The Missing

by Shiloh Walker

“Third grade,” Taige murmured. “He was so young.”

  Jones glanced at the pictures and then back at her. “I’ll warn you now. One of the girls was even younger.”

  With a grimace, Taige said, “I need a drink.”

  “You drink too much as it is.”

  Her legs still felt way too unstable as she shoved to her feet. Three unsteady steps had her back to the couch, and she collapsed on it thankfully. “Considering the shit you dump on me, it’s amazing I still have a functioning liver.” She started to ask how young, but then she shook her head. It was best she not know much before she looked at the picture.

  “Did you notice anything unusual about the boy?”

  Frowning, Taige asked, “Like what?”

  “Like the fact that he was like you.”

  Taige blinked. “Like me how?”

  “Gifted.” Jones leaned back into the dark blue leather of his chair, watching her closely. “His mother ran away with him when he was two, because his father was using him to help win at the races. The boy knew which horse would win, which would lose. All before he could even tie his shoes.”

  “Could it be just dumb luck?”

  Once more, Jones glanced at the coffee table.

  Taige felt something sick spin inside her.

  “It could, but you and I don’t believe in coincidences, do we? Jillian is gifted. Kendrick was gifted—and at least one other victim that we’ve identified.”

  No. It wasn’t coincidence. Taige reached up and wiped a hand over her mouth. She felt numb inside, chilled from the fear. Three victims. No way was that a coincidence. Which meant the other children were probably gifted as well; more, it meant that the killer was probably gifted. It usually took one gifted person to recognize another.

  “It isn’t over,” Taige whispered, more to herself than him.

  But Jones responded anyway. “No, it isn’t. But I think you already knew that.”

  NINE

  THE scream woke Cullen out of a dead sleep. He raced down the hall toward Jillian’s room and hit the partially opened door with the palm of his hand, shoving it with a strength that sent it flying. He heard it hit the wall, but the sound barely registered as he crouched by Jillian’s side and pulled her into his arms.

  “Wake up, Jilly. Come on, baby, wake up,” he whispered, his voice harsh, almost thick with tears. The knot in his throat threatened to choke him, but he didn’t know what would kill him first: the knot or the poison of the rage that flowed through him. This was killing him.

  Every night for the past week Jilly had awakened screaming from the nightmares. Every damn night. And each dream made him feel more and more helpless. He had to do something. Had to.

  “Daddy . . .” Jilly moaned, and he pulled back just enough to see her face as her lashes fluttered open.

  “I’m here, baby. I’m here.”

  “He’s going to hurt her, Daddy. Don’t let him.”

  Cullen stroked a hand up her back and whispered, “He can’t hurt you again, baby. I won’t let him.”

  But she shook her head, shoved against his chest with a strength that was almost unnatural for a child so young. “Not me, Daddy. It’s Taige. The lady that helped me. He wants to kill her. He knows she helped me, and he hates her.”

  It took several hours to get her back to sleep, and as the night stretched out in front of him, Cullen lay on the bed beside Jilly, her head cuddled on his shoulder. Staring at the wall, he replayed those words in his mind. Not me, Daddy. It’s Taige.

  Not once did he doubt Jilly. He’d never doubt that eerie, bizarre knowledge again. No, it certainly wasn’t doubts that plagued him now, just conflicting desires. He needed to be with Jilly. She needed him right now, needed him to keep her safe.

  Don’t let him.

  Don’t let him hurt Taige. His little girl somehow thought he could protect the woman who had saved her, and in his heart, that was exactly what he wanted to do. Did Taige really need to be protected? He’d watched as she went, steely eyed, into a house, and he knew that she’d do whatever was necessary to get the job done, to save a child she didn’t know. He remembered all the bruises and injuries he’d seen on her over the years, through their shared dreams, and he didn’t doubt Taige’s strength, her courage, or her spirit.

  But, despite her gifts, despite her skill with her fists and with a gun, Taige was just a woman. She bled, she breathed just like anybody else, and she was only one person. Cullen didn’t know exactly what he could do to help her, didn’t even know it was expected of him by anybody other than his daughter. And himself.

  But if he didn’t do anything, and Taige was hurt, he’d never forgive himself. It would destroy a part of him, and what was left wouldn’t be worth much.

  As dawn slowly broke over the horizon, he stared at Jilly. The sun slanted on her small face, painting it a soft, sun-kissed gold. Gently, he leaned down and brushed his lips over her temple. Jilly’s lashes fluttered open, and she looked at him, gave him that sweet, heart-stopping smile. She’d owned his heart from the first time the doctors had placed her in his arms. From her very first breath, she’d owned him.

  But she wasn’t alone inside his heart, and that was what was killing him. Much like it had been with Jilly, Taige had forged a place inside of him in a way that even twelve years apart hadn’t been able to dim. He loved that woman. He couldn’t let anything happen to her.

  “Sweetheart, I’ve been thinking. Grandpa’s been wanting to take us to Ireland again. How would you like to go with him, all on your own?”

  It’s too soon, his head screeched. Jilly still needed him.

  Her hand came up and patted his cheek. “I’ll be okay, Daddy.”

  Cullen caught her hand in his, and he squeezed it gently. “Of course you will. You’re my girl. You’re going to be more than okay.”

  She grinned, and for a minute she was just a little girl, with a mischievous smile and big, sparkling eyes. “That’s not what I meant. I’ll be fine with Grandpa while you go help Miss Taige. I don’t want to go to Ireland, though. Not yet. Not without you. It’s too far away.” She curled up against him and whispered, “I like Miss Taige. She’s always had the nicest voice.”

  “How do you know her voice, sweetie? You were asleep when Taige led me to you.”

  Jilly snuggled closer. “I heard her voice a lot. She talks to me in my dreams.”

  Apparently today was just going to be another very unsettling day, Cullen decided. Resting his chin on her head, he asked, “How long has she been doing that?”

  “Always.”

  Always. Cullen squeezed his eyes shut.

  “Daddy?”

  He opened his eyes and met Jilly’s level green gaze. “Yeah, baby?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

  “It’s going to be all right,” she said softly. She puckered up her lips and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. “I see her sometimes in my sleep, but she looks happier. She’s so lonely, but she’s just been waiting for us.”

  “Waiting for us to what?”

  Jilly smiled once more and said simply, “To be her family.” Then her eyes darkened. “But you two have to stop him first.”

  THE sound of the doorbell came far too early, as far as Taige was concerned.

  She rolled out of bed with a groan and staggered to the door, grabbing a pair of jeans from the floor. Her weapon was still sheathed in its holster, slung over the bedpost at the foot of the bed. For some reason, she stumbled back to the bed and grabbed it. It took three tries to get the damn thing in place, and she almost didn’t mess with it. On her way to the door, whoever was at the door rang again. And again. And again.

  “What in the hell are you doing?” she grumbled. “Leaning on it?”

  She undid the locks without checking the Judas hole. Grumbling, she jerked the door open, something suitably cutting on the tip on her tongue. But when she saw who it was, the words froze in her throat. Son of a bitch. Without saying a word, she grabbed the door and went to slam it shut, b
ut Leon reached out and caught it, then used his foot to wedge the door open.

  He gave her a pious look and produced a piece of paper from inside the somber black sport coat he wore. Though he wasn’t Methodist or Catholic, Leon Carson dressed more like a priest than anything else, all black, from head to toe, no matter the season, no matter the occasion. “We’re having our annual revival,” he said, his voice deep and serious. “Seeing as how you aren’t out practicing your evil on the innocent and the weak, I thought it would do you well to attend. Or are you still beyond salvation?”

  “Your idea of salvation?” she returned. “Absolutely.”

  He shoved the paper at her once more, and she flicked it a disinterested glance. “You wave that at me once more, Uncle, and I’ll make you eat it. I’m not coming to your revival.”

  “You don’t even care that you’re damning yourself to hell,” Leon stated.

  “Well, if you’re going to be in heaven, then I want no part of it.” With an irreverent smile, she added, “But I really don’t think you’re going anyplace other than hell yourself.”

  “Blasphemy,” he hissed, lifting a hand to shake a finger in her face.

  Taige was tempted to reach out and grab it, twist it just to see how much she could make him squirm before she either let him go or broke the bone. “It’s not blasphemy, Uncle. It’s a fact. If He welcomes you into the pearly gates, then everything I’ve been taught about God and Jesus is a lie, and whatever He offers, I don’t want it.” She glanced down at his foot and then gave him an angelic smile. “If you keep your foot there, you just might lose it.”

  Leon curled his lip in a patronizing sneer. “Are you so far gone that you’d threaten a man of God?”

  Taige’s own mouth curled into a sneer, but she suspected hers wasn’t so much patronizing as downright mean. Staring into his eyes, she drew her gun and without looking away from his eyes, she leveled it at his foot. “If you were a real man of God, Uncle, you and I wouldn’t be as we are. Would I threaten you? Absolutely. But here’s another question you should ask. Would I shoot you? Hell, yes.”

  Slowly, Leon retreated, and she noticed something she hadn’t noticed before: he’d aged. A lot. It seemed every single second of hate showed in his face, and hate had aged him far faster than time ever could. He didn’t seem as big as she remembered, but he was still larger than life, and she could remember in acute detail how strong his hands were, how he knew exactly where to hit to make it hurt the most without leaving much of a mark.

  In a soft, solemn voice, she promised him, “The next time you come near me, I’m going to leave a mark on you. Think of how many you left on me, Uncle, and know that I mean it. Sincerely.”

  She watched him pull away before she closed the door gently. Then she turned around and leaned against it. Her lids lowered, and she heaved out a harsh sigh. Then, slowly, she headed back down the hall, intent on a shower and at least a half pot of coffee. Maybe even the whole damn pot.

  It wasn’t until thirty minutes later when she was standing in front of the cabinet that she realized. Damn it. She’d forgotten to buy more coffee. With a groan, she bent over and let her head thunk against the counter. Damn it. She desperately needed her coffee.

  SOME days . . . Taige thought miserably as she climbed out of her car to see her uncle coming out of the Winn-Dixie. She almost climbed back into her Jeep, but the thought of retreating from him, even from an unwanted confrontation, ate at her. So instead of climbing back into the car, she locked the doors and pocketed her keys.

  “Just walk by him and don’t say a word,” she mumbled under her breath.

  Leon, though, couldn’t resist an audience. He’d always saved the beatings for private, but deriding her in front of others had been almost like a hobby to him. He reached out as she walked past. His skeletal white hand landed on her arm, and she doubted the people passing by could tell how he dug his fingers into her flesh.

  “It would seem as though it’s God’s will that you and I spend some time together today, my dear niece,” Leon said, lifting his voice so that it carried.

  He did have a compelling voice, almost mesmerizing. Taige could see why his church congregation was twice the size it had been ten years ago. When he wasn’t dealing with his niece, Leon had a charismatic quality that was undeniable. But Taige didn’t consider him the sharpest crayon in the box. After all, he honestly thought she would behave since she was surrounded by people.

  Jerking her arm back, she glared down her nose at him. “Maybe the Almighty is putting you in my way just to see if I can withstand temptation.”

  Leon sighed and shook his head. “Beloved child, you never could withstand temptation. That is why you walk this evil road.”

  “Spare me.” Rolling her eyes, she went to push past him. She glanced around, trying to keep it casual, and she saw easily five people pretending not to watch him. Apparently Leon realized he had a good audience, because he wasn’t going to let her push him aside so easily.

  His pale hand closed around her arm, and bony white fingers once more dug into tender flesh. “You can’t keep walking this evil road, Taige. It will destroy you—and everyone you touch.”

  Without missing a beat, she tossed back, “Oh, yeah? It hasn’t destroyed you yet, and I keep waiting for that.”

  With a theatrical sigh, he shook his head. “You would even bring down destruction on a man of God, if you could. Are you so far gone that I cannot reach you?”

  “Shit. Are we back to that song and dance again?” Dropping her voice, Taige leaned in and said softly, “Are you so damn stupid that you’ve already forgotten what I said I’d do? Take your hand off of me, Uncle. Now. Or you just might have to say this week’s sermon through a straw.”

  He smiled. It was faint, there and then gone again, and nobody but Taige had seen it. Slowly, he let go of her arm. “Your reckoning is coming, girl. Coming fast.”

  “No faster than yours, Carson.”

  The voice from behind her was both welcome and unwanted. As Leon’s hand fell away, she turned to see Cullen standing there, his thumbs hooked in his waistband, legs spread wide, and his eyes narrowed on Leon’s face. He looked like a boxer ready to brawl, she thought. She stared at him, but he hadn’t so much as looked at her yet.

  No, he was totally focused on Leon. He closed the distance between them and stared down at the shorter, skinnier man. In his youth, Leon had probably had a strong, wiry build. She knew well enough just how strong he was, but all the years he’d spent practicing his fire and brimstone spiel had softened his body, and now, standing in front of Cullen Morgan, he looked weak, almost frail.

  “You know what I’m going to do to you if I see you touching her again?” Cullen asked, his voice pleasant, almost friendly.

  Leon sneered. “Even after all these years, that harlot niece of mine has control over you, doesn’t she? You succumbed to temptation, and now you’re as damned as she is.”

  Cullen’s hand shot out, and he fisted the sturdy black cloth of Leon’s shirt. Jerking Leon forward, he said in a soft, deadly voice, “You want to watch how you speak of her, Carson. You might have half the town thinking you’re a benevolent, God-fearing man, but I know better, and I’d sooner knock your teeth down your throat than look at you.” He gave Carson a hard, fast shake before he turned the older man loose. “You don’t want to touch her again, old man. You do, you’re going to deal with me.”

  Anger did a bad thing to Leon’s common sense. Dropping the pretense he always used in public, he lifted a bony hand and pointed a finger at Cullen. “I’ve tried to warn you, tried to keep you from the evil you want to surround yourself with. But you’re no innocent lamb led astray. You seek out the evil, embrace it. You’ll burn with it when the time is right.” Muttering under his breath, Leon stormed away.