Page 23 of Girl Long Gone

Ben hurried back into the small living room with three shot glasses.

“Where was she found?”

Mark snorted. “Just outside Columbia University. Hayley wasn’t a student, and it’s clear her body had been transported to this location.”

“Your beat.” The implication of Mark’s words shook Connor’s knees, and he lowered himself to the couch. “He wanted you to find her. If Gabriel’s done his research, which I’m sure he has, he’d know Mark is my best friend, and he’d work that case.”

“I agree. And this guy is one sick fuck. What we found was...messy. Her left arm was missing a hand, but that wasn’t the only limb we couldn’t locate.”

Ben reared back and pressed his back against the wall. “What couldn’t you locate?”

Mark sighed. “The body was extremely mutilated and stuffed in a wooden box. Crude cuts consistent with the jagged marks previously examined on the hand you found were present on the neck, right shoulder, and upper thighs. Looks like a saw, most likely a reciprocating saw.”

Connor took the news like a blow to the temple. “Aren’t those usually used for household projects? Cutting through walls, fitting windows...that sort of thing? As in something someone would easily find at a construction site?”

“Among other things,” Ben said. “It would definitely be something someone could grab from a construction site.”

“Or any damn hardware store in the city. I’ll look into it, but right now I’m searching for similar cases. Someone this twisted has killed before. If I can get ahold of case files with similarities, it will help.”

Connor shook his head. “You won’t find any.”

“You still hung up on Gabriel Wilson? Have you found anything at all that could cast doubt on the man? Anything I can use to get a warrant, or even use to question the sonofabitch?”

“We were there last night with a warrant and didn’t find shit.” Connor dropped his gaze to the worn rug at his feet, and last night’s failure continued to burrow into his gut. “But Ben and I have looked into Hayley’s disappearance. Her situation is eerily similar to Monica’s. No red flags. No sign of her. No idea where she went. We pulled up her online activity, and she’s got a lot of it. No connection on there with Gabriel, but we’re working under the assumption he has an alias for other sites. Probably something with the initials LN.”

Mark raised his light brows. “Why LN?”

Connor sighed. “Evelyn Price, the woman I met a few days ago, had dinner with Gabriel last night. She found a set of keys in his jacket pocket that had a silver keychain with those initials engraved on it. They have to mean something.”

Mark rolled his neck back and forth. “Tell me you’re not using her to get close to him. If you’re right, you can’t put her in that situation. Plus, she’s a civilian. You’d jeopardize your entire career.”

Screw his career. The idea of Gabriel getting his hands on Evelyn left him breathless. “I wouldn’t let her get hurt. But Gabriel is messing with her just like he’s messing with me. I need to nail this guy and find Monica—and keep Evelyn safe.”

“Shit,” Mark said and rubbed the back of his neck.

“She gave us a name last night,” Ben chimed in. “A guy who was friends with Gabriel in high school and might give us some insight. We’re meeting him this afternoon.”

“Fine,” Mark said and stood. “I have enough shit to wade through, and even though I’m starting to think you may be right about this guy, I can’t close off the possibility there might be some other lunatic responsible for the murder of Hayley Teller. I expect you to tell me if you find anything.”

Finally, his best friend was starting to believe him and with Mark on his side, it wouldn’t be long before they got the dirt they needed on Gabriel.

11

The sheeting rain thinned to a lazy drizzle outside the gazebo—the damp late March weather the perfect reflection of Connor’s mood. Brick columns encased Ben and him inside the dry structure, but the wind barreled through the open space as they waited for Simon to arrive.

“Why couldn’t we meet this guy at his place?” Connor asked as he blew into cupped hands. Hoboken was the last place he wanted to be, especially in the middle of Church Square Park. “Doesn’t he live nearby?”

“Probably has a woman or something and doesn’t want to relive his past with her around.” Ben kept his gaze focused on the few pedestrians who braved the dreary day.

Connor paced along the perimeter of the gazebo. Simon should have been here by now. Connor had enough to deal with.

“I think that’s him,” Ben tilted his head toward a man with hunched shoulders and a clipped pace.

The tall, slender man with ginger colored hair matched the pictures they’d found the night before. Dampness clung to him in a shimmering sheet, but the man didn’t seem to notice—didn’t even wipe away the moisture from around his blue eyes.

“We appreciate you coming out in this weather.” Ben kept his voice as steady as his narrowed gaze.

“No problem. If I can help find your sister, I want to. But I’m not sure what an accident I had eleven years ago will do for you.” Simon rubbed his hands over the long sleeves of his striped sweater, the puffer vest he wore clearly not enough to keep him warm.