Page 5 of Love Undercover
She stared at him for one long moment before it dawned on her. “You can’t find him? He disappeared in the two hours since I saw him?” She tried to laugh, but it came out choked, so she covered it with a cough.
Richter’s brows quirked. “That was his last known location, yes.”
“I-I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I don’t have any secret information for you. I don’t know where he would hide if he was on the run. He’d be stupid to go to his parents or anyone you would connect him with that I’d know. And he’d be stupider still to come to me for help.”
Hicks slipped his notebook back into an inner pocket of his blazer, nodding. Richter didn’t take his eyes from her face. As if he thought she was lying. But if that butthead of an ex showed his face at her apartment now, she’d kick him down the stairs.
Her steely expression must have given him a hint of where her thoughts had gone because he finally broke eye contact and relaxed his stance.
2
A Tale of Two Kidnappers
Chase leaned into the shadows of the hallway, draping himself in darkness to keep spectators and cameras from spotting him. He slipped into the corridor to slink up the stairs to the second floor.
He’d scoped the place after tracking Greg Calloway to the apartment multiple times within the last two weeks. He never would’ve found himself in this little suburb of Baltimore otherwise. The ex-girlfriend’s place.
Ex, Chase thought as he crept along the wall toward the door. If he didn’t know better, he might have thought the guy was going back for a little post-break-up booty call. It was a fine booty, to be sure.
He may or may not have taken a peek. And by peek, he really meant in-depth survey. If he was going to sit for hours on end doing surveillance, he might as well enjoy what little nuggets he could.
It would’ve given him pause that Calloway was visiting his ex’s apartment so frequently, but he’d noticed something about the unusual timing: he only showed up when she was gone. Which meant she probably didn’t even know he was spending time there.
And that meant her apartment would be of particular interest to Chase.
The metal of the knob was warm along his palm as he worked the lock. Most were easy to jimmy—flimsy, at best. Largely useless against someone who had a basic knowledge of what they were doing and really wanted to get in. And Chasereallywanted to get in.
Which was why he had it in ten seconds flat and without much noise. He slipped inside at an angle, so he wouldn’t open the door very wide and was careful to shut it softly.
He knew the ex wouldn’t be back for some time. Her routine usually followed the same pattern: leave by seven forty-five a.m., home by five p.m. every weekday. She arrived home closer to 8 on Friday evenings, so he knew he had some time. The last two weeks had afforded him a glimpse into the flow of her life. Dinner every Friday with the same friend.
Because he was nothing but thorough, he’d confirmed by following her from the library when she got off this evening to the same restaurant a block away and watched her hug the friend outside before he’d headed to her apartment building.
His gaze swept the space. It should have been tidy. It had that feel—minimalist farmhouse chic. Or whatever they called that popular style of home decor.
He’d caught an episode or two of that design couple in passing. Okay, so he’d never admit to anyone—even himself—that he actually enjoyed the show and made a mental note of when episodes would air so that he could “catch” one.
It was clear she watched it too based on her decor choices.
But someone had been here before him, and they’d gotten in when he’d been out looking for Greg at his usual haunts. Which sent a prickle of irritation through him. If someone else was looking, that meant there was more here than he’d been told.
Which also meant that this little ex-girlfriend was in more danger than she probably knew.
Her books, once stacked on bookshelves next to tiny potted plants, were strewn on the floor, little pictures and scribbled notes she’d tucked inside spilling from the pages like hidden secrets. The two large-frame black and white photos above the couch were knocked sideways, and her throw pillows had been tossed on the floor and gutted, feathers streaming onto the cockeyed beige rug.
Cupboard doors in the kitchen were left open, bowls and mugs haphazardly strewn across the counter. There were plenty of dirty dishes in the sink already, but a potted plant had been knocked over, its soil pouring into the basin and onto the plates. So the intruder had even searched in there.
He found more of the same throughout the two-bedroom apartment. Drawers hung open, clothes half-dangling out and dragged around on the floor. All of the articles of clothing were neutral, soothing colors that matched interchangeably with other pieces. Though he paused to consider the fact that the underwear drawer, which had been ransacked more thoroughly than the others, contained a variety of neon, barely-there numbers that had him reflecting again on the appeal of the booty.
Another stirring of anger churned because someone had turned this place upside-down with unnecessary savagery. He fought the urge to right as much as he could. It wouldn’t be hard to figure out where it all went. If it had been him, no one would’ve noticed he’d even looked through everything.
But not everyone was as fastidious as he was.
He turned to slink through to the second bedroom, which she had converted into an office and a pottery studio of sorts. The sun was creeping toward the western horizon, gilding everything with its golden touch. It gave the room an ethereal glow, and it was clearly where she totally let loose because it was significantly less orderly. Maybe orderly wasn’t the right word.
Even viciously combed through, he could see the chaos that reigned here. The drop cloth under his feet had ground-in slashes of clay and stains that made him wonder if this was where she was most at home. He started to think maybe the minimalism that kept the rest of the house contained was her attempt at disguising the disarray that threatened to rule her life.
He contemplated the trace of a clay footprint on the drop cloth, the curve of her bare foot stirring something within him. Maybe it was one of the pieces fitting together to give him just enough of a picture to be intrigued.
