Page 55 of Hutch (Minnesota Raptors #2)

“My name is Baas. Barry told me to call you to get details. He has me looking into your girlfriend’s disappearance.

I have a ninety-eight percent success rate finding people.

I already have a copy of the restraining order and I have my people working on Ayer’s background including dumping his phone.

If he’s stupid enough to have his own phone on him, we’ll track him to within inches of his location.

What I need from you is to know what happened tonight. ”

“I don’t fucking know!” My voice cracks as emotions stronger than I can control them take over.

“She was at the game. She left early to make sure Lucy got back to her hotel before curfew. Then she was supposed to go straight home. I got there, she wasn’t there.

I came to the hotel. There’s police everywhere, ambulances, and no one will fucking tell me anything! ”

“Point of contact is the hotel,” Baas says, ignoring my outburst. “I’ll have people there within minutes to get the CCTV footage. Have the police spoken to you?”

“They tried, but Gloria told me not to talk to them without an attorney. I did give them my alibi.”

“Good. Don’t say anything else to anyone. If you have people with you, tell them the same.”

“I have Dylan and Collin with me.”

“They don’t speak to the cops without an attorney present. Can you text Daisy’s phone number to me? I’ll get to work on tracking her phone’s GPS.”

“Yes.”

“I’ll call back when I have anything to report.”

He disconnects the call, but before I can even process what just happened, there’s more knocking at my window. Barry and Cherese are standing there, looking miserable in the cold. Collin opens the back door for them and scoots over to let them in. They both look harried.

“Well, I didn’t think we’d be here this soon,” Barry says. “How are you holding up?”

“They won’t fucking tell me anything! How do you think I’m holding up?” I can’t keep the frustration and anger out of my voice, even if I am talking to the owner of the Raptors hockey team.

“The police aren’t prone to sharing details of a case,” Barry says. “It’s why I called an old friend of mine. He and his sisters run the best PI and security firm in the country. He’ll have answers a lot faster than the police will.”

“He called.”

Barry nods. “I gave him your number. He’s going to want a debrief and soon. The more information you can give him, the faster he can find her.”

“If Lucy’s not dead, she’s your best source of information. She’s the one who walked in on him beating the shit out of Daisy and she knows him. They all went to school together.”

“The basketball player?”

I nod, suddenly exhausted. Where is she? Is she even still alive? I can hear the bastard’s voice in my head, describing in detail what he’s going to do to her and how she won’t survive it this time.

“I forwarded all the text and voicemails per your request to Baas as well,” Cherese says. “Now, Hutch, what have you told the police?”

“Only where I was tonight so they could verify it.” My voice has gone hollow, wooden. What’s she going through right now? Has he already killed her?

Another knock at the window and I turn to see the same detective standing there. He looks none too pleased at all the new people in the Jeep.

“How did all of you get through the police line?” he demands.

“We simply walked,” Barry tells him. “I’m Barry Krantz, owner of the Raptors hockey team.” He doesn’t sound pushy or entitled, like he expects to be treated differently. He says it matter-of-factly.

“And I’m Cherese King, Mr. Hutchinson attorney.”

The detective’s expression sours.

She reaches through the seat and hands me a thumb drive. “That is a copy of the text messages and voicemails Joseph Ayers left Daisy Canton when she had him served with a restraining order. There are also copies of the hospital photos from when he nearly beat her to death last year.”

Has he killed her yet? Please don’t be dead. Please don’t be lying dead in that parking garage on the cold concrete floor.

“Is she dead?” I whisper. “Is that why you won’t let me go over there?”

“Who?” the detective asks.

“Daisy!” I shout.

“No, there was no Daisy on scene.”

“Then he took her.”

“Who?”

“Asswipe! Can’t you pay attention?”

“Calling me names is not…”

“He wasn’t calling you names,” Collin cuts in. “Asswipe is what we call her ex, Joseph Ayers.”

“The football player from Texas? The one who just declared for the draft? Those are some serious allegations.”

“Take the thumb drive, look at the evidence, and then tell us if you think they’re serious allegations or not. Now, my client is leaving. If you have questions for him, call me.” She hands me her card and I pass both the card and the thumb drive to the detective. “Mr. Hutchinson, we can leave now.”

“I need to see him at the station,” the detective says as I start the car. “There are questions he needs to answer.”

Cherese smiles. “I’m sure there are, but seeing as he gave you his alibi, you’ll need time to check that.

I’ve contacted our criminal division at the firm, and they assure me they’ll have our very best criminal attorney with Mr. Hutchinson at the station bright and early in the morning.

Not a minute before. He’s in no condition to answer questions tonight seeing as how his girlfriend is missing, and the police don’t seem to be looking for her.

Now, if you’ll excuse us, Detective, we’ll see you first thing in the morning. ”

Cherese taps my shoulder and I put the Jeep in gear, driving away from the scowling detective and heading to the one place that always feel safe to me—my mother’s.