Missing

by Debra Webb

  While the assistant in the expensive suit entered the necessary digits, the two thugs dropped to their knees then went face down on the concrete floor.

  “You might think you’ve won,” Lennox screeched, “but you and your employer will suffer the consequences.”

  “Maybe.” Foley nodded to the guy who’d made the 911 call. “Bring my cell to me,” he ordered a second time, “then join your pals on the floor.”

  The younger man glanced at the filthy floor then swallowed hard.

  “Now,” Foley prompted.

  The man inched close enough to give Foley the phone, then side-stepped in those same small increments back toward his partners in crime. It was almost worth the torture Foley had endured to watch that silk suit kiss the dirt and, during the short minutes before the cops arrived, to listen to Lennox’s offers of excessive amounts of cash for his freedom.

  But Foley had one thing on his mind. Her. She’d called. Unbelievable. He hadn’t seen her, hadn’t heard her voice in three years.

  I need your help.

  Worry throbbed in his skull, flexed in his jaw.

  She wouldn’t call him…unless it truly was a matter of life and death.

  Fear trickled into his veins.

  He had to get to her.

  When the cops arrived, Foley gave one of the officers his business card and walked away. He ignored the warning that he wasn’t supposed to leave until the detective in charge of the case arrived.

  There wasn’t a force on earth that could prevent him from going.

  The cell in his pocket sang its annoying tune.

  Foley withdrew it, checked the display in case it was her calling again.

  It wasn’t. It was his employer.

  Not at all surprised his employer already knew Lennox was down—he seemed hotwired into everywhere with everyone—Foley hit the answer button even as he quickened his pace. “Foley.”

  “Outstanding job,” the voice on the other end praised. “I knew you were the right man for this one. File your final report and relax. I’ll contact the office with your next assignment.”

  What kind of man could position a player to bring down a man like Lennox? A god in the murky and political world of government contractors.

  “Who are you?” Foley had been hired as an Equalizer more than five months ago. He’d heard this voice a dozen times, but he had no idea who the guy was or even what he looked like. Foley and the other two Equalizers currently on staff had done their research, gone to all sorts of lengths to find that answer.

  And there was nothing. It was as if the man behind the voice didn’t exist.

  “One day you’ll know,” the voice promised. “For now, your payment will be deposited into your bank account today.”

  The connection severed.

  Foley stalled, stared at the phone a moment. One day he would know? What did that mean? Then he shook off the questions and broke into a sprint.

  She needed him.

  He shouldn’t care.

  Stepping back into her life would be a mistake…for both of them.

  But he couldn’t ignore the call.

  Not even if he tried.

  Chapter Two

  Bay Minette, Alabama

  Friday, May 28th, 9:15 a.m.

  Calling him had been a last resort.

  Melissa Shepherd hugged her arms around her middle and stared through the window over the kitchen sink at the drizzling rain. She was desperate.

  Or crazy.

  She shuddered. Jonathan Foley had disappeared from her life three years ago. The ache, though dull, still swelled deep inside her whenever he came to mind. She shouldn’t have called him. Bay Minette’s entire police force, aided by numerous volunteers from surrounding towns and counties, hadn’t been able to find her niece, so why in the world would she believe he could?

  Misery washed over Melissa. Polly had been missing for five days. Five endless days and nights.

  Melissa’s brother was scheduled to ship back to Afghanistan on Tuesday, the day after Memorial Day. She shook her head. How could he leave with his three-year-old daughter missing? The military didn’t seem to care.

  Closing her eyes, Melissa blew out a heavy breath. That wasn’t fair. It wasn’t that they didn’t care. Her brother, William, was trained in a highly critical MOS—military occupational skill. It was a miracle he’d even gotten this too-short, two-week leave in the first place.

  That was the real reason Melissa had called Jonathan. He didn’t like talking about his past career in the military but, from what she’d gathered, during that time he had been connected to extremely high-level people—important people. He could call someone. She was certain of it.

  She’d asked him to do that when he’d returned her call in the middle of the night last night. He’d promised to call her back this morning.

  So far she hadn’t heard a word.

  Melissa opened her eyes and searched the backyard of her childhood home, her heart automatically hoping her gaze would land on sweet little Polly playing there. But the yard was empty. The old rope and wood swing her father had built for her as a child hung empty from the big old pecan tree’s massive branch.

  She’d tried. For days Melissa and the rest of the family, along with friends and neighbors, had searched. And nothing. It was as if Polly had vanished into thin air, leaving no trace of the reason for, or the person behind, her disappearance.

  Other than the fact that Stevie was missing, too. Melissa shook her head. She couldn’t believe that Stevie would ever harm Polly. He loved her. Stevie Price had suffered immense cruelty and severe trauma as an infant. The physical trauma had resulted in brain damage, leaving him mentally challenged. By the time he was four his self-centered mother had abandoned him. His father had tried to take care of him, but he’d had problems of his own. When Stevie was nineteen his father had died. He’d lived off the kindness of folks in the community ever since. And though he was thirty now, his mind was like a child’s. The children in the community loved Stevie.

  Melissa had played with him as a kid.

  He wouldn’t do this.

  Someone else was responsible for this horror.

  Hadn’t the Shepherd family suffered enough tragedy? First her father had been killed by serving his country while she and William were just kids. Melissa was convinced that was the reason William insisted on joining the military in the first place—to somehow feel closer to his father. Then, as if that hadn’t been a kick in the teeth, their mother had died four years ago. Melissa hadn’t been anywhere near ready to lose her mother. But Polly had come along and she’d brought new light to that dark, empty place.

  Now she was missing. After five days Melissa feared the worst.

  A lump rose, tightening her throat. Please, God, don’t let that sweet baby be hurt.

  As if her agony had summoned him, William came up beside her. “The chief sent me home.”

  Melissa turned to her brother. He looked beyond exhausted. She knew full well the agony she felt was nothing compared to what he suffered. Polly was his first and only child. He loved her more than life itself. He’d done everything in his power to give her a good life—in spite of the difficulties he and his wife had in their marriage.

  The whole town despised Presley. Whispered ugly things behind William’s back when he’d announced that he and Presley were to be married. Melissa wasn’t blind or stupid. She knew full well the stories, some all too true, that traveled the gossip circuit on a regular basis about her sister-in-law. But Melissa chose to give Presley the benefit of the doubt. Everyone deserved a second chance and Presley’d had a rough go of it as a kid. William loved her. That was enough for Melissa.

  “Presley was sleeping,” William said, his voice weak with fatigue and fierce worry. “I didn’t want to bother her so I came here.”

  Melissa’s chest tightened. Whatever anyone thought of Presley, she worshipped Polly. As much of a nightmare as this was for her, Melissa couldn’t begin to f
athom how Presley felt. “You need sleep, too.” She brushed the back of her hand across his shadowed jaw. He felt cold despite the unseasonably warm weather. “You can’t help Polly if you’re too worn out to think straight.”

  William shook his head. “I can’t bear to sleep.” Emotion glistened in his bloodshot eyes. “Who would do this?” His lips trembled. “Who would take my baby?” He dropped his head.

  The sheer agony in his voice tore at Melissa’s heart. Just looking at him brought images of Polly to mind. The little girl had her daddy’s blond hair and blue eyes. She was a little duplicate of him and she’d brought so much joy to their lives.

  The loud chime of the doorbell echoed through the too-quiet house.

  Melissa’s and William’s gazes locked.

  What if they’d found Polly or…Melissa swallowed tightly…her body?

  Dear God, no, no, no. Don’t let that be.

  Melissa pulled her bravado up off the floor and wrapped it around her. “They would’ve called,” she said aloud. That was right. She let the air seep back into her lungs. “If they’d found her, they would’ve called.” The courage she’d dredged up and the words she’d spoken for her brother’s benefit did nothing to slow the thundering in her chest.

  William nodded. “Guess so.”

  The chime echoed a second time. “Stay here.” Melissa squeezed his arm. “I’ll see who it is.”

  She turned from her brother, her heart somehow rising into her throat while it continued to pound frantically, and started toward the living room. The dishes she’d intended to wash when she’d come into the kitchen still waited, but she didn’t care. It was difficult to keep her mind on anything except Polly.

  Chief Talbot, the town’s chief of police since Melissa was a kid, had ordered Melissa back home this morning, too. He didn’t want her or William out there. Maybe because of what he feared finding or maybe just because they both looked like death warmed over.

  At least the chief had allowed their Uncle Harry to continue helping with the search. Harry would call the instant he knew anything. He was practically a second father to her and William. He’d stepped in when their father was killed, taking over for the younger brother he’d adored. Melissa felt certain that was why he’d never married and had a family of his own. He’d been too busy taking care of his younger brother’s.

  Holding her breath, Melissa opened the front door.

  She’d braced for the appearance of one of Bay Minette’s finest or a family friend bearing bad news.

  But not this. She wasn’t prepared for this.

  Jonathan Foley.

  The breath she’d been holding whispered past her lips, his name forming there without conscious thought. “Jonathan.”

  “Melissa.”

  The sound of his voice echoed through her being, made her soul ache with the need to reach out to him. He looked exactly the same. Tall with shoulders that filled the doorway. Thick black hair still military short. Chiseled jaw that gave the impression of unyielding stone. But it was the eyes that made her already pounding heart stumble drunkenly.

  They were ice blue, so pale they were almost gray. She’d always been certain that he could see right through her. That he could read her every thought.

  “I’ve been waiting for you to call.” She managed to keep her voice steady, which was an outright miracle.

  “May I come in?”

  Shaking off the shock and confusion, Melissa stepped back. “Of course.” Get your head together, girl.

  Jonathan Foley stepped across the threshold and into her family home. Melissa’s breath deserted her once more. He was here. After nearly three years without a word, he was here.

  He waited patiently, his eyes searching hers.

  She summoned the courage that had apparently run for parts unknown. “I’m glad you came.” It was the truth. She’d expected nothing more than a phone call but she was damned glad he was here. The urge to fall into his arms consumed her again.

  “Has there been any word on your niece?”

  Melissa moved her head side to side. The movement felt stiff and jerky with the tension ruthlessly gripping her neck.

  Silence pressed against her, filled the room for half a dozen beats of her aching heart.

  She gave herself a mental kick. “Please sit.” She gestured to the sofa and chairs. Wherever he lived now, whatever his job or personal status, he’d come to Alabama to help her family. For that she felt immensely grateful.

  He waited for her to take a seat first, then he settled in the chair directly across from her position on the sofa. Old, well-worn, the sofa had been around since she was a kid. The upholstery had changed a couple of times, ending up a wild mix of pink and red flowers against a green and white background. Her mother had picked it out and Melissa didn’t have the heart to change it.

  Jonathan considered her a moment, his posture straight and rigid as if he expected a general to enter the room at any moment and he might have to jump to his feet and salute. His forearms rested along the length of the chair arms, his hands palms down, his long fingers extended as if that were the only part of him fully relaxed. Then he finally spoke. “She’s been missing for five days?”

  “Yes.” That sinking feeling that bottomed out in her stomach each time Melissa thought about sweet little Polly out there alone or worse dropped like a stone deep into her belly now. “They’re continuing to search for her.” She shook her head. “But they haven’t found anything yet.”

  His gaze narrowed so very slightly that she might have missed the change if she hadn’t been staring so intently at him. “No suspects? No evidence discovered?”

  “Nothing at all.” She clenched her fingers together and pressed her fists into her lap to prevent them from shaking.

  “Has the FBI been called in to assist?”

  Melissa had to really concentrate to pull the answer from the mass of painful and confusing information she’d attempted to process the past few days. “There was talk of someone coming from Montgomery.” What had the chief said? Her mind was a total blank! What was wrong with her? Taking a deep breath, she finally pieced it together. “I think a consult was done by phone.”

  She waited for a response, physical or verbal, but he said nothing. Sat utterly still. Analyzing her answer, she supposed.

  Memories flooded her brain. Moments shared with this man that she had shared with no other human being. Secrets…feelings. Stop. She ordered herself back to the matter of importance. “Is that normal procedure?” she asked when he continued to sit stone still without saying a word.

  “Sometimes.” He paused a moment as if to be sure of his words. “The Bureau’s involvement is strictly on a case by case basis. If they’re not on the scene they feel there is nothing their presence could add at this point.”

  Did that mean the FBI felt Polly’s case was hopeless? Before Melissa could ask as much, he said, “Walk me through exactly what happened.”

  Where was William? Melissa glanced at the door that separated the kitchen and dining room from the living room. Forcing him to relive that night would only add to his misery. “It was late. William and his wife had a fight.” Melissa took a moment to tamp down the renewed rush of emotion. “You know how young couples can be. A little too much passion and not quite enough common sense. William didn’t want Polly to be awakened by the arguing so he left and came here for the night.” Melissa’s throat attempted to close again. “The next morning when he went home Polly was gone and Presley was sleeping off the vodka she’d used to drown her frustrations.”

  More than one well-meaning neighbor had commented that no decent mother would drink herself unconscious with her child in the next room. But that was the main emotional outlet Presley had been exposed to growing up. It was what she knew. Melissa wanted to shake her every time she thought about it, but that wouldn’t change a thing.

  Even more troubling, the house had been unlocked when William arrived home that awful morning. William insisted he
had locked up when he left. Presley claimed he clearly had not since the back door had been wide open with no indication of forced entry. Melissa wanted to believe William, but he’d been damned upset that night. He was only human.

  Sweet Jesus, how could this have happened?

  “He called the police,” Jonathan prompted.

  “Yes.” Melissa chewed at her bottom lip. Her throat was so dry she could scarcely breathe much less swallow. “The chief and one of his deputies arrived within minutes. William and Presley were arguing.” Melissa shook her head. “It was terrible…just terrible.”

  Another long moment of tension-filled silence passed, with Jonathan watching her, assessing her. What was he thinking? Had he already formed some sort of conclusion? How was that possible? He didn’t know her family. Certainly she’d mentioned her brother and niece, and her uncle, but Jonathan hadn’t bothered to stick around long enough to meet any of them. Melissa had been living and working in Birmingham at the time. Still would be if her mother hadn’t gotten sick and then if her brother hadn’t deployed to the Middle East.

  William had begged Melissa to come home and keep an eye on Polly. And Presley. Determined to help, Melissa had come home and still this unthinkable tragedy had occurred.

  “The investigation has uncovered nothing?” her visitor asked again.

  “Nothing.” It was disheartening, awful even, but it was the truth. “No one saw anything or heard anything,” she explained, hoping to make herself perfectly clear this time. “Whoever took Polly left no evidence. Nothing.”

  “I spoke to my contact at the Pentagon.”

  A little hitch disrupted her respiration. “And?” This was what she’d called him about, what she’d needed from him. Not this interrogation. His questions felt exactly like that. As if he was interrogating her. Stay calm, she ordered herself. He was trying to help. Her fingernails pinched into her palms.

  “Your brother’s orders have been put on hold indefinitely.”

  Relief flooded Melissa with such force her shoulders trembled. “Thank you.”