Nicholas
“We got a call from Mr. Mansfield this morning.” Perry sits down on the chair at the opposite side of my desk. “It would seem he didn’t care much for us seeking out his daughter the other day while he was out of town.”
I’m sure he didn’t, but pleasing him isn’t what we are hoping for. Solving the case is a top priority; bringing justice to the victim is what we are striving for.
“He said, and I quote, ‘All questions were to be directed to me.’” Perry even offers the air quotes which makes the whole thing more ridiculous.
“So, we’ve managed to offend Mr. Mansfield and his female clone.” Maybe I am childish in regard to Emerson, but I am still battling with the unsettled feelings I have for her. How the hell could I have been so wrong about the time we shared?
“No,” Perry leans forward and rests his elbows on my desk, “not his daughter. From what Deputy Harris has said, his daughter walked out on him.”
Now, this gets my attention.
“He called to follow up with her after our interview, and her assistant said that she no longer works for Emerald.”
“Did she walk out or was she fired?”
Perry shrugs before standing up and grabbing a handful of mints off the corner of my desk. “I guess the truth about that situation we’ll never know. Not many employed by him are willing to offer any more information than they have to. I’m sure the idea that because of his own daughter’s willingness to help he is now a suspect of murder doesn’t really sit well with him. I’m sure that didn’t go over real well.”
I stare after him as he walks away, my heart racing. When he is gone, I reach for my phone and dial Emerson’s number. Disappointment hits me when it goes straight to a recording that indicates the number is no longer in service.
Frantically I dial Spencer’s number and drum my fingers on the desktop before me as I wait, very impatiently, for him to answer.
“What’s up grouch?”
“Where is Gianna?” There is a moment of silence which grates on my nerves. “Spencer?”
“You need a Midol, man, you’re turning into a raging bitch.”
“Where is she?” I ignore him.
“Hell, I don’t know,” he fires back with equal irritation. “Probably at work. Contrary to what you believe—”
I cut him off. “What’s her number?”
“Why the fuck do you need my girl's number?” The asshole decides to get all jealous and territorial. I know there is only one way to play this if I want answers.
“Perry just informed me that King Douchebag himself called into the office to express how displeased he was that we questioned Emerson without him being present.” I stand from my desk and grip the back of my neck as I turn to look out the window behind me. “He also let me know that when Detective Harris attempted to make contact with Emerson again to clear up the interview, he was told that Emerson no longer worked for Emerald.”
“What the fuck?”
“Yeah,” I agree. “I tried calling her, and it says her phone is no longer in service. So what I need to know is has Gia talked to her?”
“As of last night, no.” My heart sinks. “She’s pretty torn up about the distance between them, too. They’ve never gone more than a day without talking.”
“Call her, would ya? Make sure she hasn’t heard from her today.”
“And what are you gonna do?” he asks as I turn around and grab my keys off my desk.
“I’m gonna take a ride over to her apartment, see if I can get some answers. I just need to make sure she’s alright. She may not want anything more with me than what we’ve already shared, but I do care about her, Spencer. More than I should have allowed but it’s too late to stop it. All I want is to confirm that she’s okay, then I’ll let her go. I’ll let it all go.”
* * *
Twenty minutes later I’m walking into the lobby of Emerson’s building with one sole purpose in mind—ensure she is all right. I may feel wounded by her words, sour from the idea that what we shared before means nothing to her, but I can’t ignore the fact that I care about her. She can pretend that what we had was some fling, a way to give her wild inhibitions a test drive, but I know there was something there. I felt it.
“Good evening, sir.” The doorman stands from the chair behind his desk as I enter. “Can I offer some assistance?”
“No.” I walk past him toward the panel near the elevators. “I’m actually here to see Ms. Mansfield.” I tap in the code she’d given me that night she awaited my arrival the night she lay in bed, wanting me as severely as I desired her.
“Ms. Mansfield isn’t here.”
My finger froze over the last number, the same uneasy feeling in my stomach once more.
“She left two days ago,” the doorman continues. “She only took a few things with her and when I asked, she said it was all she had.” I turn around to face the man and immediately see the concerned look on his face. “I know I shouldn’t be telling you this, but I also know that you and her shared something so I’m gonna go against the privacy policy of my job.” I nod, my heart racing as I wait for the information he holds. “The apartment upstairs was registered in the name of Emerald Suites, her father’s business.”
The puzzle is now all coming together.
“She left to say that everything in the place was his. I guess his meant Mr. Mansfield. I never really cared for that man. He was always throwing around his power, with her and quite frankly everyone. That poor woman has been a yoyo to him for years, never truly did she seem happy. That was until I seen the two of you together. Emerson deserves better than her father has ever allowed for her. You made her happy, I could see it.”
Suddenly I felt even more raw than I had moments ago. “Do you know where she went?”
He shook his head. “Only that she climbed into the back of a cab looking completely lost and sad. I had half a mind to snatch her up and take her home with me, but I’m not sure how well that would have gone over with the missus.”
The guy had to be near retirement age.
“I presume she had someplace to go, friends maybe?” I knew she wouldn’t have come to me, not after the way I acted toward her the last time we were in the same room. And Gianna—they too were at a crossroads, also because of me.
“Listen,” I cleared my throat trying to hide my worry, “if you see her, can you tell her I stopped by?”
“Sure,” he nods, “and your name?”
“Nic,” I was already reaching inside my jacket pocket for a card, “or Detective Vaughn.”
“Is Ms. Mansfield in some trouble?”
“No,” I tell him, “but I do think she needs someone to protect her.” Her father is poison, and this confirms it. What kind of man fires his daughter because she talked to detectives about a case? Not only that, but he takes away her home and everything inside of it. She left in a cab so I can safely assume he took her car too.
The entire thing breaks my heart and royally pisses me the fuck off at the same time.