Page 87 of HateMates

“I don’t know. I had her up against the wall, and he showed up, so I ran.”

My skin hackles.

“Who showed up?”

“The guy.”

“Did you see this guy?”

“No, but I heard his voice and figured that was my cue to take off.”

I shove the door to the interrogation room open. Rochel is up again, but I raise my hands in surrender. “Not gonna touch him. What do you mean, you heard the guy’s voice?”

“I’m not talkin’ to you—”

“Just fucking answer me. Please.”

He huffs out a breath and waves his hand. “The guy who hired me. I heard his voice.”

“What did he look like?” My hands shake.

“Didn’t pay much attention, but he was slim. Sandy-blond. Pretty boy.”

“Fuck.”

“What?” Rochel turns to me in question.

“It’s him. I know it. Vince—the motherfucker who stopped Mindy’s assault.”

Rochel jerks his eyes to mine. “How sure are you about this?”

“It’s gotta be him.”

“Fuck. Okay.” He pulls out his phone. “Miller, I need the report for Miss Park’s attack. The statement from the witness. Vince. Run the database for any known address, property, vehicle plates, or a fucking P.O. Box. I want to know what this guy ate for breakfast.” Rochel hangs up and turns to Sheldon. “Better hope your story pans out. Otherwise, I’m adding breaking and entering and theft to your already long rap sheet.”

Rochel walks out of the room, me hot on his heels. I grab my phone and dial Mindy’s number before remembering I never gave her phone back. The knife in my chest twists deeper. I grab the back of my neck. “Fuck. We need to contact the cop who drove her home.” Why didn’t I bother to get his information? “Phillips. He was instructed to bring her straight home.”

Rochel nods and gets on his phone, ordering a dispatch to the officer. He waits on the line until they reach him, and it doesn’t take me hearing the voice on the other end to know something’s not right. “When did you last see her? You’re sure it was a man named Vince?” Fear creeps into my veins. My mind drags me down to a dark place. One that stabs into my chest and carves out the words,“You failed her.”“How long ago was this?”

His attention turns to me as he starts firing out orders. “Put out an APB on them and the girl. Check the security footage from the store. They’re some time ahead of us. They could be anywhere by now.”

He hangs up, and the words travel up my throat like acid. “Does he have her?”

His sullen gaze is a punch to my gut. I fight to breathe. “Yes.”

Clamping my eyes shut, I drag my hands down my face. This can’t fucking be happening. “How? That fucking cop was instructed to take her home.”

“He did. She couldn’t get into her place. She didn’t have a key.”

She didn’t have a key. Because it’s in my bag. Along with her phone.

I twist around and slam my fists against the wall. My chest heaves, fighting down the bile rising in my throat. He can’t have her. He can’t fucking have her. “How?”

“She asked Officer Phillips to take her to a store to get some things and met up with a man she claimed to know on an intimate level. Told the officer she was leaving with him and his sister.”

“His sister?”

“A younger woman. Blonde.”

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