And waited.
Elijah dragged a rough hand down his face and stood up. Guilt was trying to force its way to the forefront, worry threatening to engulf him whole. Wherever she was, whatever had happened to her was his fault. Or at least, that was his sincere belief.
He made his way to the kitchen and poured himself a fresh cup of coffee, burying his worry with each mouthful of coffee before going back to his map. Every sip of the coffee was a reminder of her. Cream and sugar, that’s how she liked it. Anything less and she said it tasted too bitter, like it was a punishment and not a treat.
With red tacks, Elijah plotted the points of his own home and then Delores’s.
Paul had said that none of her credit cards had been used and that their car was still missing. A body could be lost, hidden forever, but to hide both a body and a car? That was a harder feat. But not impossible, of course.
Elijah leaned back in his chair, his arms folded across his broad chest and stared at the map in front of him, and at the list of facts that he knew about the case so far. It was little. Too little. Being part of this investigation meant he wasn’t allowed to know the facts of it. But even he knew that if he had any chance of finding Delores and discovering what had happened to her, he needed to know more.
Frustration burned in his veins and the call of the whisky in the kitchen echoed to him. He’d never been much of a drinker. His own father had drunk himself into an early grave, and so the call of alcohol had never been one for him. But like most people, a stiff drink was sometimes needed to calm frayed nerves.
He stood back up and, on his short journey towards the kitchen, a sharp knock sounded against his door. He paused for a split-second before going to it and opening it. In the doorway, stood Paul.
Paul shifted uncomfortably. This whole investigation was proving to be difficult for him—down to who was involved and the fact that he didn’t have his own partner to bounce ideas off.
“Can I come in?” Paul asked, glancing behind him. Elijah nodded and opened the door wider to allow the other man to pass. He closed the door after his partner and followed him as he trailed towards the dining room.
Paul immediately noted the map on the table, and he went over to it to further inspect.
“You doing your own investigation, buddy?” he asked, casually throwing the nickname out.
“Figured I would help out as best I could,” Elijah said and scratched the back of his neck. “Don’t know much though.”
Paul reached over and picked up the red pen. He leaned over the map, examining it for a moment before circling a small area. When he looked up, Elijah was watching him with furrowed brows.
“Her ID was used here.”
Elijah’s brows furrowed further. “That’s easily a day’s drive.”
Paul nodded. “Yep. There was a shooting at the motel. Some kid tried to play hero against a robbery, ended up getting himself shot for the effort, poor kid.” The breath caught in Elijah’s throat but Paul waved him off. “She wasn’t there, at least not when the police knocked on her door in the morning.”
“So she left before any of this happened?”
“Or after. Looks like she didn’t want to get caught up in any trouble. Saw the cops and took off.” Paul shrugged.
“She doesn’t want to be found,” Elijah said, the wind going out of him. He sat in one of the chairs and put his head in his hands.
“At least we know she’s alive,” Paul replied, his voice devoid of the false cheer he was trying to press upon Elijah.
“Yeah,” Elijah mumbled. He looked up as Paul sat down opposite him. “Why are you here? Why are you telling me this? This is against protocol.”
Paul shrugged. “You’re my partner. My friend.”
“I’m a part of this investigation,” Elijah retorted almost angrily. His real fury directed at Michael Stanton for insinuating Elijah had anything to do with her disappearance in the first place.
Paul shrugged. “Plus, you’d find out sooner than later anyway. There’s no way you’re going to drop this, is there?”
Elijah shook his head, still feeling annoyed at Paul, even though he understood he was just doing his job. Still, he reasoned, at least he was keeping him in the loop.
“Look, I know you,” Paul said.
“Do you?”
Paul quirked an eyebrow. “There are parts of your life I don’t know about, I’ll give you that one. I guess we’re all mysteries when it comes to the enigma of living our lives. But yes, I know you, Elijah. Well enough to know you wouldn’t hurt someone. Not someone you cared about. And I know that you cared about her. I can see it in your eyes.”
Elijah sighed and looked away, not wanting to talk about how he felt about Delores to Paul or anyone else. “Was the kid alright? The one from the motel,” he finally asked, changing the subject.
