Fear the Dark

by Kay Hooper

  Luke lifted his brows again. “They worry much about security in a little place like Serenity?”

  “They do now,” Samantha murmured.

  “Sam.”

  “Well, it’s true, isn’t it?” She looked at Bishop.

  “It would probably be more accurate to say they’ve become obsessive about security. This apartment complex, for instance, had the fencing reinforced and the keypad code added, and began the process of updating the security system two days after Judge Carson vanished.” He paused. “They were scheduled to update or replace security cameras and add several more to eliminate all blind spots in the courtyard and all around the exterior of the complex later in the week. Mrs. Lang disappeared before that could be done.”

  Samantha shook her head slightly, but said only, “And the next person to vanish?”

  “Sean Messina, a car salesman, on the following Monday night.” There was both a closed tablet and a stack of folders on Bishop’s neat blotter. He never glanced down at them. “Messina and his girlfriend went to see a movie; there’s an old-fashioned but renovated theater downtown and a multiplex out near the highway.”

  “They chose downtown?” Luke guessed.

  Bishop nodded. “Messina’s girlfriend told the chief it was because they could walk, on well-lit sidewalks, from their condo to the theater. They walked there without incident. The theater was about a third full, which Chief Riggs says is entirely normal on a Monday night when there’s a new movie playing. The adults tend to leave the theater to the kids and teenagers during the weekends. Anyway, about halfway through the movie, Sean Messina left his seat and headed to the lobby, to use the restroom and get snacks at the concession stand.”

  Luke said, “Please tell me they have surveillance cameras in the lobby.”

  “They have. But Sean Messina never shows up on any of them. The entire lobby is covered, including the entrances to the theater and the doors of the restrooms. There is footage of him and his date arriving, getting sodas, and going into the theater. Sean Messina is never visible again.”

  Samantha said, “I suppose the emergency exits have alarms?”

  “They do. And as far as Chief Riggs’s technical people and the theater owner could determine, they were not tampered with at any time.”

  “When did his date realize he was gone?” Samantha asked.

  “Approximately ten minutes after he left her. The movie was still running, but she left her seat and went in search of him. She went straight to the theater owner, who apparently also acts as projectionist and usher when needed, and together they searched the lobby and restrooms. Then he wisely locked the front doors, interrupted the movie to raise the house lights, and when there was still no sign of Messina, he called the police.”

  Slowly, Lucas said, “The first fully contained crime scene.”

  “Yes. Except that there was no sign a crime had been committed. No sign of a struggle, no exterior door opened—and no sign of Sean Messina. He hasn’t been seen or heard from since. The chief even brought dogs in to clear the theater before he allowed other moviegoers to leave. They were very cooperative. And very shaken by what happened.”

  “And the dogs found nothing,” Luke said.

  “According to their handler, who was as baffled and uneasy as everyone else, as far as the dogs were concerned, their behavior clearly signaled that Sean Messina had never been in the theater.”

  Samantha frowned, the expression making her look even more sulky than the normal expression nature had given her. “He disappeared after he was never there?”

  “Just telling you what’s in the chief’s report, Sam,” Bishop said, still completely calm.

  “Well,” Lucas said after a pause, “it definitely sounds like our kind of case.”

  Samantha was still frowning, her unusually dark gaze on Bishop. “Give,” she said.

  He answered her readily enough. “There’s a page missing from your reports. Not because I withheld it, but because I don’t have it yet. All I have is the verbal report from Chief Riggs when he called me a couple of hours ago. Sometime after midnight last night, ten-year-old Vanessa Tyler apparently got out of bed to get herself a glass of ice water from the kitchen, which was not at all unusual for her. When her parents got up a few hours ago, they found a half-full glass of water on the kitchen counter, along with Vanessa’s favorite stuffed bear. Her grandmother made it for her, and she always slept with it.”

  Bishop’s gaze remained steady, but his voice had taken on a very soft, even, steely tone both the agents in front of him recognized. Like the scar twisting whitely down his left cheek standing out more than usual now, his tone was an indication of an intensity of emotion he very, very rarely showed in any other way.

  “All the doors and windows in the house were locked from the inside. The security system, a good one, was active and showed no signs of having been tampered with. No screens were cut, no glass broken. But Vanessa Tyler is gone. She’s the sixth victim to go missing this month. The first child. And so far, there is absolutely no evidence to indicate what happened to her. Or to any of the others. They’re simply gone.”

  After a long moment, Samantha said with something of Bishop’s almost preternatural calm, “Definitely a case for us.”

  —

  ROBBIE HODGE LOOKED up from the tablet she’d been studying and frowned a bit at Miranda Bishop. Who, as was her usual habit, was sitting on her desk rather than behind it in the chair.

  “You said two teams would be going?”

  “Yeah. You two, plus Luke and Samantha Jordan.”

  Dante Swann, sitting in the other visitor’s chair, looked up at Miranda and frowned as well. “Is Bishop briefing them?”

  Miranda nodded, wearing a faint smile.

  “Why?” Robbie demanded.

  A little chuckle escaped Miranda. “Generally speaking, the newer agents find me . . . less intimidating. At least in the beginning. And a briefing isn’t much more than relaying information. The four of you can go over everything on the jet. You should just about have time to do that before you land in Tennessee.”

  Dante glanced at his partner; they hadn’t worked together for long, and it showed. As did something else, at least to Miranda’s experienced gaze.

  “Your abilities,” she said calmly, “will only improve with practice. Field practice. We can only go so far in the lab, and experience has taught us that agents adapt quicker and with far more control when working in the field. Maybe because then it counts.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” Dante muttered.

  “Seen any spirits yet?” she asked him.

  It was Robbie who said, “He has his shields up. Full strength. Can’t you feel it?”

  Miranda smiled faintly again. “I can. Don’t push, Robbie.”

  “I’m not sure I even know how,” Robbie confessed.

  “You need to be aware,” Miranda told her. “Your instincts are to reach out, even through your own shields. Born psychics tend to do that without thought or intent. It’s a sense that’s natural to you; your mind, at least at the unconscious level, doesn’t operate with the same constraints most of us consciously impose on ourselves.”

  “Hey, were you trying to read me?” Dante was frowning at his partner.

  “No. Not trying. I just knew your shields were up, that’s all.”

  Matter-of-factly, Miranda said, “Dante has the stronger shield between the two of you. He also has a tendency to keep it up as much as possible.”

  It was Robbie’s turn to frown at her relatively new partner. “You can’t keep that up all the time. It takes too much energy, for one thing. And for another, with shields in the way, how will you communicate with spirits?”

  “I’m really hoping there won’t be any,” he said with some feeling. “Spirits would mean our victims are dead.”

 
Robbie looked back at Miranda. “Are you going to tell him or shall I?”

  “Tell me what?”

  Miranda said, “Serenity is an old town, Dante. Generations have lived—and died—there.”

  “So,” Robbie finished, “the place is probably teeming with spirits, no matter what happened or didn’t happen to our missings. Are you having fun yet?”

  “With six missing people including a kid, no,” he retorted. Then, to Miranda, he added, “I don’t have spirit guides. A whisper here, a glimpse there; that’s about it for me. I’ve never even had a helpful spirit point me in the right direction. Why send me?”

  “You and Robbie need time to work together as a team,” she answered readily. “And it’s our practice to put a new team with a more experienced team when we can. We don’t have many teams as experienced as Luke and Samantha.”

  “They could do this without us,” he objected. “Samantha is scary powerful as a clairvoyant, and Luke’s whole thing is finding people who are lost.”

  “We like to cover all our bases,” Miranda said. “Luke’s ability usually hinges on whether those who are missing are frightened or in pain; if they aren’t, that sense is fairly useless to him. Sam is powerful, but there have been cases where her clairvoyance wasn’t helpful. That happens, to all of us. As for you two . . . You may encounter a helpful spirit or spirits this time. And Robbie’s an exceptionally strong telepath; that’s not only one of the most reliable of psychic abilities, it’s virtually always a good ace to have whenever gathering information by talking to people.”

  “It’s cheating,” Robbie muttered.

  Miranda was unsurprised by the comment. Being one of those psychics born with her abilities, she had learned at a very young age to keep them hidden. Even though other telepaths here at the Special Crimes Unit at Quantico had worked with her for months now, she still struggled with the discomfort of “invading someone else’s mind,” as she called it.

  “It’s cheating,” she repeated. “If they don’t know. If I don’t ask permission. It’s an intrusion.”

  Deliberately, Miranda said, “Six missing people. Two of them teenagers. A judge. A young wife and mother. A young man with a frightened girlfriend. And a ten-year-old child.”

  After a moment, Robbie finally looked up and met her gaze. “The end justifies the means?”

  “That’s not what this is about. Your abilities are just tools, like the investigative and profiling techniques you’ve been taught. Like marksmanship, and interview techniques, and how to pick a lock if you have to.”

  Robbie smiled wryly at that.

  Miranda nodded, more to herself than to the younger woman. “We never really know what tools will come in handy during an investigation. Or which psychic abilities decide to go AWOL just when they’re needed. You may not need to even try to pick up someone else’s thoughts, with or without permission. Because it isn’t necessary—or because you tap into your abilities without even trying. That happens too. To the best of us.”

  Dante said, “Does this Chief Riggs know anything about our abilities?”

  “Well, he was up here about a year ago, taking some of the courses we offer law enforcement officers around the country. He seems the type to make friends easily, and he talked to quite a few agents here. None of ours, I think, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t find out about the SCU. In fact, we’re reasonably sure he did.”

  “Why?” Dante asked.

  “Because he asked for us. Not a first-response team, not the BAU, not even the child abduction unit. Us. The SCU. And he was adamant about it. He called Noah directly.” She paused, then added, “Noah and I both believe there’s more to this than what’s in Chief Riggs’s reports. He struck us both as being shaken, and he’s just not the type to easily shake. People disappear, it happens. Especially in the mountains. These disappearances seem odd, certainly, but what we’ve been told so far could easily indicate that these people, at least except for the little girl, just decided to leave and managed to do so without being seen.”

  “All within the same month?” Robbie said skeptically. “All in a little town that probably hasn’t seen an unexplained disappearance in most if not all of its history? And all leaving when they were apparently in the middle of very ordinary, routine activities?”

  “That does stick out,” Dante agreed.

  Miranda nodded. “We agree. Something very strange has happened—and may be still happening—in Serenity. Something the typical law enforcement officer isn’t trained to understand or cope with. It’s clear Chief Riggs knows that. How much he knows about the SCU . . . Well, you’ll all find out soon enough. Grab your go bags. The jet’s standing by.”

  FOUR

  Jonah got word that the feds had landed on a semiprivate airstrip about thirty miles from town, and not half an hour later, a black SUV pulled into a parking slot in front of the police station, which was just off Main Street.

  He stepped out onto the sidewalk to meet them, and to say he was curious would have grossly understated the matter. Four people were getting out of the vehicle, two men and two women, all casually dressed but all also wearing guns on their hips.

  The driver was a tall, well-built blond man with unusually intense—and just plain unusual—green eyes. He moved quickly, with the springy step of a man in excellent shape and with energy to spare. And he was the first to reach Jonah.

  “Chief Riggs? I’m Lucas Jordan. Luke.”

  “Jonah.”

  They shook hands, and then a very fair-skinned woman of medium height with a slight build, short black hair, eyes the closest to black Jonah had ever seen, and a sulky mouth that turned her almost beautiful when she smiled joined them on the sidewalk.

  “My partner and wife,” Luke said. “Samantha.”

  “You always introduce me as your partner first,” Samantha said, observation rather than complaint.

  “We were partners first,” he said simply.

  “Ah.” She nodded, then extended her hand to Jonah. “Sam,” she said.

  Jonah shook hands and was just thinking how these two were unlike any federal agents he’d met before when the other two joined them on the sidewalk, equally . . . unusual.

  The man Luke introduced as Dante Swann was slightly above medium height, with dark brown hair and very pale brown eyes that were almost gold—and seemed almost to glow, which was more than a little disconcerting.

  “Dante?” Jonah managed.

  “My mother was a classical scholar and loved his poetry. Go figure.” He shrugged. “I tried to just be Dan for a while, but—”

  “You aren’t a Dan,” Sam said absently as she stood looking around what she could see of the town. There hadn’t been very many pedestrians on Main Street and there were none at all on this side street.

  “Apparently not,” Dante agreed, taking a step to the side to introduce his partner.

  Robbie Hodge was tall, very blond, and very beautiful. She could have made a fortune as a model. Her merely polite smile made Jonah wonder if his toes were actually curling inside his boots.

  Surely not.

  Putting various thoughts aside to chew on later, he told the team, “A town this size doesn’t need a very large police department, and since I’ve called in all the auxiliary personnel I have, it’s more than a little crowded in there. If it’s okay with all of you, I’ve commandeered the space next door, right over there, for the duration. Used to be a real estate office, but it’s been vacant for a couple months. I’ve got a big round table, evidence boards, Wi-Fi, and landlines already set up, along with two new computers. There’s a kitchenette in the back as well as a restroom and a lounge. And I’ve got workmen coming in a bit to hang blinds over that big window in front. I figure we don’t need passersby looking in. Because they would.”

  “Panic setting in?” Sam said, more a statement than question.

&nbs
p; “That started more than two weeks ago, when the judge disappeared. It’s been growing worse and worse. The only happy people in town—though they do try hard to hide it—are the owners of our one electronics store.”

  “A run on security systems?”

  “Yeah. On complete systems and on various components to enhance and strengthen existing security systems. And locksmiths are installing new door locks at a pace I’ve never seen before. I don’t think there’s a house or condo in town that doesn’t have an extra dead bolt on every exterior door.” Jonah knew he looked tired and grim; he just hoped he didn’t look as grateful as he felt at the arrival of these agents. He was not too proud to yell for help, especially when he didn’t have a clue what was going on in his town, but no man wanted to look like he felt totally helpless, after all.

  Luke, clearly the lead agent, exchanged looks with the others, then said, “It’ll be dark in a few hours. All the sites of the disappearances were within a mile radius of downtown, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay. Well, we brought some equipment with us, but we can unload that and get set up later. I assume you’ve stepped up patrols in Serenity?”

  “Doubled during the day; after dark they’re doubled again, and I have officers on foot, in teams, covering as much as possible of the downtown area. The town council told me to forget the budget and get whatever and whoever I need, but there just aren’t many trained auxiliary deputies, and I don’t like using jumpy volunteers. So I’ve done what I could. Stretching resources as far as they’ll stretch.”

  “It’s all you can do until we find some kind of pattern in all this,” Luke said.

  Jonah nodded and said, “Your hotel is just a couple of blocks away. And they’ll hold the rooms till whenever you’re ready to check in.”

  It was Luke’s turn to nod. “Good enough. Normally, we’d split up and take different sites, but in this case, I think we should all probably see the site of each disappearance at the same time. And in order.”