Torn - Cynthia Eden Page 0,41
results to his captain. That should help things along,” Eleanor said as she backed into her office.
Then they were alone. Dace’s pounding footsteps had faded away. Wade closed in on Victoria. He had the odd feeling that if he moved too fast, he’d spook her. “Are you okay?”
She blinked, three times, too fast. “Of course. I—I was just doing my job. An exam on remains, nothing more.” A faint and ever-so-vacant smile curled her lips. One that didn’t even come close to reaching her eyes. “I’d better go after Dace—I mean, Detective Black. I can talk to his captain and assure him that even though my findings on the hair are preliminary, they—”
“Don’t bullshit with me.”
Her smile wavered.
“She isn’t remains. Not to you. None of them are. They are always more. They’re people. They’re victims. They matter.”
Her long lashes swept down and a lone tear slid down her cheek. “She suffered so much, Wade. So much.”
“We’re going to get the bastard.”
She shook her head. “That’s not our job. We find the missing. We aren’t supposed to hunt the killers.”
“If you believe that, then I don’t think you fully grasp the reason why Gabe brought me and Dean on board with LOST so early.”
A faint furrow appeared between her brows.
“I was a homicide detective, love.” The tender endearment slipped out. A tell he’d have to watch. “Dean was violent crimes with the FBI. Sure, Gabe might give some lip service to just finding the missing, but he wants justice for them. He wanted justice for his sister, and he got it, even though the price was fucking high.” He clamped his lips together because the end for the bastard who’d taken Amy—that was one secret he’d carried for a long time. He’d backed Gabe up during those dark times and crossed a line that had made him turn in his badge.
Because when I lied—under oath—there was no going back for me.
“Justice.” A shiver slid over her. “I want Kennedy to have justice.”
So did he. “And Kennedy isn’t the only victim. We can find Melissa. We can bring her back.”
The faintest flicker of hope lit Victoria’s gaze.
“We will bring her back,” Wade said. Because he didn’t want to lose another victim. And he sure as hell didn’t want to think that Melissa Hastings would be trapped for years, used as a sick bastard’s torture toy.
HER RIGHT WRIST slid out of the rope. At first Melissa was so stunned that she actually froze. Her fingers were nearly numb, there was so much blood, but—
My hand is out.
She started shaking her fingers, trying to get the feeling back into them, and then she reached for her left hand. She’d get the knot untied and then she’d get the hell out of there. She would not give up. She would escape.
She worked faster, harder, her fingers desperate on the ropes. She had to be free before he came inside. She didn’t even know who he was but . . .
But I know he’ll hurt me.
The knot slipped beneath her bloody fingers, loosening . . .
CHAPTER SEVEN
VICTORIA HURRIED TOWARD Police Captain Harry Vann’s office. He was on board—fully now, according to Dace—with the search for Melissa. He wanted to put every available resource into her search. There was hope. And Victoria was both elated and terrified.
What if we can’t find her? What if we just keep knowing she’s out there and that he’s hurting her? And the years pass right by . . .
The muscles in her back had knotted from spending so many long hours examining the remains. She’d wanted to be as thorough as possible, and the daylight hours had slipped away. A glance through the window showed her night loomed, and the sight of the darkness made her shiver.
Her phone rang, the sharp cry jarring her to a stop. Unlike Wade, she didn’t have some cool, rough music ring tone that played when her phone rang. It was just a normal beep. High and long. She automatically yanked out the phone, but she didn’t recognize the number on the screen. Victoria started to ignore the call, because she was so intent on going to talk with the captain, but some instinct nagged at her, and she put the phone to her ear. “Hello.”
A rush of air—as if someone had just taken a sharp breath.
“Hello?” Victoria repeated again, her fingers tightening on the phone.
“You found her.” The voice was low and rasping. She had to strain to hear the man’s words. “You found Kennedy.”
Goose