Gone in the Night

by Anna J. Stewart

  “We’ll take off as soon as the second team is on-site at midnight. We’ll be back with you at noon tomorrow.”

  “Thanks. For everything.” Allie placed her hands on their backs and propelled them down her steps. “I promise I have all you guys on speed dial. And if something or someone comes at me tonight, I’ll throw Max in their path.” She shot Max a warning look. “Don’t think I won’t do it.”

  Max held up his hands.

  “You.” She pointed at him. “Inside. Now.” She marched ahead of him, giving the package on the floor a wide berth as she flicked on the lights. He closed the door, welcoming the silence, mainly because he wasn’t entirely sure what to expect when she started talking. He followed her into the kitchen, watched as she retrieved a pair of plastic gloves from the recessed desk in the corner.

  “You moonlight with the crime scene unit?” He meant it as a joke as she took inordinate care picking up the envelope and returning to the kitchen.

  “I get where humor is a pressure release, Max, but tonight I find it incredibly annoying. Zip it.”

  The care with which she pried open the seal scraped on his last nerve.

  “Okay, I was wrong. The silence is bugging me.” She tilted the envelope upside down and gave it a quick shake. A smartphone dropped onto the counter. “Grab me a large plastic bag in the pantry over there and tell me what inspired you to break into my house.”

  “You lied to me.”

  “Did not.” She pressed her lips into a thin line and dropped the envelope into the bag. “I didn’t tell you everything.”

  “Same thing.”

  “Semantics.” She gripped the edge of the counter for a moment before she retrieved a pencil and pressed the eraser against the On button. They waited in forced silence as the phone chimed, flashed and opened on a screen with a digital clock set to zero.

  A video flickered to life.

  And then Hope was there, on screen, talking to them.

  “Daddy?” The little girl blinked squinted eyes, as if the light from the camera hurt. She sat on a chair in complete darkness, illuminated only by the dimness of what had to be a cell phone. Max’s entire mind went black. He could see she was wearing the star-emblazoned sleep shirt he’d bought for her on their most recent trip to the mall, could almost hear her teasing laugh when he’d offered to buy himself a matching one. “Uncle Max? The man said to tell you that Dr. Allie and her friends know why I’m here. That it’s their fault.” Tears glistened in her eyes, stained her face. She swiped at the tears and for an instant, her eyes went cold, as if a spark of defiance caught before she thought better of displaying it.

  Allie must have seen it, as well. She gripped her hand around Max’s arm and squeezed, but nothing dimmed the roar settling in his head.

  “I want to come home, Dr. Allie. Please. Tell my daddy and Uncle Max I miss them. And—” Hope leaned forward and it was then Max realized she was reading from the card “—please don’t make me go and meet Chloe.”

  The screen went blank.

  The digital clock reappeared.

  Seventy-two hours.

  “What’s it counting down to?” Max barely recognized his own voice.

  Allie looked at him, the silence, her cool detached expression the only answer he needed. The only answer he didn’t want.

  The clock was counting down how much time Hope had left to live.

  “I need to call Cole. Don’t touch!” She snapped off her gloves and left the kitchen.

  “I wasn’t going to!” Except he wanted to. He wanted to play that video again and again, if only to remind himself that Hope wasn’t dead; this maniac hadn’t killed her. At least not yet.

  He could hear Allie in the other room, but it felt farther away than that—almost like another universe.

  When she returned, she stood in front of the counter, stared at the phone and took a long, deep breath. “All I want to do is play that again.”

  Max absorbed the punch of guilt like a pro. She’d been thinking the same thing as him, wanted the same thing: Hope home safe.

  “But we can’t,” she cautioned. “There’s no telling what might happen to the phone if we do.”

  “What? You think this guy booby-trapped it or something?”

  She used the plastic bag containing the mailing envelope to flip the phone over, then covered it. “I think this guy is familiar enough with me that he knows my routine. It’s also a great way to get surveillance into my house, isn’t it?”

  “Because this is all about you,” Max said. “You and your friends.”

  She flinched. “Since you’ve already read through Chloe’s file, why don’t you ask whatever lingering questions you might have while we wait for the cavalry?”

  What was there to ask? As angry as he was, as disappointed that she hadn’t confided in him—then again, why would she?—he wasn’t so cruel as to make her rehash, probably for the millionth time in her life, how her friend had gone missing from a girls’ campout one night, her strangled body found in a field a few days later.

  He’d seen the photos and the newspaper clippings, read the interviews and crime reports. He’d found himself looking at a black-and-white newspaper photo of Allie and her friends, arms wrapped around each other, staring stunned and devastated where their friend had been left.

  “Here’s a question for you,” Max said, watching in stunned disbelief as she walked over to the fridge and pulled it open. Next thing he knew, she was pulling out food. “Do you approach all your cases with this cool detachment or is Hope a special case?”

  “What?” Allie stopped, a confused expression on her face.

  “Some unknown person was in your house late this afternoon, a potential child killer. He’s left physical evidence of my niece’s kidnapping—proof of life, even—and here you are, making what? An omelet?”

  “It was going to be vegetable fried rice. You’re a vegetarian, right?” She looked down at her arms filled with the eggs, vegetables and a plastic container she’d grabbed, and shook her head. “Cooking helps me to relax. I thought you might be hungry. Unless you already raided my kitchen while you were waiting.”

  “Unbelievable.” Max walked over, took the items out of her hands and clunked them onto the marble kitchen island. “Did you hear anything I just said?”

  “I heard every word. What exactly would you like me to do, Max? Yell? Scream? Break down sobbing in your arms because the same psychopathic murderer who killed my best friend is currently stalking me and my other two friends and, for whatever demented reason, took possession of your niece before sending me what in his mind amounts to a ‘don’t forget me’ greeting card?”

  The spark of anger that ignited in her eyes ignited something deep inside him. “I don’t expect you to break down,” Max said. “But this is the first time I’ve seen anything close to an actual emotion from you.”

  “Did it ever occur to you shutting down is my coping mechanism? Yours seems to be barreling full steam ahead, consequences be damned. I don’t work like that, Max. I can’t. Because the second I lose control, the second I let myself give in to the fear, I might very well never come back. And I will not give him the satisfaction. He’s taken enough from me.”

  He reached out and slammed the refrigerator shut with more force than necessary.

  “What was that for?”

  “Because you’re shivering.” The next thing he knew, he’d moved in, wrapped his arms around her and drew her to him. “And don’t tell me it’s because you’re cold.”

  “I’m always cold,” she mumbled, standing stiff in his arms. “I’ve been cold since I was nine years old.”

  The shudder that ripped through her vibrated through him. Why did he always think the worst of people? Especially people who were doing their best to help him?

  �
��Fear is paralyzing, Max. It’s mind-numbing and I can’t afford that right now. I have to do this however I have to do it and I don’t need you judging me for it. But don’t you dare think I don’t care.”

  “Okay.” He rubbed his hands up and down her back, waiting, willing her to soften, to relax, to trust him, even a little. But how could she when he’d made it clear he didn’t trust her? “Okay, you’re right. Not everyone’s the same. We don’t all deal with things in a similar way.”

  There. A fraction of change. Her clenched posture eased and she slipped her arms around his waist. “This isn’t me breaking down,” she whispered.

  “Of course it isn’t.” He rested his chin on the top of her head. “I’m sorry I broke into your house.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “No.” He pulled back, caught her face between his hands and looked into the eyes that had captured his attention so fully. He shouldn’t care this much, not about her, not about how she dealt with Hope’s kidnapping. But he did. And not just because she was his best chance at getting his niece back. But because now that he allowed himself to, he could see just how much this was ripping her apart. “I’m not sorry. How did you know I’m a vegetarian?”

  She laughed, the sound oddly light and foreign to his ears.

  “Your brother’s been gone for a while, but his fridge is stocked with fruit and vegetables, protein powders. Tofu.” She tilted her head. “Tofu? Ugh. There wasn’t a burger in sight. So.” She shrugged. “Vegetarian.”

  “You’re that observant and you couldn’t see me well enough to trust me with the truth about Hope?”

  Another shrug.

  “I don’t appreciate being kept in the dark.” It occurred to him that perhaps some honesty on his part would make a difference. “If you need to keep whatever it is you know from Joe, fine. If you think it’s best we don’t show my brother that video of Hope, that you need to convince me of. It’s proof of life he can see with his own eyes, but I’ll find a way to deal. I can help you, Allie. I can help all of you. I’m not so broken that I’m useless. Please, let me in.”

  “Is that what you’ve been thinking? That I think you’re useless? That you’re not capable of helping?”

  “It doesn’t matter what I think.”

  “Sure it does.” The momentary weakness she’d surrendered to vanished. In its place he saw that irritable determination he was coming to appreciate more than he should. “What on earth happened to you in Florida that you lost faith in yourself?”

  Max froze. Was that what had happened? “I didn’t listen to my gut.” The ghostly sound of bagpipes echoed in his memory, accompanied by the image of flag-draped coffins being lowered slowly into the ground. “And three men died because of it. But this isn’t about me.” And he didn’t want it to be. Ever. If he was going to dig his way out of this hole of a depression he’d fallen into, he’d do it on his own. “Tell me the truth, Allie. Tell me why Hope was taken from the Vandermonts’.”

  She stepped away, but he shifted his hold, gripped her shoulders and held her steady. “We can’t be sure.”

  “You must have a theory. Hope was kidnapped in the same way as your friend Chloe was, what, twenty years ago? What do you think they have in common? Who’s behind all this?”

  “We don’t know who he is.” And there it was, the desperation he’d been wanting to see, afraid to see. Because now he knew she didn’t have any more of an idea about what to do than he did. “We don’t know why he killed Chloe and we don’t know why he’s come back. As far as your other question goes, there’s only one thing both of these girls have in common.” She pulled away from him and hugged herself in that way she had that he now realized was for self-preservation.

  “And what’s that?”

  “Me.” She inched her chin up. “The one thing Chloe and your niece have in common is me.”

  Chapter 10

  “That’ll be Cole and Vince.” Allie pushed her half-eaten plate of rice away when she heard two car doors slam outside. “You need to be on your best behavior.”

  Max gave her that grin of his that turned her insides to Jell-O. “I’m always on my best behavior.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of.”

  “You cook a mean midnight meal, Doc.” As she rose, Max tugged her close and kissed her. One of those quick reminders of a kiss that brought all sorts of inappropriate thoughts. “And FYI, you and I aren’t nearly done talking about what I found in your office. But I can wait until your friends leave.”

  “Assuming they do leave.” Now it was her turn to tease. “You kiss me like that in front of them, they’re going to put you through questioning that might make the Spanish Inquisition seem like a picnic.”

  “I’m a big boy.” He scooped up a carrot. “I can take it.”

  “Uh-huh. Keep thinking that.” Allie hurried to the front door, not only to prevent Vince from charging through it but to put some distance between her and Max Kellan. She did not need to be activating this dormant part of her life. Not now.

  And yet, somehow, Max’s presence was making the situation easier to cope with. Had she been with anyone other than Max when she’d watched that video, she may very well have lost it.

  “Hi, guys.” She stepped aside to let Cole and Vince inside. Only then did she notice Simone and Eden bringing up the rear. “Really? You had to tell them?” She planted her hand on her hip and stared at the detective and P.I.

  “I’m not inclined to leave Simone alone these days.” Vince looked anything but apologetic. “Besides, when I took her on, I took on the two of you, so, sorry. You’re stuck with me. Alarm box is down in the basement, right?”

  “Um, yeah. Just, um. Hi, Eden.”

  That was as far as she got before Eden grabbed her arms and squeezed. “You’re really okay? You aren’t hurt?”

  “Whoever it was was long gone before I got here.” She closed the door behind her friends and gestured for them to follow her into the kitchen. “You didn’t have to come out, you know.”

  “Please,” Simone said. “Basically we’ve all sworn off sleep until we get Hope back in her own bed and—” Simone stopped short in the doorway. “Now this is a surprise. You must be the uncle we’ve heard so much about. I recognized you from the...” She waved a hand by her own hair.

  “From what?” Max flashed too-innocent eyes from Simone to Allie.

  “Where? He’s here? Let me see.” Eden ducked under Cole’s arm to jump in front of Simone. “Oh, yeah. Okay, I get it.” She sent Allie one of those smiles that made Allie’s blood pressure surge. “Totally get it.”

  “Oh, please,” Allie mumbled when her cheeks went hot. “Who wants coffee?”

  “Me.” Max held up his empty mug. “I’m going to need it to get through this first meeting of the Justice League. I’ve met Bat—”

  “Oh, that is such a dead-on accurate description of Vince I can’t stand it,” Eden said. “I’m Eden St. Claire. And you’re Max Kellan. Firefighter extraordinaire and super uncle to Hope.”

  “Yeah.” Max suddenly appeared as if he was going to choke. “That’s me.”

  “Eden, don’t.” Simone offered her hand to him. “Hello, I’m Simone Armstrong.”

  “Don’t what?” Eden demanded. “Just want him to know we know about him. And for him to—”

  “Eden.” Cole’s controlled voice seemed to do the trick as he brushed his hand over his wife’s shoulder. She sagged.

  “We’re going to find your niece, Max,” Eden said in that special way she had of speaking to those affected by violent crimes. She might be one of the most abrasive, sometimes obnoxious people Allie had ever known, but there were few people who understood Max’s current situation better than her friend. “I promise you, we’re going to get her back.”

  Max glanced at Allie and then
at Eden. “I think maybe for the first time I believe that. Thank you, Eden.”

  “You’re welcome. Now, coffee, Allie? And tell me you have some of those chocolate chip cookies of yours lurking in the...aha!” She reached into the ceramic fruit basket of a cookie jar and pulled out three. “Nice.”

  “Not to break up the meet and greet,” Cole said as his wife chomped on sugar, “but, Allie, where’s the package and the phone?”

  “Right here.” Allie pointed to the phone covered with the bag. “Examine it all you want, but I’m not turning it over for evidence.”

  “I’m sorry, you’re not what?” Cole blinked in confusion.

  “You’ll understand when you click the screen on,” Allie explained. “He meant for me to have it as long as Hope’s missing. I’m not giving it up.”

  Cole said, “Eden, use my phone, record everything I’m doing then we’ll get the phone information and send it to Eamon. I’m betting the FBI can get things through faster than our lab can.”

  “On it.” Eden reached into her husband’s pocket and pulled out his phone.

  Allie stood off to the side, trying to block out the haunting sound of Hope Kellan reciting chapter and verse of what her captor had given her. At least now they knew replaying the video wouldn’t dismantle the phone.

  When Cole was done, the countdown clock returned. Almost an hour gone.

  “Well, that’s just freakishly creative,” Eden muttered as Cole flipped the phone over, slipped open the back, and took a picture of the SIM card and serial number.

  “I wore gloves when I opened it,” Allie said. “In case you could get prints off it.”

  “I’ve got a kit in the car,” Cole said. “I’m happy to dust it, but I’m not holding my breath. Max, why are you here?”

  “Me?” Max finished his meal, picked up his plate and carried it to the sink, where he washed it and set Allie’s heart to pattering. “Oh, I broke in while Allie was meeting with you all on your boat. Brought myself up to speed on Chloe’s case since no one was interested in filling me in. Then waited for her to get home.”