Twirled Bond (Holly Woods Files, #5) (23 page)

“Wait—Lucas Hargreaves?” Drake interrupts. “Doesn’t he play for Dallas? That can’t be the same guy.”

“The very same,” Carlton confirms. “He was their first-round draft pick that year. Just last season, he became their number-one running back when Rogers left for New York.”

“Do you have his contact details?” I ask, flicking through the file.

“Yes, but by all accounts, he seems pretty hard to get ahold of. But, if he is your guy—and I know he is—then, as soon as you tell him about Daniela, it shouldn’t be too hard.”

“I can call,” Drake says, taking the file from my hands. “I’m more likely to get through his people than you are.”

“But then you have to deal with Dallas PD.” I wrinkle my nose. And that’s not something I want to deal with either. Ever.

Drake’s eyes soften instantly. “Then how do you want to play it?”

“His personal cell is in there.” Carlton nods toward the file.

I snap my head around to him. “His personal—what? How?”

“Honestly, haven’t you learned this yet?” He raises his eyebrows. “There’s nothing you can’t find out about somebody on the Internet, Noelle. Nothing is secret.”

“H
i, Mr. Hargreaves. My name is Noelle Bond, and I’m the owner of Bond Private Investigations in Holly Woods, Texas. I’ve been hired by the Russo family to investigate the disappearance of their daughter, Daniela Russo, and my search has uncovered letters you sent Daniela some fifteen years ago. I’d really love to speak to you if you have time in your schedule.” I finish by reeling off both my cell and my office numbers and the times I’m available on either, and then I thank him.

I hope it works.

I don’t expect him to know anything about the abuse, but since the HWPD has been interviewing the Russo men for four hours now—yes, it took me a while to get the balls to make the call—I have hope that her family would be something they’d have spoken about.

I have a lot of hope in this case right now, not that any of it seems to make the blindest bit of difference.

“Do you think he’ll call you back?” Mom asks, dipping a nacho into some sour cream. Obviously, she swindled all the information about the case out of me and my brothers. The woman is a master.

I shrug a shoulder. “I hope so. He might be the only person with answers.”

“I just can’t believe it, darlin’. To think that was happening to the poor girl all that time.”

“Nine months, by the dates in the journal.” I finally got the timeline out of Drake before he left this morning after our...ahem...breakfast. “It’s amazing what people can hide when they really want to.”

“And Drake really thinks it’s one of her family?” She scoops salsa up on another chip. She’s not gonna have room for her lunch if she carries on.

“I dunno, Mom. Statistically speaking, it probably is, but who? We don’t know. There are no hints anywhere about who it was. It’s like she wanted someone to know what was happening to her without actually telling anybody anything except that.”

Mom slowly shakes her head, a small lock of hair falling free from her clipped twist with the motion. She tucks it behind her ear. “Such a tragedy. It proves that the devil you know is sometimes the worst.”

“Yeah, well, I have Nonna, so you don’t need to tell me that.” I grab a chip, load it with cheesy sauce, and shove it into my mouth.

“She told your father she’d apologize if you come to dinner tonight.”

I shake my head. “Nope. I wasn’t kidding when I told Trent I’d rather walk through fire. I’m not forgiving her easily this time. She needs to learn her lesson.”

Mom coughs a laugh back. “She’s too big for the naughty step.”

“Mom.” I stare at her flatly. “She’s stressing me out. I understand she has this old-fashioned, traditional Italian way of thinking. Hell, I even respect it, but she doesn’t show me the same courtesy.”

“Darlin’, she’s always been like that. If the guy doesn’t propose quick enough, she’ll get onto you to do it. Like it fits with her vision of traditional.” She snorts. “She did it to me and your father.”

“You hate each other.”

“But Nonno loved me.” She winks.

I sigh and lean forward, resting my chin on my hand. “Did she really do it to you too?”

“Oh yeah. The joke was on her though—your father had already proposed. We just hadn’t told anyone yet.”

A small laugh escapes me. Yep. That sounds like my parents.

“What about Alison and Amelia? Pretty sure she was never this crazy with them.”

“Well, Alison was almost eighteen when she got pregnant, remember? I remember your grandmother being too excited about a great-grandchild initially, and by the time she realized the baby was out of wedlock, Trent had taken himself to confession to calm her and proposed.” Mom shrugs. “And Amelia... Well, she’s the smart one who avoided family dinner a lot.”

Yeah... “I wish I could avoid family dinner.”

“Just don’t forgive her until you’re married. Problem solved.”

“That’s gonna be a while.”

“I know.” Mom grins. “She means well, Noelle. Her method of doing it is just...”

“Really fucked?” I offer.

“Really fucked,” she agrees on a soft laugh. “The problem is that you’re a lot like me and a lot like her—with your father’s affinity for guns and chasing bad guys.”

That makes me smile.

“You’re stubborn and passionate, and it’s why you clash a lot. She thinks you’re infuriating when, if she could see how she acts, she’d realize you’re just as headstrong as she is.”

“And that’s the problem. In her head, I’m a disobedient brat, but she’s headstrong. Yet, if I were a pushover, I’d have wooden spoon marks on my butt to make me stronger.”

“I do vaguely remember her doing that once to Brody before I got home...” Mom’s lips twist in amusement. “I’ll talk to her again, but she’s pretty set on you coming to her so she can apologize.”

“Again. Really fucked.”

Our food is brought out then, and we pause our conversation to get it. Once the server has refilled our water and disappeared, Mom speaks.

“I’m sorry she’s giving you a rough time, darlin’. She forgets where her boundaries are.”

“Yeah. And she oversteps them when she gets Gianna involved.”

“She did—oh god. Now, I understand why you won’t forgive her. Speaking of Gianna...” She sips her water. “I just saw her yesterday with Malcolm. How is he?”

I swallow my bite of enchilada. “I honestly don’t know. Drake hasn’t spoken about it much. I think he’s dealing with it in his own way.”

“So not at all while he works on this case.”

I purse my lips. “Pretty much.”

“You know, if you meet Lucas Hargreaves, you’ll have to get his autograph for Silvio. He’s obsessed with the guy.”

That was a quick change of subject. “Uh, okay. I should get it even if he’s involved?”

“Noelle, darlin’.” Mom gives me that look that says
Really? Are you kidding me?
“You think her sixteen-year-old pen pal is involved? The guy she begged to help her?”

I point my fork at her. “Point well made, Mother.”

“I was the sheriff’s wife for fifteen years. My points are always made well.” She smiles. “That’s where you get it from.”

I didn’t doubt it.

“Your father bounced enough ideas off of me. I was always right. You get that from me too.”

I didn’t doubt that, either. “Okay. Then do you think Lucas will know anything that might help us?”

“I think, if anyone will, it’s him.”

He hasn’t returned my call.

My phone is on the loudest setting, and the vibration is on the most obnoxiously irritating setting. Not to mention I’ve checked it a thousand times. The urge to call him again is pretty overwhelming, but it’s almost ten p.m., so I don’t think it’s a good idea.

Ever since Mom said that he’s the person who’ll have information, my gut has been telling me the same. Maybe it’s influenced by her words, but I don’t know.

I do know there’s a giant piece of this investigation missing. There’s a gaping hole somewhere, and I can’t seem to fill it with anything. Even rereading and rereading the original case notes doesn’t make anything click.

This case feels like a jigsaw puzzle. Except the jigsaw puzzle is the one-thousand-piece one that’s nothing but baked beans. And a hundred pieces right in the middle are missing. And I’m putting it together in Hell.

That’s the perfect description.

I pull the box with the letters out from under the coffee table. Because Lucas’s letters to Daniela didn’t hold any evidence, I’ve been able to keep them. There are a helluva lot of letters, but maybe rereading these too will trigger something. Like a sentence or something that might hint at issues in Daniela’s life.

Before, I didn’t really look for anything like this. I just read them, and I’m a little ashamed to say I got too enthralled to even remember what half of them said now.

If she had problems and she told him, his response would be somewhere... Surely.

I think.

I hope.

There it is again—hope. Such a small word for such a big meaning. Such a tiny, insignificant word for a feeling some people live their lives by every single day, for something that can mean so much to so many. For, when it rears its head, such a vital and important emotion.

It’s a small word for what I feel; I know that much to be true.

I open the box and pick the first letter up. It still feels like invading her privacy, but not as much as reading her journals. I still think Lucas must have been incredibly important to her, more than just the pen pal he appears to be today. So many letters detailing so many different things... It doesn’t seem right for him to be less than everything to her.

I’ve read too many romance novels. Pretty sure.

The front door opens as I’m about to dive into the first letter. I glance up and see Drake walking in, looking tired.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” he says. “I didn’t think you’d be home.”

“Why not?” I frown. “Where else would I be?”

“I thought you’d have given in after your lunch date with your mom and gone to dinner. I thought you might still be there.”

I shake my head and pull the letter out of the envelope. “Nope. I’m sticking to my guns on this one.”

“Good for you. I’m going to change.” He kisses the top of my head and heads upstairs while I read.

The first letter is cute. It’s all about who he is, what he does for fun, his favorite sports team, where he lives... It’s like a literary first date.

The second isn’t much else. I skim the first few until I reach a point where his correspondence becomes more natural and fluid, as though he were literally writing in a journal. He tells her how his parents are fighting, which sucks, how he’s afraid he’ll get dropped from the football team because he missed a practice, and how his sister keeps crying because her boyfriend cheated on her with the head cheerleader, and he wishes her luck for tryouts.

In the next, he writes about how happy he is that she made the cheer team. He asks her all sorts of questions about the tryouts and the routines. His next paragraph is obviously in response to her letter, because it momentarily switches back to sports and his family. Then he talks books and how he’s about to start the new
Harry Potter
, and does she have it? Could they buddy-read it and talk about it like a pen pal book club?

Apparently, being sixteen years old, on the football team, and a Potterhead wasn’t a dream combo back then.

“What are you reading?”

I hold one of Lucas’s letters up. “I’m trying to see if there’s something I missed before. They talked about a lot of stuff. Listen. This is adorable.” I find the
Harry Potter
page. “‘
If I tell you something, you can’t laugh. Obviously you can’t agree right now, but I’m gonna tell you anyway. I’m obsessed with
Harry Potter
. My books are starting to fall apart. I just got the new one to read... Do you have it yet? If you have...can we read it together? Like a book club? I won’t start until I get your letter and you tell me when.’
”

“Yeah. Real cute.” Drake frowns.

I roll my eyes. Clearly, he doesn’t understand how hot it is when guys read. Or how cute it is when a teenage boy asks his teenage-girl pen pal to read a book for her.