Lost Girls: A gripping thriller that will have you hooked (Ben Forrester FBI Thrillers Book 1)

by Jon Mills

  He resisted the urge to go and pull it out. It had become a force of habit. Every time a new disappearance came up he would put a pin in it. For the first three months after arriving in Maine he had it on the wall. He barely slept in that time. It took a great amount of urging by Emily to take the board down and take medication for the sleepless nights. Two years later Ben still had problems sleeping but it was better than before. He now got six hours instead of four.

  He walked back into the kitchen and shut one of the windows he’d left open that morning. He berated himself as he went through the house checking each of the rooms and closets for anyone who might have got in. This included the basement and the attic. He’d been so careful over the past year but as they found themselves settling in, he was becoming more relaxed. Less guarded, and he wasn’t sure that was a good thing.

  He opened the fridge and then the freezer above it to see what to cook up for supper. He was so used to Elizabeth doing it. It wasn’t that he was averse to cooking, he loved it, but she called the kitchen her domain — the one place she loved to hang out. He paused for a moment looking at the breakfast bar. A memory of Elizabeth in their old house pouring wine while meat hissed on the stove came back to him. Her touch. Her laughter. At least Bruns hadn’t stolen his memories. Those were his.

  He refilled his glass and shouted up to Chloe.

  “You want to get Chinese tonight?”

  “We had that last night.”

  “Seafood?”

  “That was the night before.”

  She was right. Most days it was just easy to pick up food from the local restaurants in town. The place was rich with fish. They had pretty much tasted every kind of fish there was to offer.

  “You want to come down, I’m kind of talking to a wall here.”

  Ben heard her feet patter against the hardwood floors. He couldn’t help but smirk when she reached the top of the stairs. Even though she was seventeen she would always be his little girl. Last winter she’d headed off to high school wearing a flimsy jacket and tight jeans. Maine winters were brutal.

  “You know you should wear a winter jacket.”

  “I’m not three, you know,” she’d replied back. The memory made him smile. She was growing up fast and it wouldn’t be long before she would be heading off to college. The thought was daunting. At least here he could keep an eye on her and protect her.

  He waited at the bottom of the stairs for her to come down.

  “I don’t know what you find so funny?” she said.

  “You. You make me laugh.”

  She rolled her eyes like a typical teenager and walked straight by him. Back in the kitchen she rooted around in the freezer and pulled out a Tupperware container of food that Janice, Elizabeth’s mother, had cooked up a few days ago. There wasn’t a week that went by that she wasn’t dropping off a dish or two. At first, Ben thought it was because she was trying to be kind, he soon learned it was because she’d tasted his home-cooked food. Chloe found it quite amusing.

  Chloe turned on some music via her tablet, and gave Ben a hand in the kitchen. While she set the table, he tried to bring up the topic of what had happened earlier that day.

  “Look, um…”

  “Dad, I get it. You’re afraid that something bad is going to happen to me. But you can’t wrap me in cotton forever. I know how to handle myself and even if I can’t… you’ve got to give me some breathing space.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  Ben had tried to encourage her sense of independence by teaching her what he knew about hand-to-hand combat. It wasn’t anything special, just what he’d picked up in his time in the army as well as what they’d taught them at the academy. At least it gave him some sense of peace that she could protect herself if push came to shove.

  “But not showing up to school. No, that I don’t give you any room for. I taught you better than that.”

  “Like you didn’t ever take a day off.”

  “Sure, I might have pulled a sicky or two but my parents always knew where I was. Going off with someone you haven’t even introduced me to, well... Do you know how panicked I was?”

  “I’m sorry, Dad.”

  She dropped her gaze to the floor and brought over some iced tea. Ten minutes later they sat at the table eating something that was meant to resemble lasagna. It tasted better than anything Ben could have rustled up. His cooking skills needed some work. Put him in a room with a suspect and he could get into their mind, mess with them, and extract the information they needed. He paused, taking a bite. For all his training and success with others, none of it had worked on Henri Bruns.

  There was a knock at the door. Jinx bounded out to the front entrance and began barking like a lunatic.

  “Jinx, quiet down.”

  Ben washed the mouthful of food down with some iced tea and then shuffled over to the door. Beyond the window he saw the police. Great, he told himself.

  “Chloe, you want to get the dog?”

  “Jinxy,” she whistled, and he dashed back into the eating area. Once Chloe gave him the okay, he cracked the door open and switched on the outside light so he could see clearer. The officer had light flowing hair, pretty eyes. The kind of woman you would have been happy to introduce to your mother.

  “Officer.”

  “Evening, Dr. Forrester.”

  “Just, Ben. Call me Ben.”

  “Right. I’m Officer Woods. I’m sorry to call on you so late but I was wondering if could have a moment of your time?”

  She must have expected he would immediately invite her in. She was wrong. “Is there a problem?”

  “It’s about Jake Ashton.”

  Ben snorted at the mention of his name. “Sure. Come on in.”

  Jinx must have got away from Chloe’s grip as she had managed to push her way out into the hall. Before Ben could grab her, she was bounding around excited to see a new face.

  “Well that’s odd. She’s usually pretty guarded with strangers.”

  The woman crouched down.

  Oh, I wouldn’t do that. Ben had visions of Jinx snapping at the officer’s face or knocking her to the ground. The real estate lady who had sold the property had been by a couple of months ago to see how they were enjoying the home. She left with a bruised nose. Jinx had head-butted her pretty hard.

  The officer buried her face into Jinx’s neck and rubbed behind her ears. Jinx seemed to love it. Her whole body wagged.

  “You have dogs?” Ben asked.

  “No, but I do have a fish.”

  He smiled.

  “No, I used to have two dogs growing up.” She stood back up.

  “Chloe, do you want to take Jinx out back?”

  “Actually I was wondering if I could have a word with you, Chloe?”

  “Is she in trouble?”

  “I wanted to get her side of the story.”

  “Has he filed a complaint?”

  “Not yet, but his father was in this evening. It’s just what we have to do.”

  As they waited for Chloe, Ben led the officer into the living area. She cast a glance around the place. “This was the old Mars place.”

  “That’s right,” he said.

  “You’ve done a good job on renovating.”

  “Ah, it still needs some work but we are getting there.”

  He could tell she was itching to say something and possibly she might have if Chloe hadn’t come back into the room.

  “Right. Do you want to tell me what happened this afternoon?”

  Chloe looked at Ben. She hesitated to reply. He gestured for her to go ahead. She brought her up to speed on what happened. There was a lot of going back and forth, ten minutes later the officer looked as if she had what she needed.

  “Do you want to file charges?”

  “For what?” she asked.

  “Attempted rape?”

  She bristled. “No. I don’t think he was going to do that. He got carried away.”

  The officer studied Chloe’s f
ace. “Well, if you change your mind, I’ll leave my card with you.”

  Chloe stared at it.

  “Anyway, have a good night,” Woods said.

  Ben led her outside and closed the door behind him. The air outside was clear and smelled of pine. The sound of crickets could be heard as well as waves lapping up against the shore. The officer stepped down from the porch and was about to leave when she turned back.

  “Ben Forrester.”

  She tapped her finger against her lips. “You wrote that book about serial killers. Inside the Mind of a Monster.”

  His eyebrow shot up. “You’ve read it?”

  “Yeah. I have it the car, actually.” She thumbed over her shoulder.

  “Then, unfortunately yes.”

  She nodded slowly. “I thought I recognized you.” She fixed her gaze on him. “I mean, from the back of the book.”

  “Yeah, I tried to get them to take that off. But they wouldn’t have any of it.”

  “I don’t know, it’s not a bad shot.” She smiled.

  Ben shifted from one foot to the next.

  “Well, it was nice to have met you, Officer Woods.”

  “Dakota, call me Dakota.”

  Chapter Four

  She only wanted to escape.

  Twenty-four hours ago, Rachael Taylor arrived at Blackwoods Campground on Mount Desert Island. It was a weekend getaway. Hiking the trails of Acadia National Park. A few drinks with a friend. It was meant to be a place to unwind and let her hair down before returning to the heavy workload that came with attending the University of Maine.

  Now it was all about survival.

  “Help! Somebody!”

  Pain coursed through her as tears blurred her vision. Panicking to get away she stumbled and fell, skinning her knees. Bloodied and scrambling to her feet, she kept running. She had no idea where she was. The forest was almost pitch-black except for light that came from a crescent moon.

  Where is he? She cast a fearful glance over her shoulder while keeping her hands out in front of her. Stone cut into her bare feet, the ocean wind nipped at her exposed skin. Wearing nothing more than panties and a bra, both covered in dirt from falling over countless times, she was freezing.

  I just need to make it to the road, she told herself. But she had no idea where she was. Acadia covered over forty-seven thousand acres. Trying to find someone in this place was like searching for a needle in a haystack. How far behind was he? As she staggered forward, her shoulder slammed into a tree trunk. She’d lost count of how many times that had happened. The only thing pushing through her mind was to get away from him. Her throat burned and her heart smashed against her chest wall as she dashed through the dense evergreen forest of tall pines.

  “Rachael! Get back here,” his gruff voice only made her run faster. She hadn’t stopped to look at the deep cuts he’d made in her flesh. His delight in her agony was sickening. Her entire body ached and screamed with more pain than she had ever felt before. It had been so bad that she begged to die, but he wouldn’t give her that peace.

  She tripped again, this time over a decayed fallen log, and landed face first into the earth. The forest was covered in a thick blanket of lush green moss and ferns. Below it was harsh granite. Get up. Shards of light filtered down, piercing the spidery webbed canopy of branches above her.

  I don’t want to die, she repeated over and over in her mind as she frantically kept her feet going. The will to live and pure desperation pushed her on.

  Suddenly, without warning the forest was gone. She burst out on to a single-lane road, panting and gasping for air. Not stopping even for a second to decide whether to go left or right, she rushed towards a faint illumination in the distance. Was it the town? A vehicle approaching? As she rounded a bend in the road, she breathed a sigh of relief. Under the light of the moon, she could see a sign for Eden Falls Harbor. Below it said five miles. She was so close, and yet still nowhere near being safe.

  She stumbled and staggered forward, every step excruciatingly painful.

  The rumble of an approaching vehicle in the distance was the first glimmer of hope she had felt since escaping the nightmare. She pushed her dark matted hair out of her eyes and gave a cautious look back before pressing on.

  A black 4x4 truck shot over the rise in the road with its light bars on full beam. She lifted her hand to block the glare. It was driving at breakneck speed. The roar of its throaty muffler cut into the night.

  She began waving. “Please, stop.” She nearly lost her footing as she approached it with little concern that she was in the middle of the road and the truck wasn’t slowing down. Then as its headlights illuminated her, the driver slammed the brakes on. Tires squealed and gravel spit as it swerved to avoid hitting her. She collapsed on the ground, no longer caring if she lived or died. Every ounce of her energy was sapped from her body.

  She heard a door creak open, country music seeping out, and then boots hit the gravel.

  “Miss, are you out of your mind? I nearly hit you.” The closer he got the slower his pace became. “Okay, I’m going to get you some help.”

  “No!” She pushed herself up on one elbow and reached out for him. “He’s coming, please, don’t leave me here.”

  “Oh, it’s okay. I’m not going to leave you out here.”

  He rushed over and she felt strong arms wrap around her waist as he hauled her up. One arm draped loosely over his shoulder, her feet barely making contact with the pavement, she soon found herself in the warmth of the truck.

  “Now, don’t you worry, miss, I’ll make sure no one else touches you,” the driver said as he slipped behind the wheel. She could feel herself going in and out of consciousness. Even the smallest light from inside the cab stabbed her eyes.

  “What are you doing out here?” he asked.

  She tried hard to muster a reply as darkness crept in at the side of her eyes. “I don’t know. A man. He was…”

  The truck peeled away into the night as she lost consciousness. The last words she heard were, “Don’t worry, you’re safe now.”

  Chapter Five

  Dakota had a bad feeling about this as she made her way out to Acadia National Park. It would be the seventh death in three years. It was always the same, two a year. A woman would go missing then either not show up or be found at the bottom of one of the many craggy cliffs. Each one had been treated as an accident. And even though the reports stated no foul play, she had her doubts. As she pulled off the park loop road at the base of Mount Champlain, the sixth tallest mountain in the park, her fear swelled at the sight of three other blue-and-white cruisers, a couple of park ranger SUVs, and Maine Warden Service trucks.

  Reality was, no one should have been out here. The infamous, precipice trail was closed between March 15 and August 15. It was something to do with peregrine falcons nesting. Which meant few people would have been using the trail.

  One of the officers called out to her, “Over here,” and waved her over to the base. Dakota continued driving past an ambulance. She could hear the sound of a chopper in the distance. Often people who had been injured would be airlifted from the YMCA in Eden Falls to the medical center in Bangor. It wasn’t an easy task getting people off the island.

  When she pushed open her door and stepped out into the heat of the day, she wished she hadn’t put a jacket on. A warm breeze coming off the ocean brushed against her skin. Thankfully the place wasn’t swarming with tourists. While the population on the island was only ten thousand, it received over 2.4 million visitors every year. Mostly hikers and campers looking to take in the sights, smells, and sounds of Maine.

  Dakota ducked under a police barrier tape cordoning off the area, gave a curt nod to a few of the other cops. There weren’t many of them, eleven on the island and the chief of course. More often than not the park rangers and game wardens handled any deaths or searches for missing people in the park. Usually a search party would go out for five days, with tracking dogs and a helicopter. It was nev
er easy, even worse if it occurred in the dead of winter. Quite often they had to call off the search due to bad weather.

  As she got closer to the exposed cliffs with fixed iron rungs hammered into the granite, she could see the chief standing at the foot of the mountain, talking to Ted Bishop who was a game warden. Chief Kurt Danvers looked as if he had been stitched into his uniform. He was a large man with a pockmarked face. It was rare that she saw him wearing anything casual. A couple of paramedics were standing by waiting to take the body away.

  She was dead, otherwise she would have been gone by now.

  With such a small town to police, there were no detectives so to speak on the island. Dakota was the closest that they had to a detective. A few months ago she’d been away for several weeks of training but it was a far cry from the time that was required to become a fully fledged D.I. The budget in the town just didn’t extend for it and of course there really hadn’t been a need. They mainly dealt in domestic disputes while the Maine Warden Service and park rangers handled everything inside of the park.

  “Hey Ted, who we got?” Dakota asked him.

  “Female. Rachael Taylor.” He flashed a driver’s license. Dakota glanced at it. “Student from the University of Maine. Seems she was down here with a friend of hers but we haven’t been able to locate her. Their belongings are still at Blackwoods Campground.”

  “How long’s she been missing?”

  “Less than forty-eight hours.”

  “Anyone notified the family yet?” Dakota asked.

  “Not yet.”

  “Who reported it?”

  “Dougy.” Douglas Adams was a park ranger who was a little slow but it hadn’t prevented him from doing his duties. He’d grown up in Eden Falls and was someone Ted had taken under his wing. He had wanted to be a game warden but hadn’t passed the hiring process due to selling drugs. It was an immediate disqualifier. Somehow Ted had managed to put in a good word with a buddy of his and lo-and-behold, Dougy was now one of eighty full-time rangers in the off-season. That number rose to two hundred and fifty in-season. Yet with all the rangers patrolling the park, people were still going missing. Some of them were never found, the others showed up at the bottom of cliffs and below bridges.