Missing, Presumed Dead by Emma Berquist

Author:Emma Berquist
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2019-04-16T16:00:00+00:00

13

THERE ARE POLICE CARS PARKED DOWN THE BLOCK from the club, and the air feels tense and electric as I dodge people on the sidewalk.

“I need that footage,” I say to Ilia when I finally get in the building. He’s in the hallway, slick hair mussed up, a pen dangling out of his mouth while he looks over a delivery list.

“You’re late,” he says.

“Did you hear me? I need the footage, and I also need whatever police files you can get me on the other missing people.”

There has to be something that connects all of them, something the killer is drawn to.

Ilia takes the pen out of his mouth, strain in every line of his body. “Yeah, I heard you. I’m working on it, Lexi, but things aren’t easy right now. We have cops parked outside, Urie’s gonna have an aneurysm, everyone is jumpy as hell—”

“Ilia, I’m serious.”

“So am I.” His eyes travel over my face, and the lines around his mouth deepen. “I’m doing the best I can, Lexi.” He rubs the bridge of his nose, and I can almost see what he’s going to look like as an old man.

“I know you are,” I say, feeling guilty. “Everyone knows you’re doing everything you can, Ilia.”

He gives me a tired smile. “Look, I’ll have it for you soon, I promise. I talked to one of our guys on the force; they should release it in the next couple of days. I’ll ask about the files.”

“Just keep me posted.”

Ilia nods. “I’ll call you if anything changes.”

“Thanks.” I head for the floor, but pause. “Any more attacks on the protection spell?”

“No. Maybe it’s finally—”

“Ilia! Dad wants to know—”

Phillip cuts himself off as he appears in the hallway, and I close my eyes. Perfect. Just perfect.

“Well,” Ilia says, glancing from me to Phillip and back again, and a spark of humor comes back into his face. He’s enjoying this far too much. “I’ll just go see what dear old uncle wants, won’t I?”

He winks at me as he walks away and I bare my teeth at him. But then he’s gone, and I’m left standing in the hallway, trying not to make eye contact.

“Hey,” Phillip says.

“Hey.”

“You left without saying good-bye the other night.”

“You were . . . busy.” That’s one way to describe it, I suppose. I angle my body toward the door, away from him. “How’s Jordan doing?”

Phillip winces. “Not great. But better. He’s healing, just slowly.”

“Good. I should get to work.”

“Okay.”

I frown at him, suspicious. He doesn’t usually give up this easy. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, and I realize he’s taken a step toward me, his bright eyes on my lips. “I won’t keep you.” Another step.

“Good. Because I’m already late.”

And now he’s standing right in front me, close enough to touch.

“Then you better hurry,” he says, and I can feel his breath on my face. I could turn, I could leave, but my feet don’t move from this spot.

“Goddammit,” I mutter, and then of course we’re kissing.

I open my mouth even as my brain screams at me that this is stupid.

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