As we did, Hunter studied my face for a moment. “Are you hanging in?”
“Not really.” There I went again, being honest. I was so used to covering my true feelings by saying that I was doing fine even when I wasn’t. It felt like a shock when the truth actually left my lips.
“We’re doing everything we can to find her,” Hunter said. “I promise.”
“But none of those other women were found alive,” I reminded him, unable to keep the grim tone from my voice. “How are we going to find Velma in time?”
He let out a long breath, tension etched in the wrinkles on his forehead. “That’s what I’m hoping you can help me with. I need more information about her and her habits. Even though I talked to a couple of Velma’s friends from karaoke, it seems that nobody knows her very well. I’m hoping you can change that.”
I shifted in my seat. “I’ll share whatever I can. Of course.”
Hunter nodded and looked down at his notebook. “We know that Velma grew up down in Georgia. She didn’t have a lot of money. I suppose that’s an understatement. Her family was actually homeless for a while.”
“I didn’t know that.” I should have known, though. Why hadn’t Velma and I ever talked about those things? But I supposed that explained why Velma was such a cheapskate. Growing up not having what you needed . . . you probably did whatever necessary to survive.
“Do you know why she came here to Storm River?” Hunter studied me, his gaze intense yet quietly unobtrusive.
I tried to recall everything she’d ever told me, which didn’t seem like that much right now. “All I know is that Velma was in an abusive relationship. Oscar helped her to get away from her boyfriend and start a new life away from this guy. He hired her here to give her a start.”
Hunter’s eyebrows flickered up, as if that news surprised him. “I see. Does she ever talk about her friends or any other hobbies?”
I shook my head. “I didn’t even know she liked karaoke.”
Shame pressed on me at that thought. Why hadn’t I known that?
I supposed it was because Velma and I mostly talked work when we were together. There was usually so much to talk about pertaining to our cases that we didn’t need to get too personal. Maybe I was playing it safe myself. If I didn’t ask Velma too many personal questions then maybe she wouldn’t ask me many either.
But now I could see that was a mistake. I should have been working harder to develop more community.
“Have you found anything in your investigation, Elliot?” Hunter stared at me, as if daring me to keep something to myself. The intensity in his gaze actually set me back.
I shook my head. “I wish we had. It’s hard to even know where to go. There are no clues.”
Hunter slowly nodded. “Yeah, I get that. I’ll talk to your . . . colleagues and see if they have anything to add.”
My heart thumped into my chest. “Of course.”
“It’s no problem, Elliot.” Hunter stared at me just a little too long, almost like he wanted to say something, but I wasn’t sure what it was. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
I nodded, probably a little too quickly. “That sounds great. Thanks again.”
But I hated the awkwardness I felt with Hunter now. He was a good guy. We hadn’t been on enough dates to be official. We hadn’t been on enough dates that I should even feel this guilty.
But I did.
Guilt was just part of my emotional makeup, I supposed.
If only romance was my biggest worry right now.
Chapter Twelve
I stared at the information I’d compiled, hoping something would jump out at me.
It didn’t.
Even detail-oriented people could slip up sometimes. Somewhere along the way this guy had to have made a mistake. We just had to find that mistake and exploit it.
After Hunter left, Michael wandered into the office, sat at his desk, and wheeled his chair toward me as I sat at my own desk. “Anything new?”
I shook my head. “I wish there was. It’s almost like the victims were wiped clean before their bodies were left. As far as the police know, the killer hasn’t left any evidence.”
Michael frowned before grabbing some bouncy balls from his desk and beginning to juggle them. That’s what he did when he needed to sort out his thoughts.
“That seems almost impossible, doesn’t it?” he finally murmured.
I nodded. “It does. If only we could figure out where this guy is taking his victims before they die. Or find a car. Or find a witness to the crime. Something. Anything. I know Hunter wants to find this guy just as much as anybody. Maybe even more so.”
“I’m sure.” Michael caught all the bouncy balls in one hand and set them back on his desk.
“I, for one, can hardly stand just sitting in this office and not being out there actively looking.”
Michael reached toward me and quickly squeezed my arm before withdrawing his hand. He lowered his voice as he said, “I know. It’s hard. Oscar is going to talk to the various police municipalities in the cities where the victims were found.”
“Sounds like a good place to start.”
“I was thinking that maybe we could go to the sites where the bodies were left. Maybe there’s some type of connection between those areas. I thought putting our eyes on them might help something click in place.”
I nodded. It was worth a shot.
But I also sensed that Michael had things to tell me. Relational things. Roxy things.
Part of me dreaded hearing his update.
It didn’t matter. I was a big girl. I could handle whatever was coming my way . . . I hoped.
Michael and I decided to head toward the scene farthest away from Storm River. It was in an area of Northern Virginia called Tyson’s Corner.
As Michael and I sat beside each other in his minivan, I decided not to bring up Roxy. Though I was dying to know what had happened last night, Michael should be the one to open up, and he seemed distracted.
Maybe he needed time. According to my GPS, this drive was going to take us almost an hour. I really hoped he wasn’t silent on the subject the whole time.
Ten minutes into the drive, Michael rubbed his jaw, and I knew he was ready. His hands squeezed the steering wheel until white knuckles appeared.
“So, about last night . . .” he started.
I waited for him to continue.
“I had no idea that Roxy was going to show up.” Michael’s voice sounded strained, like this conversation had him twisted up inside.
I felt bad for him. I really did. But I was trying to give him his space so he could find the right words.
But his obvious struggle compelled me to say, “I bet that was a shock, especially since you haven’t seen her for almost seven years, right?”
Michael nodded, but his eyes looked slightly glazed as he stared at the road ahead. “That’s an understatement.”
When he didn’t say anything for a moment, I again found the need to fill the silence—which I should have known was a bad idea.
“It seems like Chloe took right to her.” The words burned as they left my lips. I was trying so hard to be level-headed here, but I’d be lying if I said the whole situation didn’t leave me unsettled.