When the Heart Lies - By Christina North Page 0,72

right one; he assumed the room was the stripper’s. The one on the left had clothes strewn all over and open drawers. The mess gave the impression that someone left in a hurry. A ring of cardboard left over from duct tape sat on the bedside table, and rope fibers littered the floor next to the dresser. “Hey, can I get some latex in here?”

“Find something?” Stan, the other detective, said as he handed him some gloves.

“Yeah, we got plenty of evidence suggesting abduction.” A half glass of water sat on the bedside table. He examined it closer. An audio bud sloshed around as the glass swayed with each movement of his hand. His phone rang, and he turned and handed the glass to Stan who was eagerly waiting behind him for something to do. He checked his caller ID and flipped open his phone. The call was from Olivia’s office in Le Grand. He indicated to the two detectives he needed to take the call and headed out onto the porch. His upper body leaned against the doorjamb, and he put the phone to his ear. “Things aren’t good here, Olivia.” Unconsciously, his forefinger circled aimlessly inside the gaping hole in the screen door next to him. Once it twirled fast enough, he gave the screen a big yank, tearing the thing further while he imagined it was Wayde he was tearing into. It didn’t relieve his tension. “This is an official case now. He took her somewhere. Go ahead and get an APB out on Wayde. Call you in a few minutes with more information. Let me get some details on the vehicle they’re in and on the other guy with him. I’ll get back to you.”

Olivia started to talk, but he stopped her. He was anxious to get back to questioning Savannah.

“Gimme five minutes, Olivia. You can fill me in then.” He went back into the kitchen. “Ma’am, I’m going to need to ask you a few questions.” He leaned in nearer to Savannah, holding the sides of the chair. His knuckles were white, his fingers red from the pressure. “If I were you, I’d answer them as best you can. You’ll be implicated as an accomplice if it’s found you held any information back.”

Savannah’s head darted up. She pulled her cigarette from her mouth and gave him a questioning stare. “Accomplice? To what? What are you talking about?” She had alertness she hadn't previously. It appeared to be more out of fear and confusion than out of any kind of guilt.

“It appears Kinsley was taken from this house. Unwillingly. Do you know why anyone would want to take her? Anyone like Wayde Mather, or your boyfriend?” He stared at her stone-faced. She didn’t answer. “I'll save you some time. They left here this morning, sometime before eight a.m., in a black vehicle.”

At the mention of the vehicle, her eyes widened and flickered with distress “Remy wouldn’t do anything like kidnapping, and I don’t think Wayde would either. Besides, why would they have to? She lives right here.” She butt out her cigarette, grinding hard as she swiped all the ashes into pile. Staring at him, she lit another one, sucked in hard, and exhaled fully without saying anything else.

He jutted his chin in her direction. “What’s your name?”

She fidgeted in her chair and tucked her bleached hair behind her ear. “Savannah Parks. Look, I don’t know nothin’ about this.”

“Good, then you won’t mind answering some questions for me. Did Wayde threaten her or keep her here against her will?”

“No. I mean …well, Wayde’s a little controlling. What man isn’t?” She started to laugh with a silly smile, but stopped herself.

He motioned toward the door. “Why do these locks use keys on both sides?”

She glanced at the door and instantly shifted her eyes away. When he got no reply, he pushed the chair into the table bracing himself.

“Why!”

Savannah jumped back.

He spoke slowly and deliberately close to her face. “Did he lock her in this house!” He hadn’t realized how loudly and harshly he was questioning her until Ben leaned backwards to peer into the kitchen from the living room.

“He didn’t like her going nowhere when he was gone.” She was taking him a bit more seriously now.

“Get me a piece of paper and a pen.” The niceties of please and thank you were beyond him at this point. “What’s your boyfriend’s full name and place of employment. I also want the make, model, and license plate number