Page 27 of The Girl in the River

He slid onto a barstool, his stomach growling as he waited on Lola, but she took her time chatting and laughing with Bryce and bringing Mandy some kind of fancy coffee drink with whipped cream that all the teenagers were crazy about now.

Bryce’s folks, his snotty mother and the mayor, entered yet they walked right past Bryce and Mandy, raising his curiosity.

Then whispers and stares rippled through the room as Liam James entered with an older woman who looked teary-eyed. She must be Tori’s mother. Poor Liam looked sullen and angry, with bloodshot eyes as if he hadn’t slept all night.

Cord checked his phone, wondering if Ellie had made any progress finding Mia Norman. Or Tori James’ killer.

Lola stopped to speak to Liam, then patted his shoulder and walked back toward the bar. She gave Cord a quick glance, then gestured for the young teen waiting tables to take his order while she poured coffee for Liam.

She was definitely giving him the cold shoulder this morning.

He ordered ham and eggs with red-eyed gravy and drowned himself in coffee, then wolfed down his meal while Lola completely ignored him.

She asked you to move in with her.

But he hadn’t responded.

Maybe she’d assumed his silence was his answer.

His phone buzzed with a text. SAR. They’d been dragging the river for Mia. And they’d found something.

He tossed some cash on the bar and headed outside. When he looked back from the doorway, Lola was wiping tears from her eyes. But work was calling.

And Ellie needed his help finding Mia.

THIRTY-FOUR

Ellie’s senses jumped to full alert as her gaze swept the entrance to Mia’s house. Someone had been here. Were they still inside?

“Mia!” Mark started to rush inside, but Ellie held up a warning hand to prevent his entry.

“Wait here, Mark.”

“I have to see if she’s here!”

“Agent Fox and I will look for her,” Ellie said, vying for calm. If Mia was in the house, injured or dead, she didn’t want Mark to be the one to find her.

“It may be a crime scene, man,” Derrick explained. “We don’t want to contaminate evidence.”

“I don’t give a damn about evidence.” Hysteria sharpened Mark’s voice. “I just want to find my fiancée.”

Ellie squeezed his arm. “I understand and so do we. So please let us do our jobs.”

Her rational tone seemed to seep through his panic, and he heaved a breath then leaned against the doorjamb.

Ellie and Derrick both pulled their weapons, and Ellie led the way, inching inside. The interior looked light and airy, appearing to be empty. The small entryway led into an open-concept living room and kitchen decorated in a farmhouse style with reclaimed shelving, a whitewashed brick fireplace, white cabinets and a stone countertop.

A beautiful home for a family.

Except it had been defaced.

Books, magazines and furniture had been tossed across the room as if someone was looking for something. The corner desk drawer stood open with papers strewn on the floor and shattered picture frames, glass fragments dotting the wood floor.

The couch cushions had been ripped, batting spilling out, and the smell of fresh ashes drifted from the fireplace. She saw paper scraps on the floor by the refrigerator, walked over and studied them. They were RSVPs to the wedding.

“Someone was angry about the marriage,” Ellie said.

She and Derrick exchanged looks, and she turned down a small hallway while he veered in the opposite direction to search the rest of the house.

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