VANISHED, A Romantic Suspense Novel (Edgars Family Novel) (2 page)

Her eyes narrowed and her lips pressed into a thinner line, but she didn’t move a muscle.

Luke turned away and lifted his weapon out in front of him, pausing a moment. Tension gripped his neck, back and shoulders. He waited to see if she’d put a bullet between them. Wouldn’t blame her if she did.

When no deafening sound blasted through the night and no searing pain ripped through him, he exhaled and inhaled. Apparently, Abby had learned to control that temper of hers in the past five years.

Slowly he stepped back into the hall to the first doorway. This was probably overkill, since all the noise she’d made on entering the premises and their own conversation would’ve alerted anyone still in the place, but he needed to be sure they were alone. He also needed some distance between them.

Of all the people he expected to find standing in the center of a crime scene, Abby Whitson wasn’t among them. Hell, she hadn’t even been on his radar, let alone on his short list of possible agents. Seeing her again slammed memories into him of the last night he’d seen her. For nearly five years he’d managed to put the horror-stricken look on her face into a neatly closed compartment in his memory’s deepest recesses. Now he’d have to face what happened between them again.

However, first he had to secure her safety. Then he’d deal with the wrath of the one woman he’d never wanted to hurt.

His gun extended, he reached into the first room with the other hand and flicked on the light. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the sudden bright light reflecting off the huge mirror nearly covering the opposite wall of the wrecked bedroom.

Nothing moved.

The mattresses had been slashed just like the sofa pillows in the living room. The satin coverlet and silk sheets lay in shreds. The dresser drawers had been emptied, their contents strewn across the floor. Whoever had taken Abby’s friend had searched every corner in here.

He moved farther into the room, checking out the closet. The cloying scent of an Asian perfume, probably worth thousands of dollars, clogged the air in the tiny space. Silks, satins, furs—all lay scattered across the floor. Boxes of letters tossed on the pile’s top. Even the suitcase lay emptied, the sides slashed open.

Whoever they are, these guys are thorough
.

Framed pictures of a strikingly beautiful blonde littered the dressers and nightstands next to the bed. Abby’s friend liked men. Lots of them. Each picture had her posed with a different man—old, young, white, black—never the same one twice.

How had prim and proper Abby gotten a friend like this?

* * * * *

Abigail’s trigger finger itched to tighten and take aim at the center of Luke’s back as she watched him retrace his steps down the dark hallway. She clenched her eyes shut and counted to ten, then counted to twenty.

I will not kill a fellow agent. I will not kill a fellow agent
.

She repeated her old mantra several more times. After five years of extreme professionalism, two minutes in Luke’s company and she’d reverted right back to the insecure trainee, easily goaded by his arrogant confidence.

Opening her eyes, she watched him stalk away. His leather jacket stretched tight across his shoulders, his gun arm stretched out in front of him. The black linen pants clung to his buttocks and thighs, and even in the dim light she saw the details of his powerful muscles as he moved.

She let out an exasperated breath then turned back to the living room’s chaos once more. Admiring Luke’s back side and wishing to kill him at the same time were not her priority. Finding out what happened to Brianna—why, how, and who did it were important now.

Abigail forced herself to concentrate on the disarray in front of her. Her body stilled, and she studied the room, inch by inch. Just like a crime scene photographer, with her eye as her camera, she divided the room into sections, starting closest to her and sweeping in a clockwise fashion. Her mind clicked off mental pictures, cataloging every detail, no matter how innocuous. Later, when she was alone, she’d review each scene in her mind for details.

Finished, she edged her way through the mess on the floor, careful not to step on anything—especially the pooled blood and blood splatter patterns—making her way to the desk in the far corner where Brianna’s day planner lay open, a finished Sudoku puzzle on top of it. Abigail slipped her gun back into her purse and pulled out a pen. Using the capped end, she carefully edged the puzzle off the day planner. She turned the pages one at a time, her brain again working like a camera, quickly reading and filing every entry, along with phone numbers, notes and odd symbols. Were they doodles?

The number of men’s names on her friend’s itinerary surprised her. She knew men were attracted to Brianna, but she had no clue just how many her friend dated at a time. One name, Dylan, popped up more frequently than the others.

A noise behind her alerted her that Luke had exited the first bedroom and was moving further down the hall. She quickly flipped the pages back to the original spot. No need to let Luke know she’d been snooping in there. Her ability to photographically remember any image she wanted was a closely guarded secret. One she didn’t intend to share with an adversary such as Luke Edgars. Once she was alone, she’d look for a pattern in all the information.

Hoping to find something useful on Brianna’s computer, Abigail used the end of her pen to wiggle the mouse to stop the screen-saver pattern of fake fish floating around.

Great. The first window open was a screen full of head shots on an adult dating site.
You couldn’t leave me some clue or file, Brianna? Something more helpful than pictures and statistics of young women? And why women, not men? Strange research for such a heterosexual as Brianna.

Tucking the odd thought in the back of her mind, she minimized the screen. A map with pinpoints on them, but no tags. Behind that screen she found one with shipping dates from her company.
What was Brianna doing? Did any of this have to do with the phone call asking—no, demanding—she come to Cleveland today?

Next Abigail opened the browsing history, scanning it for URLs over several days, then closed that screen and enlarging the others in the orders she’d found them.

She squatted beside the desk, pulled out a pair of tweezers from her purse and used them to lift some scattered papers off the floor. Most were bills, some receipts from restaurants and a few personal correspondences, all from men. Didn’t Brianna have any other female friends besides her?

Quickly wiping away the tears that had somehow slid down her cheeks, she stepped away from the computer just as Luke’s footsteps on the hallway tiles announced his return to the living room. She never cried, and she’d be damned if she’d let him catch her in a weak moment. Not again.

“I told you not to move.”

His arrogant tone grated on her nerves.

“Despite what you think, I
am
a trained agent. I know how to investigate a crime scene without destroying evidence.” She didn’t try to hide her own indignation. She knew she hadn’t disturbed vital evidence the crime scene investigators might need.

He pulled out his cell phone. “Anything on the computer?”

She shook her head. “Who are you calling?”

He flipped open the phone. “The local police.”

Panic surged in her. “Wait! Can’t we look around a little longer before we call them?”

He lifted an eyebrow, his finger paused above the buttons. “The longer we wait, the longer it’ll take them to find your friend.”

“Look around us.” A shudder ran through her and she let out a long sigh. “Do you really think whoever did this hasn’t killed her already?”

Luke closed the cell phone. “If they haven’t found what they wanted here, then they still have need of her. We have to proceed as if she is still alive.”

“I pray you’re right, with my whole heart, I do.” Why did he have to sound so sensible? “But if you’re not, once there’s an official local investigation, the red tape to look at the evidence alone will be a mile high. I need to look around a bit to see if she left me a clue as to why she needed me.”

“She didn’t tell you on the phone? Exactly why did your friend ask you to come here?”

Abigail ground her teeth. She didn’t know which she hated worse from this man, arrogance to rival an NFL quarterback, or the condescending patience equal to Sister Compassionatta back at the Sisters of the Sacred Heart orphanage.

Closing her eyes, Abigail recalled the conversation she had the night before with Brianna. “She was scared. I could hear it in her voice. Brianna has never sounded scared the entire time we’ve known each other. There wasn’t a hesitant bone in her body.”
Unlike me
. Abigail opened her eyes and looked directly at Luke. “You would’ve liked her.”

“I doubt it,” he said, looking around the room.

For a brief second, something odd crossed the hard lines of his face—contempt? Then it disappeared, replaced by an intensity that sent a shiver running over Abigail.

“So what exactly did she say to you that made you think this was more than just boyfriend troubles?”

“Brianna was a beautiful woman, but she also had a great head for math. Her beauty hid her passion for crunching numbers from any man pursuing her. They rarely looked past her blonde hair and chest size.” She smiled, remembering the conspiratorial wink her friend would give when some guy tried to tutor her in math. “Brianna called it her secret weapon. On the phone last night she said she’d run across some irregularities at her job.”

“And she didn’t tell you what they were?”

Abigail shook her head. “She said she didn’t want to give details over the phone. I assumed it had to do with money. Otherwise why call me?”

“Sounds like she was paranoid.”

Abigail gestured at the mess around them. “Apparently with good reason.”

“Did you at least ask where she worked?”

Okay, now he was pushing her buttons. Alright, she’d just push back.

“No.”

He let out a curse. “Even a rookie would’ve asked that.”

She gave him her most saccharine smile. “I didn’t ask because I already knew. Hollister-Klein Exporters.”

The name of the international import/export firm registered recognition in his eyes, but he quickly hid it. The muscles in his well-chiseled jaw flexed. He pulled out his phone once more and dialed. Holding the phone in one hand he dug into his pockets with the other and threw her a pair of latex gloves. “Put these on so you don’t leave any fingerprints behind. You have until the police get here to search for information. But leave everything where you find it.” He spoke the address into the phone then waited. “By the way, was there a disk in the A drive?”

Dammit. Why hadn’t she considered that?

Abigail pulled on the gloves as she opened the A drive slot on the ancient hard drive Brianna refused to update then shook her head. He pressed his lips into a thin line and nodded.

When he spoke into the phone again, she squatted to study the papers on the floor once more. Bills and letters. What had she hoped for? Spreadsheets? Files? Those would’ve been the first things taken.

There had to be something useful in this mess, something the killers had missed.

Killers, not attackers.

A pain filled her chest. Despite Luke’s optimistic words earlier, he couldn’t possibly believe Brianna had survived this attack. Lifting a paper, Abigail paused to blink back tears once more.

As sure as she knew today was Thursday, she knew her friend was not simply missing.

CHAPTER TWO

“You want to tell me why the feds are interested in this missing woman, Agent Edgars?” asked Detective Jeffers, the local cop who’d caught the case. A tall, older man in good physical shape, Jeffers sported a close-to-the-head military cut of his dark hair and a serious expression that would rival his own brother Dave’s.

Luke gave Jeffers his I-mean-you-no-harm smile. “We’re not officially here. Ms. Whitson and I came to see her friend and found this situation.”

“So you expect me to believe there was no reason you two came here, except to visit an old friend?” Jeffers eyed him with a no-way-am-I-buying-that-crap look.

“You know how it is, Detective,” Luke laid on the charm. “The little lady wants to visit a friend, we come and visit her friend.” He pulled the detective to the side. “I’d appreciate it if you could keep our names out of your official report.”

“If I need more information about the victim?” Jeffers left the comment up in the air.

“You’ll have our full cooperation. Believe me, we want her friend found as quickly as possible. We’d also like to be apprised of any progress your department might make. Unofficially, of course.”

“Then you won’t be keeping any leads from us?”

Luke smiled again, the smile that usually got him out of trouble with his superiors. “If anything comes our way we’ll be only too happy to share it.” He’d promise to sell his soul if it kept Abby’s name out of official channels.

Moments later Luke watched Abby repeatedly thread her fingers together as she stiffly sat on the edge of the white leather chair talking to Detective Jeffers. After he’d placed the call to the police, she’d asked him not to inform them why she’d come to visit her friend. It went completely against protocol, and they both knew it.

Although he’d made a career of bending the rules to the breaking point in order to solve a case, for once he’d been tempted to play by the rules, ignore her request, and insist she tell the detectives why her friend summoned her. That would’ve been the easiest way to get Abby off this case and to the safety of her desk back in Washington.

However, he had his own agenda for not giving away her secret, and it had little to do with the shadowed plea in her green eyes, the fine tremors that shook her elegant hands, or the catch in her smooth-as-honey voice when she spoke of her friend. When she’d informed him her friend worked for Hollister-Klein his internal warning bells went off. For the past year he’d been secretly looking into the life of one of the founders of the company, Senator Howard Klein. If Abby’s friend was missing, he’d bet his new laptop-tablet there was a connection to the company. He didn’t believe in coincidences.