The Lost Girls (Blake Wilder FBI Mystery Thriller Book 6) by Elle Gray

Author:Elle Gray [Gray, Elle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-07-02T16:00:00+00:00

Twenty

Wilder Residence; The Emerald Pines Luxury Apartments, Downtown Seattle

I’m sitting at the desk in my living room, my laptop open, sipping from a glass of Chardonnay as the guitar acrobatics of Django Reinhardt wash over me. I’ve been doing some research on the twenty-one missing girls. Obsessing over them, really. Ever since Mo and Rick dropped that on me yesterday, I haven’t been able to get them out of my head. The fact that Burton had the debit cards of twenty-one—no, twenty-two—missing girls, seems to reinforce the human trafficking theory.

I’ve gone over the list a thousand times already, digging up all the information about the missing girls I can find. I’ve looked up their socials and read every newspaper article I could get my hands on. I looked into the police reports about their disappearances, but there wasn’t much to see. I don’t even know how vigorously their cases were pursued, honestly. But none of them was very high-profile, so knowing the SPD as I do, I’d guess the officers who caught the cases didn’t expend a whole lot of energy.

I’ve been looking for some nexus between them and Selene, and other than Burton, I haven’t found anything. They all just vanished without a trace. And apparently, Burton has been bleeding their accounts—presumably on the orders of the man in the hoodie. But who in the hell is he? That’s the question that needs to be answered. That guy is going to be the key to all of this. If we can track him down, I have a feeling we’ll be able to crack this case wide open.

I take a sip of my wine and sit back in my chair, closing my eyes and letting the music soothe me. My shoulders are tight with tension and I’m having trouble relaxing. This case is really getting under my skin. I’ve gone from thinking that it was a case of a spoiled rich kid jetting off on an impromptu vacation to thinking it’s something bigger. And something much, much darker.

The knock on the door startles me, and I jump up, very nearly spilling my glass of wine. I set the glass down on my desk, grab the holster I’d set down next to my laptop, and slide my weapon out. I wasn’t expecting anybody tonight. As I said, a little paranoia is a good thing. Keeps you healthy and above ground.

Holding my weapon down at my side, I make my way to the door and look at the monitor that displays the picture from the doorbell camera I had installed, and freeze. An ice-cold chill sweeps through me when I see Mark—or whatever his real name is—standing on the other side of my door. I give brief thought to simply not answering, but I just get the feeling he knows I’m home. After all, what kind of spy would he be if he didn’t know, or couldn’t get, basic information like that?

With a sigh, I unlock the door and open it to him, trying to put on the best smile I can muster.

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