The Thriller Collection

by S W Vaughn

  I pick up the handset and press the flashing button. “Hughes Real Estate, this is Celine,” I say.

  “Hey, Celine. It’s Brad.”

  My brow furrows. He sounds exhausted, maybe even sad, and I’m not sure why he called the office instead of my phone. “Hey. Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah, I just …” He gives a ragged sigh. “I’m sorry for calling you at work, but I don’t have your number,” he says.

  I almost slap my forehead. Of course he doesn’t have my cell — I never gave it to him, and I’ve only talked to him on the hospital room phone. Those don’t come with caller ID. “It’s no problem. What’s up?”

  He hesitates, and then says, “I need to talk to you, but I don’t want to do it on the phone. Can you come to the hospital for a minute?”

  I’m getting a little worried. He sounds more miserable with every word. I can think of a dozen things that might’ve gone wrong — he’s changed his mind about Alyssa, or me. His mother had a meltdown. His doctor told him that he’s going to have long-term problems. “Okay. I do have some time before my next appointment,” I say. “Can I get a hint about what’s wrong?”

  “I’d rather tell you in person,” he whispers hoarsely.

  Oh, no. It must be really bad. “All right, I’ll be there in a few minutes,” I say.

  “Thank you, Celine.”

  As I hang up, I’m already grabbing my purse and briefcase. I shove my phone in my pocket and hurry toward the back door, ignoring the look from Sabrina.

  Something strange occurs to me while I’m getting in the car. Brad just called the office number to reach me … but I never told him where I worked or what I did. At least, I can’t recall telling him. But it’s easy enough to look me up online, since my name shows up on a lot of listings. That must be what he did.

  I start the engine and head for the hospital, hoping that whatever Brad wants to talk about isn’t as bad as I think it is.

  Chapter 27

  Willa Dowling is in the house when I walk into Brad’s room, and she looks twice as pissed as the last time. The instant she sees me, her face flushes brick red and she opens her mouth to scream.

  “Mother, don’t,” Brad says sharply from the bed. His head is inclined, but he’s lying limp beneath a sheet pulled to his waist, and the hollows under his eyes are darker than ever. “Please, just go to the cafeteria and get a cup of coffee, or something. I need a few minutes.”

  Willa rounds on him, sputtering with a hand in the air. He shoots her a glare, and she whirls and stalks past me, bumping my shoulder hard on the way.

  Once she’s out of the room, Brad groans softly and closes his eyes. “I wish she’d stop doing that,” he says, shaking his head. He looks at me and gulps, then gestures to the chair beside him. “You should probably sit down for this.”

  My jaw clenches with anticipation as I cross the room and take a seat. “What is it?” I say. “You’re having health problems, aren’t you? Complications from the coma.”

  He smirks. “You know, I actually wish that was it,” he says. “But no. I have to talk to you about … that night. The accident. And it’s kind of a long story, so you’ll have to bear with me, okay?”

  “All right,” I whisper. Now I have no idea what to expect, but from the look on his face, I know it can’t be good.

  Brad looks away and composes himself, and then folds his hands in his lap. “Before I tell you this, I want you to know that I’m so glad you let me meet Alyssa,” he says. “She really is amazing. And … I’m afraid I’m not worthy to be in her life, or yours.”

  That isn’t on the list of things I might have expected. “What do you mean? Of course you are,” I say. “You’re her father.”

  “No I’m not. Worthy, I mean.” His chest heaves once. “First, I need to tell you why I left,” he says. “You asked about our future, whether we’d stay together, and I panicked. I have serious commitment issues, thanks to all that time with Hannah.” Anger darkens his green eyes for a moment. “You can probably imagine why, but after her, I never wanted to be tied down to one person again. At least, I thought I didn’t.”

  “Yes, I think I can imagine.” I don’t tell him what Hannah said to me, about how sorry she is for the way she treated him. If there’s going to be an apology there, it’ll have to come from her. “So you thought you didn’t …?” I prompt.

  He nods slowly. “I was wrong about that. I loved you … I still love you,” he says, shivering slightly. “And I did want to commit. But I was so terrified to tell you the truth, to open up that way, that I ran instead. But …” He winces and looks away. “But I didn’t go to a liquor store. I went to Monkey Shines.”

  The off-campus bar. “Okay,” I say carefully. “So you got drunk there, instead of in your car or whatever.”

  “Yes. But I didn’t get drunk alone.” He stares intently at his hands, squeezing them until his knuckles tighten. “Jill was there.”

  I blink. “Jill Mazer?”

  “She was your best friend,” he says quickly. “I thought if I talked to her, maybe … I don’t know. I had some idea of making you see reason, understand why I couldn’t commit, so you wouldn’t leave me. I thought you’d break up with me if I said no. And Jill said she’d listen, and she started buying me drinks.” He tips his head back to stare at the ceiling. “A lot of drinks.”

  Oh, my God. “Jill got you drunk,” I say. “And she let you drive after that?”

  “She didn’t just get me drunk.” He finally looks at me, with bright tears standing in his eyes. “She was flirting with me the whole time. I was plastered and upset about you, and I just … well, I didn’t turn her down.”

  “You …” I manage before my throat closes around the rest. My stomach heaves, and I wrap my arms around my midsection to keep from throwing up. “You slept with her.”

  He nods miserably. “In the bathroom at Monkey Shines,” he says. “It was stupid and terrible, and part of me knew that, but I still went ahead and did it. That’s why I’m not worthy,” he whispers. “Because I did that to you.”

  My head pounds with blinding force. Jill got drunk with Brad, and screwed him in the bathroom, right before the accident. All this time she’d told me what a piece of shit he is, reminded me how terribly he’d treated me, but she never mentioned why.

  This is why. I can’t believe she’d not only do this to me, but keep being my friend all these years, acting like it never happened.

  No wonder she was so upset when I told him about Alyssa.

  “Celine?” Brad sounds like he’s just lost ten years of his life in five minutes. “God, I’m so sorry. I’ll never be able to apologize enough.”

  I’m not sure how to respond to that, so I don’t.

  “What really freaks me out about the whole thing is what she said to me … after,” Brad says in a pained tone. “It was so bizarre. I’ll never forget it.”

  I force myself to look at him. “What did she say?”

  “She …” He coughs to clear his throat. “She said, ‘I knew you’d pick me over her. I have it all planned out. When the time comes, she won’t be a problem.’”

  My breath whooshes out of me. The murders, the frame jobs, the texts.

  It was Jill.

  “I have to go,” I say, springing to my feet. “Wait … Brad, has Jill been here to see you?”

  He looks extremely uncomfortable. “She was here Friday night,” he admits. “Talking crazy about how we were going to be together soon. I told her to leave …”

  Friday night. When she told me she had a date with that Hunter guy. That’s why she had a bug the next day — she must’ve picked it up from someone at the hospital.

  And she’d probably planted the poison in Kate Engle’s locker while she was here.

  “Okay, thank you,” I say, and head for the door.

  “Does this mean you don’t want to see me anymore?” Brad calls miserably. “I wouldn’t blame you if you don’t.”

  I turn bri
efly to look at him. I can’t make this decision right now, so I hedge. “Mostly I’m angry with Jill for not telling me what happened that night,” I say. “She should have, because you couldn’t. But I really have to go right now.”

  He nods. “I understand.”

  No, he really doesn’t. And I don’t have time to explain.

  I practically run for the elevators, pulling my phone out on the way. Once I’m inside headed for the parking garage level, I dial Ollie’s number. But the phone doesn’t ring. There’s nothing but silence.

  Frowning, I try again. The same thing happens.

  “What is wrong with you?” I shout at the phone, just as the elevator dings and the doors open to a startled man in a suit who must’ve heard me yelling. “Sorry. My phone’s not working,” I mumble as I brush past him.

  I need to get a hold of Ollie, right now, so I head further into the hospital instead of toward the parking garage. There’s an information desk in the hallway with a woman sitting behind it, and I step up to the desk attempting to look like a calm, controlled person. “Hi,” I say. “My cell phone just died, and I’m having a little emergency here. By any chance is there a phone here somewhere I could use?”

  The receptionist hesitates, and then picks up the receiver of the desk phone and hands it to me. “If you’ll tell me the number you’re calling, I can dial it for you,” she says.

  “Thank you so much.” I prop the receiver on my shoulder, find Ollie’s number on my phone and read it off to her. She punches an extension line and presses the numbers, and I wait through three rings that seem to take a very long time before he answers.

  “Ollie, it’s Celine,” I say quickly. “I know who’s behind everything. Can you meet me at my house?”

  “I’m on the way,” he says with no hesitation.

  “Thank you.”

  Relief fills me as I hand the phone back to the receptionist. I thank her again and rush off to the parking garage. I can be home in ten minutes from here, and I hope Ollie gets there soon.

  Because the first thing I need to do is find Jill.

  Chapter 28

  Ollie isn’t there yet when I get home. I pull into the garage, leaving the door open, and get the stupid, broken phone out to try calling Jill. But nothing happens on the other end. No ringing, no error message, nothing. So I try to send her a text.

  I get a Can’t Send notification with a nice red exclamation point.

  Frustrated and on the verge of terrified, I nearly throw the phone across the garage. But I think better of it, pocketing it instead as I walk up the stairs and open the door to the kitchen. I don’t have a house phone — never thought I needed one. At this moment I’m regretting that decision.

  I’ll just have to borrow Ollie’s when he gets here.

  I hunt through the fridge for a cold drink and find a lone bottle of water. Good enough. I twist the cap off and swallow a third of it without stopping, though it barely takes the edge off. My throat aches with strain and dry fear, and I’m not sure I can talk in a normal voice.

  Right now, it’s a little before noon. Almost three hours until Alyssa gets out of school. With a bit of luck, I’m hoping that all this will be over and Ollie will have arrested Jill before I pick up my daughter. At least she’s safely away from the insanity.

  As I drink more water, I hear sirens in the distance and manage a small smile. Whatever Ollie had been doing when I called him, he must’ve dropped it fast. I head out of the kitchen and through the garage, planning to meet him outside and go from there.

  I’m in the driveway when the police car screeches to the curb, lights flashing and siren wailing. The siren turns off, but the lights stay on as both front doors open and Detective Garfield emerges from the passenger side, while Ollie gets out of the driver’s seat. I start toward them.

  And I freeze when the phone in my pocket chimes. The one that doesn’t work.

  The detectives are moving fast, already asking questions, but I barely hear them. I slide the phone out and see the little 1 on the text message bubble. Maybe the text I sent Jill went through after all, and this is her reply.

  I open the message, and a silent scream lodges in my throat.

  You shouldn’t have told him about Alyssa. Now you’ll never see her again.

  “No!” I shout hoarsely, desperately tapping the message as if I can make it go away, make it never happen. I don’t realize that I’m shaking until big, warm hands wrap around mine and squeeze gently.

  “Celine.” Ollie’s blue eyes are dark with concern. “What is it?”

  “Your phone. I need your phone, please. Right now,” I rasp.

  He gives it to me without question, and then takes mine. I dial 411, knowing there’s no way I’ll be able to focus enough to look up the school’s number and dial it. Dimly, I’m aware of Ollie reading the text that’s still on the screen, of horror washing over his face as he tears the CB unit from his belt and starts shouting instructions into it.

  The directory assistance system picks up, and I wait until I’m asked what number I want to reach. “Wolfsbrook Elementary School,” I say, and wait again. The automated voice reads off the number and asks me if I’d like to be connected.

  “Yes,” I say frantically.

  It seems to take forever, but finally the phone rings twice, and a pleasant woman’s voice answers. “Wolfsbrook Elementary.”

  “This is Celine Bauman,” I say, with no attempt to be polite. “My daughter Alyssa is in Mrs. Jocasta’s class, and I need to come and get her right now. Can you bring her to the office or something?”

  “Oh, Mrs. Bauman, I’m so glad you called,” the woman says. “I tried to reach you earlier this morning, but there was no answer. Alyssa had a very upset tummy.”

  “Had?” I blurt. “Where is she?”

  I must sound a lot angrier than I meant to, because the woman gasps. “Well, she was really quite sick, vomiting,” the woman stammers. “And we couldn’t reach you, so we called her emergency contact to have her picked up.” She pauses as if she’s looking for something, and then says, “Jill Mazer. She came to get Alyssa about an hour ago.”

  A violent contortion grips my entire body, and the phone falls from my hands onto the driveway. It bounces on the rubber case and lands face-up. A small, tinny voice drifts up from the phone as the woman keeps talking, but I no longer care what she has to say.

  Jill has her. She has my daughter.

  Alyssa is not safe.

  I can finally breathe a little, but I’m not sure it’s going to last long.

  Ollie is sitting in my living room with me. There are two cups of takeout coffee on the table, his nearly gone and mine virtually untouched. I tried to drink some of it, but it settled like ashes in my mouth.

  The only reason I’m breathing is that I’m numb. I’ve screamed and cried myself completely out.

  While I was calling about Alyssa, Ollie read the text and had immediately dispatched officers to the elementary school. He ended up calling them off before they got there, when I told him she was gone. Somehow I got through telling him Jill’s home address and where she worked, even though I knew she wouldn’t be at either of those places.

  She wasn’t.

  The police are searching for her right now. They have photos of her and Alyssa from my computer, and a description of her car and the license plate number has been sent to both the county and state police along with the photos.

  Three hours. My daughter has been missing for three hours now, and I have no idea why Jill took her or where she went. She could’ve made it out of New Hampshire already.

  Oh, God, I can’t think about that. I’m going to be sick again.

  Detective Garfield took my malfunctioning phone to the police lab, so they could try to find out something from it, and is coming back with yet another replacement phone for me to use. Ollie stayed here to wait for him. He doesn’t want to leave me alone, but I know he’ll have to soon. He’s got a job to do.

  He
has to find my daughter.

  “Do you know what the worst thing is?” I say, noticing the horrible, hollow drag in my voice but unable to do anything about it. “She knows Jill. Alyssa might not even think anything is wrong right now, wherever she is. She’ll think I’m coming to get her eventually, until … until I don’t,” I whisper. “Oh, God. Why did she take my baby?”

  Ollie seizes my hand. “We’re going to find her. I swear we will.”

  I want to believe that, desperately. But I’m too stunned to feel much of anything, especially hope.

  “I can’t do this,” I gasp suddenly, leaning forward in an attempt to stand. “I can’t sit here and … and wait for … I have to get my daughter.”

  I’m on my feet, turning toward the dining room, when Ollie grabs my arm and turns me around. “Celine, there’s nothing you can do,” he says firmly. “I know how awful that is to hear—”

  “No, you don’t,” I snap at him. “Do you have any kids?”

  He grimaces. “No. But I’m telling you that rushing off to God knows where isn’t going to help you, or Alyssa.” His hands move to my shoulders, gently restraining me. “I’ve got every resource out there looking for your daughter. And if you go, there won’t be anyone to protect you.”

  “I don’t want to be protected!” My voice crackles, and another round of tears fill my eyes. “I don’t care what happens to me. All that matters is Alyssa.”

  “I care what happens,” he says, staring into my eyes. “We will find her.”

  His concerned look breaks me, and I fall against him, sobbing.

  Ollie wraps his arms around me, a warm and protective circle. He feels good, safe, and even though it comforts me, I hate it. I hate being secure in my house, surrounded by law enforcement, while my daughter is out there somewhere for reasons I don’t understand, and her life may be in danger.

  I don’t know what Jill wants with her. That’s the real agony of it.