Page 47 of Hard Shift

Elizabeth sauntered into the dispatch room and straight up to thesupervising department head. Mark smiled up at her, guided her into his office, and shut the door.

“Well, this is a pleasant surprise, Hanson. What brings you to my little corner of the world?”

“My case.” She took a seat across from his desk. “Someone reported a woman missing, and she wasn’t. I need to know who called in the report, and I figured coming straight to the top would streamline my efforts.”

“Depends on how the report was given to us.” He tilted his head. “All of our audio is recorded, so if it was an anonymous caller, you’d be able to hear the person’s voice, but they probably wouldn’t have given a name. If it was called in by a relative, they’d have given us the information, or…they could have just come into the office to file the report, which means you’d be able to see exactly who it is on our security cameras.” He poised his hands above his computer keyboard and waited. “Let’s take a look. Who’s your missing person?”

“Jennifer Smith. Someone reported her missing four days ago; the same day we were notified about the death of Emily Fisher.”

His brow rose. “Two women?”

“Actually, four.”

“It may take a few minutes to get you the exact information.” He started clicking away, and his brows dipped in concentration.

Elizabeth leaned forward, resting her elbows on his desk as she watched him work.

“Jennifer Smith was called in at three-twenty in the morning.” A few more clicks, and he turned up the speakers in his computer. A crackling sound came to life.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“Jennifer Smith has been kidnapped,” a familiar male voice said.

“Sir, what’s your name?”

Elizabeth leaned closer, closing her eyes to make sure she was hearing him correctly.

“My name is of no concern,” the caller said. “You need to find Mrs. Smith. Her life is in danger.”

Her brows dipped as she opened her eyes. Her heart dropped into the pit of her stomach. She knew that voice as well as she knew her own. It hit her like a ton of bricks in the chest. Evan had made the call, but why was a question only he’d be able to answer. “Can you send me a copy of that audio clip?”

“Sure.” A few clicks later, and it arrived at her phone.

He continued pounding on the keyboard as she got up to leave. He glanced up at her, “Don’t you want to know who called in Mrs. Fisher’s death?”

“Absolutely.” She eased back down into the chair.

He hit play and leaned back in his chair. “Oh god, send an ambulance to 15thStreet. She’s dying.” A woman panted into the phone as if she was out of breath. “He promised to turn her, and he killed her, and now he’s going to come after me.”

The phone disconnected, and Mark met her gaze. “Does she sound familiar?”

Elizabeth shook her head slowly. “Play it back.”

Matt hit play again, and Elizabeth closed her eyes to see if she recognized the voice or could pick up anything else in the background besides the woman’s heavy pants. She leaned in closer to the computer. In the background, she heard what sounded like a car door slam closed before the phone clicked off.

She opened her eyes. “Can you send me that one, too?”

A few clicks later, and that one arrived at her phone. “Anything else I can do for you, Elizabeth?”

“No. Thanks for your help.” She gave him a kind nod and left the office, more confused than when she’d arrived. The woman had to be one of Emily’s friends, yet she could rule out Jennifer. She’d heard her voice and knew her lies. It wasn’t Jennifer who had called in Emily’s death. No, this woman was scared, and from the sound of it, running.

Elizabeth stopped by her desk, pulled a couple of paralyzing darts from her drawer, and eased them into her pocket. After checking the clip in her gun, she shoved it back into the chamber and stuffed it in the back of her jeans. A copy of the school picture of Jennifer as the gangly sixteen-year-old with the crooked teeth caught her eye, and she grabbed it, too. She stared down into the girl’s blue gaze before sliding it in her other back pocket. She headed toward the doors and stepped out of the office, lifting her face up toward the afternoon sun. The warm caress was a gentle reminder she’d lived another day. Rhys was right about one thing. She was a survivor, and today wasn’t going to be any different.

Sliding behind the wheel of the SUV, Elizabeth tried to process the woman’s phone call she’d just listened to. Her heavy pants, the shutting of a door.

Elizabeth drove to the ritzy part of town. She knocked on the door of the ritzy brownstone. She needed answers and knew exactly where to get them.

Jennifer pulled the door open. She looked better. The color had returned to her face, not to mention that she was much more awake and dressed for the day.

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