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Turning on my heel and following behind him, I match his brisk pace as he makes his way down the sidewalk. “I’ve actually been wanting to speak with you regarding Cora Durant. It appears that she disappeared the same day you wound up in the hospital.”
“Missing?” He places one of the cups on the roof of his car with a furrowed brow.
“Yes.” My voice becomes more authoritative as he opens the driver’s side door. “Missing.”
“Cora. Love.” He dips his head into the car and extends one of the coffees to a passenger. “Detective Michales seems to think that you went missing earlier this week.”
She leans over the console toward the open door, and I repeatedly blink my eyes as though they are deceiving me.
“Missing?” Her tone is inquisitive. “Why on earth would you think that?”
I stare at her silently, still in disbelief that she’s sitting before me.
Even more so that she’s still alive.
Samuel graciously flew me out to visit my nana for a few days.” She looks at him adoringly. “Isn’t that sweet of him?”
“Yes.” My eyes suspiciously roam over Mr. Millington as he gingerly slides into the seat beneath him. “Very.”
I don’t believe a fucking word of it.
Every word from their mouths reeks of bullshit.
Samuel.
Edmund.
Grant.
And now, even Cora.
“If you don’t need any more proof that she’s still alive.” Mr. Millington begins pulling his door shut. “We have somewhere to be.”
Shaking my head, he shuts the door, and I watch the two of them pull away. They might as well be riding off into the sunset because every fucking lie they’ve just spewed will have some magical thread of evidence to back it up.
Because they always do.
Sooner or later, I’ll find something.
Something is bound to rattle them.
CHAPTER FIFTY
SAMUEL
Nearly One Month Later
Pulling into the valet and slamming on the brakes, my tires screech to a stop. I glance at the time on the dash, and I push the car door open.
Fuck.
I’m so fucking late.
Walking at a swift pace, I make my way up the walkway and to the doors of the tasting room. As I push it open, I immediately spot Cora sitting alone at the bar.
She’s fucking impossible to miss.
Sitting with her back to me, I take a moment to enjoy her as I slowly walk toward the bar. Her luxurious blonde hair is twisted and braided into a tousled bun, fully exposing her long, slender neck. The little black dress she chose for this evening has thin straps running over her shoulders, leaving every inch of her spine bare. The satin skims over the shoulder marred by Madame. The ‘M’ savagely carved into her back is now covered with a tattoo of an ornate ‘S’ flanked by flowers—branding her as mine.
