“I’ll need to see your ID, too.”
Lilo handed her drivers license to Detective Donnelly.
He looked up. “You’re far from home, Miss Schroeder.”
“I flew out here, because I’m worried about my friend. Hannah Bergdorf. She’s missing.”
“Okay.” He reached for Blake’s ID and looked at it. “Thanks, Mr. Bond.”
Lilo whirled her head to Blake. His name was Bond? And he drove an Aston Martin? Really? She managed a glance at his ID. Indeed, it said Blake Bond. Not only did he look like Morgan West, he shared a last name with a fictional secret agent? If she wrote something like this in one of her books, nobody would believe her.
Too far-fetched, her editor would say.
Not believable, her critics would write.
“When did you last see your friend Miss Bergdorf?” the detective now asked.
“Over a year ago.”
He raised his eyebrows. “And you’re only now filing a missing person’s report?”
“She’s only been missing for three days. I flew out here as soon as I could to try to look for her. But she’s not in her apartment. Her dog is gone. And then this guy broke in and attacked me. He stole my phone, too. And then—”
“You were assaulted? And there’s a dog missing? And your phone was stolen?”
She nodded.
“So let me get this straight. We have a missing person, a missing dog, a burglary, an assault, and a stolen phone. Were there any witnesses to any of these alleged crimes?”
“Alleged?” She huffed. Did this man not believe her? But before she could say anything else, she felt Blake’s reassuring hand on her forearm.
“I witnessed the assault,” Blake said calmly. “I can give a description of the burglar who broke into Miss Bergdorf’s flat and attacked Miss Schroeder.”
She nodded, thankful for Blake’s presence, and added, “And I also think I know who might be behind Hannah’s disappearance.”
Both Officer Donnelly and Blake stared at her.
“You know?” Blake asked.
“Ronny, her loser boyfriend. I think she wanted to leave him.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about him earlier?”
She looked at Blake. “There wasn’t exactly time for that. I mean, between the break-in, the assault…”
“Miss Schroeder, can you elaborate on this Ronny? What’s his full name?” the police officer asked.
“I don’t know. Hannah never talked much about him. But from the few things she did tell me, I can tell what kind of person he is.” And that he wasn’t the kind of man who was good for a sweet and generous woman like Hannah, a woman who believed that everybody deserved help.
The police officer raised an eyebrow, but Lilo continued undeterred.
“He didn’t seem to have a regular job. And he was very possessive and jealous.” Something she abhorred in a man. It was a character trait that only led to trouble.
“Jealousy is not a crime, Miss Schroeder.”
“But it can lead to one. I’m telling you, you have to find Ronny. If anybody knows where Hannah is, it’s him.”
The police officer sighed. “Fine, Miss Schroeder. But let’s start with details about your friend, Miss Bergdorf.”
For the next few minutes, Lilo answered questions about Hannah’s appearance and habits, which the officer took down diligently.
“You wouldn’t have a photo of Miss Bergdorf, would you?”
“Not on me. I have some on my cell phone. But it’s gone.”
“Not to worry,” Blake interrupted. “Hannah works for the same company as I. I can get HR to send over a photo from her personnel file.”
Lilo gave Blake a grateful smile. It was lucky that he’d shown up—in more ways than one. Not only had he physically saved her, he was also here to support her in her search for Hannah. And right now she could use all the help she could get.
“Good,” Officer Donnelly said. “Now about the break-in and assault. Did you get a good look at the intruder?”
“I did. He was tall.”
“How tall?”
Lilo pointed to Blake. “About as tall as him.”
“Six foot two,” Blake offered.
“But heavier.”
Blake nodded. “About two-hundred-ten pounds.”
“Any identifying marks? Tattoos? Scars?”
Lilo shook her head. “None. He looked pretty average. Brown hair.”
“Brown eyes,” Blake continued. “Pretty ordinary.”
Ordinary? Lilo clamped her hand over Blake’s forearm. “Brown eyes? You didn’t see?”
Blake’s forehead furrowed. “See what?”
“His eyes were red. As if he had an infection like—”
“You mean like conjunctivitis?” the officer interrupted.
She looked straight at him. “No. It wasn’t the white part of the eye that was red; his irises were.”
“I’ve never heard of an illness like that,” Blake threw in, making her turn to him. “Maybe it was just a reflection.”