Page 43 of Blood Descendants
I admire my profile in the mirror. I made myself notlook at the price tags. If Ares sent me here, he’s aware of how much these creations cost.
“That dress was made for you,” Clementine compliments. She looks me up and down, her raised brows a testament to what she’s saying.
“You think Ares will approve?”
What the fuck?
Since when have I ever cared if a man wouldapprove?
“I think the best approval is in how long it takes for the dress to land on the floor,” Clementine says with a smirk. “I’d wager that just might happen before you can step foot out the door.”
My cheeks heat as I look at my reflection.
And I know I can’t lie to myself. It’s exactly what I’ve been fantasizing about since I put the dress on.
Chapter 12
Idig through Ophelia’s social media profiles. Every single account she has, even the secret spam ones. When you know someone well enough, it isn’t hard to find what they try to keep private. Not that she’s keeping anything particularly interesting a secret. But there are no posts since she went missing.
I make a call to her landlord. He hasn’t seen Ophelia, and he lets me know that she has two weeks to get caught up on her past due rent, or she’ll be evicted.
I use the credit card Ares gave me to pay for her rent. It just about kills me, the guilt eating me alive. But I vow to pay him back for it. Taking this time off work is making a massive hit on my bank account, but it won’t be that way for forever.
I call Ophelia’s job at the law firm, and the secretary is the only one I get ahold of. He hasn’t seen Ophelia in weeks either, and she didn’t give them any notice that she was leaving. She’s already been replaced at work.
Her email address isn’t all that difficult to break into.Pissoff111! is her password, one I’ve seen her enter before. There’s nothing out of the ordinary, and she hasn’t sent any emails since she disappeared.
Lastly, I call the police department, where I filed the missing person’s report. I’m put on hold for two minutes while they connect me with the assigned detective.
“You calling about Miss Ophelia Bennett?” a gruff man with an older sounding voice finally connects.
“Yes,” I answer desperately. “I was wondering if there were any new leads on her?”
“Not much, but we finally got the footage from the bank across the street from where you said she was last known to be,” he answers, which shocks the hell out of me. After so many dead ends today, to have something, anything, is the world. “She did go into that building around eleven-thirty, alone. The footage is kind of grainy, and there was only one window that wasn’t blocked, so I couldn’t get any footage of her inside. But I watched the footage for twenty-four hours forward from when she entered. Miss Bennett didn’t walk out. At least out the front door.”
“Is there a back exit to the building?” I ask, feeling desperate.
“I haven’t gotten ahold of the owner of the facility yet to go in and investigate that. I can call you back as soon as I get an answer.”
“Do you know who owns the space?” I ask, reaching across the kitchen island for a pen laying there and the golden envelope from the ball invitation.
“Eh,” he draws out, and I hear the tapping of a keyboard. “Looks like Wind Up Properties Enterprise.”
“You happen to have a phone number?” I ask, my heart beating very fast.
“Good luck,” he says after he rattles it off. “Usually, you leave voicemails stating you’re with the police department, you get a pretty quick callback, but not this one.”
“Thank you so much,” I say, feeling hope surging for the first time. It’s something. The first something I’ve got. “Please, call me as soon as you find out anything else.”
“I will,” he promises, sounding more caring than I’d expect. “I’m glad Miss Bennett has someone like you who cares about her. Too many people just drop off the face of the planet with no one to go looking for them.”
“That’s what best friends do,” I reply. The detective gives an affirming noise and ends the call.
Just as I lay my phone on the counter, the front door opens, which makes me jump about three inches in my seat, and my heart takes up residence at the base of my throat.
“Everything okay?” Ares asks as he walks in. His motorcycle helmet is tucked under his arm and, as he walks in, he sets it on the island.
“I got ahold of the detective that’s working Ophelia’s case,” I say, an unsure smile trying to crack on my lips. I relay the information I just received. “Now I know she didn’t leave the space the way she came in. And that’s not normal.”
