Joyce
We spend the next two hours going over my notes, pictures, and video clips. I have copies of all the security footage that the college had available, which, to be fair, isn’t very much. Apparently, campus security isn’t nearly as good as people like to assume it is.
Great.
I’m frustrated because I feel like we haven’t been making very much headway on the case. After two hours of talking and looking over documents, we aren’t any closer to finding out what happened to Charlene Hill.
“Let’s read the interview from her mother again,” Wyatt says, and Oliver finds the transcript and holds it up.
“Got it,” he says, and begins to read.
Charlene’s mother’s statement says that Charlene is a good girl, or at least she was. I have the interview completely memorized, and my lips move as he reads the grieving mother’s words.
“She loved school, and her job. You know, she had a job at the supermarket on the weekends.” Oliver looks up from the paper he’s reading. “What do we know about the job?”
“She wasn’t working the day she was taken,” I say. “She only worked on Saturdays and some Sundays. Her shifts were limited, but everyone at work the police interviewed thought she was a sweet, hardworking girl. No one had a single bad thing to say about her.”
“This sucks,” Landon growls, looking up from a stack of papers. “We aren’t any closer. From what I can gather, the person who had the biggest motive to hurt her was you, Joyce, and we all know you didn’t hurt her.”
“Joyce’s alibi is solid,” Wyatt says. “That’s why she was immediately cleared as a person of interest. She came forward and was open about her previous relationship with both Logan and Charlene.”
“That’s right,” I shuffle through some papers and then hand Landon a copy of my initial interview with the police. “I gave a complete statement. I explained the history of my relationship with Logan, how long we were together, and any other pertinent information I could think of.”
Landon takes the paper and looks it over briefly. Then his eyes lock with mine.
“Can you think of any place he might have taken her?”
“This is where things get tricky,” I tell him. “When Logan and I were together,” I hesitate, and I glance over at Wyatt. It’s weird to be talking about my ex-boyfriend in front of my new boyfriend, isn’t it? Although, I suppose Wyatt is much more than a boyfriend. He’s my mate. He’s my other half. He’s my partner.
He’s everything I need, everything I want, everything I desire.
He is my world now.
Wyatt seems to understand my hesitancy because he reaches for my hand and smiles.
“It’s okay, love. I’m not exactly the jealous type. Besides,” he taps his scar. “I’m going to dare to say I won this round. Logan’s got nothing on me.” Then Wyatt kisses me deeply in front of everyone else. Luckily, there are no groans or eye rolls this time. When he releases me, I feel a newfound sense of contentment.
“Okay,” I tell him. I take a breath, and I nod. I can do this. “When Logan and I were together,” I try again. “He was always talking about his uncle’s cabin.”
“I remember reading about that,” Oliver says, and he reaches for a couple of papers sprawled on the floor in front of him. We’ve all completely taken over my office and turned it into a huge mess. There are papers, photos, and notes everywhere, and somehow, we’re all crammed into the room.
“Yeah,” Matthew snaps his fingers as he tries to remember. “A place in the woods, right? A little cabin? Maybe like, a weekend retreat or something?”
“I told the police, but they could never find it.”
“Maybe it’s not in his name,” Wyatt says thoughtfully. “I remember following the lead, but there were no properties that matched the description.”
“And he doesn’t have any known relatives or associates, really,” Landon says. “So unless a random coworker is loaning him a cabin for the weekend, it seems like an impossible clue.”
“That’s what everyone told me,” I shake my head. “But I’ve spent hours and hours looking at properties in the area. It has to be someplace close, at least if that’s where he took Charlene.”
“We assume that if Logan was the one who took her, he’d keep her nearby. It would have to be a place close to both work and school because he’s been under almost constant watch since the disappearance,” Wyatt says.
“You can’t watch him all the time,” Ronan points out. “Even the best cops can’t keep up with a criminal who wants to disappear. Sometimes, they sneak away. It’s just what these guys do.”
“You’re right,” Wyatt agrees. “But I’ve had my best men on this one, and there have only been a couple of times when they couldn’t locate him. It was always for short periods of time, too. Typically, he just goes from home to work and back again.”
“It seems like he’s been spending a lot of time at work since the disappearance,” I point out, looking at some notes.
“He has. Is that unusual?” Wyatt looks up at me hopefully, and I know he’s hoping I’ve somehow got some hidden knowledge that will reveal the killer’s secret location. I don’t have that, though. I don’t have any of that.
“I mean, he’s always been dedicated to his job. I don’t know how hard being an English teacher actually is, but he’s always brought work back to his place and had office hours and stuff like that.”
“No, this is more than that,” Wyatt says. “He’s been spending hours there after his last class. There have been a few nights he didn’t leave until after midnight.”
“Really?” Now it’s my turn to be surprised. “That doesn’t sound like him.”
“Maybe he’s feeling stressed with the investigation and doesn’t want to be cooped up in his house,” Matthew offers helpfully.
“Or maybe he’s keeping her somewhere in the school,” Ronan says. “Have we looked at possible hiding places at the college?”
Wyatt nods. “The campus has been thoroughly searched. No one’s found anything suspicious or noticed anything out of the ordinary.”
“I don’t see floor plans here,” Landon is shifting through some of the paperwork. “Have you guys look at blueprints?”
“For what?” Wyatt shakes his head. “Look, guys, I know solving crimes and covering things up and arguing is sort of your thing, but this is a missing person’s investigation. This isn’t some mystery novel or true crime TV show. This is real life, and I don’t have the time or the resources to go dredging up old floor plans for the community college simply because Smith seems to be spending extra time at the school. For all I know, he’s sleeping with another student.”
“I can do it,” Matthew says.
“Do what?” Wyatt glances at him.
“I can get the floor plans for us in an hour,” he says, and he quickly leaves the room.
“Did I miss something?” Wyatt asks.
“Matthew has his own connections,” Ronan shakes his head, but I smile.
“Matthew is a good kid,” I say. I feel protective of him. Hell, he’s not really a kid. He’s only a couple of years younger than me, but he’s sort of like a little brother to me. Law school is tough and he’s been doing an incredible job of holding it together while still managing to work and keep up with his social life. I don’t know how he does it, personally. I wasn’t that put-together when I was in college.
“We know he’s a good kid,” Oliver says gently. “No one would dare say otherwise.”
“And it’s a good idea,” Wyatt says. “It’s just that as a police officer, I still have to jump through certain hoops in order to do things like request blueprints. Oh, I get a little bit of leeway for being on the shifter squad, but even that has its limitations.”
Wyatt sighs, and I reach for his hand. He’s getting worried and a little stressed, but that’s okay. Everything’s going to be just fine. We’re going to figure this out and we’re going to do it together. I wouldn’t have thought to request floor plans for the community college.
Could there be a secret space Logan has been working in?
Could it really be that simple?
I hate this case. I hate knowing that something terrible is going on and that we’re so close to solving it, but we’re not quite close enough. I hate knowing that Charlene could still be alive, but suffering because I haven’t been able to figure out these clues.
All I’ve done for the last month is focus on this case. Oh, I’ve gone through the motions in my relationships and at my regular job, but my mind has been consumed with thoughts of this case.
“Tell you what,” I say to Wyatt. I kiss him on the forehead. “Why don’t I run and make us all some coffee, okay?”
“Yeah,” he says. “That sounds amazing. I’ll come with you to help.”
“No,” I say. “You just stay here and try to focus. I need a minute to clear my head, anyway, and besides,” I glare at the boys left in the room. “These guys are going to be nothing but kind to you. Right, guys?”
They all murmur affirmatively, and after one more soft kiss, I leave my office and head toward the first floor kitchen. I start the coffee and then lean back on the counter. What a mess. I know we’re all stressed and anxious at this point, but this is so much more than I’m used to dealing with.
He could have been hiding at the college with her.
Why didn’t I think of that?
It makes perfect sense and it would explain why the cops haven’t been able to catch him doing anything. I’m sure most of the squad thinks Logan wasn’t really to blame, at this point, because he seems so ordinary and so calm. He doesn’t seem like a vicious kidnapper. That’s not really his style.
The coffee starts to brew and I head for the back door. I could use a few seconds just sitting on the back steps, breathing in the air. The weather is cool today and as soon as I sit down, I instantly calm.
My inner cat loves to play in the cooler weather. I love to run and jump and just feel free. It’s one of those beautiful things about shifting that nobody really warns you about. Being a shifter is about more than having incredible senses. It’s about freedom.
I close my eyes and just breathe in.
In and out.
In and out.
In and out.
Today has been such a whirlwind and I’m not sure where I’m going to go from here. I have a mate now. A mate. I can’t believe it, but joy fills my heart. I’ve never felt this excited or hopeful before. I’ve never felt this brave.
A shadow blocks the sun from my face, and I open my eyes to see what it is, and I’m shocked.
“Logan,” I manage to whisper his name before he jabs a needle in my neck.
“Hello again, love,” I hear him chuckle, but then everything goes black.