I was getting to him. I noticed his eyeglasses were wrong. As Stew, he’d worn sleek black frames. Jeff wore rounder ones. He was wearing those. Another small error.
“It crossed my mind. But she would have told me and broken it off.”
“Are you sure? Some women like to play games.”
Deb turned to him. “Raven isn’t like that, and I don’t like your tone.”
He put his arm around her, backtracking. “Sorry, dollface. I was just playing devil’s advocate.”
I waved my hands. “It’s fine. I wondered when we found her purse if she didn’t leave it behind so I couldn’t trace her phone. But I realized how stupid that sounded.”
“Do you have any other trackers on her?”
Another mistake. A finance guy wouldn’t know about shit like that.
“Other trackers?” I asked with a frown. “I’m not a PI. My company protects people from overzealous fans or exes with grudges. We’re not in the spy business.” I huffed out a sorrowful sigh. “I wish I were.”
“Right,” he said, lifting his cup to his lips. But I saw his smirk.
“Out,” Marcus whispered.
“Done,” Julian said. “Thank God. I need a shower.”
Stew frowned, looking at his phone. I cleared my throat twice, pounding my chest. “Sorry, the coffee went down wrong.”
“Sorry. That was me. We should be fine now. I need ten more minutes, Damien. Stall.” Egan’s voice was low.
“Deb, can you think of anything unusual?” I asked.
Stew relaxed, putting away his phone, and I focused on Deb.
“No. Nothing. Everything seemed fine. Then she was gone.”
I nodded. “Vanished.”
“You have to find her,” she whispered. “I feel terrible recommending that site to her. I had met some nice guys through it. It brought her nothing but trouble.”
I patted her hand. “You couldn’t have known. The guy who owned it had no idea he had a nutjob infiltrating his system.”
“He couldn’t help?”
“No, we helped him—well, my guy helped him tighten his security, but he had nothing. This Andy was too smart for us all.” I almost choked saying that, but it worked since the last part came out muffled as if I was holding back tears.
Deb covered her mouth, stifling a sob. Stew gave a great performance of comforting her.
“It’s in the hands of the police,” I lied. “I have nothing to go on.”
“Don’t give up.”
I met Stew’s shrewd gaze, lifting one shoulder as if to say “No idea how to respond.”
He nodded as if in sympathy. I wanted to wipe that superior look off his face with my fist.
“You’re not tapping today, Stew. No ringing sounds in your ear?” I asked, trying to keep the snideness out of my voice.
“Oh, ah, I lost it on my trip. A new one is coming. I’m just putting up with it,” he lied.
Another error. He was losing his focus, which was exactly what we needed.
“How annoying that must be. Where were you again? I forgot.”
“In the States.”
Deb frowned. “I thought it was Calgary.”
“Both, actually. Two trips in one,” he lied again, his voice terse. “But we’re not here to discuss boring finance. I want to help if I can.”
“Out,” Egan’s faint voice rang in my ear.
“If I can think of something, I’ll be in touch. Your cell number is the best way to contact you, I assume? Not direct at the office?”
“I’m working from home this week, so if you need me, call. I’ll be sure to answer.”
“Is that close?”
“Yep. I can walk.”
I was done. “Good thing. Driving in this city is a bitch.”
“I know,” he agreed. “I walk as much as I can.”
My phone rang, and I answered.
Leo responded to my terse greeting.
“Get back to the office.”
“Problem?”
“Yeah, one of the clients is causing a ruckus. I need you here,” he said loudly. “You don’t pay me enough to deal with this shit. And you need to cover a shift tonight. Dumbass Dave is drunk again.”
Deb cringed, and Stew turned his head to hide his smirk. He now thought my men were deadbeats and I was a total idiot. A paper pusher.
Perfect.
I’d remind him of that just before I killed him.
I hung up. “I, ah, need to go.”
“You’ll be in touch?” Deb asked, grabbing my hand.
“When I hear anything.” I met her eyes. She was upset and hurting, and I couldn’t tell her a thing. I had to keep her in the dark and play Stew, Andy, whatever the fuck his name was, along.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t protect her better,” I said sincerely.
“Find her.”
Stew draped his arm around her as I stood. I bent and kissed her cheek, clapping Stew on the shoulder firmly as I straightened. I felt the padding under his suit jacket. “Thank you,” I murmured.
He nodded, looking serious and worried. “Anything,” he replied.
Liar.
I shook my head in sorrow and walked out.
I slid into the car, hiding my smirk until I was clear of the coffee shop. The tracker I pressed into the material of his jacket was virtually invisible. Untraceable.
But we’d know where he was.
And where to find Raven.
“I’m coming, baby. Hold on.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Damien
“Jesus,” I muttered, watching the video Julian had made. “I feel sick.”
“He’s beyond obsessed,” Julian agreed. “The apartment was basically empty except two rooms.” He paused. “The dressing room and the shrine.”
One room was filled with costumes, wigs, props. A makeup table. Shoes, hats, glasses. He’d been at her school, posed as a custodian. A homeless man outside the grocery store she had noticed one night and gave money to. I recognized a hat I had seen a man wearing when we were “fighting” in the park. He’d watched us the whole time.
But the shrine was what frightened me. Pictures of Raven on every wall. Laughing, talking, teaching, walking, crying. Happy, sad, upset. Working at her desk. Teaching her kids. Playing with them outside. Sitting beside me at dinner, my face blacked out with a marker. Anytime I was with her, my face was a black circle. Any of my staff caught in a picture with her had X’s through them. There were a bunch of close-up ones I recognized from the dinner we’d gone to.
“His damn earpiece was a camera. Every time he tapped, it was another picture of her. The twisted bastard,” I raged.
He had her schedule laid out. A scarf pinned to the wall she’d mentioned trying to find the other day. Chocolate bar wrappers I assumed he picked from her garbage. A calendar where he’d filled in “their” timeline. Chat #1. First sighting. First date. He referred to his stalking as glimpses. Each one was marked, the ink soaking so heavily into the paper it bled to the sheet below it.
And the scary part was the crushed daisies pinned everywhere. One for every time he got upset with her.