But you haven't found her yet."
Atlas smiled. "Yes, I failed. Maybe Victoria was right to report it to the police. By doing so, her position is safer, isn't it?"
David didn't back down. "I'm just covering all angles, Mr. Hawk. You must understand how it looks from our perspective. It's my job to follow every lead, every possible motive."
Atlas took a deep breath, visibly trying to maintain his composure. "I understand, Detective. But I assure you, I am not your suspect. Beatrice's disappearance affects me personally and professionally. I want her back as much as anyone."
David stood up, concluding the interrogation for now. "We'll see, Mr. Hawk. We'll be in touch. And remember, anything that seems off, any small detail, could help us find Beatrice."
As David left the mansion, he couldn't shake the feeling that Atlas was hiding something crucial. The pieces were starting to form a pattern, but he needed more evidence to put it all together.
One thing was certain: he wouldn't rest until he found out what really happened to Beatrice Carter Hawk.
*
Victoria stood at the podium, her eyes red from crying and her cheeks streaked with tears.
She wore a simple black dress, contrasting with her pale skin, making her look vulnerable. Her hair was neatly pulled back, emphasizing her somber expression.
"Thank you all for coming," she began, her voice wavering slightly. "My sister, Beatrice Carter Hawk, has been missing for several days. We're doing everything we can to find her and bring her home."
The room buzzed with questions, but one stood out.
"Why hasn't Atlas Hawk made a public statement or reported his wife missing?" a reporter asked.
Victoria's face tightened briefly before she answered, "Atlas is devastated by Beatrice's disappearance. He's been working tirelessly behind the scenes, balancing the search efforts and his responsibilities at Carter Empire. He asked me to speak on behalf of the family because he believes it's important to present a united front."
She paused to let her words sink in. "Atlas is fully committed to finding Beatrice and is working closely with the authorities."
The reporters continued to take notes, whispering among themselves.
Another journalist asked, "Can you tell us more about the circumstances surrounding Beatrice's disappearance?"
Victoria nodded, her eyes welling up with tears. "Beatrice was recovering from a serious accident. She was transferred to a sanatorium for further care but went missing after a week. We are extremely worried and plead with anyone who has information to come forward."
Her voice broke, and she took a moment to compose herself. "Beatrice is a loving wife, sister, and friend. We need her back. If anyone has seen or heard anything, no matter how small, please contact the authorities."
Victoria maintained her composure as she continued to answer questions, her heartfelt plea aimed at garnering support and sympathy for Beatrice.
Despite her efforts, the absence of Atlas Hawk raised questions among the reporters and the public, adding another layer of mystery to Beatrice's disappearance.
In another part of the city, Atlas sat in his office, eyes fixed on the live broadcast of the press conference about his wife's disappearance. The room was dim, shadows playing across his face as he watched Victoria's tearful plea.
"That bitch," Atlas muttered, clenched his fist. He leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair, frustration etched on his face.
Victoria's performance was making things worse. His carefully constructed image was unraveling, and he needed to regain control.
Grabbing his phone, he dialed a number. "I want an update on the police search," he barked as soon as the call connected. "Handle this, now."
He ended the call abruptly, his mind racing. As the broadcast continued, Atlas knew time was running out.
*
David sat at his cluttered desk in his dimly lit office, his eyes fixed on the muted television screen where Veronica, under scrutiny for embezzlement, delivered her latest press conference.
Jenkins, his junior, leaned against the doorframe, his expression earnest. "What's your take on this, boss?"
David glanced at Jenkins, noting the eagerness in his eyes. "Watch her body language," David said, gesturing towards the screen. "She shifts when she denies any involvement."
Jenkins squinted at Veronica's composed demeanor. "You think she's hiding something?"
David nodded, flipping through the case files. "Her tone is too rehearsed. Let's cross-reference her statements with these Carter's board of directors meeting records. There might be discrepancies."
Jerkins frowned, looking concerned. "What discrepancies are you expecting to find?"
"We need to see if there are any changes in ownership of the major shares previously held by Beatrice," David explained. "According to legal documents, a significant portion was transferred to Victoria. We'll need to visit the family and Carter's company lawyer."
Hours passed, and as the television finally went dark, Jenkins stretched tiredly. "That was intense."
David leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes. "We're getting closer. Tomorrow, we'll follow up on these leads and see where they take us."
Jenkins nodded, a determined look on his face. "I'll bring the coffee. You keep dissecting those details, Boss."
David smiled, appreciating Jenkins' enthusiasm. "Sounds like a plan."
Just then, David's phone buzzed. He pulled it out and saw a new message from an unknown number. It read, "Come to the old cafe on Elm Street. Come alone."
David tried calling the number back, but it was already disconnected. His instincts told him this was important—maybe even a lead.
*
David Ramirez sat in the dimmest corner of the old café on the outskirts of town, his eyes fixed on the entrance.
The drizzle outside made everything feel even more somber, matching his worried mood. Three days Beatrice was missing, and he couldn't shake the dread in his heart. How could his childhood friend just vanish?
The door creaked open, and a hooded woman stepped in quickly. She scanned the room before locking eyes with David.
Slowly, she lowered her hood, revealing the familiar face of Beatrice.
"Bea?"
"Hi, David."
*