Vanished (Harlequin Super Romance)

by Winn, Bonnie K.

  He parked, thinking it looked like the sort of place Gillian would choose, no sharp angles or aggressive chrome. As he walked through the gate he saw the banks of multipaned French windows. Yes, it was Gillian.

  There couldn’t be more than twenty units in the complex, and each one had a private courtyard. The cop part of him said the place was ideal for robbers and stalkers. But something inside said it was also perfect for romance. And that caused him to wonder if Gillian had found a new man.

  Shaking off the thought, he strode to her apartment, clanging the brass knocker beside the French doors a bit harder than he’d intended. He heard a rustling at the doors before she pulled them open.

  “Hi,” she greeted him, her voice sounding softer than it had earlier that day. “Come in. I’m almost ready. I just have to put on my earrings.”

  She’d always left them for last. He swallowed. It was difficult to know such intimate details, yet pretend they were forgotten, that they had no impact on him.

  She disappeared into what he guessed was the bedroom, leaving him to study her apartment. He could see that she’d chosen intriguing antique pieces, coupled with a comfortable-looking traditional couch. Warm and informal, nothing screamed “do not touch.”

  It suited her, Brad realized with surprise. When they had furnished their home, she had never voiced her apparent love of antiques when he’d told her he preferred contemporary furnishings.

  “I’m ready.”

  He turned around, seeing that she looked more relaxed as she strolled toward him, holding a gift bag and her purse.

  She paused next to him, looking up expectantly. An image of the days when they’d tumbled from bed still wanting more flashed through his mind. She would stand this close to him, and he would reach to cup his hand around the back of her neck, to pull her to him for a final kiss.

  “Brad?” she asked, her dark eyes wide with questions, her unique scent drifting around him.

  A trace of nerves played across her face as she tossed back her silky hair. It was the first time since they’d begun the investigation that he’d seen it loose.

  “Are you ready?” She looked toward the door, a touch of anxiety in her voice.

  Belatedly realizing he was blocking the way, Brad opened the door and then stepped aside, allowing Gillian to walk out ahead of him.

  As they drove to her parents’ house, Gillian was unusually quiet. He wondered if she remembered when it had been natural for them to be together. He couldn’t seem to forget.

  The driveway was filled with cars. Apparently every member of her family was in attendance. Brad parked on the street and allowed Gillian to take the lead as they walked toward the house. In the past, they’d entered through the back door—going straight into the family-friendly kitchen.

  “Everyone’s probably in the living room,” Gillian told him as they headed up the sidewalk to the front door. She didn’t ring the bell. Theirs was a casual family. As Gillian’s hand closed around the knob, she glanced back at Brad. “You okay?”

  And for that one moment he was. “Yeah.”

  Gillian held his gaze a touch longer, then pushed the door open. Chaos reigned. Kramer siblings, their spouses and a spattering of grandchildren all seemed to be speaking at once. There was so much activity that no one noticed them at first.

  Suzanne, Gillian’s mother, glanced up. For a moment she tensed, then rose, meeting them in the entry hall.

  “Brad,” she greeted him. “It’s been awhile.”

  “Yes. Nice to see you.”

  Her smile became warmer as she seemed to sense his hesitation. She linked her arm with his. “Gillian should have told us sooner you were coming,” she told him, her gaze chiding her youngest. “But we’re delighted to see you.”

  “I hope I’m not intruding.” Brad knew he couldn’t have felt more awkward if Gillian had paraded him buck-naked through the Kramer house.

  “Of course not. We always have an extra seat at the table.”

  Brad caught sight of Gillian’s father. Although everyone had been on civil terms during the divorce, Brad knew fathers felt especially protective toward their daughters.

  But Frank was rising from his chair.

  “Frank.”

  The elder Kramer extended his hand. “Brad.”

  As they shook hands, Brad marveled at the open, happy faces, so starkly different from his family.

  Teri and David approached. Teri gave Brad a quick hug, surprising him yet again. And her husband offered his hand.

  Gillian’s brothers, Craig and Grant, approached a bit more slowly. Gillian was the baby sister in every sense. Although the men greeted him, Brad felt their reserve.

  “We’re having appetizers,” Suzanne was telling him as they made their way deeper into the living room.

  “The grandkids made them as a surprise. The peanut butter, marshmallow, Gummi Bear ones are their specialty,” Frank added with a discreet expression of warning. “What are you drinking?”

  Brad remembered that Frank was a connoisseur of fine Scotch. Since he was driving, that caused a twinge of regret. “Coffee. Black.”

  While Frank went to get his drink, Brad glanced at Gillian. But she wasn’t paying attention to him. Instead she knelt to accept sticky kisses and heartfelt hugs from her nieces and nephews.

  In the past, when visiting with Gillian’s family, Brad had felt as though he’d been asked to eat dinner with the Waltons.

  He had few such happy memories of his own family. There had been a time…but that was before Amanda vanished and the small family had been ripped apart. Since then, the good memories had almost completely faded under the strength of the bad.

  Suzanne clapped her hands together to be heard above a half dozen overlapping conversations. “Let’s head into the dining room.”

  Dreading the remainder of the evening, Brad swallowed a fortifying shot of strong coffee.

  As he replaced his cup in its saucer, Suzanne took his elbow. “Why don’t I run interference?”

  Brad hoped his nervousness wasn’t too obvious. “You think it’ll be needed?”

  But Suzanne only smiled gently. “You know what a mob we are, Brad.”

  He nodded, grateful that Suzanne was anything but the stereotypical mother-in-law.

  She seated Brad next to a small boy. Teri sat on the other side of the child.

  Her daughter, Rachel, was on her right. The five-year-old’s face was bright with curiosity. “Mommy said you went away, Uncle Brad.”

  Clearing his throat, he looked at Teri for help, but her expression plainly said he was on his own. “That’s true. I moved to the other side of town.”

  “How come?” Rachel persisted.

  He settled for a neutral response. “My job is there.”

  Rachel considered this. To Brad’s relief she moved on to another topic, pointing to the small boy seated next to him. “Can you tell which twin that is?”

  From her eager face, Brad suspected this was a favorite game of hers. He turned to the boy. “I’m not sure.”

  She giggled, an impish sound. “Guess.”

  Brad cocked his head unable to distinguish between the boy and his twin. They’d changed a great deal since he’d last seen them.

  Imitating Brad’s motion, Rachel cocked her small head. “There’s two of them, you know.”

  Brad raised his eyebrows in deliberate surprise. “Really?”

  “That’s what makes them twins,” the child explained patiently. “You’re ’pposed to know that. You’re a grown-up.”

  Brad made a show of examining his large hands. “So I am.”

  Teri reached over, tugging gently on her daughter. “That’s enough, Rachel. You’ll talk his ear off.”

  “Uh-uh,” the child objected. “I don’t know how.”

  “Not to worry,” Teri responded. “You’re getting the knack.”

  “It’s okay,” Brad told his former sister-in-law.

  Teri met his eyes over the head of her precoc
ious child. “We do our best to make sure unexpected guests are treated politely.”

  Unexpected guests. Teri was subtle, but Brad caught the subtext.

  Gillian stood beside him suddenly, leaning to fill his water glass. “They’re a tough crowd,” she told him, her voice traveling to reach her sister.

  Teri jerked her head up, a guilty look on her face. “Sorry,” she muttered.

  Brad kept his expression benign. “You’ve done nothing to apologize for.”

  “And nothing to boost the family pride, either,” Gillian retorted, glaring at her sister.

  Uncomfortably Brad straightened in his chair. “I don’t want to spoil your father’s party.”

  “You’re not,” Teri told him with a cheerfulness Brad couldn’t call either true or false. “Dad always says the more the better. Don’t let my lapse of manners ruin a perfectly lovely evening.” She retrieved a napkin from one of her sons, who’d been busily trying to pull his place setting from the table. “We won’t keep you in suspense any longer. This twin is Dallas.”

  Gillian leaned close enough so that Brad and Teri could hear, but so her voice didn’t travel down the table. “As you know, we’re lucky she didn’t name the other one Fort Worth.”

  “Gill!” Teri protested. “You know it’s a family name!”

  Little Dallas didn’t seem perturbed, having heard the jest before. Rachel, however, continued chattering. “That’s silly, huh, Brad?”

  “Sure is. I’d have named them Minneapolis and St. Paul.”

  “That sounds like a church name,” Rachel replied with practical reasoning.

  “So it does. Guess that’s why I’m not in charge of choosing names.”

  “You have to have babies to get to name one,” Rachel told him with exaggerated patience. “Didn’t you know that?”

  Brad looked at neither Gillian nor Teri. “Must have forgotten.”

  “That’s okay,” Rachel said, handing him a grape she’d filched from the table. “I forget stuff, too.”

  “Then I’m in good company,” Brad managed to say.

  As Gillian moved around the table filling goblets, young Rachel shifted a tad closer. “I have more grapes if you want some.”

  Was it an inborn Kramer trait, Brad wondered suddenly. To offer balm from childhood forward? “That’s okay. I think we’re going to start eating any minute.”

  Dallas sighed a sigh as big as he was. “It always takes forever.”

  Since it was feeling that way to Brad as well, he didn’t disagree.

  Gillian soon slipped into the chair beside him. “I think my mother planned to sit here, but I preempted her bid.” She reached for her water. “I think she was afraid you’d be the main course, so she was trying to protect you.”

  It was actually rather sweet, Brad realized. But he was out of touch with sweet familial moments. Uncomfortable, he sneaked a glance at his watch.

  “We haven’t even had salad,” Gillian remarked in a quiet yet wry voice. “It’s going to be a long evening if you’re already clocking off the minutes.”

  “What makes you think it will go any faster if I don’t?” A flash of hurt crossed her face and inwardly he cursed his words. “Gillian—”

  “You’re right, of course.” Gillian smoothed the napkin in her lap. “But luckily it looks as though we’re about to begin.”

  Feeling like a heel, Brad remained quiet.

  The rest of the dinner passed uneventfully, but that didn’t make him feel any better. A cake was brought out, and amid much laughter and encouragement candles were extinguished to spontaneous applause.

  “Did you make a wish, Dad?” Teri asked.

  Frank glanced around the table, his gaze resting on Suzanne. “Yep. And it’s already come true.”

  His adult children tossed rumpled napkins in his direction.

  Brad was uncomfortably aware of the pristine napkin that lay across his lap. The Kramers displayed their feelings like highway billboard signs. But he’d never been able to join in their uninhibited exchanges.

  “Presents! Presents!” the grandchildren started to chant.

  Frank rubbed his hands together, forgoing any false modesty. “I’ll open the gifts if you agree to eat cake.”

  The children cheered for their grandfather, and even Brad found himself smiling. The old man had a way about him.

  Remembering the gift in his pocket, Brad unobtrusively pulled it out, placing it at the side of the large mound of presents. Young Dallas followed his every move, his eyes widening when he saw the tissue-wrapped gift.

  Seeing the child’s mouth open to question it, Brad put a finger to his own lips. Delighted by the secret he shared, Dallas bounced up and down on the chair a bit but didn’t say anything.

  No persuasion was needed to dig into the rich, fudgy chocolate cake. It was Suzanne’s specialty—and her family’s favorite.

  Brad was quiet, observing the members of the family as they enjoyed their father, the cake, one another. Exclamations punctuated the animated conversation as the gifts were opened.

  When Frank came to Brad’s present, he paused, not seeing a card. Looking intrigued, he pulled open the tissue paper. Surprise stilled his movements as he revealed the brilliant paperweight.

  He glanced down the length of the table, obviously wondering who the gift was from. “This is incredible. Who…?” Frank asked, glancing from face to face.

  Before the moment became awkward, Brad cleared his throat to speak.

  But Dallas could keep his secret no longer. “It’s from Brad!”

  Every head at the table swung in his direction.

  Brad resisted the urge to squirm under their inspection. “Happy birthday, Frank.”

  Frank removed the paperweight from its tissue-paper nest and held it up. Light from the chandelier bounced off the prism, reflecting the colors of a cut diamond rather than the expected rainbow. “I don’t know what to say, Brad. This is…well, a piece of art.”

  “I collect art glass,” Brad explained, having seen the questions on Gillian’s face, knowing she was wondering where he’d obtained the piece on such short notice. “And I know you collect paperweights. It seemed a good combination.”

  “If this is part of your collection, I can’t accept it!” Frank protested.

  “It would please me for you to have it.” The older man had always treated him squarely, despite the outcome of his marriage to Gillian.

  Frank ran an appreciative finger over the enticing object. “It would be the most unique one I own.”

  “Enjoy it, Frank,” Brad told him. “Half the pleasure I take in this hobby comes from acquiring the pieces. Now I have a good excuse to add another one.”

  “Thank you, Brad. I’ll enjoy it.”

  Just then Gillian’s cell phone rang. Pulling it from her belt, she listened for a few moments.

  “I’ll be right on it,” she said into the phone before flipping it shut. Then she glanced at her parents. “Sorry, Dad, Mom. I’ve got to run.”

  Her mother stood with Gillian and Brad. “We understand, dear.”

  “We’ll walk you to the door,” Frank added.

  In the front entry hall, Suzanne hugged Brad lightly. “It was lovely having you, dear.”

  “Thank you for dinner, Suzanne. That cake of yours is still wicked.”

  Pleased, she smiled. “Don’t be a stranger.”

  Brad glanced at Gillian, not sure just how long he was to be included in the Kramer family gatherings. “Thanks.”

  Frank shook his hand. “Can’t thank you enough for the paperweight, Brad. It’ll be the jewel of my collection.”

  Brad nodded. Then he and Gillian were outside. Breathing deeply of the night air, he turned to her. “Where are we off to?”

  “I’m headed to check out a lead in Galveston.”

  Automatically he gripped her arm. “Not by yourself.”

  She glanced down at his restraining hand, her voice deadly calm. “We’re not married anymore, Brad.”


  He bit back a curse. “I’m not trying to control you. This isn’t Dodge City, and you don’t need to be charging off fifty miles away in the middle of the night by yourself. I’m offering to be backup, unless your partner’s available.”

  She fiddled with her purse. “He’s not. And I don’t want to wait until he’s free. Dispatch said it was urgent.”

  Brad pulled the keys from his pocket. “Not to mention I’m driving.”

  She stopped short at the words.

  He hid a smile. “I wondered when you’d remember you didn’t have your car here.”

  “YOU SURE THIS IS IT?” Brad asked skeptically once they’d located the address in Galveston.

  Gillian looked at the dark house, reserving her own doubts. “It checks against the anonymous tip Dispatch gave me.”

  “It doesn’t smell right,” Brad muttered.

  Gillian agreed, but she didn’t want to take the position of weak female with Brad. She’d seen much scarier locales in her time with the agency. “You can stay here if you’d like.”

  “Funny.”

  Together they eased from the car, mutely agreeing to remain quiet since the place suggested caution. Although there was only a sliver of moonlight, the house seemed unnaturally dark. From all the overgrown foliage, Gillian guessed. Its thickness seemed to choke the shingled exterior of the small place, capturing any light.

  A screen door, an island necessity, sagged limply against the front door. Pushing it aside, Gillian searched for a doorbell. Not finding one, she pounded on the sturdy wood. The sound seemed unnatural in the night.

  “Dead-end street,” Brad observed. “Only one way out of here.”

  Gillian felt tension settle in at the back of her neck. Consciously she straightened to her full height and knocked again, despite the cobwebs covering the jamb.

  But nothing stirred in the house or the deserted yard.

  Brad flipped open the mailbox, pulling out some yellowed circulars. “I think the place is empty. Doesn’t seem like the electricity is on and there’s no current mail.”

  Gillian nodded in agreement. “Let’s check all the entry points to see if the cobwebs have been disturbed.”