Page 25 of The Dark Obsession

“It’s okay. New relationships are hard,” he says through gritted teeth. He holds my shoulders and studies my face. He sighs, forces a smile, and leaves the room.

Nothing can stop the incoming panic attack that overwhelms me for the next ten minutes. The thought of Rafael finding out that Dale hurt me makes me feel sick with embarrassment. I collapse to the floor, with my head between my knees, and breathe deeply several times. My heart rate slows. I take one last deep breath. “You’ll lose this job,” I scold myself, pulling myself off the floor, and sit back at my desk.

Hours pass—too many to keep track of—and he’s still not back. My eyes water from watching a screen for so long.

“Miss Lockwood? I have a Mr Lockwood on the phone for you.” A male voice startles me from the office door.

“What? Oh, okay.” I outstretch my hand, waiting for him to pass me the phone.

“Well, uh, Miss Lockwood, just … press the number nine on your phone, and you’ll … get connected.”

I nod and blush, lifting the black wireless phone off my desk, and press Nine. It rings for a moment, then goes silent.

“Rosa, your mother. She’s gone,” my father’s voice rings down the phone.

“Dad? Dad? What do you mean?” My eyebrows lift.

“She’s gone missing, Rosalie. She left for work three days ago and just never came home. I thought maybe she went on one of her drinking escapades. But still no sign of her.”

My head spins, and my heart leaps. “She’s probably in a hospital somewhere, having her stomach pumped, Dad. Have you contacted them?”

“Darling, I’ve done that already. I’m with the police now. I’ll call you soon. Love you.”

The phone goes deadly silent. My jaw hangs wide open. Of course, it’s not serious, I try to calm myself. It’s happened too many times for me to care. My idiotic mother getting trashed, shacking up with a man, then coming home and begging for forgiveness.

I slam the phone into its charger unnecessarily hard and face the screen, my head in my hands.

“Rosalie …” Rafael rushes in. “I’ve just been notified that—” He stops talking abruptly, and I look up. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Carry on,” I say, my eyes bulging with tears.

“It can wait. What is going on with you today? This isn’t how we work, Rose. This is your job, not a joke.” He lowers himself to my desk.

I continue to stare at my computer screen, it gets increasingly hard when I notice his hand resting on the table. His fingers are long; another mysterious circular scar is embedded into the centre of his hand. I glance at his face and see his features seem annoyed, his eyebrows at a severe angle. Our eyes connect for a split second, and I frown as I try to bring myself to talk.

“I can’t help you if you don’t communicate, Rosalie.” He turns off my screen and moves it a few inches aside.

“My drunken mother has gone missing. Again. She’ll turn up again soon. I’m just so angry she’s done it again. The stupid …”

Rafael’s eyes narrow. His scarred hand taps on my desktop. He stays silent, flipping through the pages he has in his other hand. “Here.” He puts a piece of paper on my desk—a photo of a white Toyota Prius parked in a petrol station, blurred, and in black and white, the outlines of two people stand out through the dark windscreen.

The feeling of dismay envelops me as I realise one of these figures is dead, the other is her murderer.

“So, we know the killer is here. She filled her tank before disappearing off the maps, until we found her body.” Rafael stows the paper into a large file on his desk. “Evidence for her family.”

“So, where do we go from here? This leaves us no closer to slamming anyone in prison,” I say, my palms wet with sweat.

“Well, I’ve already sent this to forensics. They should get back to us soon enough. But tonight, there’s nothing we can do. It’s time for you to focus on your mother.”

I clear my throat. “My mother—her name is Eleanor—does this a lot. Gets drunk, runs away, comes back the next day.”

“Your father would not call unless he was worried.”

“My father will work this out himself. I don’t need my boss telling me what to do when it comes to my whack-job mother.” My temper rises fast, and I say the words before I can stop myself.

Rafael lets a loud laugh escape his lips and nods, then paces the room a couple times in silence, his hand raised to his chin. A look of deep contemplation embeds on his beautiful face.

My anger has time to evaporate into the cool air. My body succumbs to a great shiver. “I’m sorry, sir. This isn’t my usual attitude.” My voice trembled along with my body. “I will sort myself out for tomorrow.”

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