The Missing

by Shiloh Walker

  “Can you—” His voice broke off, and he shoved a hand through his hair. Taige glanced at him and saw that his hair was standing completely up on end.

  Cocking a brow, she asked, “Can I what?”

  “Has he hurt her?”

  Sympathy and understanding flooded her. If Jillian had been hurt, Taige didn’t know what she’d say to him just then—he was already so tense. That calm mask he wore was just that, a mask. She’d dealt with distraught parents before, but Cullen—he was different. No matter how this ended, it was going to affect Taige in ways that no other case, no matter how heartbreaking, had done.

  Part of her wanted to run and hide from that fact. This man had caused her enough heartbreak. It might seem infantile to some, still mooning over a man who had dumped her twelve years ago, but Cullen was the only man who had ever been able to get close to her. She hadn’t been interested in having that again, but the few times she decided maybe it was time to get back to life, even time to start having a life, the man she thought she might want turned out to be like glass to her, so transparent she either had to keep her mental shields in place or her thoughts were swamped with memories and emotions that weren’t her own.

  None of those guys had been shallow. There had only been a few, and they’d all been pretty hot. All of them smart and decent guys. But one touch was all it had taken to shatter any hope of having a relationship. It just didn’t work trying to get with a man when she touched him and realized he was thinking about what kind of panties she wore.

  It made it that much harder to look at Cullen now because it drove home the reminder of just how fricking perfect he’d been for her—and how little he’d loved her.

  Even though she couldn’t read him, she could read his tension, and it was so thick and heavy in the car, it was choking her. Feeling his gaze on her, she closed her eyes and reached out.

  Taige found her quicker this time, and adrenaline started to pound as she realized how close they were. Through the gray, she saw Jillian, and the girl was as Taige had seen her last time, three hours earlier. Dirty, pale, and still. Taige tried briefly to make a connection, but Jillian was sleeping, lost in a deep, deep sleep. Still, the brief surface connection she made was enough to let Taige know that Jillian hadn’t been hurt.

  They would be in time—this time. Cautious, she expanded her search, looking for the man who had grabbed Jillian. The cabin was small, a couch that opened up into a bed, a kitchen with a minuscule, meticulously cleaned sink. Jillian lay behind the only door in the cabin, besides the main door at the front. That room disturbed Taige, way down deep.

  It was a bathroom, but it wasn’t the kind of bathroom Taige would have expected to see. The room itself was large, nearly the same size as the other room that served as both kitchen and bedroom. The cot where Jillian lay was tucked up against a wall. The tiles were a bright, blinding white—almost everything was white. Everything but the cot itself, the sink and shower fixtures, and the shiny drain cover in the middle of the floor.

  The floor sloped down in the middle.

  The showerhead was the removable kind, the sort that came with a head that detached, but this thing looked industrial-grade, more like something used for power washing than personal hygiene. The hose itself was long, so long it could have spanned the entire width of the room.

  Her belly churned as she examined the room as closely as she could through the gray’s connection. Take me closer, she commanded, but it wasn’t the room itself she wanted to observe.

  She had to reach out, make a deeper connection.

  A warning voice screamed at her from inside her skull, but she pushed forward, reaching out, out, out . . . The warning voice was suddenly drowned out by screams of the damned. Young voices, older voices, all of them screaming and begging for help as pain rained down on them like water. She heard the harsh crack of something striking flesh, a voice garbled, an ugly voice that turned her blood to ice.

  Sliding farther and farther into that morass of pain, Taige panicked and jerked away, but it was too late. The screams forced themselves inside her head, echoing through her heart and soul.

  Who are you . . . ? Who did this . . . ?

  There was no voice, however, to answer. They were all long dead, and the man who had killed them had left nothing of himself behind for Taige to find.

  She heard a strange rattling sound and then Cullen, shouting her name. Hands squeezed her arms brutally, and she realized Cullen was shaking her hard. So hard it felt like her teeth were rattling around inside her skull.

  “Damn, Cullen,” she wheezed out. “Are you trying to shake my head off of my shoulders?”

  His arms came around her, and now, as hard as he had been shaking her, he was holding her, a big hand cradling the back of her head and holding her tight against him. “Damn it, what was that? You looked terrified.”

  Weak, she shoved against his chest, trying to get some air between them. He let go only to cup his hands around her face and stare at her. “What in the hell was that? Damn it, you started screaming, and you wouldn’t stop. I didn’t think you’d ever stop.”

  Taige swallowed, and her raw throat rebelled. She looked at the digital clock on the dash: 2:59.

  Her jaw dropped. “How long . . . ?”

  “You closed your eyes about thirty minutes ago. You started crying,” he said softly, reaching up to wipe away tears she hadn’t even been aware of. “And about ten minutes ago, you started screaming. You started screaming, and you didn’t stop.” He pushed her hair back from her face. “What happened to Jillian?”

  Taige shook her head, and he growled, “Don’t lie to me.”

  She reached up and covered his hand with hers. “I’m not. Jillian’s not hurt. He’s not even there.”

  HE would have driven right past the gravel road if Taige hadn’t tensed up, her back arching up off the leather seat. Her hand flew out and grabbed him. Short, neatly trimmed nails bit into his forearm. “Here.”

  He didn’t see anything. He slammed on the brakes in the middle of the road and looked around him. “Here where? There’s nothing here.”

  She pointed off the roadside, and through the high weeds, he saw the gravel road. He turned off the road and muttered, “Glad I didn’t go with that sedan.” The big Tundra ate up gas, but it took the rough, poor excuse for a road like a dream. As the road started to climb, he glanced over at Taige and saw she had worked forward, even with the seat belt on, so that she sat on the edge of the seat. She had her hands curled around the edge, knuckles gone white.

  “Turn,” she said, her eyes closed. She didn’t open her eyes as she pointed to the right. It was another sorry road, more of a trail than anything, and it climbed up, up, and up.

  There were no more turns, the road going up at such a high angle, it climbed up the side of the mountain. It kept going up until the ground leveled out. They were damned high. Cullen climbed out of the car and looked around, staring at the cabin in front of him. He noticed the generator, saw a huge water tank, an empty spot in front of the cabin where it looked like somebody parked regularly. But the cabin itself looked damned empty. As secluded as this place was, if somebody had been in that cabin, they would be at the door.

  Or maybe not, Cullen thought. If the sick fuck who had taken his baby was inside that house, the last thing he would want to do was announce his presence to anybody. “Don’t suppose I can convince you to wait in the car, huh?” Taige asked as she came up to stand beside him. She’d put a holster on, and Cullen could see the butt of a gun peering out from under her right arm. With her weight resting lightly on the balls of her feet and a grim, intent look on her face, she looked as much a warrior now as she had that first summer when he’d watched her break through the waves like a mermaid, a drowning child in her arms.

  “No. You can’t convince me to wait in the car.”

  As one, they turned their attention back to the house. “Can you use that gun left-handed?”

  “Almost as good as I
can with my right hand,” Taige replied. She closed her eyes, and her shoulders lifted and fell as she took a deep, slow breath, followed by another. “But I don’t think I’m going to need it. She’s in there alone.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  Her misty gray eyes slid toward him, and Cullen blew out a breath. “Okay, dumb question.”

  She rolled her shoulders, looking like she was getting ready to step into the ring with a professional boxer, but she didn’t look scared or even worried. She pulled the gun from the leather shoulder holster, palming it in her left hand.

  “I thought you said he wasn’t here.” Instinctively, Cullen shifted and placed his body in front of hers. Pointless, considering she was the one with the weapon. A very mean-looking weapon at that, matte black, and she held it like it was part of her.

  “I did. And I’m certain he isn’t.” Then she slid around him and planted herself squarely in front of him and gave him a hard look over her shoulder. “But I’ve been wrong before. Now, please, stay behind me. We’re both worried about your girl. Don’t make me worry about you, too.”

  So I’m supposed to worry about you? he wondered. But he kept the question behind his lips, and when she started to walk toward the house, he stayed exactly two steps behind her, close enough that he could grab her and throw her behind him if he had to.

  The door was locked. He watched as Taige tried to open it by shoving against it. It didn’t even budge. The door boasted three shiny, rather new-looking locks. She glanced at him and asked, “Don’t suppose you can pick locks, can you?”

  Cullen scowled. “Hell, no. Can you?”

  She lifted her casted hand and said, “One-handed? Hell, no.” She stepped back and studied the house. Cullen took her place and shoved against the door. It was like pushing against a brick wall. He took a step back and threw his weight into it, striking it with his shoulder, and it still didn’t give.

  “Don’t bother. If he’s been using this as a place to keep his victims, he’s going to do his damnedest to keep people out. That door is probably reinforced, and those locks are heavy-duty.”

  Cullen ignored her. If his little girl was on the other side of that door, the door could be made of titanium, and he’d find a way through it.

  “Cullen.”

  He heard the thud of footsteps on the porch, heard gravel crunch and the truck door open and shut. He glanced back as Taige came striding back toward the porch. His shoulder throbbed, and the door still felt as solid as a redwood.

  The sound of glass shattering finally had him looking around. Taige stood in front of a small, narrow window. She had her left hand wrapped in what looked like a T-shirt, and she was using it to knock shards of glass from the window. She glanced toward him and shrugged. “I’m already bruised and battered enough,” she said.

  As she unwound the T-shirt wrapped around her forearm and hand, he saw that she held her gun and had used it to break the window. Little shards of glass rained down as she dropped it onto the porch.

  Still holding her Glock, Taige peered through the window. It was exactly as she’d seen in those few brief moments from earlier, one room that served as kitchen and bedroom, and a wall that bisected the house nearly in half. The door was in the middle of it, and Taige’s heartbeat kicked up a few notches when she saw it.

  Jillian—

  She pulled back and slid Cullen a glance before ducking inside, first one leg, then the other. She wobbled a little and ended up smacking her busted hand on the wall when she went to catch her balance. Pain streaked up her arm, and she just barely managed to keep from crying out. Biting down on her lip, she did her best to push the pain aside and focus on the situation at hand.

  It was hot in there. Dangerously so. The windows were closed, and although there was an AC unit in the back window, it wasn’t on. The air was close and tight, and there was a faint scent of something that set her teeth on edge.

  Taige felt a mad vibration on her hip, and she looked down at her cell phone. Moving to the door, she undid the series of locks before pulling her phone off the clip and reading the message. Jones. Impatient bastard. He was a good hour away still, according to the message, although there was a helicopter en route that would be there within thirty minutes.

  I plan on getting them out of here in less than ten, Taige thought grimly. Despite the heat in the room, she felt chilled, and the skin on the back of her neck was crawling. She opened the door to let Cullen in, and she stepped to the side as he came through the doorway, taking in the room with one quick glance.

  His mouth compressed down to a thin, tight line as he started for the door. Taige shoved the phone into her pocket and rushed to cut Cullen off. She hadn’t seen any kind of trap on the door earlier, but looking through the gray didn’t always allow for the clearest view, and she wasn’t going to take the chance that something nasty was waiting to happen if somebody opened the door unwittingly.

  She slammed a hand against Cullen’s chest and said, “Slow down.”

  He went to move her aside, and Taige shoved him. “Wait a damn minute, Cullen. Let me make sure it’s safe.”

  He looked down at her, and there were a few seconds when she wondered if he was really even aware of her as a person. He eyed her as though she was nothing more than an obstacle in his way. Even though she understood, it hurt. Softening her voice, she said, “Just let me check the door, okay?”

  There had been a case three years ago when a dad, a certified lunatic who was convinced the government was trying to brain-wash his wife, had killed her and then kidnapped his three kids. For three months, the guy had gone off the map. It wasn’t until after the mother’s body was found that Taige was brought in. She led Taylor’s unit to where the man was hiding his kids, but there had been a trap rigged to the door. When one of the agents opened it, bullets started flying. If it had been anybody other than a very cautious law enforcement agent, they would have needed some body bags.

  Taige still had some bad moments over that one, but it had taught her a very important lesson: people were fucking crazy.

  By the time she was satisfied the door was safe, several minutes had passed, and she could all but feel Cullen’s impatience as she wrapped her hand around the knob and turned it.

  Slowly. Easing it open an inch at a time and standing off to the side, just in case. It opened completely, and she felt her legs go watery as she saw Jillian lying on the cot, her face slack, her chest rising and falling. It was every bit as hot in the bathroom as it was in the main room, and a nasty, cold ball of fear settled in Taige’s belly as she saw the girl’s flushed red face.

  She started toward Jillian. Two steps, though, and she froze in place as screams started to echo through her head. Screaming voices, begging for help, begging for death; children begging for their mothers before their voices were forever silenced. A moan rattled up through her tight throat, but she wasn’t aware she’d made a sound. Bile churned in her gut, and she fell to her knees, vomiting on the floor.

  Her eyes were wide open, but it wasn’t the gleaming white tile she saw—or rather, it was, but the tile was covered in blood. Not streaked, but covered so that the white wasn’t even visible. Face after face flashed through her mind, and she could hear their voices.

  Help me . . .

  Don’t hurt me . . .

  I want my mommy.

  There was a laugh, ugly and monstrous. The man’s voice was distorted, and try as she might, Taige couldn’t see his face. She saw his hands, big and cruel-looking, rising and coming down. Taige flinched away as she felt their pain. So many—there were so many.

  “Son of a bitch,” she gasped. “You son of a bitch.”