Torn - Cynthia Eden Page 0,25
her fingers were tapping against the bar’s surface. Her gaze darted around, and he could practically feel the wheels turning in her head.
“Will the bouncer be back today?” Wade asked. “Because I’d like to talk to him.” Then he took out his phone and pulled up the picture of Melissa that he’d gotten from Jim. He pushed the image of the smiling blonde across the bar. “I want to know if he saw her leave with anyone.”
Luther frowned down at the picture. “Pretty girl.” He glanced back up. “But I doubt Slater will remember her. Do you know how many girls come in and out this place every night? Hundreds. It’s not like we can keep track of them all.”
No, Wade had known it would be a long shot. But you never knew just what someone would remember . . . “Were you here last night?”
Luther nodded. “I’m here every night.” His gaze slid back to the phone and the picture of Melissa. “This one . . . she doesn’t stick out to me. I’m sorry. I really hope you find her.”
“When will Slater be here?” Wade pushed. He wasn’t ready to give up.
“An hour before the sun sets. We open early, you know, for the tourists. So come back then and you can talk to him.”
Wade gave Luther his card. “If you remember anything else about her, you let me know, okay?”
Luther’s fingers curled around the business card. “She’ll turn up. She isn’t the first girl to come home late, you know.”
She also isn’t the first girl to never come home at all.
Wade nodded and turned away.
Victoria thanked Luther, her voice quiet, subdued, then followed Wade outside. When they were in front of the club, Wade lifted a brow and slanted a quick glance her way. “What are you holding back?”
She shook her head.
“Victoria . . .” Wade sighed out her name. “I get that you haven’t worked with a partner before. So I’ll clear up a few things for you. When you work with a partner, that means you’re part of a team. It means you share things with your teammate, even if all you are sharing is a hunch.”
“Roofie.”
He blinked.
“In a crush like the one in a place like this, with so many people inside, it would be easy to roofie a drink. That’s what I was thinking. That’s what I always think in bars now. Because of LOST.” She rubbed her arms. “You can’t let your drink out of your sight. Just a few seconds is all it takes, and the drug can be in your drink. You won’t see it. Won’t smell it. Won’t taste it. But it will hit you hard and knock you for a loop. Other people will just think you’re drunk, not drugged, so they won’t even notice if—” She broke off, clamping her lips together.
But he knew exactly what she’d been about to stay. “They don’t notice if some kind asshole helps you out of the bar.”
She nodded. “It could’ve happened. Or . . .” The wind caught the hair she’d tucked behind her ear and slid it over her face. “Or maybe Melissa is home now and this search of Vintage was a waste of time.”
He looked back at the bar. Every instinct he had screamed that no, this wasn’t a waste of time. He couldn’t ignore this case. Not with his past.
Not with the shit that had gone down before in his life.
“We should get back to Kennedy’s case,” Victoria said. “She deserves to be found, too.”
Right. He knew she did. All the victims out there deserved justice—and that was why he worked with LOST. He absolutely intended to continue working the case that had brought them to Savannah. “Let’s go talk to the police detective who handled Kennedy’s case.”
Victoria blinked, seemingly startled by his quick agreement.
What? Had she really thought he would argue? No, he wanted to help Kennedy and Melissa. So while they were down at the PD doing recon work on Kennedy’s disappearance, he could see just what else he could possibly discover about Melissa Hastings.
He and Victoria headed toward the SUV that Gabe had rented for them. They’d followed Jim to Vintage earlier, a fairly short drive from the university. He opened Victoria’s door but she didn’t slide inside. Instead, she stood there, that light, sweet lavender scent sweeping up over him.
“I have . . . a hard time figuring you out.” A faint furrow appeared between her eyes. When you looked deep enough—and