Manhunt

Detective Thatcher scratched at his chin, staring through her as he thought. When he realized she needed an answer, he straightened.

“I don’t think so.” His answer was made to put her at ease, but it wasn’t as concrete as she would have liked.

“Then why are we talking about them and not about Richard and the fact that he did not report my sister missing?”

“I’m about to go question him myself,” Thatcher said, pushing off the desk. He handed her a piece of paper.

“That’s my office number and my cell number along with Detective Langdon’s numbers.”

Sophia raised her eyebrow. “And you’re giving this to me why?” It was his turn to look confused.

“So you can contact us if you hear from Lisa or think of anything else that could help this investigation.”

“But you just said you’re going to go talk to Richard, right?”

“Yes, I certainly am.”

“I’m coming with you, then.” Sophia stood and pushed her bag up her shoulder. Detective Thatcher looked less than pleased but she didn’t care. She had up and left her job as an office manager at Jones Office Supply, traveled from the big city to a town that in comparison would barely fit in a shoe box, all while being submerged in a pool of worry. She didn’t want answers—she needed them.

“We’d like it if you would stay here and answer a few questions to help us, Miss Hardwick. Don’t worry, I’ll ask Richard all of the important questions.”

“I can answer questions later, Detective. Right now I want to go see what Richard has to say.” She crossed her arms over her chest. She was glad she hadn’t changed her outfit since work that morning. The heels gave her the height to feel intimidating.

Thatcher mirrored her stance, crossing his arms over his chest. The biceps that flexed at the movement didn’t lie about his workout habits.

“Listen, you’ve made it pretty clear that you don’t know much about your sister’s boyfriend or this town, so let me enlighten you on a few things.” He made sure she was focusing on what he said next. “Richard Vega is the wealthiest man in Culpepper. He is also one of the most loved residents. Pissing him off and yelling at him won’t get you any answers. At least, no truthful ones. If you want to come with me you need to calm down and try to keep a level head. Got it?”

Sophia nodded, slightly offended. It was true that she wasn’t the best with confrontation but why Richard didn’t report Lisa missing was a big question she was more than capable of asking. Unless Thatcher was arresting her for something, there was no way he could stop her regardless. She knew how to work the GPS on her phone—she could get to Richard’s by herself. Sophia would go over the detective’s head or behind his back if necessary. He must have guessed as much. After a tense moment he let out a long sigh.

“You’re riding with me, then,” he said, not trying to hide his annoyance.

“I have my own car, thank you.”

“Listen, if you want to come along, you’re riding with me.”

“Why?” she asked, voice raised. Was this some kind of cop-civilian power trip? She wasn’t afraid to start yelling again.

“Because I want to make sure you come back to answer those questions.” He took his keys out of his desk and motioned for her to go through the door. “I have a feeling you aren’t a person who respects any kind of rules.”

Sophia tried not to blush as she struggled to get into the cab of the detective’s truck. Her heels, now more cumbersome than intimidating, snagged on the small step up making her look like a drunken fool as she stumbled inside. At least Thatcher kept his mouth shut and pretended not to notice. If she had been Lisa, the movement would have been effortless and graceful.

“How far is it to Richard’s?” Sophia asked as they turned out of the station’s parking lot.

“You’ve never been there?” he asked.

“No, I haven’t.” She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, guilt starting to move through her stomach. “I’ve never met the man, either.”

“And how long have Richard and your sister been dating?”

Sophia rolled her eyes. “Over a year now.” She set her jaw and mentally dared him to ask why she hadn’t met him. He must have picked up on her body language—he shut his mouth and they rode in silence until he finally answered her.

“Richard Vega lives on Loop Road. We have about ten more minutes until we get there. He lives on a large piece of land so it’s farther from the town center.”

She nodded. The anger she had felt toward the detective was lessening as she struggled to bat down her aversion to his authority.

“I do follow the rules, by the way,” she said after a few minutes had passed. “I just—” She looked down at her hands. “Lisa is the only family I have left. Well, the only one who counts at least. So, I’ve been kind of high-strung lately.” She felt her cheeks heat up again as she tried to apologize for her rude behavior without actually having to say it.

The detective glanced over before he sighed for the second time that day.

“It’s okay. Situations like these are stressful.” He hesitated before continuing. “We were late into the station because we were on a call about a woman named Amanda Alcaster who was reported missing. There’s also another woman, named Trixie Martin, who was reported missing within minutes of us arriving.”

Sophia sucked in a breath. She didn’t know what to process first.

“I wanted to tell you so when I bring it up to Vega, you don’t freak out,” he continued. “This all could just be a misunderstanding or some women who want to escape their lives for a little while. But on the off chance that it isn’t, I need to make sure I approach the only suspect we have with caution.”

“I’ll keep quiet, then,” she said after a moment. “But I still want to be in the room.”

“Deal.”

* * *

IF THE DETECTIVE hadn’t told Sophia that Richard was the wealthiest man in town, she would have known the moment she saw his house—if it could even be classified as something as typical as a house. It sat at the end of a small one-lane road and could only be accessed by being buzzed in at a gate just outside the large loop driveway. The more Sophia looked at the place, the more she wanted to classify it as a mansion. It was only two stories but it expanded wide on both sides, looking like an old plantation home. An expansive garage sat to the left of the main house and beautiful, meticulously groomed landscaping was placed in between as a testament to some gardener’s handsomely paid green thumb. Large white columns lined the front porch a few feet from the driveway while the double, red, arched front doors were held open by someone who looked suspiciously like a butler.

“Who’s that?” Sophia asked as Thatcher opened her door and helped her out. Normally, she wouldn’t have accepted his help but she didn’t want another awkward moment in front of such an impressive abode.

“I never remember his name, but that’s Vega’s assistant. He’s a mousy fella, but you can’t see Vega without getting through him.” Sophia let Thatcher lead the way to the well-dressed man. She wondered if his boss bought him the suit that he wore despite the humidity which played havoc with her hair.

“Detective Thatcher,” the man greeted, shaking his hand. He looked over his shoulder to Sophia. Recognition flared behind his mud-colored eyes. “Miss Hardwick, it’s nice to finally meet you.” On reflex she shook his hand.

“I’m sorry, but do I know you?”

The man laughed and shook his head. “No, but Lisa loves to show us pictures.” Sophia had to roll her eyes again. That certainly sounded like Lisa.

“Mr. Vega is finishing up a meeting with some vendors. He shouldn’t be long.” He led them through the front door and immediately to a large open room to the left. Sophia was almost disappointed she couldn’t take a tour of the house. Just from the front door she had seen a large, marble-white staircase with a banister worthy of being a makeshift slide. “Make yourselves at home. He’ll be in here shortly.” The assistant scurried off, shutting the door behind him.

They were obviously in what was used as a formal study. Built-ins lined the walls from floor to ceiling and were filled with matching sets of thick-spined books. A large, formidable desk faced the door, no doubt to keep an eye on those who might enter, while high windows were draped in translucent cloth. A rug the size of Sophia’s living room cushioned the noise of her heels on the hardwood. She walked around the room, wondering if Lisa spent any time in it reading.

“I knew Richard had money, but I didn’t realize how much,” she admitted to the detective. He kept still in the middle of the room, looking as out of place as she felt. His jeans and plain shirt were a few leagues below the apparent dress code that Vega’s staff employed on a regular basis.

“They say he works hard,” Thatcher replied.

“They?”

“Like I said, this town loves Richard Vega.” Sophia wanted to ask what his thoughts on the man were, when the door opened.

Richard Vega was all suit, hair product and posture. He walked into the room as if it had been his idea. As if he had been the one to invite Detective Thatcher into his home. Watching him make his way over, Sophia immediately understood why Lisa was so drawn to the man.

There was an undeniable overriding sense of confidence that rolled off of him in waves. Lisa had always been drawn to, not just strong, but powerful men. She had a track record of getting involved with the big dogs only to realize what they had in confidence they lacked in kindness. Lisa had assured Sophia that this man was different, that Richard Vega had a good heart, but now Sophia didn’t know if she bought that assessment.