Chapter 13
The rain stopped by the time Connor reached the apartment building of Gene and Beatty Wilson, but the inky, ominous sky remained. He took the steps to the second floor, unwilling to wait for the elevator.
A few seconds passed then the door opened to a woman with kind brown eyes behind metal-framed glasses. “Can I help you?”
“Hi, Mrs. Wilson. My name is Connor Mitchel. I went to school with your son.” The lie dripped from his tongue. No way Gabriel’s parents would talk to him if he told them he was a detective with a missing sister.
Mrs. Wilson opened the door wider, and her smile grew. “I don’t think I remember you. Did you graduate together?” Polished sophistication flowed from her, but not in an insincere way.
“My family moved away at the beginning of high school. I haven’t talked to Gabriel in years, and I was in the city for a few days.
I know it’s probably a long shot, but I thought I’d stop by.
I don’t have a number for him, but I remember coming here and building cars with him sometimes after school. ”
Delight lifted the muscles in her face. “He has always loved building things. I’m sorry I don’t recognize you. Would you like to come in? I can grab Gabriel’s number for you. I’m sure he’d love to see you. He doesn’t have a lot of time for friends.”
“Thank you. I appreciate it.” Connor followed Mrs. Wilson into an apartment that screamed old money.
Dark wood covered the floor, as well as the far wall of the living room where a fireplace took center stage.
The similarities between this apartment and Gabriel’s house were uncanny.
The leather-bound books, the hardwood floors, even the color scheme reflected in the furniture and decor matched Gabriel’s house.
Either he had the same interior designer as his parents or he didn’t want to move past the memories of childhood.
Connor stepped closer to the fireplace. Intricate carvings lined the mantel, giving the impression of a fireplace one would find in the palace of Versailles. He ran a finger along the grooves of the fine cuts, tracing the fleur-de-lis patterns that sat in perfect symmetry around a scalloped flower.
“Isn’t the craftsmanship beautiful?” Mrs. Wilson bustled into the room and handed him a piece of paper with a number scrawled across it. “Gabriel always amazes me with how handy he is. He’s always loved to make his little beauties.”
Connor dropped his hand from the mantel, accepted the slip of paper with a smile, and shoved it in his pocket.
“He made this?”
“Oh, yes. Replacing the original was a headache, but well worth it.”
“Hard to imagine Gabriel moving from making match cars to this. Impressive.”
Mrs. Wilson waved away his words. “Don’t be silly. He had a whole host of other projects between those little cars and this.”
“What about his good friend Simon? Are they still in touch? Simon liked to hang around and watch Gabriel make cars, too.”
The front door opened and an older man with a full head of thick gray hair and hardened hazel eyes faced him. “Who the hell are you?”
Mrs. Wilson hurried forward, her slender hand extended toward Connor. “This is Connor, an old friend of Gabriel’s.”
The hard-set jaw and rigid stance of Gene Wilson told Connor the man didn’t buy his half-baked story. “Gabriel didn’t have many friends over, and I think I’d remember a big guy like you.”
Mrs. Wilson laid a hand on her husband’s arm, patting gently against the water-slicked tan jacket. “You know how kids change their looks. Connor told me he came by here to help Gabriel with his cars when they were younger. Him and that nice boy, Simon.”
If Connor hadn’t been looking for it, he would have missed the subtle tightening of muscles in Mr. Wilson’s neck.
The lines around his eyes relaxed for a second as he glanced at his wife, then he returned his narrowed gaze to Connor.
“I don’t remember a boy named Simon, either.
Gabriel didn’t have time for friends then, and he sure as hell doesn’t have time for them now.
My wife might be foolish enough to let a stranger into our home, but I’m not.
It’s time for you to leave.” His heated gaze stayed locked on Connor as he grabbed the doorknob and pushed the door open.
“Thanks for the number, Mrs. Wilson. I’ll call Gabriel right away and try to see him.”
Mr. Wilson had the same cold, calculating eyes as his son.
He couldn’t blame the man for being unhappy about finding a strange man in his house, even with his lame story of knowing Gabriel from school, but there was no denying the pulsing tension he’d tried to keep at bay when Simon’s name was spoken.
Connor might not have gotten all the answers he needed in his short visit to Gabriel’s childhood home, but he’d gotten plenty to consider.
Mainly the idea of Gene Wilson as Gabriel’s accomplice.
He walked a block to where he’d parked his car on the street, unlocked the door, and hopped into the driver’s seat. He inserted the key, started the engine, and some sort of black material pressed underneath his windshield wiper caught his eye.
Keeping the car running, Connor stepped out of the car and reached his arm to where the mystery nestled under the wiper.
His fingers brushed against silky strands of some kind, and he pulled gently to secure them.
Wispy strands of dark curls floated away on the wind.
Blood pounded in his ears. He fell back against the seat and stared at the lock of black hair in his palm.
Black, curly hair. Monica’s hair.
Evelyn stared at the computer screen nestled on her lap and studied the college records she’d uncovered. Gabriel had been a good student, focusing on business classes, but nothing jumped out at her as suspicious.
Of course, she couldn’t find anything that pointed to Gabriel as a freaking monster. She wasn’t a cop, she was a web designer. She might be good at research, but her research had never included trying to jam random pieces together to complete a puzzle she didn’t even have a picture of.
Lacey poked her head in the open door. “Abbie’s finally asleep. Wanna glass of wine?”
Evelyn blew out a long breath and closed her laptop, then tossed it on the bed beside her. “Wine sounds like heaven right now.”
Evelyn took her wine and a couple of grapes to the couch and slid off the cashmere throw from the back of it before settling into the corner. “I’m sorry I brought this into our lives. The last thing I’d ever want is for you or Abbie to get hurt.”
“I’ll slap you if you say something stupid like that again.
You didn’t do anything wrong. You went to coffee with a guy you knew from high school because he wanted to talk to you about a job.
” Lacey brought her glass to her mouth, but it couldn’t hide her smile.
“Besides, it brought Detective Studly into your life, so it hasn’t been all bad. ”
“I’m sure I’m the last thing on Connor’s mind right now. He’s practically jumping out of his skin with worry over his sister.”
“Did you find anything useful? You were on your computer all day.”
“Not really. Every school record, newspaper article, or casual mention on random sites spoke of a hard worker who stays out of the limelight and gives a lot of money to different charities.” She let her mind wander back to the ridiculous amount of mundane information she’d learned about Gabriel today.
“The most interesting thing about him was that he has a minor in French Literature.”
“Why did you find that interesting? A lot of people get bullshit degrees they’ll never use.”
Evelyn shrugged. “Everything else about his life seems so groomed, every decision pointed him to a direction that kept his focus on his career and building an empire. Studying French Literature just seems so frivolous for a man like him.”
“True. But he came from money, and you know how rich people are. They like to come off as cultured. Maybe he thought it would be a good topic of conversation down the road. Help him build contacts.”
“Good point, but it still stood out to me. What about you? Did you get a chance to snoop around online?”
“Not much. Abbie was clingy today. I did check out my social media sites. Gabriel has accounts on most of them but hardly ever posts anything. I checked out his friends and followers. Not a lot of people I recognized, but nothing weird.” Lacey lifted her chin and gave a little smirk.
“I also looked up Simon Thompson. He’s cute. ”
“Cuter than Ben?” Evelyn held back the wink she wanted to throw Lacey’s way, focusing instead on Snowball’s soft purrs vibrating against her leg.
Lacey chuckled. “They’re both pretty cute, not like it matters. Good-looking guys are the last thing I need right now.”
Evelyn bit back the anger that always surged forward when Lacey’s eyes went blank, and her mouth dipped down in a sad frown.
If she could find Abbie’s dad and beat the crap out of him, she would in a heartbeat.
“Thinking about good-looking guys is exactly what you should do. Ben seems nice, and the two of you both acted pretty damn smitten when Connor and I got back from the police station last night.”
Lacey shrugged. “Having a man around was nice, but I don’t plan on getting used to it. I’d rather sit back and watch you squirm around Connor. I know your past makes you hesitant to take a chance on a guy, but he might be worth the risk.”
Evelyn bit the side of her mouth. She’d had the same thoughts about Connor but couldn’t quite convince herself to take the leap. Now wasn’t the right time. After Monica was found, she could sit down and really examine her feelings. Maybe then she could figure out what to do about Connor.
Ping.
“Hmmm,” Lacey hummed. “Is that him now? I bet his ears were burning.”
Evelyn grabbed her phone and glanced at the screen. A text came through, but it wasn’t from Connor.
Gabriel.
Hope you’re feeling better. Can you grab dinner tomorrow?
She swallowed the lump in her throat, and her sweat- slicked palms fumbled against the phone.
“Well?” Lacey pressed. “What does he want?”
“Nothing. Just checking in.” Evelyn’s throat tightened around the lie, and she hoped Lacey couldn’t hear her heart pounding from across the room.
She stared at the message, and her mind spun with possible scenarios.
She’d told Connor she wouldn’t meet Gabriel, but that was before she’d poked around Gabriel’s background and come out with nothing.
Connor was holding on by a thread, Lacey didn’t feel safe in their home, and Evelyn was tired of being in limbo.
If she agreed to meet Gabriel, she could tell Connor about it tomorrow and make sure he was near.
Nothing bad would happen. She was smart, and she’d be safe.
Evelyn typed her response to Gabriel.
I feel much better. Dinner sounds great.
Gabriel had watched the front window of Evelyn’s apartment to memorize her nightly routine—not like it’d been difficult. Lights in the living room out by 9:00 p.m., lights in her bedroom out by 11:00 p.m. at the latest.
She seldom left, and her roommate kept a tight hold on her daughter’s schedule. At 2:00 a.m., chances of either woman being awake were slim to none. But fuckups happened. Not like he wasn’t prepared to handle the unexpected. But what fun was acting on impulse and not taking time to play the game?
The wind howled, whipping around the corner of the brick-faced building and creating a tunnel of cool air.
Gabriel hunched farther into his jacket, careful to keep his head bent low.
He held his phone in his hand to keep the pretense of being just another asshole lost in whatever drivel people constantly stared at on their phones just in case someone stopped, curious as to why he stood hidden behind the corner of the building.
But no one would notice—no one cared enough to notice.
Especially on a night like tonight when the street lamps glistened on the still-damp sidewalks and puddles of water collected on the nearly deserted streets.
No one wanted to be out in such shitty weather, which is what made it so damn perfect.
He’d stand and wait as long as he needed.
Patience was one of his greatest attributes, and he’d use every shred he possessed to get what he wanted. To get closer to Evelyn.
A taxi pulled to the curb and a man jumped from the car then extended a hand to help a woman from the backseat.
They rushed toward the front door of the building, and Gabriel slid his phone in his front pocket and hurried to follow behind them.
The man held open the door, letting the woman slip past, then lingered a beat to let Gabriel grab the edge of the door.
He took the stairs one at a time so as not to make the booming echo of his footsteps noisier than necessary.
Reaching the floor he needed, he stepped into the carpeted hallway and retrieved his lockpick tools from his pocket.
He wiggled them around until the satisfying click of the tumbler made his nerves dance.
Holding his breath, he slowly turned the knob and pushed open the door.
Excitement twisted his stomach as he slithered into the dark apartment and closed the door.
A night-light in the hallway on the other side of the living room lit a path, and he tiptoed toward Evelyn’s bedroom.
The plush carpet muffled the sound of his steps.
He wouldn’t touch the roommate or child yet, but a quick peek wouldn’t hurt.
Easing the door open, he blinked to adjust to the lack of light.
Two still forms huddled in the bed in the center of the room.
Gabriel wet his lips, and sweat coated his palms. The sound of their heavy breaths rang in his ears, and he bit back a groan.
He’d make time for them later, but now he had to move on before he did something stupid.
Closing the door, he took two long strides to Evelyn’s room.
He pressed an ear to the wood to make sure no noise lingered inside.
Satisfied, he slowly opened the door. The sound of waves crashing to shore sung from a sound machine, and a night-light illuminated Evelyn’s shorts and tank top as she sprawled in her bed, her blanket in a heap on the ground.
He flexed his fingers, fighting the urge to brush his fingertips against her smooth skin. Tonight wasn’t for touching, it was for watching and planning and making sure his little mouse found out exactly who was in charge of their dangerous game.
Lifting his phone in the air, he opened his camera, aimed the lens at the helpless woman in front of him, and snapped picture after picture after picture.