Inevitable Detour (Inevitability Book 1)(11)

I’m adamant, but unfortunately, all signs do seem to indicate Haven has done exactly that. Not only is her car gone, but when Officer Knowles’s partner returns to the living room after searching the apartment, he reports that nothing is amiss.

“There are certainly no indications Haven Shaw was abducted,” he states firmly, his gaze sliding to me pointedly.

“What did you find?” Burly Knowles inquires.

“Absolutely no sign of any struggle,” the partner says. “In fact, there’s nothing to indicate anyone was ever in her bedroom with her. Everything appears to be in perfect order.” He pauses then turns to speak solely to me. “A few missing clothes, Miss Brant, doesn’t mean your roommate was abducted.”

His reference to the clothes I told him were missing doesn’t sway me. “It’s more than just a few,” I firmly state. “A lot of Haven’s clothes are gone, a bunch of her shoes, too. And her suitcase, the big one that holds a lot, isn’t in her closet. Half the makeup that was on her vanity is no longer there. Plus, her cell phone and purse are gone.”

I suspect that if Eric and Vincent abducted my friend—and I’m sure they did—they took the time to make it look like she left of her own volition. But I don’t have a chance to add that theory to the mix, as Officer Knowles, before I can speak, says gently, “I’m sorry your friend took off without telling you where she was heading. But these things happen all the time. The semester is over, finals are completed, people are anxious to take off, and—”

“Haven wouldn’t just leave in the middle of the night,” I interrupt, my voice but a whisper.

They don’t believe me, I think. And nothing is going to change their minds.

Officer Knowles clears his throat. “Bottom line, Miss Brant, is that there’s absolutely no sign of foul play. I’m afraid there’s nothing more we can do.”

They’re going to leave. They’re going to walk out that door, and you’ll never find Haven.

“What about the men we brought home last night?” I blurt out. “Maybe you should talk to them. One of them could have driven Haven’s car. Maybe that’s why it’s missing. The other guy probably took her in the car they were driving. I gave you the description of the vehicle, right?”

“Yes,” Officer Knowles replies, sighing. He’s sounding put out now.

Still, I continue. “Just because her clothes and belongings were packed doesn’t mean she packed them. Even if she did, maybe she was forced to. Like, at gunpoint.”

There, I got that theory out. But all the officers do is roll their eyes.

I hurriedly add, “What about the aspirin the one named Vincent gave me? I think it could have been something else. I mean, I passed out immediately. And then I slept, like, forever.”

Officer Knowles shakes his head. “Miss, you told us all of this. And need I remind you that you also said you and your friend were out drinking last night. Perhaps that’s why you passed out and slept in so late.” He eyes me warily, sighs, and then concedes, “But we can talk to these two men, if it will make you feel better. Who knows…maybe your friend mentioned to one of these guys where she was going.”

Officer Knowles removes from his shirt pocket the small flip tablet and pen he used to take notes earlier. “What are the names of these two fellows?” he asks, huffing.

“Eric and Vincent,” I say. I begin to provide a quick description of each, but realize there was nothing distinguishing about either one of them. Sure, they were hot, and Eric did look like True Blood’s Eric. But still, when all is said and done my descriptions sound very general.

Officer Knowles dutifully jots down the info, and then he prompts, “Last names?”

“Uh…” I bite my lip, scrunch up my face.

“Miss Brant?”

“I don’t know their last names,” I admit.

He shakes his head and flips his tablet closed. “You said they were from out of town, though. Is that right?”

“Yes,” I reply. “They said they were from New York City.”

“Do you happen to know where in Oakwood they’re staying?”

“They never said.”

“Maybe nowhere,” Knowles’s partner muses.

“What do you mean?” asks Officer Knowles.

“They could have just driven in and driven back.”

“Hmm,” says Knowles. “That is a possibility. New York City is not that far away. They could have driven in yesterday and drove back last night.”

“Yeah, with Haven,” I cry out.

Both men shake their heads, and then Officer Knowles says, “I’m sorry, but there’s no proof of anything like that happening. No proof at all.”

“I just have a feeling,” I whisper.

To which he replies, “We operate on evidence, Miss Brant, not feelings.”



As the weekend progresses, I discover, to my chagrin, I am on my own in my search for Haven. I call a few of our mutual friends, but no one has heard anything from Haven. Everyone sounds rushed, and why wouldn’t they be? They’re all packing up and leaving for the summer. It doesn’t help that Haven’s quirkiness and spontaneity are common knowledge. No one sounds too concerned to hear she’s missing. They believe as the police do: Haven Shaw just up and took off.