“Still no fucking answer on their mobiles. I’ve filled up the answering machine on their home phone. Nothing.”
“Do you think that’s a coincidence?”
I dropped to a stool at the breakfast nook and set the untouched coffee down. I needed something stronger. “Right now, every fucking thing is a coincidence.” Reaching for the whiskey Declan kept on the kitchen counter alongside a bottle of brandy, I poured myself a glass. On the first full swallow, I let the bitter taste linger in my mouth before letting it slide down my throat, the burn, not even a singe. I poured another glass, tossed it back, and cringed before placing the glass down on the counter, pouring myself another double. Then all hell broke loose inside me.
“Where the fuck is she?” My voice blasted against the walls, fury bursting from my chest, I swept my arms across the kitchen counter, glass exploding as it hit the tiled floor. The spicy smell of whiskey filling the air. Sudden nausea tightened my throat and I raced for the bathroom. After hurling the contents of a stomach lacking food, I wretched for another couple of minutes before I fell back on my ass, pulling my legs up, draping my arms over my knees. “Fuck!” I shoved a hand through my hair, pulling at the ends.
“Gabe?” Declan hovered near the door. I didn’t look at him, my gaze pinned to the floor. “I’m sorry I can’t do more, but I’ll keep trying.” I could hear the regret-infused pain in his voice. He was trying and my outrage wasn’t helping.
“Give me a sec,” I mumbled. He nodded and backed out of the bathroom. When I was able to stand, I flushed the toilet, stumbled over to the sink and ran my head under the cold-water tap. Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I shook my head. “You’re fucking better than this. Losing your shit isn’t helping her. Think, goddammit.” Grabbing a towel, I went back to the open plan living room. Declan was cleaning my shit. “I’m sorry, Dec, let me do that.” I leaned down to take the cloth from his hand, and he waved me aside. Strolling over to the couch, I dropped down and dried my hair.
A couple of minutes later, done, Declan joined me and handed me a mug of coffee. “What about Ishara? Anything from her.”
“Fuck, I can’t get hold of her and if anyone, she’ll know what the fuck’s going on.” I pulled out my phone from my jeans pocket and checked my messages. Nothing. “Short of breaking into their homes, I got nothing.” I took a drink, allowing the burn of the hot liquid to calm some of my anxiety.
“Why don’t you?”
I frowned. “Why don’t I what?”
“Break into their home. If anyone can get in undetected, you can. You’re a fucking ghost, remember? In and out, do a quick scan. No one will even know you were there and since no one’s reported this shit yet...” He had a point.
“Sounds like an idea but we have no fucking clue who’s staking out the place.” I took another sip of my coffee, shaking my head.
This time, he frowned. “If they got her, why would they stake out the place. Doesn’t make sense.”
“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “Something just doesn’t feel right. When I spoke to Ria on the phone, she sounded happy. Like she couldn’t wait for me to get home. And that’s the thing. Our home is clean. Everything in place like she’d just gone down to the store for something quick.”
“Too clean?” Declan walked over to his computer station and dropped into his leather swivel chair. “Have you checked for her fingerprints at home?”
My brow creased. “Why?”
“Just a hunch. But I’m certain if you do a sweep, you’re not going to find her prints anywhere in the house.”
I let out a sarcastic laugh. “This is beginning to sound more and more like a ‘who dunnit’ murder mystery. If she’s not on any system, why would they go to the trouble of wiping her prints at home.”
“Call it a hunch but just the way they went about making her disappear, tells me they’ll go to great lengths to dot their I’s and cross their T’s.”
Realization dawned. “So, they probably figured out who I am and didn’t want to risk me finding her?”
“Something like that.” Declan tapped on his keyboard for a moment then swiveled to face me. “Bro, I really think you need to go check out her parent’s home. Something just doesn’t add up. Making one person disappear, is easy but four, takes fucking genius on another level and I’m not sure any three-letter acronym agency is that capable.” He pointed to his screen. “According to their phone records, her father’s last call was to 911. Something about an intruder. When the cops got to their place, her mother said it was a mistake that their daughter had snuck into the house.”
Walking over to him, I glanced at the screen. “When was that?”
“Early this morning—too early for anyone to be up if you ask me.”
I frowned, shaking my head. “That doesn’t make sense, I called a couple of times yesterday as soon as I got in and this morning. I also drove by before coming here.”
“Yeah, I know. That’s why I had a contact do a voice analysis. Get this. That woman who met the cops at the door wasn’t Mrs. Singh.”
“I’m not even going to ask how the fuck you managed that?” My expression incredulous, I glanced at him.
“TRA can also get shit done on the down-low and quick. Although I’m in for a month of pepperoni pizza.” He grinned. “Go check it out. I’ll keep you posted if anything else comes up.”
“Thanks, man. I owe you.”
“We’re brothers, Gabe.”
After a quick nod, I left. Fifteen minutes later, I parked four houses down from the Singh’s place, got out, and did a quick sweep of the area. Certain I was in the clear, I snuck through the side gate to the driveway, peering in at the windows as I made my way around back. Nothing stirred. It was too quiet. I tried the back door. Locked. Pulling out the miniature toolkit I carried on me all the time, I chose what I needed and with deft fingers, quickly picked the lock. When the door clicked open, I glanced around behind me one more time then slipped inside.
