“Gillian, I doubt you wanted to meet to discuss soda.”
“No,” She took a deep breath. “Your boss knows your abilities better than I do. If he doesn’t want you on the case, then I don’t want you trying to help on your own.”
“I told you. I lost my head once. It won’t happen again. Besides, how do you know what I’m doing?”
Gillian’s eyes held a wealth of knowledge and what almost looked like pain. “I doubt you’re trailing me for any other reason.”
The past rose between them, an untreated wound.
Unwilling to hold her gaze, Brad stared past the bushes to the tall, study trees that provided relief from the sun. “You’re right.”
Gillian fiddled with her paper cup. “Then you need to back off.”
“You know why I can’t. For the record, I didn’t lose it until after we nabbed the guy.”
“Then why haven’t you been assigned to the case?”
Brad stared again at the trees. “He doesn’t know why I lost it.”
Dear Reader,
Every book and every story is special to an author. The most special, though, are those that connect powerfully with you, the reader. And I can’t think of any stories more powerful or precious than those that contain children, touching on their happiness, their safety and our love for them.
Nor can I think of anything more wrenching than a story about a child who simply vanishes. Gone so quickly that, at first, no one believes it’s true.
Brad Mitchell, an officer with the Houston Police Department, and Gillian Kramer, an FBI agent, have seen enough to know just how real child abductions are. They are brought together by this tragic search, but it’s not the first time they’ve met. A year before, their perfect marriage had fallen apart. Now they must put aside their differences and work together to find this little girl….
I invite you to share their search, to find out if in working together they can solve the problems they had before.
Sincerely,
Bonnie K. Winn
Vanished
Bonnie K. Winn
For my brave son, Brian, and his beautiful bride, Lindsey.
And to Laura Shin. Thank you.
CONTENTS
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
PROLOGUE
GILLIAN STARED INTO her husband’s eyes, eyes that could darken with passion…or anger. Now, however, they were clouded with confusion, regret. Feelings she shared.
Unable to resist the motion, she lifted her hand to tenderly stroke his cheek, feeling the faint tremor beneath clenched muscles. A question formed on Brad’s face, but she slid her fingers down to gently still his lips.
They had been through all the questions hundreds of times. But there were no answers. Not for them. Gillian’s glance fell on a framed picture of the two of them. They were both laughing. The photo had been taken shortly after they married, a magical time.
Then and later everyone thought she and Brad were the perfect couple—that their union would last forever. But no one else knew the truth…or the secrets. So, now they stood on the edge of goodbye.
“Gillian, it doesn’t have to be this way,” Brad urged.
There was no solution for the tear in their marriage, no possibility that it could ever be made right. But that didn’t stop the aching. “There’s no other way,” she replied quietly, picking up her suitcase. “Not for us.”
“You’re being stubborn,” he insisted.
Her smile was sad, tinged with regret and irony. She wasn’t the only stubborn one. But this wasn’t a matter of an inability to compromise. If it were only that easy.
Gently she put her lips against his one final time. Pulling back she searched the face that was so dear to her. The breaking of her heart was a near physical wound. Silently she uttered the words that had once held them so fast. I will always love you, Brad Mitchell.
Always.
CHAPTER ONE
One year later
THE NIGHT WAS DARK. Ideal for his purpose.
As was the house. It had taken time to select both the perfect child and setting. He issued a silent, contemptuous laugh. Few would appreciate the extensive work he poured into each endeavor, the careful planning, the flawless execution.
But the end result always held the public’s attention.
The low bedroom window was easy to reach. Once inside, he spread a drop cloth to catch any stray hair or flake of skin. His clothing, hat, gloves and face mask covered his flesh, but he was taking no chances.
As he’d known it would be, the room was lit by a night-light, making it easy to navigate around the few scattered toys. Nine-year-old Katie Johnson slept the untroubled sleep of the young. But he was too smart, too experienced to waste precious time savoring the sight.
Chloroform to her mouth and nose rendered the child unconscious before she could utter even the tiniest squeal of protest. Leaving as he’d entered, he placed Katie’s body in a second cloth before retrieving the one from her room.
Taking great care, he made sure the window and screen were left as he found them. The springy grass of the well-tended lawn assured him there would be no detectable footprints.
It would be hours before Katie’s parents discovered she was gone. And by the time the police were contacted, he and his newest doll would have disappeared.
Back in his van, he allowed himself a superior smile at the ease of it all. The police never understood that he was the hunter. Dragnets could never compare with the sheer brilliance of his work.
The dark van blended with the moonless night. Driving cautiously, he garnered no attention. But then, few were awake at 2:00 a.m. in a middle-class community. When the baffled neighbors were questioned, he was confident no one would report his presence.
The police would sermonize and threaten. But as always, the abduction would remain an open, unsolved case. He’d yet to find a cop that was his match. In the safety of his van, he laughed with true mirth. It was too bad the police were so stupid. Going head-to-head with them was a contest he would enjoy.
He glanced back at young Katie. Fortunately, there was much to enjoy already.
IT WASN’T A PRETTY PLACE. A soulless conference room, one that resembled hundreds, if not more, in police stations across the country. Utilitarian by nature, now it filled with tension as papers hit the wide, scarred table, followed by the clank of seldom-washed coffee mugs.
Voices competed in the cramped, stuffy room, no one bothering to lower their volume for another’s conversation. It was usually like this, Brad Mitchell acknowledged, yet his gut tightened, reminding him why he’d wanted this assignment, how it still burned that he’d been turned down flat.
A spattering of detectives, along with a larger group of uniformed officers, continued to filter in, chairs scraping back as everyone settled into place.
It was always tense when the FBI was called in. Local hackles rose at the presumptuous authority of the feds. Especially in this case, which had been committed right in the precinct’s backyard.
The kidnapping of a young girl. A despicable crime, one that sent every officer into overdrive. And for Brad it was personal. His younger sister, Amanda, had disappeared sixteen years ago. They’d never found her body or any evidence of what had happened to her. As time passed, the cops assigned
to the investigation had moved on. Neither he nor his parents ever could.
Last night, nine-year-old Katie Johnson had been taken from her bed. She was the second child to be abducted in two months, which was why the FBI had been called in.
Impatiently, Brad drummed his fingers on the table, waiting for the meeting to begin. True, he wasn’t assigned to the case, but his captain, Lou Maroney, hadn’t barred him from the general briefing.
Brad fidgeted, guessing the meeting might be a huge waste of time. Unless the feds had canvassed all of Houston’s five hundred square miles, he doubted they had anything new to add to the investigation. Meanwhile, children remained at risk. Despite Maroney’s unwavering command, Brad needed to be on the streets, needed…
The thought faded away. Captain Maroney stood at the head of the table. But it wasn’t Lou at whom Brad stared.
It was the dark-haired woman at his side. A woman with huge brown eyes and a heart-shaped face. A face that still intruded on Brad’s dreams. The face of his ex-wife.
Lou introduced Gillian to the group, explaining that Special Agent Kramer was to be the FBI’s lead on the task force.
Kramer, Brad thought inanely. So Gillian had taken back her maiden name. There had been no contact since the divorce, no intentional or accidental encounters. In a city of four million it was remarkably easy to never again see the person who had once been the center of his life.
He studied her hungrily, looking for signs of change, not certain whether or not to be disappointed to find few.
She hadn’t aged. Smooth skin glowed despite the glare of unforgiving fluorescent lights. Her classical features were, if possible, even more beautiful. Glancing around he saw there was a fair share of male admiration directed her way.
She might be FBI, but she was all woman.
He had never lost sight of that fact, from the first supercharged moment they’d met to the agonized last goodbye. It would be torture to remember the time sandwiched between the two, Brad realized. Because he had believed their union was destined for a lifetime.
Gillian, however, seemed remarkably detached as she acknowledged Lou’s introduction. “I can’t say I’m pleased to be here,” she began. “After all, it’s a crime we all detest that’s brought me to your station. However, I am pleased to be working alongside the city’s finest. Together I know we’ll accomplish what each of us wants—we are going to find this perpetrator and put him away before another child is taken from her family. Right?”
Gillian looked satisfied as she glanced around the room, seeing heads nodding in agreement. It was only when she met Brad’s gaze that she faltered. Although the pause was only momentary, the connection seemed palpable, freezing out everything else.
Afterward, Maroney gave instructions and officers began filtering into the squad room. Brad and Gillian remained behind, their steps awkward, hesitant as they narrowed the space between them.
“Well…Agent Kramer. Didn’t take you long to start using your maiden name.” As soon as the words were spoken, Brad cursed his lack of control.
Her gaze was guarded. “We both decided it was over, time to get on with our own lives.”
“So we did.” He stared at Gillian, wondering what was really going on beneath her calm expression. “You look good.”
The slight uncertainty in Gillian’s eyes began to fade. “You, too.” Then one side of her mouth lifted. “Do you suppose every divorced couple says that when…” Her words faltered.
“They meet for the first time after everything’s final?” He completed the sentence for her. A shrug accompanied the words, covering his reaction. “Probably. Why didn’t you tell me you were coming here today?”
“How was I supposed to know you work out of this station?”
How indeed? After the divorce Brad had requested a transfer that put him on the opposite side of the city. Unlike most major metropolitan centers, Houston’s huge land mass was more like a collection of villages and small towns, each with its own personality. He’d needed to claim one for his own, one that he hadn’t shared with Gillian.
Questions lurked in her eyes when he didn’t immediately reply.
From experience he was able to shake away the thoughts. They had no place here. “You’re right—you couldn’t have known. But this is my part of town now.” He hadn’t intended to sound territorial, but the words echoed with proprietorship.
Eyebrows, arched perfectly by nature rather than an esthetician, lifted ever so slightly. “Just like this is your sort of case?”
Brad clenched his jaw. It was difficult enough simply seeing Gillian again. But he hated to admit to her that he’d been shut out of this assignment. Instead he abruptly changed the subject. “Roger Turner’s the HPD lead.”
“I met him before the briefing. Along with Campbell, Spiers and Fulton.” She gestured to a man lingering near the doorway. “My partner, Steve Savino.”
The men sized each other up as she introduced them.
Gillian spoke to her partner. “I was about to tell Detective Mitchell that I’m ready to meet with the detectives on the task force.”
Brad pointed out a cramped room down the hall. “Use my office. It’s the second one on the left. I’ll round up the troops.”
As Brad walked away, Gillian stared after him wryly. Brad probably didn’t even realize he’d taken her acquiescence for granted.
Glancing up, she saw that Savino lingered.
He didn’t comment. “You still want me to set up the database on tips?”
“Yes. Let’s proceed as we discussed this morning according to the CASMIRC plan.” The Child Abduction and Serial Murder Investigative Resources Center was the operational entity of the FBI. Gillian had been assured by Maroney that his department was grateful for the federal resources the program supplied.
Savino headed for the computer station that had been designated for his use as Gillian headed toward Brad’s office. Her pace slowed as a strong, unexpected curiosity seized her. She’d often wondered what Brad had been doing since they’d been apart.
His office didn’t fill in the missing holes very well. There were stacks and stacks of papers, along with some Chinese take-out cartons, which appeared to have been ordered some time ago. But no family photos sat on the desk, and only framed degrees and commendations broke up the stark white walls. It was one of the contradictions that made Brad such an enigma. No outward sense of close family, yet he could never really forget what his family had gone through in the past.
Hearing footsteps, she turned quickly.
A red-haired woman was the first to enter the office. Her smile was nearly as vibrant as her hair.
“Detective Campbell,” Gillian greeted her.
“Call me Vicki.”
Shawn Spiers was directly behind her. His smile, too, was easy. Debra Fulton, a tall, striking blonde, sauntered in next.
Roger Turner pushed forward. “Why are we meeting in here? My office is across the hall.”
“Chill,” Debra told him lazily. “We’re already here.”
Before Gillian could question why Brad wasn’t with the group, Turner took the floor. “We all know the urgency in catching this perp before another child is snatched.” His eyes went from the detectives to Gillian. “And for that reason, there will be no politics. No tug-of-war over turf.”
Debra Fulton studied her manicured nails. “You’re the department lead, Roger. You haven’t been promoted to captain just yet.”
“And we know how to play nice with the FBI,” Shawn added.
Turner sighed. “Agent Kramer—”
Despite the man’s pompous attitude, she didn’t plan to sit meekly by and allow Turner to take charge. It had already been agreed by the top brass, local and federal, that the FBI would be in charge of the investigation. Gillian was both the lead and liaison with the HPD. And Roger Turner would have to accept that. Just as Brad would, she realized, wondering again where he’d disappeared to. “Detective Turner, between your departme
nt’s legwork and the federal resources we should be able to find a swift solution.”
Roger Turner didn’t look particularly pleased to be lumped in with his fellow detectives.
“You’ve all met my partner, Steve Savino. His primary function during this investigation will be to assess the tips received from the Amber Alert and assign officers to them.” Gillian glanced around the room, seeing the team nod in agreement.
“As you know, Katie Johnson’s photo and description have been distributed.” Gillian, like the other officers and agents, was grateful that the Amber Alert program had been developed. The system coordinated the efforts of law enforcement, the media and the public to recover abducted children. “Unfortunately we have no description of the suspect or vehicle to give out. And that will impede the public’s ability to help us.”
The detectives’ expressions were all grim.
“That doesn’t mean I don’t think we can find this child alive. Nor have I given up on Tamara Holland.” She paused, giving them a moment to reflect on ten-year-old Tamara, the first girl who’d been abducted eight weeks earlier. “We now have all resources at our disposal, federal labs and databases.”
“Detectives Spiers and Campbell, you were first respondents on Tamara Holland?”
“After the uniforms,” Spiers replied. “MO was the same. Entrance through ground-floor bedroom window. No note demanding ransom. Trace evidence, unfortunately, nonexistent.”
“Follow-up on the parents?” Gillian questioned.
“Yes,” Vicki replied. “Initially we questioned their stories because they didn’t quite add up. Then we learned that Mr. Holland was with another woman at the time he reported being at work. It checked out. The hotel clerk confirmed his statement. Holland didn’t want his wife to find out about the affair on the same day their daughter disappeared.”
Vanished (Harlequin Super Romance) Page 1
