Be Quiet and Obey

Chapter 22 - Seems you missed a spot

To say that Evie had been on edge would be putting it lightly.

After her successful attempt to fend off Branton's advances, she knew it would only be a matter of time before he tried again. Almost a week had passed and she knew he would be making preparations for her 'perfect' night.

The anticipation had thrown her into a constant state of anxiety. Her newfound habit of pacing offered no salvation to the overwhelming dread that wracked her very core.

She was currently propped up in her bed, pillows encasing her in a soft fortress. Branton had been in her room a few minutes ago to inform her that lunch was ready. He believed her to be ill and had been humbly caring for her. He was constantly fussing over her by preparing meals and making sure that she had plenty of rest.

Evie knew that this was a short-term solution. She couldn't pretend to be sick forever.

Branton was going to try again.

She was mortified to think about what would happen if she refused him a second time.

He might hurt her. Or, if she believed Rex, kill her.

A knock on the door had her shaking away the thought. "Come in."

Branton nudged the door open with his side, while carefully balancing a tray of food. She forced out a cough as he entered, causing him to shoot her a look of concern.

"How are you feeling?" He asked, placing the tray on her lap. The smell of the fresh pumpkin soup caused her stomach to growl loudly.

"A little better," she croaked while dipping a piece of soft bread into the soup.

The bed dipped as Branton took a seat on the edge. "That's good to hear."

She watched as he leaned over to rest the back of his hand on her forehead. "It's reassuring that you don't have a fever."

Ever since the trip to the waterfall, Branton had used any excuse to touch her. He was under the impression that they were now an item.

He dropped his hand from her forehead to affectionately stroke her cheek.

Evie took a rather awkward mouthful of the creamy soup. "Thank you for the soup."

He smiled. "No need to thank me, you know I'd do anything for you."

Raising another spoonful to her mouth, she tilted her head as an odd sound suddenly filled her ears.

Soup splashed onto the tray as she dropped her spoon.

That was the doorbell.

Branton frowned as he rose to his feet. "I wonder who that could be."

Her eyes darted to the open door as he passed through it. As soon as it was closed no one would be able to hear her cries.

She opened her mouth only to receive a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, I'll get rid of them. I won't be gone long."

"WAIT!"

Her plea was met with the infuriating click of the lock.

...

Descending the stairs Branton vigorously rubbed the back of his neck in frustration. He was in no mood to deal with unexpected visitors.

Briefly stopping to cast his gaze towards Evie's room, he released a sigh before yanking open the front door.

He blinked at the sight of the two men standing on his doorstep. As usual, they were immaculately dressed, with a certain air of smug arrogance surrounding them.

It was impossible to mask the displeasure that unintentionally oozed from his voice. "Detective Collins, Detective Young, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

The detectives greeted him with just as much enthusiasm. Detective Young merely inclined his head, leaving the formalities to his partner.

"Good morning, Mr Mitchels," Detective Collins greeted, his Canadian accent doing absolutely nothing to hide his distaste. "Sorry to disturb you."

Branton quickly composed himself, waving his hand at the notion. "Not at all. I'm happy to assist in any way I can," he replied, his voice morphing into a casual tone. "Although, if you're here about Miss Wilson, I'm afraid that I don't have any new information."

"Mr Mitchels," Detective Young chimed in, "We're here in regards to your father."

"My Dad?"

The Detective's face remained blank. "When was the last time you saw him?"

Branton pursed his lips in thought. "Roughly four weeks ago. Why? Is he in some kind of trouble?"

"That's what we're here to find out," Detective Young announced. He removed his tinted shades, his chocolate eyes staring him down. Despite the light rain, there didn't seem to be a single drop on his smooth, dark skin. It was as though even Mother Nature knew better than to mess with him. "He hasn't shown up for work this past week."

Detective Young had never made any effort to hide the fact that he found Branton suspicious. He knew this creep was responsible for the girl's disappearance. His intuition had never steered him wrong.

Branton offered a small shrug at his comment. "That's not uncommon."

Detective Young remained firm. "His colleagues agreed that Robert skipping a few days wasn't that unusual. But he's never been absent for this long."

Branton hummed in thought. "If he's not at home, I'm not sure where he might be. To be honest, he and I aren't exactly close."

Detective Collins pulled out a worn notebook from his leather jacket. "Did your father have any enemies? Owe anyone money?"

Branton shook his head. "No. But like I said we're not very close, so I wouldn't know about his affairs."

Detective Collins briefly glanced at his partner.

Are you buying into this?

Detective Young's eyes shined with suspicion.

He's hiding something.

Detective Young clicked his tongue. "You know, it's awfully strange," he started.

Branton clenched his jaw, he knew where this conversation was heading.

"First that young girl disappears from your place of work, and now your father is missing."

"Strange indeed," Detective Collins agreed, narrowing his eyes.

"Look," Branton started, his voice steady, "We've already been through this. I was on campus grounds when Miss Wilson went missing."

Detective Young crossed his arms. "And yet, there isn't any footage to support your claim."

"I told you," He emphasised each word carefully, "I had just finished my shift and was taking a shower."

"Conveniently one of the only places on campus without surveillance," Detective Collins retaliated.

Branton willed himself to remain calm. These two sounded like broken records, always coming at him with the same lines, but unable to prove anything.

"If you have finished with your questions, I'd like you to leave."

Detective Young returned his shades. "That will be all for today."

Branton watched as the detectives started their descent down the stairs, his deep breathing slowly cooling his boiling blood.

Detective Young stopped halfway, making a sound as though he had forgotten something. "Oh and Mr Mitchels."

He turned back towards Branton, a smirk plastered on his face. "We found blood at your father's house. Seems you missed a spot."