Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 68831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
If she had known that one of the missing girls had survived, had been fine… he fought the urge to flip over the detective’s desk in frustration.
The man leaned back as if sensing the possibility and spread his hands in surrender. “We didn’t want to lose momentum. With the girls spread so far apart, we were already having trouble keeping the media—and our chief—focused on finding their abductor. Or killer. Or whatever this guy is.”
“This guy? It’s Robert Hawk. No question.”
“Well, yes. That’s what we suspect.”
Dario growled underneath his breath. The man responsible was Hawk. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind of that. But he could understand the police department’s reluctance to put that label on him. After all, he was one of the most powerful men in Vegas. A close friend of the governor and a major contributor to his re-election fund. Hell, Hawk had sponsored the police department’s Christmas dinner this year, in addition to his generous annual scholarship program for law enforcement children.
“But suspicions aren’t enough to get a warrant. We need something concrete on him. You know that.”
Yes, Dario had known that. It was why he’d spent the last five years secretly helping. He’d worked with the detective to set up office phone taps, had fed them information about Hawk’s schedule, his habits, his real estate holdings and shell corporations. He’d given them a hundred clues, and they hadn’t found jack shit tying Hawk to the missing girls.
“You’ve got the recording from today.” While the wire crudely taped to his chest had been as easy to find as a crack whore behind Jerry’s Nugget, the real transmitter, a bug the size of a piece of popcorn, had gone undetected. It was still right where he’d left it, behind the Getty bust.
“The recording implicates him on Gwen, not these girls.” The man gestured to the row of photos.
“Then arrest him for Gwen. Now.” He needed Hawk locked up. Precious time was ticking by, considering Bell was at risk every day that Robert Hawk walked free. The moment Hawk had learned she was still alive… she’d been back in danger. It was a necessity he hated, but one that was inevitable. Gwen’s death was a secret with a very short shelf-life, especially with the number of moles in this department.
“Be patient, Dario. We’ll arrest him. But we have to be smart about it or you know what’ll happen. We’ll bring him in, question him, and then his lawyers will pick apart every line of that tape until it looks like a kindergartener’s lunch plate. They’ll have him out on bail and he won’t make another mistake, not in the months before a trial.”
He was right. It was why the plan was to tail Hawk and wiretap his home and cell phone. Let him blow up about Gwen and lead them to the man he’d hired to kill her. If there was anything Dario knew, it was that Robert Hawk did not allow a misstep to go unpunished. And the death of his only daughter? He would bring the wrath of God down on that individual.
Dario took a pained breath, his heart still raw at the realization that Gwen was dead. Gone. Forever. His Gwen. She’d never smile at him over coffee. Would never know that Claudia Vorherz was safe. Would never slip her hand into his and affectionately squeeze his palm.
Dario stared down at the third girl and struggled to maintain his composure. Claudia. “So, what did she say? This one?”
The man shrugged. “We couldn’t get to her in time. She showed up at her mom’s house on Christmas Day, as if everything was hunky-dory. Brought her a present, as if seeing her wasn’t enough. Stayed there four hours, didn’t tell her dick about where she’d been for nearly a year and a half, then crawled out a window and left.”
“Why’d she crawl out a window? Why didn’t she just walk out the door?”
“My guess? She didn’t want to answer any questions about when she’d see her again.”
Dario looked at the page, his eyes skimming over the details of her disappearance. The detective was right. Everything about her fit the profile, down to the sunny smile on the brunette’s photo. A smile that made him think again of Bell. A pull of longing snuck past his grief. Earlier, after she’d laid down to sleep, Laurent had called. The small details of her day had made him yearn for the humid air of the swamp, the tiny shack that Laurent owned, the taste of gumbo and fried gator tail. He’d have loved to show her that life, to tell her stories of his youth, and laugh over her reactions. Another opportunity missed, stolen from their progression as a normal couple.
Dario looked back down at the file and tried to retrace his thoughts. “How long ago was that? And no one’s seen her since?”