© 2015 by Lynette Eason
Published by Revell
a division of Baker Publishing Group
P.O. Box 6287, Grand Rapids, MI 49516-6287
www.revellbooks.com
Ebook edition created 2015
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
ISBN 978-1-4412-2712-6
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Published in association with Tamela Hancock Murray, The Steve Laube Agency, 5025 N. Central Ave., #635, Phoenix, AZ 85012.
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
Four Weeks Later
About the Author
Books by Lynette Eason
Back Ads
Back Cover
For Jesus.
1
Sixteen-year-old Meg felt the hair on the back of her neck prick to attention. She looked around the student parking lot and shivered, even though she’d worked up a good sweat at basketball practice. Her coach had kept her late, wanting her to run the two new plays with him. As point guard, she had to know and call each play.
Staying late was fine. Only she hated walking to her car in the dark. January in the south meant cold, early nights. Meg took a deep breath and sent a text to her mother.
M: On the way home. I’m hungry. What’s for dinner?
The parking lot lights cast shadows that made her want to jump out of her skin. Instead, she stuck her phone in the back pocket of her shorts and reached for her keys. She opened the driver’s door.
A low scrape to her left made her flinch. A figure stepped around the corner of the building. Meg’s heart leapt. She wove the keys through her fingers and slid in the seat to slam the door.
A hard hand stopped it. “Meg?”
She jerked and stifled a scream. Then she recognized Tanner. She placed a hand over her pounding heart. “Oh my gosh, you scared me to death. What are you doing?”
“Waiting for you.”
“Well, I’ve got to go. Mom’s waiting on me for dinner. Can we catch up tomorrow?”
“I’m sorry. Tomorrow will be too late.”
“Too late for—” A fine mist caught her in the face. She gasped and stared up at the guy she’d thought was her friend. “Tan?”
He simply watched as her world faded and went black.
Jillian Brady glanced at the clock. She’d gotten Meg’s text thirty minutes ago. The girl should have been home by now.
J: Meg. Where r u?
Almost immediately, she got a reply.
M: Meg won’t be coming home for dinner. Stay by ur phone.
Jillian gaped. “What?”
Detective Colton Brady, Jillian’s husband, stood at the kitchen sink slicing tomatoes for the hamburgers he’d just brought in from the grill. His head snapped up. “What is it?”
“I just got the weirdest—scariest—text from Meg. If it was even from her.” She took the phone over to him. “Look.” She held it up.
He set the knife down and dried his hands. He read, then his eyes lifted to meet hers. “I don’t like that.”
“She wouldn’t joke around like that. Not Meg.”
Colton walked over to the breakfast bar and picked up his cell phone.
“Who are you calling?”
“You call Meg. I’m calling the office to see if I can get a trace on Meg’s phone.”
Jillian dialed her daughter’s number. It went straight to voice mail. She hung up and tried again. Same thing. She grabbed her keys and purse. “I’m going to the school.”
“Hold on, I’m coming with you.”
Together, they raced out the door and climbed into Colton’s truck. Jillian’s worry for Meg had her distracted and praying. She looked at the text again.
M: Meg won’t be coming home for dinner. Stay by ur phone.
“Call Dominic,” she said.
“What?”
Fear for Meg gave her the shakes. She looked up at Colton. “Call Dominic. He’s FBI. He deals with kidnappings all the time. Have him meet us there.”
“Kidnapping? But we don’t know—”
“I know, Colton.” Tears welled and dripped down her cheeks and off her chin. “I know,” she whispered.
Colton swallowed hard and snatched his phone.
2
Colton stared at his daughter’s empty car. The driver’s door gaped as though mocking him. She’s not here. She’s not here. And she’s not coming back anytime soon.
The keys on the ground shot fear through him. Every kidnapping he’d ever worked, every homicide he’d ever seen came back to him in a blinding rush.
All he could think was, I’m never going to see my daughter again. But he’d never voice the thought. Did his best to squelch it, to push aside those statistics that taunted him. “So this is what it feels like to be on the other side,” he muttered.
Dominic Allen used a pen to lift Meg’s keys from the ground and drop them into the open bag. “We’ll find her.”
“What are you working on, Colton?”
He turned to find Hunter Graham, a detective with the local police force, staring at him. “You know what I’m working on. We work on cases together, remember?”
“You’re not doing anything on the side?”
“No.” He placed his hands on his hips. “Nothing.” His throat tightened and his fingers curled into fists. “She’s just sixteen, Hunter.”
“But she’s not like any other sixteen-year-old I know. She’s a fighter and she’s got skills. You made sure of that.”
Colton pointed to the car. “Doesn’t look like that did much good, does it?” He grabbed his head and paced to the front of the car, then back. His phone buzzed. He lifted it to his ear. “What?”
“I just sent you a text. Be waiting for the next call. And don’t bother trying to trace this phone. I’m not that stupid.”
Click.
Tremors wanted to take over. Colton refused to let them. Jillian sat in the truck, her gaze vacant, staring at something he couldn’t see. When his phone buzzed again with the incoming text, his thumb hovered over the touch screen. And then pressed.
A picture of Meg appeared. He sucked in a deep breath.
“What is it?” Hunter asked.
Colton flipped the phone around so he could see.
“She looks peaceful. Like she’s sleeping.”
“Yeah. It doesn’t look like he’s hurt her and her skin is normal color.”
Meaning it wasn’t gray or blue to indicate she was dead.
Colton swallowed. “Okay, she’s alive.”
“What’s the number? We’ll trace it.”
“It’s blocked. He must have used *67.”
“We can get around that. Let me take your phone and have a tech examine it.”
“No way. This is how he’s going to communicate with me.” His fingers curled around the device. “It’s not going anywhere.”
&n
bsp; Hunter blew out a sigh. “All right.”
“Dominic’s the lead on this anyway. Let’s fill him in.”
Colton led the way over to a very tight-faced Dominic. His fear for Megan tripled. “What is it?”
“Serena called. She’s on her way to the mall. A teenage girl was found behind the dumpster.”
3
Jillian had climbed out of the truck, feeling helpless and useless sitting there watching the action. She’d been heading toward her husband when she heard his words. She stopped and stared at Dominic. “Meg?” she whispered. Then turned and promptly lost what little she had in her stomach.
Colton strode to her and wrapped her in a tight hug. “No. We don’t know that. Stop. It’s not her until—”
“—it’s her. I know. I know. You’re right.” She pulled away and grabbed his hand. “Let’s go.”
“Jillian, we can’t—”
She spun on her heel and headed back to the truck. She was going straight to the crime scene and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it short of handcuffing her. She climbed into the passenger seat. He shut the door and slid behind the wheel. Without a word, Colton cranked the car and pulled out of the parking lot.
“What if it’s her?” Jillian whispered.
“It’s not.”
Tears slid down her cheeks as she begged God to spare her child, her only child. “It’s just like before.”
“What?”
“Before! When that crazy man your aunt hired took her. I can’t do this again!” Another wave of nausea rolled over her. “Why her?” Colton’s jaw looked like granite. She didn’t expect him to answer, but still …
“I don’t know, but we’ll find her and she’ll be fine.”
“Like everyone else in your family?” she exploded. “Your aunt’s not fine, she’s in jail. Carmen’s not fine, we never see her because she can’t stand to be reminded of her parents.” Carmen, Colton’s cousin who’d witnessed her mother try to kill her father. “We’re not fine because the past won’t let us go. And now Meg.” Her baby who still woke up screaming in the middle of the night ever since she’d been rescued seven years ago. “Seven years, Colton.”
“It’s been a good seven years, Jillian, in spite of a few things.”
“Yes. Yes it has been,” she whispered. “I suppose I knew it couldn’t last forever.”
He shot her a sharp look. “Stop.”
She sniffed. “I am. I am. I’m sorry. You’re right.”
Darkness pressed in on her, making it hard to catch her breath. Fear, terror, and the horror of what could be happening to Meg made her want to scream. She clenched her fists and prayed.
“He called me,” Colton said. “I don’t think it’s her.”
“What do you mean he called you? Who is he?”
Colton handed her his phone. “Look at the first text at the top. It’s a picture of her. She’s asleep or unconscious, but she’s not dead. I don’t know who he is or what he wants.” Colton’s fingers flexed around the wheel. “Right now, we’re under his thumb. He’s in control. Right now we can only wait.”
Jillian brought up the picture. Meg’s sweet face filled the screen. Her perfection nearly made her weep. “Oh baby, where are you?” Colton’s hand reached across and squeezed hers. She squeezed back. “But why? Did he say why?”
“No.”
Jillian fell silent, staring at Meg. She studied the picture, trying to see behind her, beneath her, above her. Anything that might tell her where she was.
But the picture was a close-up, Meg’s dark lashes resting against her pale cheeks.
Colton pulled into the mall parking lot and headed straight for the flashing lights and crime scene tape. The officer with the crime scene logbook held up a hand and Colton flashed his badge, gave his name, and looked at Jillian. “Stay here.”
She unbuckled her seatbelt, chin quivering. “No way.”
Colton’s hand shot out to stop her. “You can’t go with me.” He shot a glance at the tarp-covered body. “You don’t want to see this.”
4
Colton didn’t want to see it either. What if he was wrong? What if it was Meg? His heart pounded hard enough to hurt.
Serena looked up from her phone. “Oh Colton, I was getting ready to call you. It’s not Meg.”
His knees threatened to give out on him even as relief swept him. He swallowed. “Right. Thanks.”
“Sorry for the scare.”
He nodded, unable to speak for a moment.
“It’s not her,” Jillian stated from behind him, her monotone worrying him. Was she in shock? Fear overload?
He turned and gripped her arm. “No, it’s not.”
She raised a trembling hand to her lips. “I’m so glad, but …”
“I know.” Because while the girl wasn’t Meg, she was somebody’s sister, daughter, granddaughter. “I know.”
“Now what?” Jillian asked.
“We keep searching while the lab processes the evidence.” He cleared his throat. “And we pray.”
Meg blinked against the harsh light and tried to roll over to bury her face in the pillow. She frowned when her arms wouldn’t move.
She jerked her right arm.
Something cold encircled her wrist.
And memory returned.
A scream welled. She swallowed it back. “Tanner?” Her voice came out in a croak. She tried again. “Tanner! Where are you? What are you doing?”
Her words bounced off the cement walls, echoing around her. She swiveled her head. Cement above her, cement below her. Cement all around her. A bed. A toilet in the corner. All the room lacked was the sliding door fitted with bars. A prison. A cell. She was locked in.
Terror smothered her and she gasped for air. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “It’s going to be okay. Dad will find you. He will. Mom will make him.”
But what if he didn’t?
Her stomach cramped.
What if he couldn’t?
Jillian racked her brain trying to remember any small piece of information Meg might have mentioned about school, her friends, anything. “Her coach was the last one to see her before she disappeared.”
“Right.”
“Have the cops talked to him?” Anger swelled. “Why didn’t he walk her to her car? It was dark!”
“Why weren’t there other kids around?”
“He kept her late again to run drills.”
“I’ve never liked that guy.” Colton was already on his phone with Hunter. “Question her coach in depth, will you?”
“Already working on it.” Jillian stood next to Colton and could hear Hunter’s voice come through the line.
“He’s a strict coach and I think he pushes the girls too hard sometimes, but I can’t imagine he would kidnap Meg. What reason would he have? It’s crazy,” she whispered.
Colton hung up with Hunter and pulled Jillian to him, wrapping his arms around her and squeezing almost too tight. She buried her face in his chest and let the tears flow. Please, God …
5
Watching Colton and Jillian suffer brought satisfaction like nothing else had in the past seven years. Colton and Jillian liked to destroy families. It was their turn to be on the receiving end of what it felt like to have those you loved suffer.
The watcher lowered the binoculars.
Maybe she would alter her plan. She could kill Meg first. Slowly. Tortuously. Minute by minute, hour by hour, recording the entire thing so Colton didn’t miss a second.
A smile broke through for the first time in seven years. Being in control felt marvelous. Strange and wonderful. What did psychiatrists know anyway? Instead of fighting the intense desire for revenge, the need to have someone pay, it was time to just … make it happen.
Jillian groaned her prayers. She sat on her daughter’s bed, clasped her arms against her stomach, and rocked back and forth. She had no way to express the anguish that consumed her.
“Jilly?”
She h
eard her name, but couldn’t lift her head. Strong arms slipped around her shoulders and she leaned into the strength, desperate to siphon some of it into her body. “Serena?”
“Yeah. Alexia is here too.”
From somewhere deep within, Jillian found the will to lift her head. Alexia came to sit on the bed and lean her forehead against hers. “They’ll find her. We’ll find her.”
“How? How?” Her voice broke and the tears flowed once again.
“Hunter and Dominic are here too. They’re looking for the coach so they can question him.”
“Coach Levinson.”
“He disappeared after practice today. They’re looking for him.”
“Disappeared? With Meg? Did someone see him with Meg?”
“No.” Serena shook her head. “No one saw them together, but no one’s seen him since practice was over and he’s not answering his cell phone.”
Jillian’s fingers clenched. “I’ll kill him if he’s hurt her. I will.”
Alexia squeezed Jillian’s fist. “We all will.”
“We’ll have to form a line,” Serena muttered.
Jillian choked at her friends’ support, so thankful for the two women who’d been a part of her life forever. “Where are your kids?” Alexia had six-year-old Brynn and Serena had three-year-old twin boys, Caleb and Micah.
“With our parents,” Serena said. “My dad has been bugging me for time with them.”
“Same here,” Alexia said. “Mom and Michael love having Brynn.”
Jillian nodded, her mind already back on Meg.
“Has anyone called Blake?” Serena asked.
Jillian shifted and swiped her eyes. “Yes. He’s out of the country, but said he’d do his best to get back as soon as he could.”
“We’ll have her back before that happens,” Alexia said.
Blake Wyatt had helped Jillian raise Meg up until seven years ago when Jillian had returned to Columbia to put a killer behind bars. She’d known she’d run into Colton Brady, her ex-boyfriend and Meg’s father, but she hadn’t known they would fall back in love, get married, and raise Meg together. That had been amazing.
Meg had disappeared seven years ago too, but they’d gotten her back no worse for the wear.
Jillian’s heart beat like a wild thing in her chest as she couldn’t help wondering if they would be so blessed a second time.
“We’ve found Tanner.”
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