Torn - Cynthia Eden Page 0,26
he always did—there were flecks of gold hidden in those green depths.
He leaned toward her. “Ah, baby. I’m an open book. You’re the one with layers.” Layers he was dying to discover.
Her gaze held his a moment longer, then Victoria slid into the vehicle. Wade slammed the door shut and walked around to his side.
But before he climbed in, he glanced around the area once more. Melissa Hastings had been there before she vanished. Vintage had been her last known location.
So where the hell was she now?
BARELY DRAWING A breath, he watched as the black SUV headed down the street and away from Vintage.
Those two were going to be a problem. Asking questions that they shouldn’t. Stirring up interest when everyone else would have just been oblivious to what the hell was going on in that town.
The man—he would be disposable. He was not anything particularly interesting. An alpha. Strong and aggressive, nothing more. The woman—she was different. One look into her eyes and he’d known that truth about HER.
She was just like him. Pretending. Lying to the world.
Because the world didn’t accept monsters easily.
He’d make her reveal herself, though, before this was over. She’d show the world just who she was.
Just as he was about to show everyone . . .
Who I really am.
The world had better fucking be ready.
THE SAVANNAH POLICE Department was like a bee hive. Men and women in uniform bustled left and right, moving frantically as they tried to do their jobs. Witnesses were questioned, suspects were led off in handcuffs, and Detective Dace Black slowly led Victoria and Wade past the madness and into the relative quiet of his narrow office.
As soon as he closed the door behind them, Victoria did a quick visual sweep over the room. The desk looked as if it were about to sag beneath the weight of the manila folders on top of it. There was a framed picture of a woman, half hidden behind the files. No other photos were in the room. No other personal touches at all—except for the empty coffee mug that sat on the detective’s desk. It was a mug that sported a pair of handcuffs on the front.
“I told the LOST rep who called me . . . there is no new evidence on that case.” Detective Black pushed his fingers through his short brown hair. “I sure wish I had more to offer, but . . . there’s just nothing.”
“We read all the original case files,” Wade said. “But I wanted to talk with you. What was your take on the abduction scene? On the crime itself? Was she taken? Or did Kennedy Lane walk away?”
“My partner thought she walked. I—I didn’t.” Dace looked a bit uncomfortable. “She never came back.” His shoulders slumped a bit as he leaned against the side of his desk. “I listened to my partner back then and I didn’t think there was much of a crime, not at first.” He exhaled on a long sigh. “But time kept passing and she didn’t turn up.” A muscle flexed along his jaw. “When I got that call from LOST, hell, I was actually grateful. I’m supposed to be territorial and all that shit with my cases, right? I’m not. I want you to look into it. I want you to see if I missed something.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “It’s the five-year anniversary. Today’s the big day. Five years, and never so much as a clue about what happened to her. That shit . . . it gets to me. It changed me.”
“And your partner?” Wade pushed.
“Morrison died last year. Heart attack. He was a tough sonofabitch who never liked to admit he was wrong.” Dace rolled back his shoulders. “But he was wrong on this one. He was wrong, and I was a green detective who didn’t know enough to follow my own instincts.”
“Where would those instincts have taken you?” Wade paused a beat. “Perhaps to Dr. Troy North?”
Dace’s brows climbed. “The professor? He was—”
“Involved with Kennedy,” Victoria said, because she’d stayed silent too long. She was in the field for a reason, and she’d do her part. No more hiding and watching. Step up, Viki. “We learned that today.”
Dace whistled. “Then he is one lying piece of work . . . because I have it in my files . . .” And he started fumbling with the files on his desk. “I interviewed the guy—twice—and he denied being anything but her advisor and—”