Gone in the Night

by Anna J. Stewart

  He was right. When the idea of a child being killed didn’t make you slightly ill, there was little left to fight for. He’d been in the fight to find Chloe’s killer for as long as Simone, Eden and Allie had been; they’d all known him since they were kids. Chloe had been his friend as well; his was yet another life her death had inadvertently impacted.

  “Eden, please tell me you’re going to limit this photographic display to the before pictures,” Simone said.

  Allie agreed, although she wasn’t overly thrilled at the idea of a board full of Chloes staring back at them. Eden might be able to process and detach from the crime scene photos. Allie, despite her consulting work with law enforcement, would prefer not to challenge herself.

  She took her time examining each school photo. Odd. The victims weren’t clones of Chloe, unlike Hope Kellan. Two of the girls had curly hair, and the shades of red for each varied. One had blue eyes, two green. The freckles were a common denominator as were their...

  “Their clothes.” Allie shot to her feet. “They’re all wearing quirky, odd clothes.”

  “That’s what I saw first, too,” Eden said. “Handmade, uneven, different. Definitely mismatched but not in a cheap, neglected way. Fun, that’s what Chloe called it. Then there’s this.” She pulled out one of the files. “I’ve got their school records. All the girls were well liked and, in every instance, had a tight group of friends. Inseparable.” She pointed them out. “Also, each girl disappeared on her way home from being with those friends. The movies, a school carnival.”

  “Please don’t say camping trips,” Simone said.

  Eden shook her head, stuck her thumbnail in her mouth as she considered a picture. “No. No camping trips.”

  Was that good news or bad?

  “What about where their bodies were found?” Vince asked. “Isn’t there some theory that where a serial killer leaves the bodies is part of his signature?”

  Allie nodded. “That can be a telltale sign of his psychopathy. Eden?”

  “They found Alyssa Knight behind a park aviary that was under construction at the time,” Cole said by rote. “Shannan McPhearson was found on the banks of a lake but on the other side of town from where she lived. Rosalie Jenson’s body, however, was left behind a strip mall.”

  “You committed all these cases to memory?” Allie asked him.

  “Given who I live with, I didn’t have much choice.”

  Allie appreciated the affection in the cop’s voice despite the dark revelation. Eden didn’t make things easy on anyone on a good day. She was, at times, unlikable. But she had a big heart. Sometimes too big. Allie could only imagine what Eden was like to live with when she was neck-deep in investigating and blogging about one of her cold cases. Then again, she didn’t have to. She’d witnessed it often enough over the years.

  “I’m still waiting on copies of the coroners’ reports for two of the girls along with the crime scene photos of where the bodies were left. Small towns shut down on the weekends,” Eden said. “I’m hoping Lieutenant Santos will be able to speed up the process for me tomorrow. In the meantime, I found these notations on the one file from Nevada. The first officers on scene with Shannan McPhearson said they thought they smelled something sweet on her body. ‘Cloying,’ one of them called it.”

  “Sweet as in cotton candy?” Simone glanced at Allie.

  “Possibly.” Eden flipped the pages. “No perfume bottles were found, though, and while there was mention of an odd scent in Alyssa’s file, the doctor who performed the autopsy wasn’t exactly up to the job.”

  “Why weren’t any of these deaths in the news?” Vince demanded. “Why didn’t anyone pick up on the similarities?”

  “We’re talking about three deaths over the span of fifteen years in three states. No one was looking,” Cole said. “And the first was five years after Chloe was murdered. Add in the small-town aspect and limited resources for the local law enforcements.” Cole drew his wife to him, wrapped his arms around her waist. “You can’t blame the cops, Vince. Sadly, these are some of the realities of the world we live in.”

  “Tell that to Hope and Joe Kellan,” Vince said.

  “I’m not arguing, man.” Cole held up a hand in surrender. “I get it.”

  “Well, we’re on this now,” Eden said. “I’ve spoken to Alyssa’s parents up in Oregon and Rosalie Jenson’s on the phone. They’ve moved their family back east. Couldn’t deal with staying where it happened.”

  “Not many people can,” Allie said. “What about Shannan’s family?”

  “I phoned, left a couple of messages, but no one’s called me back. We were thinking about driving up there tomorrow, see if we can speak to them in person,” Eden said.

  “Harder to slam a door in someone’s face than not pick up a phone,” Simone agreed. “I can go, too.”

  Eden set her file aside and leaned into Cole. “You want to drive?”

  “Yes,” Cole answered for Simone. “She does. Someone else has already reached her lifetime limit of speeding tickets.”

  As she observed the newly married couple, an odd pang of envy chimed inside Allie. She had been lying before. She did wish she had someone—someone like Max, maybe—who had her back. The change in Eden since she’d fallen for their lifelong friend was astonishing. All those harsh edges that cut deep had been smoothed and rounded. Once upon a time, it would have taken an act of Congress—or maybe a lit stick of dynamite—to blast a file out of Eden’s hands and a case out of her head. These days, all it took was a well-placed touch and murmured word of encouragement from the man who loved her.

  “What about Chloe’s parents?” Vince asked. “Is there any reason to reach out to them? Anything you don’t know?”

  “I don’t think there’s anything they know that we don’t. We lost touch a long time ago,” Simone said. “Her death broke the family apart. Parents divorced and her older brother moved away with his mom. I haven’t—”

  “Her mother and brother live in San Francisco.” Allie swallowed the lump in her throat and tried to ignore the stunned surprise on her friends’ faces. “I check in with him, usually on Chloe’s birthday, sometimes Christmas. Lunch a couple of times a year. Nothing much, just a quick catch-up and a memory or two. Something to remind each other we haven’t forgotten her.”

  “Why didn’t you ever tell us?” Eden left Cole’s arms and stepped forward.

  “Allie?” Simone actually looked hurt.

  “Because that would mean discussing Chloe and she’s the one thing we don’t talk about.” When neither Simone nor Eden responded, Allie took advantage of their discomfort along with the opening. “We don’t talk about her and when we do, it never feels good. We all know when we’re thinking about her, though. She’s become this ghostly presence that we never acknowledge out loud. I’m not blaming you,” she added when Eden grimaced. “There’s no right or wrong way to process what we had to deal with and I say that after spending half my life studying the human mind. We’ve all coped differently.” Some in more self-destructive ways than others. That was one of the reasons she’d gone to medical school. She needed to understand, to fathom what had happened to them. Allie ducked her chin. “Sometimes I just need to talk about her with someone else who loved her.”

  The silence that followed made Allie wish one or both of her best friends would yell at her, scream at her, get angry, do anything that would make her sound less pathetic than she felt. Less guilty. They were the closest thing she had to family; she loved them like sisters and yet, somehow, keeping this secret felt like she’d betrayed them.

  “I go to her grave.” Simone took hold of Allie’s hand and squeezed. Hard. “A few times a year. I take a lunch and a bouquet of those baby-pink roses she loved so much and I talk to her while I eat.”

  Allie blinked back tears. “Simone.” She wasn’t the only one
? She lifted uneasy eyes to a ferocious Eden as her friend bolted. She disappeared into the smaller bedroom under the stairs that had become her office. Allie jumped at the sound of a drawer slamming shut, not entirely sure what Eden held in her hand when she returned.

  Eden stopped in front of them, held out a small leather-bound journal. “I don’t talk about her. I can’t. Because I’m afraid once I start, I’ll never stop.” Tears clogged her voice. “I write about her. Here.” She pushed the book into Allie’s hands. “Take it. Read it. One of you, both of you, it doesn’t matter. It’s about all of us.”

  Allie accepted the book and clutched it against her chest like the treasured possession it was.

  “Even when you think you’re alone in something, you’re not,” Simone told Allie.

  “Returning to the topic at hand...” Vince cleared his throat. “Do you think Chloe’s brother might have any new information that would help with the case? Is this someone else we should talk to in person?”

  Allie hesitated.

  “Out with it, Al.” Eden planted a hand on her hip and glared at her. “No reason to stop now.”

  “You don’t have to go to San Francisco.” Allie took a deep breath. She really didn’t enjoy being on the other side of Eden’s interrogation tactics. “Chloe’s brother is here. Cole’s already spoken with him. He goes by Eamon Quinn now.” Allie waited a beat to let them catch up. “FBI Special Agent Eamon Quinn.”

  Chapter 9

  The headlights of Allie’s SUV flashed through her curtain-draped front window and jarred Max out of his self-imposed stupor just after ten. He blinked, refocused his eyes in the darkness of her living room and took a long, deep breath. Times like this he almost understood why people took up meditation.

  He got up from the chair by the fireplace, set the file containing the information on Chloe Evans’s unsolved murder on the coffee table and walked to the front door.

  He made sure to step around the envelope that still bugged him. Chances were it was something she’d dropped on her way in or out, but given everything that had been thrown at them today, he wouldn’t bet on it.

  The second pair of headlights was the unneeded reminder of her police escort. Hopefully her detail would be more effective than the nonactivated security system that had allowed him to spend the majority of his night perusing her home.

  He heard the voices of Allie and two men as they headed up the walk. He flipped the locks and pulled open the door. Stunned silence, wide-eyed surprise and two drawn weapons greeted him as he stepped onto the porch, hands raised. “Evening, Doc.”

  “Don’t move!” The older man shouted as the second familiar officer placed himself between Max and Allie, his Glock pointed directly and steadily at Max’s chest. “Bowie? You good?”

  “I’ve got him, Sarge.” The young officer who had been at Joe’s house this morning fixed sharp, trained eyes on Max.

  Max remained still as the older plainclothes officer reached the bottom stair, grabbed Max’s wrist and spun him around. Max turned his head at the last second to avoid breaking his nose against the front of the house. He felt the cop’s hand firm between his shoulders, heard the distinctive slide and squeak before he sensed the metal of the cuffs lock around his wrists. “Allie, I’ve had a bad enough day. I’d appreciate not being arrested.”

  “You should have thought about that before you broke into my house.” Disbelief and irritation mingled in her voice. “And for the record, I don’t appreciate your nihilistic intention of trying to get yourself shot on my front porch.”

  “Not the first time I’ve been accused of that.” He grunted as his captor cranked the cuffs tighter, turned him around and pushed him solidly against the siding. “Easy, big guy.” Max looked up into beady, intense black eyes situated in a face of stone. “I mean no harm. The lady knows me. So does your partner.”

  “Allie?” The sergeant glanced at her over his shoulder. “Bowie?”

  “He’s Hope Kellan’s uncle,” Bowie said.

  “Which means you can take the cuffs off me now.” Max met Allie’s defiant gaze beyond the two cops. He’d definitely unnerved her, but he’d also gotten exactly the information he’d needed. The Sac PD were not messing around when it came to her safety. And it had nothing to do with Hope being missing. “Now, preferably. We have some things to discuss.”

  “It’s okay, Bowie.” Allie pushed the younger officer’s arm down so he could holster his weapon. “Can we start with how you got into my house?”

  “It’s not that difficult when you don’t use your alarm system,” Max said.

  “Wait, what?” Even in the dimness of her porch light he saw the color fade from her face. “I turned it on before I left. Sergeant Tomlinson, you can uncuff him.”

  “Not a chance.”

  Max stumbled as Tomlinson shoved him forward to sit on the porch stair. “If I wanted to hurt her, I would have waited until she was inside.”

  “Hang on. We’ll check the place out,” the sergeant said before he waved at his partner to follow. “You, stay.” He pointed at Max before he drew his weapon again. “Don’t make me call for backup.” The officers disappeared into the house.

  “Someone left you a gift.” Max jerked his head toward the door. “Envelope on the floor there. I nearly tripped on it when I went in.”

  “And when was that exactly?” Allie stood in front of him, arms hugged tight around her waist, her bright mint green outfit almost blinding in the darkness of the night. She glanced nervously toward the door.

  “After I followed you to the marina.” He grinned, not because he found the situation remotely humorous but because he knew it would annoy her. “About six? I thought you were going to consult with your expert friends.”

  “I did.” She looked taken aback as her head dropped to the oversize bag under her arm. “Eden and Cole live on a boat.”

  “Oh.” Well. That explained that.

  “Let me guess,” Allie said. “You assumed I lied so I could go on some kind of girls’ night out while your niece, one of my patients, is missing?”

  There she went, playing mind games with him again. Max winced. Okay, it sounded better as a theory when he wasn’t looking directly at her. “I have trust issues, remember, Doc? They don’t get better when people keep things from me.”

  “Let’s you and me get one thing clear right now.” She stepped forward, leaned over and peered directly into his eyes. He could feel her breath on his face, feel the anger radiating off her, anger that reassured and surprised him. “I am not your sister-in-law. I’m taking what’s happened to Hope very seriously. More seriously than you could ever understand.”

  “Because of what happened to Chloe Evans?”

  Bingo! Max might have let out a whoop of triumph at the way she shot up, but the inclination died the instant he saw the flash of pain cross her face. Pain he couldn’t let matter. This was his niece’s life they were talking about. He couldn’t let his emotions get in the way. And he wasn’t about to let Allie Hollister’s lack of them prevent him from finding Hope.

  “You’ve been lying to me, Doc. You’ve been lying to me and my brother about Hope’s kidnapping. It’s part of something bigger, something even more insidious. Don’t you dare try to deny it. I saw the pictures on your desk. Hope could be Chloe Evans’s twin.” He shifted and tried to work some circulation into his fingers. “Either you tell me exactly what’s going on or I’m going to hit social media hard first thing in the morning with everything I’ve learned in the last few hours.”

  Allie glared at him. Funny how she could pack a punch with a mere glance. Chills raced down his spine, but not ones born of fear or intimidation. Chills bred of full-blown, unwanted desire.

  “House is clear, Allie.” Sergeant Tomlinson returned to the doorway and pointed at the envelope. “Aside from that. Some
one cut the power line to your alarm system. Knew what he was doing, too, because it’s one clean cut, no fumbling around. Bowie’s down in the basement now seeing if it can be repaired. Unless lover boy here is lying and he did it?”

  “I didn’t touch your alarm system, Allie. Lover boy?” He angled a glance at Tomlinson before refocusing on Allie. Max tamped down on the anger that had been set to simmer the instant he’d located that file. The pressure built inside him. There would come a time and soon that he’d let loose, but that time wasn’t now. At least not while he was cuffed and being looked at as if he were a threepeat felon on his way back to solitary. “There’s a nickname you haven’t tried out yet, Doc.”

  “And yet somehow it never occurred to me, Sparky,” Allie muttered as she stomped past him and into the house. She stared down at the small padded envelope. “It’s okay, Sergeant. I’ll take it from here.” Bowie joined them on the porch. “Max will be staying the night.”

  “He is?”

  “I am?”

  Both Max and the two cops asked their questions at the same time.

  “We’ll be fine,” Allie said. “We have a lot to discuss and when we’re done, we’ll be working.”

  Both officers looked at Max as he hoisted his cuffed hands up an inch and set his shoulder blades on fire. “Nice to meet you.”

  Sergeant Tomlinson swore and tossed his keys to his partner. “This is the hero Jack was raving about today?” he asked Allie as if Max didn’t possess ears.

  “Jack MacTavish raved?” The idea made Max break out in a cold sweat. He wasn’t anyone’s hero. If he were, three of his buddies might still be alive. “I’ll have to thank him when I see him.”

  “You want to keep the cuffs just to be on the safe side?” Tomlinson asked Allie.

  Max grinned and shook the feeling back into his hands as he got to his feet.

  “Maybe we should bunk in the guest room,” Bowie offered.

  “There won’t be room with Max in there. Besides, I’m going to call Vince and have him drive out to check my security system tonight. You guys are heading off shift in a bit, right?” Allie asked.