Gone in the Night

by Anna J. Stewart

  “There’s no predicting what’s going to help at this point.” Allie gathered her things and glanced over at him. For the first time since they’d met—had that only been this morning?—he noticed how tired she looked. Her eyes had gone heavy, she was moving almost in slow motion, and her shoulders had slumped, which had him wondering exactly what was weighing on her. “I’m going to check in with Jack and your brother, see if there’s anything they might need me for before I head out. I’m sorry finding Gemma didn’t turn out the way you’d hoped.”

  Max flinched. “Should have realized it wouldn’t be that easy. Especially where Gemma is concerned.”

  “She could surprise you, you know. She could turn up to support Joe.”

  “And in related news—” He leaned over and pointed skyward. “Oh, my bad. No pigs flying overhead.”

  Allie gave him a sad, tired smile. He was glad she liked his sense of humor. “You don’t have much faith in people, do you?”

  “Low expectations means I can’t be disappointed. In my experience, people always let you down. Especially the ones you think you’re closest to.” He narrowed his eyes, peered closer as he saw a light flash in her eyes. “Well, that was sneaky, Doc. You got yourself into my head after all, didn’t you?”

  “Mmm.” Allie shrugged. “Maybe a little. I don’t like that you think that. I can’t imagine how different my life would have been if I’d never met Eden or Simone or—” She broke off and flinched before she glanced out her window. “I would have been so incredibly lonely without them. So I guess I’ve had the exact opposite experience as you.”

  “Really? Lonely? Even with your—what is it? Twenty-seven siblings?” He had trouble choking that number out, let alone imagining what growing up with all those kids had been like.

  “Now who’s playing shrink?” She hugged her bag against her chest like a shield. “Believe me when I say you can feel utterly alone in a crowd. And for the record, that would be twenty-seven foster brothers and sisters, most of whom I haven’t seen in years. My parents took that ‘embrace life and experience everything possible’ speech to heart from the second they got married. I think they always expected to have more kids of their own, but I was their first and only. So they filled up the house in other ways. When they weren’t traveling the world trying to save it.”

  “Must have made for an interesting upbringing.” He’d bet every penny in his meager bank account she couldn’t hear how sad she sounded talking about her childhood.

  “So how many questions are you up by now? Do I get some free nickname guesses?”

  “Have at it.” He recognized a sore topic, not to mention a diversion, when he heard one. “You get three.”

  “I could go through the seven dwarfs. Dopey, Sleepy, Bashful...oops. Nope. I retract the last one.” Her face brightened, her cheeks went pink and she smiled at him, lightening what he only now realized was his very heavy heart. “You’re definitely not bashful.”

  “Truer words. Allie?” Was that the first time he’d said her name?

  “Yeah.” She hugged her bag tighter.

  “Tell me we’re going to find her.” It was the question he didn’t want an answer to. It was the only question that mattered.

  “I hope so.” That Allie didn’t hesitate bolstered his flailing hope, but he heard the defeated tears in her voice as she reached for the door handle. “I really hope so.”

  He watched her get out of the truck and head inside, physically pulling herself together as she slipped her sweater back on, hitched her bag over her shoulder and walked up the path to his brother’s front door.

  During the drive back, most of which had been done in silence, he’d replayed every minute of the day in his mind. Recalling Allie’s behavior, statements she’d made, her reaction when she’d removed the cap on that perfume bottle. That wasn’t disgust he’d seen on her face as she’d claimed. That was fear, pure and simple.

  As a man who listened to his gut first and his brain second, he had no doubt Dr. Allie Hollister knew far more about Hope’s kidnapping than she was saying. As she wasn’t being forthcoming, he was going to have to get creative about uncovering the truth.

  Creative and cunning.

  He got out and locked his truck, pocketing his keys as he followed behind her, glancing at her car as he passed. She’d left it unlocked.

  Max stopped and pulled out his cell phone in case anyone was watching him. He pretended to check his messages as he circled around and popped open her driver’s door. The trick to getting away with doing something wrong was to act as if everything was perfectly normal.

  He would have slid in behind the steering wheel if the seat hadn’t been so far forward he’d have crushed his ribs. Instead he braced his hand on the seat, leaned over and released the glove compartment latch. No surprise here. Neat and tidy, even in the glove box. All he found was the owner’s manual, a tin of mints, a flashlight and...aha!

  Her car registration.

  Even as he pulled out what he’d been searching for, he winced. Women, especially single women, shouldn’t keep their registration in their cars, especially if they had a...yep. He flicked open the compartment between the seats. Garage door opener. He made a mental note to suggest she change her habit as he took a picture of her address.

  He closed her car back up, left it unlocked despite his desire not to, and made his way through the dozen or so people milling about with cameras, microphones and various other media-friendly devices aimed around the property. He narrowly avoided colliding with a svelte, older woman in loose-fitting clothes and a red baseball cap. When someone shouted his name, he pretended not to hear and picked up his pace.

  Let Joe take the lead on the public communications aspect. His brother was the brains of, well, everything. Max was the brawn. Always had been, always would be.

  Even when—especially when—it came to the people he loved.

  * * *

  Allie stood away from the crowd while Joe Kellan sat on his living room sofa and answered the questions lobbed at him by a group of local reporters. In the hours she and Max had been gone, the Kellan house had transformed into a hub of activity that Allie wasn’t nearly as comfortable in.

  If she closed her eyes and let herself, she could remember being nine years old with a camera and microphone shoved in her face on her way to school. With Simone’s absentee parents out of the country at the time and Allie’s parents’ lackadaisical attitude regarding Chloe’s death, it had been Eden’s parents who had stepped up and taken Allie and Simone into their home, into their hearts. Finally, a place where she felt wanted, cared for. Loved. Until years later, when Eden’s parents had been killed by a drunk driver, throwing them all off-kilter again.

  It was a miracle the three of them could even define normal.

  Allie’s lesson had definitely been learned, however. Alone she didn’t have to worry about loss, didn’t have to worry about disappointing anyone or, for that matter, feeling invisible. Case in point, she was anxious to leave, to connect with her friends and to see what progress, if any, they and their significant others might have made.

  Allie stepped into the corner of the foyer, the sturdiness of the wall bracing her as Jack caught sight of her. After a quick word to Lieutenant Santos, who handed Jack an envelope, the detective headed her way. The strain of the day lay heavy in his weary eyes; the wrinkles in his shirt told her even his clothes were exhausted. Wanting more privacy than a corner would provide, Allie led the cop down the photograph-lined hall to Joe’s office just as she spotted Max walking into the house.

  She closed the door behind Jack, keeping her voice low, her desire to put some distance between her and Hope’s uncle more intense than she would have liked. “Any news?”

  “Not since you texted me twenty minutes ago.” Jack braced his hand on the polished door. “And not from anyon
e who might have abducted Hope. Are you okay? I spoke with the officer from Napa who was on scene when Kent Devlin left. Said there was a nasty scene between him and Gemma Kellan in the parking lot.”

  “Sounds like we missed a show, but I’m not surprised,” Allie muttered. “First time I’ve ever seen a man sprout a conscience before my eyes. Gemma showed her true colors and none of them were pretty.” She tried not to feel discouraged that no word of Hope had come. “What about the perfume vials I found in Hope’s room? Any word from Quinn?”

  “He went to the local offices to check in on the lab, or maybe just to get some air. So far, all we know is the vials you found are from the mid-to late-1990s. You can still find them in novelty shops and online auction sites. They’re big with collectors, which could lead us somewhere. Going to take some time to track down any sales, though.”

  “If they even mean anything,” Allie finished for him. “Go ahead. You can say it, Jack. You’re still not convinced this is connected to Chloe.” She rubbed two fingers against her temple to interrupt the headache trying to take hold. Right now, she wasn’t sure about her own convictions. “Jack?”

  “They took a closer look at the plant you found up at the girls’ campsite.”

  “That doesn’t sound cryptic at all.” Allie crossed her arms over her chest. “Out with it already.” What possible news could he give her that would make things worse?

  “They found this in the bottom of the pot under the dirt.” Jack flipped open the envelope and withdrew a plastic evidence bag. “The lieutenant brought it for you to confirm...”

  Allie didn’t hear him. She gripped the plastic bag in her fingers and examined the weathered, beaten-up photograph of her, Simone, Eden and Chloe, taken the Christmas before Chloe disappeared. All four of them, arms around each other, smiling faces grinning into the camera, the sun shining down on them, an odd sunspot or glare in the bottom right corner of the picture. “Confirm what?” Allie choked out.

  “Any idea where he—or she—might have gotten this? It’s not like you’ve left childhood photographs lying around town in the last twenty years.”

  “Same place he’s found the stationary Simone used as a kid, or the perfume Chloe loved?” She was the one who was supposed to have the answers or, if not, at least a good guess or two. Instead all she ended up with were more questions.

  “We can’t keep this connection quiet much longer, Allie,” Jack said. “At some point it’s going to break. Something will leak, a reporter’s going to get too close or this maniac is going to let something slip—”

  “He won’t. That I’m sure of.” The weariness that had been creeping up Allie’s spine vanished. Until this moment, she had let herself have the slightest doubt that she’d been wrong. That all of what had happened was a horrific coincidence. But seeing her best friends’ childhood faces on the same day she’d sat beside three other little girls who were missing their friend was almost too much to process. “It’s his game. His rules. If he wanted to make this a public spectacle, he would have.”

  He’d gotten his kicks with Eden by saving her from a serial killer with an anonymous call to the police; then with Simone by sending her photographs the most practiced of stalkers would have been proud of. He’d been watching them—all of them—for weeks, months. Maybe years.

  The very idea made her sick to her stomach. “This isn’t about the three of us anymore, and it’s not just about Chloe. This is about Hope and doing everything we can to bring her home.” She tilted her head as the thoughts coalesced. “I’m tired of hiding, of cowering behind the what-ifs. We know what those ifs are now. He went after someone I care about. He expects us to retreat.” It’s what they had been doing, she realized. And it hadn’t protected anyone.

  “If that’s the case, we need to do what we can to control the spread of information,” Jack said. “Otherwise the department is going to face all kinds of accusations we don’t have the time to deal with.”

  “You already came to this conclusion, didn’t you?” Allie asked.

  “The LT and I might have discussed it. He has some ideas and connections we can use to soften the blow, but you’re right. We’ve moved beyond Chloe at this point. Are you three going to be able to get on board with this?”

  “We’ll have to.” Allie swallowed hard. This case had been so personal to them for so long, it didn’t feel right to turn it loose to the masses. But if they were going to bring Hope home... “Yeah, okay.” She couldn’t stop looking at the picture, at her past. And imagining the future that might have been. “I’ll talk to them. Honestly, I don’t think it’ll be a hard sell. How long do you think you can give us before the story breaks?”

  “Twelve, maybe twenty-four hours?” Jack shrugged. “Depends if we get any tips from the interviews Joe’s been giving.”

  “Okay.”

  “That means upping the protection details on all of you.”

  “Figured.” A complete waste of manpower as far as Allie was concerned. Whoever took Hope had only come after Eden the one time and even then she wasn’t the one who got hurt; another FBI agent had. Special Agent Simmons had survived—and subsequently retired—but every threat they’d received since had been doled out at an arm’s length.

  Then again, if Chloe’s killer was changing the rules...

  “If you wouldn’t mind passing that information along to Vince, I’d appreciate it,” Jack said. “I don’t want it to seem as if I don’t trust the P.I.’s ability to catch a bullet in his teeth.” Simone’s fiancé had already turned her apartment building into Fort Knox.

  Allie grinned. “Leave it to you to find the humor in this. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going home to change.” And try to figure out the best way to impart the truth of the situation to a very suspicious and determined Max Kellan.

  Allie handed the picture to Jack as if she were putting herself and her friends’ lives under his protection. “Do yourself and me a favor, Jack. Find some means to include Max in the investigation, at least until we can soften the blow. Otherwise he’s just going to go off on his own and I don’t want him getting hurt in all this.”

  “Would take a lot to hurt him. Guy’s a legend in Florida, Allie. Word has it fires put themselves out to get away from him.”

  She knew the feeling. He could certainly start a blaze raging inside her with just one kiss. “Anything else?”

  “Plenty. Dedicated, determined, tough on his probies, but he got the job done. Bunch of commendations and medals. He had a good career going, too. On his way to a captaincy. Well thought of, admired. Still is.”

  “What happened?”

  “Only know a call went really wrong, two of his men died, a third committed suicide a few months later.” Jack shook his head. “He reacted badly. Suffice it to say the department was loath to let him go, but whatever he did left his superiors no choice but to force him out. Retired with benefits and a good severance package that apparently he has no interest in touching. He signed it all over into a trust with Hope as the main beneficiary.”

  Great. Now Max Kellan could be nominated for sainthood. And here she was lying to him about his niece’s disappearance.

  “Sounds to me like politics stuck its nose in where it shouldn’t have,” Jack said. “But what do I know?”

  “You know a lot,” Allie said. What Max had told her in the truck about trusting people made a lot more sense to her now. Should the need arise, she had a good idea about what buttons to push either to get him to open up or calm him down. “You convinced now that he doesn’t have anything to do with Hope going missing?”

  “If that’s your way of asking if I agree you were right, yes.” Jack twisted his mouth in forced offense. “If I didn’t think so after talking to his former boss, I would after spending the day with Joe. As far as he’s concerned, his big brother walks on water. Guy stepped up big time wh
en they were teens and their mother took off after their father died. Max worked three jobs off and on to make sure Joe had a completely free ride to college. All that while training for the fire department. Not an easy feat.”

  “This sounds like the beginnings of a budding bromance.” Even as she joked she could only imagine the burdens Max had been carrying most of his adult life. Betrayed by his mother, then by the work he’d dedicated his life to? He was a man who did what needed doing even if it cost him something personally. As if being kissed into oblivion by the man hadn’t made a big enough impression on her already.

  All the more reason for Allie to stay as far away from him as possible. The last thing she needed was a knight in shining armor thinking he could protect her from the world.

  “I’ll keep you in the loop,” Jack promised. “And I’ll do what I can to keep the hose monkey occupied.”

  Allie rolled her eyes. “You guys and your nicknames. I don’t suppose your background check into him revealed what his call sign was when he was a fireman?”

  Jack grinned. “Maybe. But I’m guessing that telling you might rob one of you of some much-needed fun.”

  Chapter 7

  Following the directions of his cell GPS, Max pulled his truck to a stop at the corner of 38th Street and watched Allie gather her belongings from her car. The narrow streets of the Fabulous ’40s—as he’d learned this area of Sacramento was called—didn’t allow for unnoticed surveillance and him running on borderline stalker mode.

  Of all the areas of the valley Max drove through since he’d moved to Northern California, this extensive neighborhood was spoken about with a kind of reverence, and now he understood why. The homes were older, named after the streets they occupied and ranged in style from Tudor, to Colonial, to California Bungalow. Sacramento was known for its number of trees, third in the world behind Singapore and Vancouver if Hope’s latest school report could be believed. He had to admit that there were few parts of the city that weren’t cascading with exemplary branches dotted with color, arching like natural canopies protecting the dwellings beneath. Despite the flood of leaves and debris the trees caused, there was also a semblance of peace, an old-fashioned throw-back atmosphere he could see appealing to a woman like Allie.