And Then She Was GONE: A riveting new suspense novel that keeps you guessing until the end

by Christopher Greyson

  “There’s a little park that overlooks the bay on the way to your house,” Jack said. “It has a great view.”

  Kelly’s face lit up. “That sounds awesome.”

  Jack pulled out and drove fast.

  Bay View Park was popular with runners because it sat on a wide plateau of land. It was also popular with kids who wanted privacy because the parking lot was shielded by trees, and the police visited infrequently.

  Tonight the parking lot was empty.

  Jack eased the Impala into a spot away from the streetlights and turned off the car.

  Kelly’s hand shot out and clicked her seat belt release. She turned to Jack but suddenly frowned.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” Her eyes shifted down to the seat, where her finger traced an invisible outline on the fabric. “Did you really mean all that?”

  Jack’s mind raced as he tried to figure out what “all that” could be. He reached his hand along the back of the seat and lowered his voice. “All that?” he repeated, hoping for clarification.

  Her cheeks flushed. “All that you said about not being able to keep your eyes off me because…” Her pearl-white teeth bit her bottom lip.

  “Because you looked so beautiful?”

  She slowly nodded.

  Jack stroked the back of her hand. “Yeah. I meant all that.”

  Her big blue eyes peered out over her long, delicate lashes. A stray strand of hair fell across her cheek. Jack reached over and tucked it behind her ear.

  She leaned closer.

  So did Jack.

  Slowly, he slid his hand behind her head. Kelly’s lips pressed together. Jack leaned down, pulled her close, and then kissed her. A tender, gentle kiss.

  When he pulled back, Kelly did too. “Wow. I didn’t expect that.”

  Jack grinned.

  She looked up longingly. “Only one?”

  Jack leaned toward her. She pressed her soft lips to his, and this kiss lasted longer. Jack made gentle strokes on her cheek with his thumb. With each touch, the tension between them slipped away.

  Kelly’s hand glided along Jack’s arm. Her fingers traced along his hand and stopped at the rough scar that circled his wrist.

  Jack immediately pulled his hand away.

  “How’d you get that scar?”

  He stiffened. “It’s nothing.”

  “I thought you always told the truth.”

  Jack sat back in his seat, rolled his head away, and stared out the window. “You don’t want to hear it.”

  Kelly’s fingers reached out for his hand. “I do.” Her voice was soft.

  Jack exhaled.

  Kelly tilted her head and waited.

  Jack was honest to a fault, but right now he wanted to lie. Something inside screamed, Say you cut yourself on a can, or fixing a bike—anything but the truth. Yet another part of him wanted to share what had happened to him. He wanted her to know about his sordid past, and not run in the other direction.

  “Before I came to Aunt Haddie’s,” Jack said, “I stayed in some pretty bad places.”

  “Foster homes?”

  “No.” Jack reached out and put a hand on the steering wheel. “Motels that rent by the hour, crackhouses, whorehouses. Places like that.”

  Kelly smiled awkwardly as she waited for the punchline that wouldn’t come.

  “Well, when I was little, I loved the show Cops. You ever seen it?”

  She shook her head.

  “I thought they were the best. One night, there was this party going on, with druggies and prostitutes. I was alone in the kitchen. It was one of those galley kitchens.” Jack pulled his hands apart as if he were stretching taffy. “Like one narrow hallway with a stove, a sink, and a little window at the end.”

  Kelly nodded.

  “Well, I was looking out the window when some cop pulled over a car on the street below. I got so excited, I ran into the party and yelled, ‘COPS!’”

  Jack chuckled. Kelly just kept her eyes glued to him.

  “I wanted them to come look with me, but the druggies went nuts. Everyone freaked and ran for the door. At the time, I thought it was funny. So… after everyone had calmed down, I did it again. I yelled ‘COPS!’ and they started running for the door again.”

  Kelly moved closer.

  “Then this ghoulish-looking guy came over to me and asked, ‘Do you want to play cops and robbers, kid?’ I never had anyone to hang with. So when someone finally asked, I was all excited. He took me into the kitchen and pulled out a set of handcuffs. They were real ones. I wanted to be the cop, but he told me that I was going to be the robber. I just wanted to play with someone. Anyway, the guy cuffed me to the radiator. It was one of those old bare-metal types. It didn’t take me long to figure out he wasn’t coming back anytime soon.”

  “That’s horrible.” Kelly’s fingers traced the scar. “But how did you get the scar?”

  The memory of that sensation hit Jack like a Mack truck. “It was winter. It got cold out, and the radiator came on.”

  Kelly’s fingers stopped moving.

  “They were metal cuffs. That old radiator got as hot as a blast furnace. Heat traveled straight through the chain to the metal cuff on my wrist. It burned my skin.”

  “Oh, Jack.”

  “I finally figured out to pull my shirt over my head and then down my arm. I tucked it between the cuffs and my skin.”

  Kelly’s eyes were moist.

  Jack clicked his tongue. “He put the cuffs on me at two minutes past midnight. There was a clock on the stove. Candi, she was a hooker at the party, she found me at eleven twenty-two.”

  “You spent all night chained in the kitchen?”

  Jack shrugged and looked up at the roof.

  “How old were you?”

  “Five.”

  “Who was watching you?”

  “She was passed out in the next room, too.”

  “Who’s she?”

  Jack’s hand tightened around the steering wheel. “The lady who gave birth to me.”

  “Your mom? She was there?”

  Jack nodded.

  “Why would your mother take you to a place like that?”

  Jack peered out the window at the trees silhouetted against the night sky. “That was home. For that week anyway.”

  “But you said the party was all druggies and prostitutes. Why would your mother have people like that over?” Kelly’s question faded into awkward silence.

  Jack debated about just saying his mother was a drug addict. That was partly the truth. “She was a hooker,” Jack admitted.

  Kelly pulled her hand back.

  Jack stiffened. He regretted saying anything.

  Kelly sat for a long minute, staring out the window.

  Jack tried to break the tension. He knew this was a lot more than most people could handle. “I can just picture your father’s face when you tell him that one.”

  Kelly snapped out of her daze, reached over, and took Jack’s hand. “Like I said, I’m not my father.”

  Jack searched her face. He expected to see scorn, but there was none. His fingers drummed the dashboard. “You don’t think less of me?”

  “Do you think less of me because of the way my father acts?”

  “No.”

  She squeezed his hand.

  “Seriously, I hope this wasn’t too much of a buzzkill,” he said, trying to lighten the mood.

  Kelly slid over until her body pressed against his. She leaned on his chest. “No. It hurts to think that you had it so bad.”

  “There’re lots of people who’ve had it worse.” He put his arm around her.

  Kelly laid her head on his shoulder. “So you rescued a little old lady?”

  Jack’s breathing clicked up a notch. He nodded.

  “You chased after the guy and almost got stabbed?”

  He raised his hand as if he were taking an oath. “All true.”

  Kelly gazed up at him.

  Jack�
��s chest swelled as his emotions surged. He thought for a moment of his father’s speech, his mother’s warning, and Aunt Haddie’s words, but then he looked into Kelly’s blue eyes. He felt like Superman, but Kelly was the one with heat vision—her smoldering stare was hitting him like Kryptonite. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.

  He felt for the small scratch on his side just above his waistband, the one he’d hidden from Chandler and his parents. “Actually…” He grabbed the bottom of his t-shirt. “I think the knife may have nicked me.” He lifted up his shirt so she could see his side.

  “Oh, Jack.” Her eyes rounded in concern as she searched for signs of injury. She reached out and gently touched above the scrape.

  His skin tingled at her touch. It felt wonderful.

  “Does that hurt?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “No. But maybe you should feel… all around. You know, just in case.”

  Her eyes sparkled as she chuckled. Slowly, she ran her fingers along his chest muscles. Every trail her fingers traced sent electricity rippling along his skin.

  His chest rose and fell faster as her eyes locked with his. Then she leaned in and kissed him.

  A ripple traveled from the crown of Jack’s head to his feet. He felt a glow surge through his veins; he felt wanted.

  He liked how that felt.

  Her kisses were long and slow. Jack put his hand up into her hair. The wispy blond strands felt like silk. As they kissed, he tasted her lip gloss—cherry. Jack had a new favorite flavor.

  The windows fogged. After a few minutes, Jack felt something vibrate. He opened one eye.

  Kelly opened hers, pulled back, and smiled shyly. “It’s my phone.” She pulled it out of her pocket, pressed the silence call button, and tossed it on the floor.

  Jack pulled her close, and they went back to kissing. “You taste like cherry mixed with spring,” he said.

  “You smell like musk.”

  A minute later, Kelly’s phone vibrated again.

  “Seriously!” She grabbed her phone off the floor, scrolled through her texts, and then cringed. “My father’s freaking out.”

  Jack looked at the clock. “Why?”

  Kelly swallowed. “He saw us on the news.”

  “So?”

  She turned to Jack with an I-don’t-want-to-but-I-have-to-go look.

  Jack hoped his forced smile didn’t betray his internal frustration. “I’ll take you home.”

  “I’m really sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” Jack started the engine and backed out of the parking lot.

  Kelly texted her father back as Jack drove her home. When they pulled into the driveway, it looked as though every light inside and out of the Dawson home had been turned on. Jack parked the Impala, but before he’d even shut the engine off, the front door flew open. Mr. Dawson stormed down the steps, followed closely by his wife.

  Mr. Dawson pointed toward the house. “Get inside, Kelly. Now.” His order was just below a shout.

  Begrudgingly, Jack got out of the car. He didn’t know whether he was crazy or brave for facing her father. “Mr. Dawson—” Jack started to say, but Mr. Dawson stormed around the car and cut him off.

  “How dare you?” Mr. Dawson jabbed his plump finger in Jack’s face.

  Jack looked down at the red-faced man and fought to control his own temper. He understood the man was upset; he realized that he was a father and clearly something had set him off with regard to his daughter.

  “You took my daughter to Washington Heights?”

  Of all the possible offenses Jack thought he was going to be accused of committing, going to Aunt Haddie’s wasn’t even on the list. “What?”

  “Get the smirk off your face before I knock it off,” Mr. Dawson snapped. “Don’t try to deny it. We saw you on the news.”

  “I’m sorry, sir. I wasn’t going to deny it. I grew up there and—”

  “Now my daughter’s picture is plastered across the TV for all my friends to see. She was surrounded by all those—” He ground his teeth together as though he were gnawing on the word he really wanted to use.

  Jack straightened up. “All those what?”

  For the first seven years of Jack’s life, he’d been a feral child—abandoned and on his own. When Aunt Haddie had brought him in, he’d bonded with her in a way few could understand. Jack didn’t see prejudice as a spectator. He saw it as an attack on his family.

  Jack stepped forward. “Say what you’re thinking.”

  Before Mr. Dawson had time to answer, Mrs. Dawson intervened. She put her hand on her husband’s arm and urged him back.

  Mr. Dawson took a deep breath and stepped away from Jack.

  “All those people are my family and friends,” Jack said.

  “Don’t make this a racial thing,” Mr. Dawson said.

  “I think you just did.”

  Mrs. Dawson came to stand next to her husband. “We were concerned for our daughter after seeing her on the news.” Jack looked over at Kelly, who stood on the steps. Her right arm gripped her left tightly. She didn’t look at Jack but gazed down at the ground. “I think we’ve all had our fill of excitement for the evening,” Mrs. Dawson continued. “Why don’t we call it a night?”

  Mr. Dawson spun around and stomped up the steps past Kelly.

  Mrs. Dawson watched her husband disappear inside. She closed her eyes and exhaled. “Good night, Jack,” she said. She walked over to her daughter and put an arm around her shoulders, and the two of them started inside.

  Jack jumped into the Impala. He looked over at Kelly, but her back was already turned away. He fired up the engine, dropped the car into drive, and slowly rolled down the hill.

  When he reached the street, he hit the gas.

  7

  Driving Aunt Haddie

  The next morning, Jack pulled up outside Aunt Haddie’s and parked the Impala in the driveway. As he walked up to the house, Michelle danced outside, followed by the shy girl with the ponytail on top of her head.

  “What’s up, my brother?” Michelle hammed it up and gave him a high five.

  “Hey, Half-Pint.”

  “Chandler’s not here.”

  Jack stopped short. “Where is he?”

  “He had to go help Mr. Emerson get a refrigerator.”

  “Crud.” Jack groaned. “I was hoping he wanted to work out.”

  “You shoulda called first,” Michelle said in a singsong voice.

  “The big creep could’ve let me know he was going out.”

  The girl with the ponytail stepped toe to toe with Jack and thrust her chin out. “Don’t call Chandler a creep.” Her eyes narrowed as she glared up at him.

  Jack fought down a laugh. “Whoa. Easy there, killer.” He held up his hands. “I’m just busting on Chandler.”

  “Well…” She wrapped a curl from her ponytail around her finger. “Don’t.”

  Michelle put a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Jack, this is Replacement.”

  Jack grinned at the odd nickname. “Hey. Nice to meet you… Replacement.” He recognized her from the night before—the girl with the grocery bags and the hard head.

  Replacement huffed, but didn’t step back.

  Jack turned back to Michelle. “Is he coming back anytime soon?”

  “Not for a couple of hours.”

  “Let him know I swung by.” Jack turned to go.

  “Aunt Haddie wants to see you. She called your house this morning. Your mom said you were coming, so she’s expecting you.”

  Oh, crud. Here comes the lecture about going down to see who got arrested last night.

  Jack trudged into the kitchen.

  “Jackie.” Aunt Haddie hurried down the hallway. “I’m so glad you’re here. Would you mind giving me a ride?”

  “Sure.” Jack exhaled, relieved she may have forgotten about last night. “But I have to be back by noon. Kelly is having a cookout and I’m amazed I’m invited. Kelly had to beg her mom to let me come, so I have to be there.
”

  “We’ll be back before then,” Aunt Haddie reassured him with a nod.

  “I’m kinda hesitant to go. It’s weird her father okayed it. I feel like a turkey getting invited to Thanksgiving dinner. Where are we going?”

  “Long Bay.”

  Jack’s smile dropped. “Long Bay Prison?”

  Aunt Haddie nodded. “With Mrs. Martin.”

  “To see J-Dog?”

  “Don’t use street names,” Aunt Haddie corrected. “As you are certainly aware,” she lowered her chin and leveled a disapproving stare, “Jay got arrested last night. They are holding him at Long Bay until he is arraigned. Mrs. Martin wants to see her son.”

  “They put him in the Bay?” Jack asked. “What did he get arrested for? Was it something to do with the Stacy Shaw disappearance?”

  Aunt Haddie’s brow wrinkled. “I’m certain he had nothing to do with that poor woman.”

  “But it was Detective Vargas who arrested him. He’s the lead on that investigation.” Jack tipped his head to the side. “That’s a big jackpot if he’s involved.”

  “He’s not. Jay just found the woman’s wallet. It’s a misunderstanding.”

  “Found it?” Jack scoffed. “You don’t get arrested for finding a wallet. Is that what they took out of the house?”

  “It is, and I think that’s enough questions for now. If you’re going to give me and Mrs. Martin a ride, let’s get on with it. And I’m sure Jay will be glad to see you too.”

  Jack snorted. “Jay doesn’t want to see me.”

  “I know you two have had your differences, but he’ll want to see a friendly face.”

  Jack pointed at himself. “When it comes to this face and Jay, there ain’t no ‘friendly’ involved. I can’t stand him, and he hates me right back.”

  Aunt Haddie inhaled slowly and once again leveled her gaze at Jack.

  Jack swallowed. Not even his father could match the stern look that Aunt Haddie could pull off; she was a master at it. Her stare pinned him in place and he didn’t even think about moving. He couldn’t even look away, though he desperately wanted to.

  “I’m sure he doesn’t hate you,” Aunt Haddie said. “I know Jay went through a troubled patch, but he’s been trying very hard since his father passed on last year. I want you on your best behavior.”