Page 17 of Girl Long Gone

She sucked in a breath. “Can I give it to you?”

He shook his head. “No. At the station and you’ll have to sign it. Tell them anything you saw or heard that could be viewed as evidence. Combine that with his connection to Monica in EternalMatch, and there should be enough probable cause to secure the warrant.”

A police station was the last place on earth she wanted to step foot inside. But she’d do it. Besides, if she refused, she’d have to explain why.

“Let’s go. He’s dangerous, and we need to stop him.” She lifted her chin. She was tired of being a victim, tired of slipping quietly into the shadows and watching life pass by. If she could do something to help a missing woman, she needed to step up and act. She couldn’t let another woman suffer because she couldn’t help—not again.

8

Evelyn swore she’d never step inside another police station again, and the rapid beat of her heart screamed run with every thwack against her rib cage. Every click, every buzz, every booming voice around them set her already raw nerves on edge. She pressed herself close to Connor’s broad back as they made their way down the brightly lit hallway, her hand threatening to tighten around the cup of coffee Connor had swiped from the vending machine. Their intimate moment in her building had moved him from Detective Mitchel—a man she’d been wary of—to Connor, a friend. And right now, she needed a friend she could hold on to.

Connor stopped, and she slammed against him. He turned and braced his hands against her forearms, concern rippling his smooth forehead. “You okay?”

“A little anxious. I hope Lacey is all right with Ben at the apartment. I know you trust him, but we just met him tonight. I don’t want her to be uncomfortable.” The lie tasted as bitter as the stale coffee in her cup. Lacey’s safety wasn’t what had her stomach flipping like a drunken gymnast.

“Lacey will be fine.” Connor offered her a small smile. “I called my lieutenant. He’s already contacting a judge. Write down everything that happened tonight, then the statement will be rushed to a judge so a warrant can be issued.”

“I thought it took time to get a warrant.” Her gaze bounced from Connor to the empty hall behind him. She tried to keep her focus on him and what she’d come here to do, and not let it wander toward what hummed to life behind all the closed doors. The sooner she wrote her statement the sooner she could get out of here...and the police could find Monica.

Connor opened wide one of the doors and waited for her to step inside. Hesitation slowed her steps, the echo of her heels on the tile seeming to vibrate through her core. She willed her muscles to keep working, to keep moving her forward as she put one foot determinedly in front of the other.

She made it halfway to the long, bolted-down table in the center of the room before the loud thud of the door closing behind her had her spinning back around. The Styrofoam cup fell to the floor, and hot coffee splattered against her legs. Panic invaded her mind, blocking out the scalding sting on her legs, and all logical thought fled. Only one desire rang inside her—get the hell out of here.

Adrenaline took over, and Evelyn hurried toward the door. Hurried toward freedom. Her hand tightened around the knob, and she twisted her wrist, but the handle didn’t turn. Her pulse spiked and heat licked at her cheeks. She sucked in a deep breath and tried the knob again. Nothing.

Closing her eyes, she fought the terror threatening to suck her into the darkness. She took a step back and opened her eyes. She scanned the room. No windows lined the cinder block walls. No light from the full moon outside shone inside to compete with the artificial light from the flickering fluorescent bulb overhead.

She turned toward the mirror dominating one wall. Was someone watching her? A hysterical laugh caught in her throat. She had to look crazy, but she didn’t care. She squeezed her eyes closed and tried to slow her racing heart. “I need to get out of here. Now. I can’t be locked in. Open the door.”

“Evelyn? What’s going on?”

Soft hands brushed against her face, and she flinched. Reared away from the presence of whoever was encroaching on her personal space.

The warm caresses dropped away.

“It’s just me. Everything’s fine.”

The gentle cadence of Connor’s voice broke through the black smog smothering her brain, and she opened her eyes. A mask of worry contorted the lines of his face. He stood in front of her, and she dropped her gaze to his fisted hands at his sides. “Why did you lock me in here?”

“The locks are automatic. I have the key. Do you want me to open the door?”

The softness of his words continued to break down the wall of hysteria around her. Her rapid breaths slowed to a steady rhythm, but her heart refused to follow suit. She hung her head, the light scars ringing her wrists staring up at her, and debated how much to confide in Connor. She couldn’t tell him all of it. Not with everything else he had on his plate right now. “Yes, please. I don’t like close spaces.”

“Evelyn, you’re not trapped. You can leave any time you want.”

She wrapped her arms around herself. “When the door slammed closed, it felt like I was trapped. I can’t handle that again.”

“Again?” The tightness of his voice had Evelyn lifting her gaze to his. Fire burned in his blue eyes, and his jaw locked.

“I had a messed-up childhood,” Evelyn said on a sigh. She hated talking about her past. Not even Lacey had been told the full extent of what she’d been forced to endure. “My parents expected me to...obey.” She struggled to come up with the right word. Something that would give Connor a glimpse inside what had caused her reaction without telling him everything.

“And if you didn’t, they locked you in a room?”

She bit into her top lip to keep the tears her memories always caused at bay. The pity in his eyes made her want to run out of this godforsaken place. But she couldn’t. Not until she wrote her statement. A brittle laugh made its way up her raw throat. “Yep. Most of the time that was the best option.”

He placed his warm palm on top of her hand. “What was the other option?”

His simple touch warmed a place in her soul long ago left cold and brittle. She licked her lips, wanting to pull away, yet needing the contact to hold herself together. “You don’t want to know.”