Girl Long Gone

By Danielle M. Haas

She feels a flutter of excitement from meeting and flirting with the interesting man she’d met online—and sharing details of her weekend plans. They had so many things in common…but sometimes one little mistake can have deadly consequences.

NYPD Computer Crimes detective Connor Mitchel’s sister is missing. As he combs through her life, he has a terrible suspicion that she isn’t this killer’s first target—or his last. Now Connor’s caught up in a twisted game of cat and mouse.

Just as he thinks he’s on the trail of the man responsible for his sister’s disappearance, Connor runs into an obstacle—shy, distrustful Evelyn Price. He’s almost certain Evelyn could be the killer’s newest target. But he’ll have to convince her to help him catch a killer before she becomes the next victim. But even if Connor and Evelyn can close in on their quarry, the killer has one last trick up his sleeve… one that could trap them all.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Macmillan Publishers
• Release date: May 25, 2020
• ISBN: 9781682816066

Danielle M. Haas

Danielle attended Bowling Green State University with a dream of studying creative writing, but the thought of sharing her work in front of a group of strangers was enough to make her change her major to Political Science. After college she married and had babies. Some days her sanity slipped further into crazy town so she decided to brush off her rusty writing chops. Now, she spends her days running kids around, and writing mysteries to die for and charcters to live for. 

Book preview

To Rusty, thank you for being a living reminder to always put family first. You’ll always be in my heart. Miss you always.

Chapter One

Some people believed money was the root of all evil, but Gabriel Wilson knew they were wrong. He’d always been evil. Money just made his life more fun.

Money had bought him a lot of things in his thirty-two years on Earth. His beautiful brownstone in Brooklyn, his summer home in the Hamptons, hell, it had even bought him his flawless reputation. Everyone in New York high society knew who he was and what he represented—class, sophistication, and a hint of mystery many people found appealing.

But most importantly, money had bought him his workshop. A little piece of seclusion in a busy city where he could sneak away unnoticed and concentrate on his true calling in life.

Gabriel strode to the center of the room, and the old wooden planks squeaked beneath his weight. Puffs of stale air swirled around him, sending wisps of what lay under his feet to his flaring nostrils—sawdust, dirt, and the lingering scent of death. His muscles clenched with desire. Too much time had passed since he’d visited the basement. He’d make sure to pay his respects after he got what he came for.

After he got what he needed from her.

A single lightbulb dotted the center of the ceiling, and he yanked the white cord dangling beside it. Brightness illuminated the dark space, but he didn’t blink from the sudden burst of light. He’d anticipated it.

But she hadn’t.

She squeezed her eyelids shut and jerked away from the penetrating shaft of light like she’d been kicked in the gut. Adrenaline raced through him. He hadn’t even touched her…yet.

Hello there, Kitty Kat. He couldn’t keep the lust in his gut from coating his words.

She was special. He’d known it from the moment he’d found her online dating profile. That’s why he’d fucked up and hadn’t taken his time, hadn’t made sure to keep his identity hidden. He’d have to lay low for a while, which meant he’d have to take his time on this one.

He traced his mouth with his tongue. Taking his time wouldn’t be a problem.

Narrowed blue eyes opened and sent sparks of hatred his way. Those eyes were what had drawn him in. Sapphire blue against skin the color of creamy mocha. The wild tangle of dark curls was icing on the cake.

A sliver of pain threatened to steal his pleasure. Her vibrant blue eyes weren’t quite as close to violet, and the dark-haired beauty he longed for had softer curls than the tight coils flowing down his new little pet’s back. But something about Monica Mitchel called to him the same way another young woman had a very long time ago—a young woman he would kill to have back in his arms.

The shrill ring of his phone stole his attention, and irritation rippled through him. A quick glance at the screen showed an unknown number. This is Gabriel.

He only half listened to the caller, his gaze locked on his kitty. Monica’s muffled cries couldn’t penetrate the tape across her mouth. A grin slid onto his face, and he fought the urge to chuckle. Good evening, Officer Sanders. I can come to the station and speak with you whenever you’d like. I’ll do whatever I can to help find this poor woman. I’d hate to think she’s in danger.

…

Detective Connor Mitchel tapped his foot against the cool tile in his kitchen and listened to the voicemail greeting on his sister’s phone for the hundredth time. Three days had passed since she’d been declared a missing person. Irritation and cold, hard fear warred within him, and he threw his phone across the room. The ball of panic weighing down his stomach told him everything he needed to know.

She was in trouble.

Mark Tyson, a homicide detective for the NYPD and his best friend, retrieved his phone from the floor and tossed it in his direction. Dude, you’re upset, but smashing your phone against the wall won’t help.

Connor let the phone fall at his feet with a thud. He sank onto the hard-as-nails kitchen chair and hung his head. Emotion misted in his eyes, but he swallowed it back. Tears would do Monica as much good as a broken phone.

On a deep breath, he lifted his face to Mark. Ice-blue eyes and a concerned scowl stared back at him. You’re right, but I’m going crazy. I need to do something, not sit here on my ass waiting for someone else to find her. My lieutenant might have refused to let me work her case, but I know what’s going on. There’s no trace of her.

He pushed up from his chair and ran a hand over the smooth surface of his shaved head. His nerves danced as he paced a short line back and forth across the galley kitchen. Each step brought a wave of uncertainty, each second that passed a new punch in the gut as he imagined every worst-case scenario possible. Being a detective on the Computer Crimes Squad gave him a front-row seat to some of the most horrific things human beings did to one another to make a quick buck.

A heavy sigh slumped Mark’s shoulders, and he pinched the bridge of his nose. You know why you can’t work the case? You’re too close. Hell, you shouldn’t have been surprised Lieutenant Miller recommended you take some time off. You won’t be able to concentrate on shit while Monica’s missing.

A snort of disgust puffed through Connor’s nostrils. Recommended my ass. I didn’t have a choice. And what’s the point? So I can sit around pounding my head against a wall when I could be helping find my sister?

Mark crossed the kitchen to Connor in three long strides and stopped his pacing with the weight of one heavy hand on Connor’s shoulder. You can help. Keep thinking of places she could have gone, people she’s talked to who aren’t a part of her normal circle of friends. You and Monica are close as hell. I can’t think of any other siblings who could live together in their late twenties and still be so tight. Something she said could be the key to finding her. No one disappears without leaving behind something—anything—to find them.

Frustration laced through him. All he’d done was think about where Monica could have gone, but dammit, nothing came to mind. Monica never deviated from her routine, not after their parents were killed years before. She’d gone from a slightly neurotic teen to a hyper-organized adult overnight, choosing to move in with him and try to schedule both of their lives as a way to cope with their loss. Their grief diminished over time, but Monica still kept a tight rein over all areas of her life. I’ve gone through everything a million times. His words snapped out like the tangled straps of a whip, but Mark didn’t so much as flinch. Not even the dark stubble-covered jaw tightened.

Then go over it again. The softness of Mark’s tone almost broke the shield of strength he’d erected over the past few days. He preferred his friend’s sharp-edged, no-nonsense approach to an investigation over his gentle prodding.

Connor turned away and jerked his shoulder from Mark’s hand. He couldn’t break down, couldn’t give in to the urge to wallow in his guilt and fear and every other godforsaken emotion threatening to pull him under. Monica was all he had. He couldn’t lose her.

A gust of wind blew through the open window in the adjacent living room, and the ends of his flimsy excuse for curtains billowed into the air, snagging on the end of his computer desk on their way back to the beige carpet. His fingers itched to fly over the keyboard and do something productive. Following his instinct and need for action, he hurried to his desk. The soft pecking of keys lifted and mingled with the sound of chirping birds and honking cars outside the window.

Straightening, he rolled his neck back and forth in an effort to release some tension and pointed at the screen. This dating site is the only thing new in Monica’s life. It’s the key to finding her. She’s a creature of habit, and growing up in a family full of cops made her more careful than most. I was surprised she even joined a stupid dating site. I went through her history. She talked to only one man. They might not have made plans to meet, but she told him everything about her life. He knew her work schedule, what nights she usually went out with friends, hell, she even told him parks where she liked to relax on her days off. She’d mentioned she’d be out late the night she went missing, and she’d bitched about the club her friends were making her go to. He knows what happened.

Mark wouldn’t have to move in Connor’s cramped apartment to see the computer screen. "You told the cops she’d signed up for EternalMatch. They interviewed Gabriel Wilson, and no red flags came up. Hell, he even had an airtight alibi for the night she went missing."

Irritation had Connor shaking his head. Something else had to be there, and they couldn’t see it. The guy shut down his profile. Why would he do that if he didn’t have anything to hide?

Mark shrugged. Maybe because he didn’t like having the police hound him in a missing persons investigation.

Connor bit the inside of his mouth until the tinny taste of blood mixed with his saliva. He’s hiding something. I know it. If no one else believes me, I’ll find another way to prove it. Maybe it was pure desperation training his focus on Gabriel, but years of police work taught him to trust his gut.

And his gut screamed to find out more about the only man Monica had shown any interest in the last three years. Nothing else made sense.

You already poked around Monica’s dating profile. What else is there to find? Suspicion turned Mark’s voice hard, but Connor didn’t give a shit.

Ignoring the question, he settled his weight into the comfortable chair and concentrated on the intricacies of the dating site. Whoever had put in the safeguards and written the code was good, but not as good as him. Time passed in a haze, and sweat tickled his forehead. Everything around him, including the irritated energy pouring off of Mark in waves, disappeared as he crawled closer and closer to his goal.

A pulse of satisfaction beat through him. He was doing something. He was using his resources to help his sister.

Glancing behind him, a wide grin cracked the somber expression that had been his constant companion the last few days. I’m in.

A deep frown pulled at Mark’s lips, and wrinkles marred the tanned skin of his brow. What did you do?

I pulled up Gabriel Wilson’s shut-down profile and can see every woman he’s messaged.

What? The word erupted from Mark, and he crossed the room with thunderous steps.

He knows more than he’s saying. Maybe he said something to one of these women that could lead to Monica. Maybe one of them will tell me what they know about this guy.

Dude, even if you find something of use, you can’t take it to the police now. Mark shook his head and scowled.

Connor pressed his lips together and turned back to face the computer. He didn’t need to take what he found to the police. He’d already hired someone who could help without red tape tying their hands.

He scanned the list of women on Gabriel’s match list and read through line after mundane line of conversation. A pictureless profile sparked his interest, and he pulled up their conversation history. Sonofabitch.

What’d you find? Mark peered over his shoulder.

Connor shifted his gaze to the time posted in the bottom corner of the screen. A woman, Evelyn Price, has talked with Gabriel for a few weeks. They’re meeting for coffee in five minutes.

You don’t have time to stop her. And even if you did, you have nothing to tell her to keep her away from him.

No, but she’s the only woman he seems to have made actual plans with. She might be able to help me. He dragged the cursor through the conversation between them and tried to find her number.

Mark snorted, the sound reminding Connor of his fat pug sleeping curled up in the corner of the couch—the pug Monica begged him to bring home. You think this guy is dangerous, and you’d ask a stranger to help you get close to him?

Locating the number, Connor grabbed his phone and made the call.

Please, God. Let this woman pick up her damn phone.

…

The warm breeze skimmed across Evelyn’s cheek, and she closed her eyes and let the soft tickle of air calm her jangled nerves.

It didn’t help.

The rapid beating of her heart raced along with the million excuses rushing through her brain. Meeting men for coffee in the middle of the day wasn’t a normal activity for her. Usually, she ignored men like the plague, especially ones with a history of using their charms to get anything they wanted.

Get a grip. I made it clear this isn’t a date. Just a guy I kind of knew from high school catching up and hopefully landing the biggest job of my life.

Filling her lungs with the crisp spring air, she gathered her nerve and grabbed the door handle of the coffee shop she’d recommended to Gabriel.

Ring, ring, ring.

The sound of her phone sliced through her facade of courage, and she shrank back into the crowd hustling down the congested sidewalk. She plunged her hand into her purse, and her sweat-slicked palm made grabbing her phone more difficult than it should be. A river of people swallowed up the sidewalk, engulfing her into their current of motion. She fought against them as she battled her way back to the front of her favorite coffee shop.

She lifted her shoulders in frustration and stopped under the small awning attached to the mom-and-pop store. She ignored the overwhelming call of coffee, the smell wafting through the open door in waves with every new customer, and finally yanked her phone from her purse.

The ringing stopped.

Evelyn huffed a breath of frustration that rustled her long bangs against her forehead. She glanced at the screen but didn’t recognize the number of the missed call. No voicemail registered. Pressing the lock button, she hoisted the phone in the air and squinted in an attempt to give her appearance one last check before stepping inside to see Gabriel Wilson for the first in almost ten years.

Ring, Ring, Ring.

Once again, her heart leaped into her throat. She was too damn on edge. The same unknown number popped up on her screen, and she hesitated to answer. Usually, she’d let her voicemail greeting pick up for a number she didn’t know, but answering her phone would buy her a few more minutes to put off coming face-to-face with the man who’d intimidated the hell out of her in high school.

A few more minutes won.

Hello?

Evelyn Price?

The obvious panic in the deep male voice had the hairs on her arms standing on end. Yes. This is Evelyn. Who is this?

Detective Connor Mitchel with the computer crimes division of the NYPD. Are you currently with Gabriel Wilson?

A beat of confusion—and fear—pulsed through her. Why would a cop want to know if she was meeting Gabriel, and how did he know her plans? How did you get my number? She couldn’t help the sharp bite in her words. Police made her nervous. Especially when they called her out of the blue on a number they shouldn’t have.

No time to explain. Gabriel Wilson is dangerous. You need to make an excuse to him, and then meet me wherever you feel comfortable. This is important.

Her humorless laugh cut him off. You can’t be serious. If Lacey put you up to this, it isn’t funny. Her roommate knew how nervous she was about seeing Gabriel. Hell, Lacey was aware of how hesitant she’d been to join the stupid dating app in the first place. It would be so like her to pull something like this to try to make her laugh.

I can assure you this is no joke.

The seriousness of his voice made her furrow her brow and annoyance flare hot in her gut. "I have no way of knowing you are who you say. Trust me, I’m more afraid of whoever got my number than of a guy I knew in high

Reviews for Girl Long Gone

[nelispelusa · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

So we meet Connor who decides to find out why his sister disappeared, who took her, answers he needs answers and the police are not getting them so he will. He hooks up with Evelyn who had the unfortunate meeting with Gabriel, he is the bad guy and we know this from the get go. I was interested because we enjoy the back and forth, and how Gabriel is and gets away with stuff. What I really didn't care for was Evelyn and why she was a part of the story she seemed unnecessary for me.rcvd an ARC at no cost to author..(netgalley) voluntarily reviewed with my own thoughts and opinions