by Barb Han
“I saw a laptop in the living room. Mind if I use it?” he asked.
“Not at all. Go right ahead,” she said.
“What’s the password?”
“Capital N-V-M-B-R. Then the number fifteen.”
Brody turned without giving away his reaction. November fifteenth was his birthday.
* * *
REBECCA CHECKED THE CLOCK. She’d showered, hoping the warm water would relax her strung-too-tight muscles, before the tossing-and-turning routine began. She flipped onto her right side and placed a clean sock over her eyes to block out the light.
Rolling back to her left, she repositioned the sock.
No luck.
The sun was firmly set in the eastern sky. She’d closed her black-out curtains. This was normally the time she’d be asleep, but the way her mind was spinning no way could she rest. All she could think about was the possibility of Shane being alive. Even she knew the chances were slim. And yet, odds didn’t matter in her heart, where she still held hope.
She’d need more than a piece of material to block out her thoughts. Time was the enemy. A killer was after her. Thoughts of being locked in that shed brought the terrifying sensation of her abduction back. And everything that had happened after...
When she’d returned, the town had been in chaos. Volunteers were assigned to a search team. Hundreds of people fanned out over the fields surrounding Mason Ridge Lake. Others opened car trunks and abandoned structures. People carried guns and set up neighborhood patrols. Even the wealthiest man, Mr. Alcorn, had thrown considerable resources into the effort.
Later, searchers joined hands as they walked in a line through the fields near Mason High School.
Two FBI agents had taken up residence in the Hughes’s front room. A half dozen crop dusters and military planes had circled the sky, searching. The 4-H club had sent riders out on horseback.
Local law enforcement had encouraged people to keep their porch lights on at night and be ready to report any activity that might be suspicious. The Texas State Police had set up a half dozen roadblocks. Railroad cars, motel rooms and the bus station were searched—as was every house in the city.
Shane’s comb had been shipped off to the FBI lab near Washington for analysis. As had his favorite toys—trucks, LEGO and his handheld game system.
Rebecca had suddenly found herself under twenty-four-hour watch. Dr. Walsh, her pediatrician, had checked her for signs of sexual assault.
When a week of fruitless searching had passed, authorities had alerted residents to look out for scavengers, believing that Shane’s body might have been tossed into a field or nearby farm. They’d been told to keep an eye out for large gatherings of buzzards and crows and were advised not to touch a body if one was found.
It wasn’t long after that the FBI ran out of steam. Reporters had been a different story. They’d followed her parents for months, relentless.
Normally, Rebecca forced those thoughts out of her mind, unable to think about them. Having Brody in the next room brought way more comfort than it should. She told herself no one would care about her more than him, and that’s why his presence gave her such a sense of well-being. Nothing about her current situation should cause her to let her guard down. The last time she’d gone against her better judgment, she’d ended up in a shed out in the woods. And her brother...
She couldn’t even go there. Couldn’t sleep, either. She tossed the covers and pushed off the mattress. She threw on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, pulled her still-damp hair into a ponytail and met Brody in the living room.
He glanced up from the laptop, a look of determination creasing his forehead, and offered a quick smile. “Can’t sleep?”
“No. This time of year is always...challenging. So, dealing with all this other stuff has my system out of whack.” She threw her arms up, exasperated.
Brody studied her. His clear blue eyes seemed to see right through her. “I’ve said it before, but we will figure this out. I already reached out to Ryan and he’s following up with the others, trying to see if we can figure out a good time for everyone to meet.” He patted a spot on the sofa right next to him. He looked good. Damn good. He’d filled out his six-foot-two frame nicely. He was all muscle and strength and athletic grace. His blond hair was cut tight with curls at the collar. He wore a simple shirt and jeans.
Rebecca took a seat next to him, ignoring how her stomach free-fell the minute she got close. “Have you heard anything from your contact?”
“Yes. She emailed as much as she could. The suspect list is long.” He had a pen and notepad out, scribbling notes as he flipped through a file on-screen. “I’d also like to take a look at your social-media account.”
“Sure.” She waited for him to click on the icon before giving him the password. “Nice pen.”
He glanced at it and nodded. “A present from the old man.”
“How is your father?”
“He’s getting older, but he’d never admit it.” Brody half smiled, still maintaining focus. “I’ve been thinking of moving him onto the ranch. Hate the thought of him being alone. But he’s stubborn.”
“Sounds like someone else I know.” She laughed. “I doubt he’ll give up his own place without a fight. He’s a good man. I always liked him.”
Brody nodded, but his expression turned serious again as he studied the screen.
“Find anything useful?”
“Hold on.” He clicked through her chat messages, studying the accompanying faces. He stopped at one, considered it for a long moment and then clicked on the image, which opened the guy’s home page. “There’s something about this one. Randy Harper.”
“If Shane was still...alive, I’d imagine him to look just like this. I mean, he and I look related, don’t we?” Her cell, on the coffee table, buzzed. She picked it up and checked the screen. It was her father. She hit Ignore and tucked it half under her leg.
Brody had seen who the caller was. She steadied herself for the inevitable questions about why she was refusing to take her father’s calls. The cell vibrated under her leg, indicating he’d left a voice mail. She didn’t want to get into it with Brody right now, didn’t want to think about her father’s new life while she still hunted down what had truly happened to his old one.
She glanced up, catching Brody’s stare. He didn’t immediately speak. Then he said, “The others resemble you, too, but there’s something special about Randy.”
“I had the same feeling.”
“How long ago did you find him?” he asked.
“Six months or so.”
“He doesn’t live far.”
“Nope. But he didn’t respond to my message. I’ve been doubling my efforts with him and a few others lately.”
“The city of Brighton is located two counties east of here. I used to know a girl who lived out there while we were in high school...” His voice trailed off at the end, as if he suddenly realized who he was talking to.
Sure, a twinge of jealousy nipped at her. More than that, if she was being totally honest. But she had no right to own the feeling. Shoving it aside, she smiled. It was weak, at best, but Brody took the peace offering, returning the gesture.
He scrolled down the page. “He hasn’t posted anything in months. He either hasn’t been online or he’s abandoned his page altogether.”
“We can rule him out as a phony, then. He can’t be a crackpot trying to rattle me if he doesn’t even realize I’ve tried to contact him. Plus, he’s too old to be Shane. Look at the birthdate.”
“You’re probably right, but if it was him, then he might not really know when he was born. I’ve read about cases of abducted kids being told lies about when and where they were born to make it more difficult for them to dig around in the past.”
“Wouldn’t he need an actual birth certificate to enroll in school? My stepmother had to produce that, shot records, and a current electric bill for my half brothers,” Rebecca said. She didn’t want to feel the s
park of hope that Shane might actually still be alive. She wanted her brother to be somewhere safe—had dreamed it, hoped it and prayed it. But she didn’t want to create false expectations based on a social-media page.
“A birth certificate can be made. For a price. The rest would fall into place from there. Maybe we can find some of Randy’s friends. Dig around a little in his background. Pay him a visit.” Brody scribbled down a few names. “I don’t want to invite them into your social network, so we’ll have to reach out another way.”
He scanned through photo after photo on the home pages of the people connected to Randy. A good fifteen minutes had passed when Brody made a satisfied grunt. “Look here. At this pic. And this one. Then, this one. See what’s in the background?” He displayed the pictures in a larger window to view one at a time. Three friends had tagged Randy at a local restaurant called Mervin’s Eats.
“When was the last picture posted?” Rebecca asked as another flicker of excitement fizzed through her.
“Three months ago.” Brody glanced at the clock on the bottom right-hand corner of the screen. “Too early to go and check out the place now. Looks like we just figured out where we’re eating tonight, though.” He pulled up another screen, his fingers working the keyboard, and pulled up the address to Mervin’s Eats in Bayville, Texas. He copied down the address in his notebook.
This was the first promising lead she’d had in fifteen years. It was hard to contain the enthusiasm swelling inside her. “For so many years, everyone’s said he’s gone. What if they were wrong?”
“I have plans to track down every possibility. That means we’re going to run into dead ends.” His honest blue eyes had darkened with concern.
“Believe me, I know better than anyone about disappointment.” He was trying not to get her hopes up in case he had to dash them, and she appreciated him for it. “I’ve handled it before and I will again. It just feels nice to have a little hope for a change.”
His nod and smile said he understood. “We need to keep working other trails, too. If we can figure out why or how our guy was connected to Mason Ridge before, maybe we can figure out what he’s doing here now.”
“I can’t stand waiting around. I’d like to go out looking for him.”
“Okay. Give me a chance to study these notes so I have a better idea where to start searching. See if I can find some connection either to this town or to your family.”
She shivered as an icy chill ran down her back. That thought was unnerving. Could someone close to them have orchestrated Shane’s disappearance? She hadn’t considered it before.
Brody’s gaze trained on her. “Have you eaten anything today?”
“Not yet. Stomach’s been churning all morning. My brain, too. I was thinking about the fact the places where he took my brother and me weren’t secure. It couldn’t have taken him more than a half hour to get us both there, so they were close by. He had to know the area, which, now that I think about it, would rule out a random person passing through town. I told the sheriff all this before, but there’s another thing I can’t stop thinking about. He didn’t want me. He wanted my brother. I got in the way when I followed them and the guy was distressed about it.”
“Makes me think it might’ve been his first time to kidnap someone,” Brody said quietly.
“Not the work of someone used to slipping into a strange town to snatch a kid.”
“What else did the sheriff say?” Brody asked, his interest piqued.
“That he probably improvised, saw a couple of abandoned buildings and hid us there. But why? Wouldn’t he want to get out of town as quickly as possible?”
“And the response to that?”
“Nothing to me. I did hear someone from the FBI tell my parents later that the guy most likely hadn’t pre-planned the kidnapping.”
If she could go back and trade places with her brother, she wouldn’t hesitate. How many times had she wished she’d been the one to disappear, to die?
There was a slim chance that Shane was still alive, she reminded herself. The odds weren’t good, Rebecca knew that, but she also knew better than to focus her energy on the negative.
That bastard had made a mistake once. She was living proof. All she needed was another misstep. With Brody’s eyes on this case, maybe he would figure it out and bring the monster to justice. Rebecca would do whatever it took to help. “If only I remembered more...”
Brody’s arm around her shoulder, his fingers lifting her chin, stemmed the emotion threatening to unravel her.
“I hate that you’re going through this again. I’m sorry it happened to you in the first place. Believe me, I’ll do everything I can to find that jerk.”
A mix of emotion played inside her. Fear. Anxiety. Sadness.
Hope?
“Let’s get something to eat and we’ll hit Woodrain Park. He’s probably smart enough to pick a new place, but we have to cover it, anyway.” His words wrapped around her like a warm blanket. She leaned over until their foreheads touched.
“I won’t let him hurt you again.” He said other sweet words—words that made her want to yield to his strength.
And yet, getting too close to Brody wasn’t a good idea. No one could quiet the monster’s voice in the back of her head for long. He would return. He always returned. And she’d slip into her armor, blocking out the world.
“I’ll fix something to eat.” She rose and walked toward the kitchen, stopping in front of the sink.
Brody followed. The gun tucked into the waistband of his jeans was a stark reminder of the dangers they faced. He rummaged around the fridge, tossing up an apple. “Not much here to work with.”
“I left my groceries scattered across the lot.”
He nodded and then searched the pantry, pulling out almond butter, bread and cinnamon grahams. “These’ll work.”
She nodded.
He moved to the sink with the supplies, glanced up and froze. His gaze fixed on something out the window.
Cursing, he palmed his weapon and adjusted his position, stepping away from the window. “Get down. Now.”
Rebecca dropped to her knees as panic roared through her, making her limbs feel heavy. “What is it? What’s going on?”
“Someone’s out there watching.”
Brody crawled past her with the agility and speed of a lion zeroed in on his prey. “Lock the door behind me. Wait right here until I get back.”
“No,” she pleaded, trying to stop her body from shaking. She opened the drawer and gripped a knife.
“Take me with you. I don’t want to be here alone.”
Chapter Three
“Stay close.” Brody didn’t like the cold chill pricking the hair on his arms. He didn’t like how easily a stranger could watch Rebecca while she was in the house. And he sure as hell didn’t like the fact that the man who’d tormented her and changed her life forever was most likely back.
Brody crouched low as he cleared the back door.
The figure, tall and thick-built enough to be a man, darted into the trees.
“Go inside, lock the door and set the alarm.”
She didn’t respond, but he heard her backtrack as he broke into a full run. No way could she keep up, and he didn’t want to risk them being separated in the trees, leaving her exposed and vulnerable.
The unforgiving dirt and shrub stabbed his feet as he bolted across the yard. Brody regretted kicking his boots off and getting too comfortable. The male form disappeared to the left as Brody hopped the chain-link fence and breached the tree line.
Forging through the mesquites, maples and oaks, Brody winced as he stepped on scattered broken limbs. He pushed the pain out of his mind, maintaining full focus on his target. He could hear crunching ahead of him, although he couldn’t judge the distance or the gap between them. At this point, the noise could come from an animal he’d spooked. Based on the weight, it would have to be one big animal. Even so, it was still possible. There was no telling for sure until
he got eyes on whatever it was.
A dark thought hit. Brody was being drawn deeper into the trees; the underbrush was thickening, and Rebecca was alone at the house. Brody couldn’t take the chance he’d been lured away.
Besides, the rustle of leaves was growing more distant, indicating the guy was too far ahead to catch.
Circling back, the pain of bare feet pounding against hard soil made running a challenge.
He didn’t know how long he’d been going, but it took a good fifteen minutes to jog back to the bungalow. His feet had been cut and he was leaving a trickle of blood across the lawn on Rebecca’s quarter-acre lot.
She must’ve been glued to the kitchen window, because as soon as he stepped onto the back porch, the door swung open and she rushed into his arms.
“Hey, hey.” He took a step back as the full force of her impact hit him.
“I’m sorry.” She buried her face in his chest.
Brody should put a little space between them. He should take a step back and not be her comfort. He should keep a safe distance.
Should.
But couldn’t.
Not with the way she felt in his arms. Not with the way her body molded to fit his. Not with her scent, citrus and flowery, filling his senses.
A tree branch crunched. Brody scanned the yard, didn’t see anything.
Outside, they were exposed.
He guided them inside the house, then closed and locked the door behind them.
“It’s okay,” he soothed.
“I know,” she said quickly, and he knew it was wishful thinking on her part.
He heard her muffled sniffles and suspected she wasn’t stepping away from him because she didn’t want him to see her cry.
Before he could debate the sanity of his actions, his arms encircled her waist, hauling her closer to him.
Flush against his chest, he could feel her rapid heartbeat. The whole scenario might be erotic if she wasn’t shaking so damn hard.
* * *
“SHOULD WE CALL the sheriff?” Maybe they’d believe her this time with Brody there to corroborate her story. Rebecca took a step away from him, and then stared out the window.