Girl Gone Missing

Chapter 1

Some people believed money was the root of all evil, but Gabriel Wilson knew they were wrong. He’d always been evil. Money just made his life more fun.

Money had bought him a lot of things in his thirty-two years on Earth.

His beautiful brownstone in Brooklyn, his summer home in the Hamptons, hell, it had even bought him his flawless reputation.

Everyone in New York high society knew who he was and what he represented—class, sophistication, and a hint of mystery many people found appealing.

But most importantly, money had bought him his workshop. A little piece of seclusion in a busy city where he could sneak away unnoticed and concentrate on his true calling in life.

Gabriel strode to the center of the room, and the old wooden planks squeaked beneath his weight.

Puffs of stale air swirled around him, sending wisps of what lay under his feet to his flaring nostrils—sawdust, dirt, and the lingering scent of death.

His muscles clenched with desire. Too much time had passed since he’d visited the basement.

He’d make sure to pay his respects after he got what he came for.

After he got what he needed from her.

A single lightbulb dotted the center of the ceiling, and he yanked the white cord dangling beside it. Brightness illuminated the dark space, but he didn’t blink from the sudden burst of light. He’d anticipated it.

But she hadn’t.

She squeezed her eyelids shut and jerked away from the penetrating shaft of light like she’d been kicked in the gut. Adrenaline raced through him. He hadn’t even touched her...yet.

“Hello there, Kitty Kat.” He couldn’t keep the lust in his gut from coating his words.

She was special. He’d known it from the moment he’d found her online dating profile. That’s why he’d fucked up and hadn’t taken his time, hadn’t made sure to keep his identity hidden. He’d have to lay low for a while, which meant he’d have to take his time on this one.

He traced his mouth with his tongue. Taking his time wouldn’t be a problem.

Narrowed blue eyes opened and sent sparks of hatred his way. Those eyes were what had drawn him in. Sapphire blue against skin the color of creamy mocha. The wild tangle of dark curls was icing on the cake.

A sliver of pain threatened to steal his pleasure.

Her vibrant blue eyes weren’t quite as close to violet, and the dark-haired beauty he longed for had softer curls than the tight coils flowing down his new little pet’s back.

But something about Monica Mitchel called to him the same way another young woman had a very long time ago—a young woman he would kill to have back in his arms.

The shrill ring of his phone stole his attention, and irritation rippled through him. A quick glance at the screen showed an unknown number. “This is Gabriel.”

He only half listened to the caller, his gaze locked on his kitty.

Monica’s muffled cries couldn’t penetrate the tape across her mouth.

A grin slid onto his face, and he fought the urge to chuckle.

“Good evening, Officer Sanders. I can come to the station and speak with you whenever you’d like.

I’ll do whatever I can to help find this poor woman. I’d hate to think she’s in danger.”

Detective Connor Mitchel tapped his foot against the cool tile in his kitchen and listened to the voicemail greeting on his sister’s phone for the hundredth time.

Three days had passed since she’d been declared a missing person.

Irritation and cold, hard fear warred within him, and he threw his phone across the room.

The ball of panic weighing down his stomach told him everything he needed to know.

She was in trouble.

Mark Tyson, a homicide detective for the NYPD and his best friend, retrieved his phone from the floor and tossed it in his direction. “Dude, you’re upset, but smashing your phone against the wall won’t help.”

Connor let the phone fall at his feet with a thud. He sank onto the hard-as-nails kitchen chair and hung his head. Emotion misted in his eyes, but he swallowed it back. Tears would do Monica as much good as a broken phone.

On a deep breath, he lifted his face to Mark.

Ice-blue eyes and a concerned scowl stared back at him.

“You’re right, but I’m going crazy. I need to do something, not sit here on my ass waiting for someone else to find her.

My lieutenant might have refused to let me work her case, but I know what’s going on. There’s no trace of her.”

He pushed up from his chair and ran a hand over the smooth surface of his shaved head.

His nerves danced as he paced a short line back and forth across the galley kitchen.

Each step brought a wave of uncertainty, each second that passed a new punch in the gut as he imagined every worst- case scenario possible.

Being a detective on the Computer Crimes Squad gave him a front-row seat to some of the most horrific things human beings did to one another to make a quick buck.

A heavy sigh slumped Mark’s shoulders, and he pinched the bridge of his nose. “You know why you can’t work the case? You’re too close. Hell, you shouldn’t have been surprised Lieutenant Miller recommended you take some time off. You won’t be able to concentrate on shit while Monica’s missing.”

A snort of disgust puffed through Connor’s nostrils. “Recommended my ass. I didn’t have a choice. And what’s the point? So I can sit around pounding my head against a wall when I could be helping find my sister?”

Mark crossed the kitchen to Connor in three long strides and stopped his pacing with the weight of one heavy hand on Connor’s shoulder.

“You can help. Keep thinking of places she could have gone, people she’s talked to who aren’t a part of her normal circle of friends.

You and Monica are close as hell. I can’t think of any other siblings who could live together in their late twenties and still be so tight.

Something she said could be the key to finding her.

No one disappears without leaving behind something—anything— to find them. ”

Frustration laced through him. All he’d done was think about where Monica could have gone, but dammit, nothing came to mind.

Monica never deviated from her routine, not after their parents were killed years before.

She’d gone from a slightly neurotic teen to a hyper-organized adult overnight, choosing to move in with him and try to schedule both of their lives as a way to cope with their loss.

Their grief diminished over time, but Monica still kept a tight rein over all areas of her life.

“I’ve gone through everything a million times.

” His words snapped out like the tangled straps of a whip, but Mark didn’t so much as flinch.

Not even the dark stubble-covered jaw tightened.

“Then go over it again.” The softness of Mark’s tone almost broke the shield of strength he’d erected over the past few days. He preferred his friend’s sharp-edged, no- nonsense approach to an investigation over his gentle prodding.

Connor turned away and jerked his shoulder from Mark’s hand. He couldn’t break down, couldn’t give in to the urge to wallow in his guilt and fear and every other godforsaken emotion threatening to pull him under. Monica was all he had. He couldn’t lose her.

A gust of wind blew through the open window in the adjacent living room, and the ends of his flimsy excuse for curtains billowed into the air, snagging on the end of his computer desk on their way back to the beige carpet.

His fingers itched to fly over the keyboard and do something productive.

Following his instinct and need for action, he hurried to his desk.

The soft pecking of keys lifted and mingled with the sound of chirping birds and honking cars outside the window.

Straightening, he rolled his neck back and forth in an effort to release some tension and pointed at the screen.

“This dating site is the only thing new in Monica’s life.

It’s the key to finding her. She’s a creature of habit, and growing up in a family full of cops made her more careful than most. I was surprised she even joined a stupid dating site.

I went through her history. She talked to only one man.

They might not have made plans to meet, but she told him everything about her life.

He knew her work schedule, what nights she usually went out with friends, hell, she even told him parks where she liked to relax on her days off.

She’d mentioned she’d be out late the night she went missing, and she’d bitched about the club her friends were making her go to. He knows what happened.”

Mark wouldn’t have to move in Connor’s cramped apartment to see the computer screen. “You told the cops she’d signed up for EternalMatch. They interviewed Gabriel Wilson, and no red flags came up. Hell, he even had an airtight alibi for the night she went missing.”

Irritation had Connor shaking his head. Something else had to be there, and they couldn’t see it. “The guy shut down his profile. Why would he do that if he didn’t have anything to hide?”

Mark shrugged. “Maybe because he didn’t like having the police hound him in a missing persons investigation.”

Connor bit the inside of his mouth until the tinny taste of blood mixed with his saliva.

“He’s hiding something. I know it. If no one else believes me, I’ll find another way to prove it.

” Maybe it was pure desperation training his focus on Gabriel, but years of police work taught him to trust his gut.

And his gut screamed to find out more about the only man Monica had shown any interest in the last three years. Nothing else made sense.

“You already poked around Monica’s dating profile. What else is there to find?” Suspicion turned Mark’s voice hard, but Connor didn’t give a shit.