that mean?”

“Cops sometimes slow down investigations.”

“I don’t understand what you’re trying to tell me.” Sophia crossed her arms over her chest. The tip of her heels sunk into the ground. “You don’t want the cops looking for Lisa because you have ‘friends’?”

He made a frustrated noise.

“I’m just saying, there are reasons why I didn’t call the police in the first place.”

“You said you didn’t call because you thought she just ran off?” A feeling of alarm was starting to rise within her. “Are you saying you knew she didn’t just leave?”

There was the underlying implication again. A man with that much money, good looks and charm—though she didn’t see it—could get away with a lot. If he had “friends” like he claimed, couldn’t he use them to help him... Help him what? Dispose of Lisa?

Just thinking it sent a chill through Sophia.

“No, it’s just— We were so happy, Sophia. I didn’t think she just left.”

Sophia dropped down to a whisper, eyeing Thatcher’s back as he talked to the dispatcher.

“You lied to us,” she said in a rush.

“I didn’t lie. There was a moment where I wondered if she had gone on her own accord but, you know your sister, she wouldn’t do that.” She felt her defenses flare—of course she knew her sister. Even though they had grown apart didn’t mean she had forgotten her.

“So, who are these friends of yours? Where are they?”

“All you need to know is that they are doing whatever they need to do to find Lisa.” He stopped there and didn’t make any sign of elaborating other than maybe using the whole “I’ve already said too much” excuse for keeping silent. In his black suit, the sun shining bright around them, Richard Vega looked a lot more threatening than he had in his home. He was shorter than Thatcher but had a solid body frame with muscles hidden beneath his custom-made suit, a gift from his personal trainer no doubt. Sophia wasn’t a string bean or anything. She had muscles, too. They were just a little harder to see. Work had become hectic in the past two years. Going to the gym had been low on her priority list. That didn’t mean she was completely defenseless.

Now, standing so close to a man she hardly knew but was admitting freely that he had connections that didn’t pay heed to law enforcement, she was second-guessing if she could really hold her own and defend herself if needed.

Maybe her face showed the new sense of trepidation she was feeling. Thatcher tilted his head slightly to the side when their eyes met. His own expression was heavily guarded.

“A car should be here soon. They’ll sweep this area again and then go farther back, just to make sure,” he said. “If there’s anything out here, they’ll find it.”

He brought his gaze to Richard now. There was no mistaking he was in detective mode—his feet spread apart, his back straight as a board, determination seeping through his stance.

“Now,” he went on, “I’m going to have to ask you to come down to the station, Mr. Vega.”

Richard seemed taken aback. Anger flashed across his face.

“I’ve already told you everything. Shouldn’t we be using our time more wisely?”

Thatcher crossed his arms. Sophia couldn’t help but think about how handsome he was in that moment. No-nonsense, authoritative, and all wrapped within a rock-hard body. She would have liked to meet Braydon Thatcher under different circumstances.

“Richard, I’m not giving you a choice. You’re coming to the station.” Thatcher pointed to his sports car. “The only decision you have to make is which car you ride in to get there.”

Sophia rode with Thatcher again as they went back to the station. Richard had opted to ride in his car, barely keeping his cursing below his breath, while the detective had spent a good five minutes once again warning him against fleeing.

“Are you going to arrest him?” Sophia asked as soon as they pulled onto the highway.

“Yes.”

“Why? Can you do that?” Sophia asked, adjusting the air so that it was blowing on her face again. Florida heat didn’t agree with her. Thatcher’s teeth ground together, his jaw muscles clenching. Whatever he had learned had upped his aggravation level exponentially.

“We just got word that a colleague of Vega’s has been going around asking people about Lisa, using the man’s name as an unofficial police badge.” He turned to her, nostrils flared. “That’s impeding an investigation.”

Sophia jumped up and down in her seat once. It caught Thatcher off guard but she didn’t care. She repeated her recent conversation with Vega. It didn’t improve his mood. When they pulled into the station’s parking lot, he turned to her with a silent ferocity.

“I want you to go in there and answer every question we have about your sister.” Having been given the instruction made her want to run the other way, but she knew it had to be done. “And, Sophia.” He grabbed her hand. “I swear to you that I’ll find your sister and bring her back safely.”

The station seemed to stand at attention when Richard Vega walked in with Thatcher close behind, watching with expressions of interest mixed with disbelief. Even Cara looked up from her computer as the two men marched into the interrogation room.

Sophia wanted to follow them but doubted Richard would say anything else without an attorney—one dressed to the nines and with a bank statement that would be too good for the town of Culpepper. She instead was guided into Thatcher’s office where she sat with a sigh. Back to the drawing board, she thought, crossing her legs like the dignified woman she hoped she appeared to be.

“Give us a minute,” Detective Langdon said, popping out of the room before she could object. It wasn’t as if she had any pressing matters to deal with or anything. Just because she had bonded with Thatcher during their field trip didn’t mean her impatience would keep its head down. She waited for a few minutes, with tried calmness, until only Thatcher breezed in.

His thick eyebrows were furrowed—his lips thinned in contained anger. He sat down behind his desk and ran a hand through the dark mass of hair. The obvious frustration he was feeling put Sophia further on edge.

“Well?” she prompted. “What did Richard have to say?”

“That he won’t say anything else until his attorney arrives.” Well, she called that one. “But, I hadn’t expected anything different. With the amount of money that man has, I’m surprised he even talked to us as much as he did.” A sigh rumbled out.