by T. K. Leigh
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Part One
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Part Two
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Part Three
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Epilogue
Playlist
Books By T.K. Leigh
Coming Soon
Acknowledgements
About The Author
Vanished
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental or, if an actual place, are used fictitiously. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
Published by Carpe Per Diem, Inc. / Tracy Kellam, 25852 McBean Parkway # 806, Santa Clarita, CA 91355
Edited by: Kim Young, Kim’s Editing Services
Quotes from The Walrus And The Carpenter originally appeared in Through The Looking Glass by Lewis Carrol Copyright © 1871.
Cover Design: Cat Head Biscuit, Inc., Santa Clarita, CA
Front Cover Image Copyright fotoduki 2017
Back Cover Image Copyright Neneultimate 2017
Used under license from Shutterstock.com
Copyright © 2017 T. K. Leigh / Tracy Kellam
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 0-692-20605-1
ISBN-13: 978-0-692-20605-8
To Stan & Harper Leigh. It’s the little things in life…
Part One
Retribution
If a man injures his neighbor, just as he has done,
so it shall be done to him.
Leviticus 24:19
Prologue
December 18
8:30 PM
RAYNE KILPATRICK SAT IN the back seat of the black SUV, the windows tinted so no one could see inside. Night had fallen, the cloud-covered sky providing protection as she stared down a long driveway leading up to an enormous house in one of the wealthiest towns in the state. She could only imagine what a place like that cost.
“We’ll wait for a few hours to make sure everyone’s asleep, then you’ll go in.”
“Me?” She turned to the raven-haired man with olive-toned skin and an ethnic sort of ruggedness sitting beside her. His eyes were as dark as the moonless night, and just as unforgiving. “I thought…” Her knee bounced as she looked at the house, then the man, then the house again, sweat forming on her neck, despite the frigid winter temperatures.
Through a pair of binoculars, she saw a well-appointed fifteen-foot Christmas tree sitting as the focal point of the expansive living area, white lights twinkling against the windowpane. A young girl of no more than eight sat by the tree, smiling and laughing as she rolled around with a black-and-white spotted dog, a bit of gray fur peppering his face. Presents were piled high around the tree. Rayne could only assume most of them were for the little brunette happily playing without a care in the world.
“How did you…?” she continued, her eyes still glued to the little girl. She seemed so content, so peaceful, so full of life. It reminded Rayne of her own childhood. She had been an only child, too, spoiled by parents who doted on her and gave her everything she could ever want…until she disagreed with the career they chose for her. She wanted nothing more than to have her own child whom she could love with every fiber of her being, but that dream had been cruelly ripped from her as quickly as the slashing of a blade.
“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” he replied snidely, his tone harsh, direct, abrasive. “You said you needed closure, to make him feel your pain.”
She lowered the binoculars, opening her mouth slightly. Rubbing her clammy hands on the dark pants he had instructed her to wear, nausea settled in her stomach. Earlier today, this seemed like the only way for her to finally get what she had been yearning for since she lost her fiancé, but now, a fleeting moment of clarity had returned. This man had been one of Landon’s best friends in the last several years of his too-short life. Would she betray him if she followed through with this? Would he love her any less?
“Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts. If you make one wrong move, this plan will fall apart. I need you to keep it together.” Reaching into a satchel, the man pulled out a small bag containing what appeared to be a disposable rubber glove. “I’ll go in first and disable the alarm. His system is top-of-the-line. Unless you know what you’re dealing with, you run the risk of setting it off.”
“How do you know how to disable it? And what kind of system it is? And what is that glove for?” Rayne asked, leery, watching him handle it with extreme care. It seemed odd that, just this morning, he had encouraged her to finally take action so she could have the closure she so desperately needed. How did he plan this in the span of less than a day? Something didn’t add up.
“Don’t worry about any of that. All you need to know is if you do this, you’ll finally find peace. The bastard responsible for Landon’s death will finally know what it feels like to lose the one person who is his world.”
“Peace,” Rayne breathed. Closing her eyes briefly, she silenced the voices in her head screaming that it wouldn’t work, that this was a horrible idea, that there was another way to ward off the demons that had been tormenting her since she stood over Landon’s casket as it was lowered into the ground.
“Yes, Rayne.” The man leaned toward her, cupping her cheek in his large hand. “Peace. Don’t deprive yourself of this. Why should he have everything he’s ever wanted when you’ve had all your dreams crushed because of him?”
As a lone tear cascaded down her cheek, he swiped it away with his thumb. He placed a gentle kiss where the tear had been. “Do this for you. And Landon. End your suffering. I can’t bear to see you in pain any longer.”
Swallowing the lump in her throat, she nodded, all sense of what was right and good leaving her when Landon’s brilliant blue eyes flashed before her. She could almost feel the warmth of his embrace, the heat of his kisses, the electricity of his lingering touch. She didn’t understand why life had to be so cruel as to take away the one person she had ever truly loved. He was her soul mate, her reason for breathing. She had not
hing left to lose.
“For Landon.”
“Good.” He squeezed her arm, a cagey look crossing his face. The sincerity present moments ago had disappeared. Rayne wondered if she had imagined it. “Looks like it’s bedtime.”
Rayne turned from him and faced the house, raising the binoculars to her eyes. A tall, slender brunette ushered the little girl out of the living room, turning off a few lamps as she went. Rayne’s heart dropped to the pit of her stomach when the woman peered out the window, her gaze stopping on the SUV parked over a football field away. The woman hesitated for what seemed like hours, but was only a second or two. Fight or flight kicked in. Rayne considered jumping into the front seat and speeding out of there. What if the woman came out and saw the two of them casing out the house? Would they be arrested? Would she be able to live with herself?
“Let it rain,” she heard, the voice distant, dream-like.
“What did you say?” she said softly, swinging her eyes to the man beside her, wishing with everything in her that she could trade those stone-cold eyes for Landon’s spirited gaze. It had been too long since anyone had said those three words to her. It was their thing. Whenever things got bad, Landon stood by her side. When her parents cut her off for dropping out of Brown so she could pursue her true passion in life, Landon simply whispered in her ear, “Let it rain.” Rain brought new life, washing away everything else. It signified a new start, something she desperately needed.
“Nothing,” the man answered, giving her a skeptical look. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Her racing heart slowed, her unease and anxiety regarding what she was about to do vanishing into thin air. She could feel Landon in that car, and he would want vindication for what happened to him, too. She needed to do this.
It was time.
He had to pay.
Chapter One
Twenty-Four Hours Earlier
December 17
7:00 PM
THE RAIN FELT LIKE tiny knives against her skin as the wind howled and moaned on that dreary December evening. Everyone around Rayne ran in search of shelter from the wintry weather, but not her. She took her time, relishing each frigid step. The pain of the cold rain whipping against her brought her comfort. It was the only thing that reminded her she was still alive.
As time passed, she thought she would need this Thursday night ritual less and less. She had seen people come and go. Sometimes a familiar face would reappear during a holiday or particularly difficult week, but for most, the passing of time had healed their wounds.
Not Rayne.
For her, time was like a knife reopening scars that barely had a chance to heal. Most days, these meetings were the only thing that kept her going. If she could just make it to Thursday, she would be okay. She could step out of the darkness, if only for an hour.
Climbing the steps of the old stone church, she was met with warmth and light, which was at complete odds with the cold darkness that shrouded Boston. Her heels echoed on the linoleum as she walked through the bright lobby and made her way down the stairs to the basement, listening to the choir rehearse for the upcoming holiday services.
Silent night. Holy night.
All was not calm for Rayne.
Once upon a time, Christmas was her favorite time of year. Everyone always seemed to be a little bit happier, a little more forgiving. The movies, the cookies, the smell of roast turkey, the family gatherings. All year long, she looked forward to the magic and happiness in the air during the holiday season…until her life was turned upside down.
The joyful frivolity that accompanied this time of year now only reminded her of everything she lost and would never have again. It reminded her she would never see the joy in her child’s eyes when he or she realized Santa and his reindeer had magically paid a visit during the night. It reminded her she had nothing. No reason to get up in the morning. No reason to go to her entry-level job a high school dropout could do. No reason to continue living her somber existence.
The aroma of stale coffee, baked goods, and lemon cleaner greeted her as she entered one of the basement meeting rooms. About a dozen people already perused the selection of sugary snacks or sat in one of the chairs, head down, avoiding eye contact as they tried to hide their tears. Rayne recognized about half. She knew some of their stories, but others hadn’t worked up the courage to share their grief yet. She understood how difficult it was. It had taken her nearly four months to finally open up to this group of complete strangers.
Outside these walls, she barely spoke of it anymore. Her name had faded from the headlines and the requests for interviews had stopped. In the aftermath of the tragedy, the smiling, full of life woman she once was had been replaced by a withdrawn, grief-stricken stranger who simply went through the motions of what was expected of her. It was a good day if she remembered to shower. But inside these faded white walls, she could share her strife and heartache, even though this sympathetic group of people may never fully understand how broken she truly was. They were the only people who didn’t judge, who didn’t question why the events of a year ago still affected her.
Rayne poured herself a cup of obligatory coffee, then sat in her usual chair in the pre-arranged circle the facilitator said encouraged more open and honest discourse amongst the group. He must have been onto something. If Rayne had to stand up in front of a dozen people and share her struggles, she would have felt intimidated. This configuration of chairs was like a bubble. No one would judge her or anyone else while they shared the demons tormenting them.
She smiled a polite smile at a stocky, balding man a few chairs down. She hadn’t seen him before and absentmindedly wondered what his story was. What heartache did he endure at this precise moment?
Over the months, she had become rather adept at guessing people’s struggles. She was usually close, although sometimes a bit off on the details. She supposed this newcomer had just lost his wife sooner than anticipated.
Cancer, she mused to herself. It’s usually cancer.
Sensing a presence next to her, she tilted her head, looking at her unexpected friend. Mark had been coming to these Thursday night meetings for almost as long as she had. He hadn’t completely opened up about what brought him to that church basement every week, but based on hints he had dropped, Rayne surmised it had something to do with his sister. He spoke of his bereavement and how difficult it was to move on without closure. Rayne could only assume she had gone missing. Her heart went out to him living in a constant state of purgatory. She had been there…jumping up with each phone call, hoping it would be the one she waited for. During that one week, she clung to hope like a baby clings to a blanket. With each passing minute, she grew more and more despondent, struggling to come to terms with the likelihood that when the phone call did come, it wouldn’t be the news she wanted to hear.
Unfortunately for Rayne, her phone call finally came in the form of a national television broadcast.
The country mourned with her. The President even ordered the flags to be lowered to half-mast for a week. But after that week, the story was forgotten. The nation went on to talk about the next hot topic of the day, and Rayne’s loss was nothing more than a footnote in the history books.
History would repeat itself again. And again. And again. Rayne could do nothing to stop reliving that same agony day after day. Her coworkers tried to encourage her that life went on, but did it? She didn’t see it that way. She had lost everything that cold, December day. Her heart. Her career. Her life. Now, all she had was her Thursday group session…and Mark. They used each other to cope with the torment of their lives. It wasn’t healthy, but it was better than the alternative…for now.
“Earth to Rayne,” Mark’s deep voice whispered.
She snapped out of her memories, returning to the dismal present. His chocolate eyes were a cautionary mix of amusement and ire. It was the same expression he wore when he brought her to bed and they took out their rage through their distant act of intimacy.
Rayne nodded, relishing the warmth emanating from the paper cup she held in her hands.
“That’s what? Eight blocks? Why didn’t you take the T?” he asked, referencing Boston’s well-known subway system.
“Ten,” she replied curtly.
“I stand corrected.”
She turned the corners of her lips up, a polite gesture, then her face fell back to its normal position…blank, empty, haunting. She could sense Mark wanted to say something, but her closed-off expression warned him against it. They had shared their suffering, but nothing more. She willingly gave him her body, but not her heart. Not her soul. Never again.
“I get it’s a difficult day for you, tomorrow being the anniversary of…” Mark trailed off, his voice consoling, laying his hand on her thigh.
She shot her eyes to him. In all the weeks they tried to dull the pain by finding solace in each other’s arms, he had never touched her in public, apart from the occasional hug during the group meeting.
“I’m fine,” she barked, pulling her leg away.
Mark sighed, running his large hand through his rugged, dark hair. “If you say so.” He paused. “It’s okay to feel vulnerable, ya know.”
Rayne scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Stop with the psycho-babble bullshit. I hear enough of that from the guy who runs this meeting. I don’t need it from you, too.”
“Then why do you come here?”
Staring at the ceiling, the light panels in serious need of a good scrubbing, she closed her eyes, letting out a long breath. “To be with people who understand me, Mark. That’s all. No one else does. But here, I feel like I belong, something I haven’t felt since…” She trailed off.
In a bold move, Mark reached out and grabbed her hand, comforting her. For once, she didn’t pull back. She let his warmth surround her. Hell, maybe he needed it as much as she did.