Page 22 of Girl Long Gone

But it worked well and it worked quickly. Two things that were important for what he had in mind tonight.

All he had to do was make sure Hayley was found where Monica’s brother would hear about it. Excitement built in his chest. Hayley’s final resting place might not be what he’d hoped to make it, but it would be worth the change of plans.

The continuous ringing of Connor’s phone penetrated his coma-like sleep. He opened one eye to take in the bare white walls of Ben’s apartment then closed it against the glare of morning sunlight pouring through the uncovered living room window. “Hello?” He croaked out.

“Where the hell are you, man? I’ve been banging on your door for the last five minutes.” Urgency bled through Mark’s irritation. Connor sat upright.

“I’m at a buddy’s place. What’s up?”

“Hayley Teller’s body showed up. I came straight to your place after I left the scene. I wanted you to hear it from me. Plus, I have some questions for you.”

“Meet me here. I’ll text you the address.” Connor dropped his head into his hand and prayed the bile in his stomach would stop crawling up his esophagus. He’d hoped they could get to Hayley before it was too late. But maybe this could open up the investigation and lead them to Monica quicker.

Ben rounded the corner wearing ripped jeans and a vintage band T-Shirt. “Good. You’re up. I got a hold of Simon Thompson this morning. He lives in Hoboken. Says he’ll meet us this afternoon at Church Square Park and tell us whatever we want to know.”

Connor grabbed sheets of printed-off paper and shuffled through them. Images of Hayley Teller stared up at him with accusing eyes. “I need to talk to Mark first. He’s on his way here. Hayley Teller’s body was found last night. Mark’s the homicide detective who caught the case.”

“Shit. I thought we’d have more time. We found Simon. He could break this open.”

“He still could,” Connor said. He powered up his computer and opened every file he created since Monica went missing. Anything Mark could find useful. “Gabriel’s more spooked than I’d thought last night. Killing Hayley could be his way of lashing out or proving he’s still in control.”

“What if we’re wrong? What if it’s not Gabriel and some other psycho is out there kidnapping and killing women?”

“Look at the facts. Monica’s missing and the only new person in her life was Gabriel Wilson. Someone breaks into my apartment right after I see him in the coffee shop and leaves a hand that looks as if it belonged to my sister. The woman he saw me with was shoved into traffic, and he arrives just in time to save her. And dammit, Evelyn found Monica’s keys in his fucking pocket. Now a woman’s body we think is tied to him is found the same night we search his house? That can’t be a freaking coincidence.” His voice rose with every word until he roared. Ben had to stay on his side. He had to believe they were looking into the right guy.

Ben sucked in a large breath and gave his head a little shake. “You’re right. I’m just in shock.” He picked up one of the papers with Hayley’s smiling face plastered on it. “She deserved better.”

“Which is why we need to get her justice.” And find Monica. He couldn’t handle the same news about his sister.

It would kill him.

His phone hummed beside him, and he glanced at the screen. “Mark is downstairs and needs to be buzzed in.”

“Does he know you hired me?”

“No. I didn’t want him involved. I’m teetering on the edge of ethics with my own career. I don’t need to compromise his as well.”

“Makes sense. What will you tell him now?”

“Anything he wants to know. Gabriel’s escalating, and my gut’s telling me a lot of that has to do with Evelyn and me. He’s playing mind games with us, and that’s crossed over into murder. I’m sure it’s not the first time he’s killed, but this feels different. Like a taunt.”

The fast-paced pounding of footsteps barreled closer, and Connor opened the door. A scowl sat heavy on Mark’s wide mouth, and exhaustion lingered behind the anger in his ice-blue eyes. “Your buddy got anything to drink?” Mark asked as he brushed by Connor and stormed into the apartment.

Connor let out a long breath, stepped back into the room, and closed the door. “Mark, this is Ben.” He lifted a finger toward Ben, who now stood with his hand stretched toward Mark.

Mark nodded and shook his hand. “Hey. You look familiar. Are you on the force?” Mark’s gaze sharpened on Ben’s face.

“No, private investigator. What do you want? Whiskey or tequila?”

Mark glanced at Connor with questions shooting from his eyes before he said, “Shot of whiskey. Between the rain coming down in sheets and the image of what I woke up to in the middle of the night, I need something to take off the edge.”

“You got it.” Ben disappeared into the kitchen.

Mark skirted around the coffee table, his intent gaze landing on the mess of paper, files, and notes. “What’d you find?”

Connor studied his friend. Something about the rigid set of his shoulders and the lines etched in the planes of his face told him what Mark had seen today was worse than most crime scenes he worked. Not to mention Mark insisting on a shot of liquor. His friend hardly ever drank. Especially on the job. “I’ll tell you in a minute. What happened to Hayley?”

Mark sank down on the couch, elbows on knees, and tented his fingers on his forehead. “I’ve seen a lot of shit, but people still manage to surprise me. Still horrify me with their lack of respect for human life.”