“Collected?”
“I think he meant abducted. Stole. He said something that related the situation to us.”
“Okay.” His voice held a deeper note of curiosity now, and it spurred her on.
“I think he told me that a pregnancy occurred with one of these women, and twins were born, a boy and a girl. And he mentioned a ball that turned into a massacre.”
He blinked, reaching out and taking her hands in his. “Noelle, all of that might be something to look up. Certainly if there was a massacre of some sort, it would be in the news. So would women reported missing . . . maybe there was even an arrest of someone who now is free, someone we can investigate.”
“Or maybe it was all a load of crap.” She paused. “I gave that information to the FBI, too, and they told me at the time that there was nothing in police databases that matched that type of crime.”
He deflated slightly. “Maybe they weren’t looking for the right things. Or maybe no one ever got caught.”
“Maybe.” She drew her shoulders up. She’d been the one who’d pushed this conversation, and she’d been eager to speak about it, to get it out. But it’d taken a lot out of her, too, and she suddenly felt the exhaustion that came with the weight of the memories from that upstairs room. The men who’d raped her, the way she’d bled, the way it’d hurt, how revolting she’d felt attempting to clean herself with her underwear and then putting them back on—the way the remembered pain hit her sometimes when she least expected it. My God, it was so unspeakably disgusting. She leaned back, depleted. Who had that man been, and how had he known her so objectively?
“We should go to bed,” Evan said. “And talk more in the morning, or when something else comes to one of us.”
She nodded, meeting his gaze. He was searching for something in her face, so she averted her eyes. She knew what he was looking for, and he’d find it if she didn’t turn away. She wanted him too. She felt vulnerable and sad, and she wanted him the way she always wanted him when she felt alone in the dark. Noelle stood. “Thank you for tonight,” she said. “I know it didn’t exactly end as fun as it started off.”
He stood too. “It’s okay. You didn’t really make this trip for fun. I enjoyed tonight.” He looked briefly shy, boyish. “And maybe we have another something to follow when we get back.”
He walked her to the door and then stood watching as she let herself into her room. She was exhausted, physically, mentally, and emotionally, and yet after she’d sent Paula a quick text and climbed into bed, she spent a long time staring at the ceiling, restless and sleepless and swearing she could feel Evan’s heat emanating from the wall next door.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Noelle looked around at Evan’s office. It was small, and he obviously hadn’t put a lick of design thought into it, but it was oozing potential. There was exposed brick along the far back wall, the ceiling was high and had black-painted exposed ductwork, and there were two extremely tall windows looking out onto the street that let in a ton of natural light. It had a good vibe, even if it desperately needed a throw rug and a few pieces of art.
“The typical shady PI digs?” he asked.
She laughed. “No, actually, Sherlock, I was just thinking the opposite. You need something much more dreary with less character if you’re going to uphold the shady PI role.”
He grinned. “Have a seat.” She took a few steps to the plastic chair on the other side of his wooden desk with the black leather inset. The desk was cool. The chairs looked like he’d picked them up at the local Walmart. She sat down on the cheap plastic and crossed her legs.
Evan took the seat across from her and pulled out a file. They’d arrived back in Reno the afternoon before, and she’d spent the rest of the day cleaning out the remainder of the items in the storage container. She’d scheduled a pickup with a local secondhand store that had taken the large items of furniture she didn’t want. She’d considered keeping her dad’s recliner, but there was no practical way to get it to South Carolina, and she didn’t have room for it in her cottage anyway.
She did keep one of her mother’s plates, though not the entire set. She would put it on a stand on her bookcase when she got home. And she found the box of photographs she’d been looking for and took that too. The bright spot had been calling Callie and telling her that she had photos to share with her when she got home. Photos of when Noelle was a little girl. Callie had giggled with delight, and the sweet, innocent sound had given Noelle a much-needed boost.