Annie nodded and took a sip of the hot coffee, her pert nose crinkling in that cute way that used to make him smile. “I didn’t even know he was seeing anyone. Let alone a married woman.”
Paul tore his gaze away from Annie and looked back down at the two coffees in his hand. “Neither did I.” He took a deep breath. “Better get back to it.”
“Do you think he knows where she is?” she asked as he turned away, one of her slender hands touching his back gently, almost provocatively. He swallowed down the lust that flared to life.
“No.”
“Do you think he loved her?” she asked, her voice soft, almost a taunt.
“Yes.”
Paul walked away, feeling Annie’s hand slip from his back.
Elijah looked up as Paul entered the room, his eyes straying to the coffee cup like it was the Holy Grail.
“Thanks,” he said, reaching for the coffee and taking a long drink of it. “I needed that.”
Paul sat down, his own coffee going forgotten on the table between them. “Big night last night?”
The smell of alcohol on Elijah’s breath was unmistakeable, as was his dishevelled appearance when he’d been brought in.
Elijah sat back in his chair, his coffee cup firmly in his grip. “I had a couple of drinks.”
“At home?”
“Yes.”
“On your own?”
“Yes.”
Elijah held Paul’s stare, and silence dropped between the two men like a lead balloon. “Say it,” Elijah finally said, breaking the silence.
“What?”
“What you’re thinking.”
Paul raised an eyebrow in answer and Elijah sighed.
“You’re wondering why, if I was so worried about Delores, why was I drinking myself into a stupor last night instead of looking for her, or contacting you,” Elijah bit out, finally letting some of his anger out. It felt good.
“Is that what I was thinking?” Paul replied calmly.
Elijah sighed and shook his head. “Michael’s not a good man.”
“And why’s that?”
“He’s a bully.” Elijah took another sip of his coffee, willing himself to calm down. But it was hard. The more he thought about it—Delores disappearing, Michael telling the police about the affair his wife was having—it could only lead to one or two conclusions in Elijah’s head.
“A bully to whom?”
“To everyone. But mostly to Delores.” Elijah was getting irritated of the questions. He knew the drill, how things had to work, but it was tiring. They needed to be out there, looking for her.
“Did Michael ever hurt Delores?”
And that was it. The million-dollar question. The one that Elijah had asked Delores on many occasions. Yet, sometimes he wasn’t sure whether the fear in her eyes was real or not. Delores had problems, many problems. But as long as she looked after herself, took her medication, rested enough, and ate healthily, she could manage it all. She was strong, stronger than she even knew. He’d been helping her—showing her, and it had been working.
But the past month something had happened. Something had changed.
