by Julie Miller
Besides, the technical aspects of her work had never stopped Katie from thinking, imagining, creating. She loved the challenge of fitting together the pieces of a puzzle on an old unsolved case—not to mention the satisfaction of knowing she was doing something meaningful with her life. She hadn’t had the best start in the world—her abusive father had murdered her mother and been sent to prison. Helping the police catch bad guys went a long way toward redeeming herself for some of the foolish mistakes she’d made as an impulsive, grieving young woman trying to atone for her father’s terror. Working with computers and data was a job her beloved aunt Maddie and uncle Dwight, Kansas City’s district attorney, understood and respected. She would always be grateful to the two of them for rescuing her and Tyler and giving her a real home. Although she knew they would support her even if she had chosen to become an actress, this career choice was one way she could honor and thank them for taking her in and loving her like a daughter. Plus, even though he didn’t quite grasp the research and technical details of her job, Tyler thought her work was pretty cool. Hanging out with all those cops and helping them solve crimes put her on a tiny corner of the shelf beside his comic book and cartoon action heroes. Making her son proud was a gift she wouldn’t trade for any spotlight.
Katie sorted through the first file that came up, highlighting words such as the victim’s name, witnesses who’d been interviewed, suspect lists and evidence documentation and dropping them into the program that would match up any similarities between this unsolved murder and other crimes in the KCPD database. The tragic death of a homeless man back in the ’70s had few clues and fewer suspects, sadly, making it a quick case to read through and document. Others often took hours, or even days, to sort and categorize. But she figured LeRoy Byrd had been important to someone, and therefore, it was important to her to get his information out of a musty storage box and transferred into the database.
“There you go, LeRoy.” She patted his name on the screen. “It’s not much. Just know we’re still thinking about you and working on your case.”
She closed out his information and pulled up the next file, marked Gemma Gordon. Katie’s breath shuddered in her chest as she looked into the eyes of a teenage girl who’d been missing for ten years. “Not you, too.”
The temperature in the auditorium seemed to drop a good twenty degrees as memories of her own kidnapping nightmare surfaced. This girl was seventeen, the same age Katie had been when she’d gone off to find her missing friend, Whitney. Katie had found her friend, all right, but had become a prisoner herself, kept alive until she could give birth to Tyler and her kidnappers tried to sell him in a black-market adoption scheme. Thanks to her aunt and uncle, Tyler was saved and Katie had escaped with her life. But Whitney hadn’t been so lucky.
She touched her fingers to the young girl’s image on the screen and skimmed through her file. The similarities between the old Katie and this girl were frightening. Pregnant. Listed as a runaway. Katie had fought to save her child. Had Gemma Gordon? Had she even had a chance to fight? Katie had found a family with her aunt Maddie and uncle Dwight and survived. Was anyone missing this poor girl? According to the file, neither Gemma Gordon nor her baby had ever been found.
“You must have been terrified,” Katie whispered, feeling the grit of tears clogging her throat. She read on through the persons of interest interviewed in the initial investigation. “What...?” She swiped away the moisture that had spilled onto her cheek and read the list again. There was one similarity too many to her own nightmare—a name she’d hoped never to see again. “No. No, no.”
Katie’s fingers hovered above the keyboard. One click. A few seconds of unscrambling passwords and a lie about her clearance level and she could find out everything she wanted to about the name on the screen. She could find out what cell he was in at the state penitentiary, who his visitors were, if his name had turned up in conjunction with any other kidnappings or missing-person cases. With a few keystrokes she could know if the man with that name was enjoying a healthy existence or rotting away in prison the way she’d so often wished over the years.
When a hot tear plopped onto the back of her knuckles, Katie startled. She willed herself out of the past and dabbed at her damp cheeks with the sleeve of her sweater. Beyond the fact that hacking into computer systems she didn’t officially have access to without a warrant could get her fired, she knew better than to give in to the fears and anger and grief. Katie straightened in her seat and quickly highlighted the list of names, entering them all into the database. “You’re a survivor, Katie Lee Rinaldi. Those people can’t hurt you anymore. You beat them.”
But Gemma Gordon hadn’t.
After swiping away another tear, Katie sent the list into the database before logging out. She turned off the portable Wi-Fi security device on the seat beside her and shut down her laptop. She squeezed the edge of her computer as if she was squeezing that missing girl’s hand. “I’ll do whatever I can to help you, too, Gemma. I promise.”
When she looked up, she realized she was the only parent left in the auditorium seats. The stage was empty, too. “Oh, man.”
How long had she been sitting there, caught up in the past? Too long. Her few minutes of work had stretched on longer than she’d thought, and the present was calling. She stuffed her equipment back into her flowered bag and stood, grabbing her wool coat off the back of her seat and pulling it on. “Tyler?”
Katie looped her bag over her shoulder and scooted toward the end of the row of faded green folding seats. As pretentious and egotistical as Doug Price could be, he also ran a tight ship. Since they were borrowing this facility from the college, there were certain rules he insisted they all follow. Props returned to backstage tables. Costumes on hangers in the dressing rooms. Rehearsal started when he said it would and ended with the same punctuality. Campus security checked the locks at ten thirty, so every night they were done by ten.
Katie pulled her cell phone from her bag and checked the time when she reached the sloping aisle—ten fifteen. She groaned. The cast was probably backstage, changing into their street clothes if they hadn’t already left, and Doug was most likely up in the tech booth, giving the sound and light guys their notes.
Exchanging her phone for the mittens in her pocket, Katie hurried down the aisle toward the stage. “Tyler? Sorry I got distracted. You ready to go, bud?”
And that was when the lights went out.
CHAPTER TWO
“Ow.” Disoriented by the sudden darkness, Katie bumped into the corner of a seat. Leaning into the most solid thing she could find, she grabbed the back of the chair and held on while she got her bearings. “Hey! I’m still in the house.”
Her voice sounded small and muffled in the cavernous space as she waited several seconds for a response. But the only answer was the scuffle of hurried footsteps moving over the carpet at the very back of the auditorium.
She spun toward the sound. “Hello?” She squeezed her eyes shut against the dizziness that pinballed through her brain. Only her grip on the chair kept her on her feet while her equilibrium righted itself. She heard a loud clank and the protesting squeak of the old hinges as whoever was in here with her scooted out the door to the lobby. Opening her eyes, Katie lifted her blind focus up the sloping aisle. “Tyler? This isn’t a good time to play hide-and-seek.”
Why weren’t the security lights coming on? They ran on a separate power source from the rest of the theater. “Did we have a power outage?”
Why wouldn’t anybody answer her? Panic tried to lock up the air in her chest. The dark wasn’t a safe place to be. She’d been reading those old case files, had lingered over the pregnant teen whose kidnapping and unsolved murder would have been Katie’s story if she hadn’t been lucky—if her aunt and uncle hadn’t moved heaven and earth to find her. Why did it have to be so dark? Maybe that had been Doug or the security guard
or some other Good Samaritan rushing out to get upstairs to the tech booth in the balcony. She just needed to be patient.
Only it felt as though several minutes had passed, and the lights still weren’t coming on. Maybe it had only been seconds. But even seconds were too long in a blackout like this. She swayed against the remembered images of hands grabbing her in the night, of her dead friend Whitney and a teenage girl whose life and death had been relegated to a dusty cold case file.
“Stop it.” Rubbing at the bruise forming on her hip, letting the soreness clear her mind, Katie forced her eyes open, willing her vision to focus in the darkness and her memories to blur. Her work took her to the past, but she lived in the here and now. With Tyler. He’d be frightened of the pitch-black, too. She had to find her son. “Think, woman,” she challenged herself. “Tyler?”
But the only change in the shroud of blackness was her brain finally kicking into gear.
“Ugh. You’re an idiot.” Rational thought finally returned and she pulled out her phone, adjusting the screen to flashlight mode to make sure someone could see her before shining it up toward the tech booth in the balcony and shouting again. “Lights, please? Doug?” Her light wasn’t that powerful, but the booth looked dark, too. “Is anybody up there? I’m on my way out. My son’s here, too. Please.”
She waited in silence for several more seconds before she heard a soft click from the stage. She turned and saw the ropes of running lights that marked the edge and wings of the performance space had come on. This way, they beckoned. Really? That was the help she was going to get? Put in place to help the actors find their way offstage during a blackout at the end of a scene, the small red bulbs barely created a glow in the shadows.
“Thanks! For nothing,” she added under her breath, pointing her phone light to the floor to illuminate the stairs she climbed to get onto the stage. Somebody with a twisted sense of humor must be trying to teach her a lesson about her tardiness. Up here, at least, she could follow the dimly lit path the actors did, and she ended up pushing through the side curtains to get to the backstage doors and greenroom and dressing areas beyond.
Her stomach twisted into a knot when she pushed open the heavy firewall door. It was dark back here, too. Her annoyance with Doug turned to trepidation in a heartbeat. “This isn’t funny,” she called out. Where had everybody gone? Where was her son? “Tyler? Sweetie, answer me.”
She kicked the doorstop to the floor to prop the steel door open. Okay. If somebody wanted to spook her, wanted to teach her a lesson about keeping others late at the theater, he or she had succeeded.
But with her son missing, she couldn’t allow either fear or anger to take hold. Katie breathed in deeply, waiting until she could hear the silence over the thumping of her heart before following her light into the greenroom, or cast waiting area. Turning her phone to the wall, she found the light switch and lifted it. Nothing.
Had someone forgotten to pay the light bill? Was the college saving money by turning off the electricity after ten? She glanced back toward the stage. The running lights were still glowing. Even if they were battery-powered, someone had to have turned them on. And she knew she hadn’t imagined those footsteps earlier. She wasn’t alone.
“Tyler, honey, if you’re playing some kind of game, this isn’t funny.” She shouted for the security guard who worked in the building most nights. “Mr. Thompson?”
Was Doug Price playing a trick on her for turning him down again? Did he think she’d be freaked out enough that she’d run to him and expect him to be her hero? If that was what this was about... Her blood heated, chasing away the worried chill. Oh, she was so never going out with that guy. “Tyler? Where are you?”
Why didn’t he answer? Had he fallen asleep? Had something happened to him?
Uh-uh. She wasn’t going there.
Katie shined her light into the men’s dressing room. Lights off. Room empty. She sorted through the costumes hanging on the rack there, peeked beneath the counter. Nothing. She opened the door to the ladies’ dressing room, too, and repeated the search.
“Tyler Rinaldi, you answer—”
A boot dropped to the floor behind the rack of long dresses and ghostly costumes. Katie cried out as the layers of polyester, petticoats, wool and lace toppled over on top of her. Hands pushed through the cascade of clothes, knocking her down with them. “Hey! What are you...? Help! Stop!”
She hit the tile floor on her elbows and bottom, and the impact tingled through her fingers, jarring loose her grip on the phone. Her assailant was little more than a wisp of shadow in the dark room. But there was no mistaking the slamming door or the drumbeat of footsteps running across the concrete floor of the work space and storage area behind the stage.
Katie’s thoughts raced as she clawed her way free through the pile of fallen clothes and felt around in the darkness to retrieve her phone. Had she interrupted a robbery? There were power tools for set construction and sound equipment and some antiques they were using as props. All those things should be locked up, but an outsider might not know that. Was this some kind of college prank by a theater student? Could it be something personal? She wouldn’t have expected Doug to get physical like that. Had she offended someone else?
Her fingers brushed across the protective plastic case of her phone and she snatched it up. She pushed to her feet and smacked into the closed door. “Let me out!” She slapped at the door with her palm until she found the door handle and pulled it open. “Stay away from my son! Tyler!”
But by the time she ran out into the backstage area in pursuit of the shadow, the footsteps had gone silent. The exit door on the far side of the backstage area stood wide open and a slice of light from the sidewalk lamp outside cut clear across the room. After so long in the darkness with just the illumination from her phone, Katie had to avert her eyes from even that dim glow. She saw nothing more than a wraithlike glimpse of a man slipping through the doorway into the winter night outside.
Following the narrowing strip of light, she stumbled forward, dodging prop tables and flats until the door closed with a quiet click and she was plunged into another blackout.
She stopped in her tracks. The one thing she hated more than the darkness was not knowing if her son was safe. And since she couldn’t find him...
She pushed a command on her phone and raised it to her lips. “Call Trent.”
Inching forward without any kind of light now, she counted off each ring of the telephone as she waited for her strong, armed, utterly reliable friend to pick up. She thought she could make out the red letters of the exit sign above the door by the time Trent cut off the fourth ring and picked up.
“Hey, sunshine,” he greeted on a breathless gasp of air. “It’s a little late. What’s up?”
Oblivious to the current irony of his nickname for her, Katie squeezed her words past the panic choking her throat. “I’m at the theater... The lights...” She bumped into the edge of a flat and shifted course. “Ow. Damn it. I can’t see...”
A warm chuckle colored the detective’s audible breathing. “Did you leave your car lights on again? Need me to come jump-start it?”
“No.” Well, technically, she didn’t know that, but she didn’t think she had.
“Flat tire? Williams College is a good twenty minutes from here, but I could—”
“Trent. Listen to me. There is some kind of weird...” As his deep inhales and exhales calmed, she heard a tuneless kind of percussive music and a woman’s voice laughing in the background. The man is breathless from exertion, Katie. Get a clue. “Oh, God,” she mumbled as realization dawned and embarrassment warmed her skin. “I’m so sorry. Is someone with you?”
Instead of answering her question, Trent’s tone changed from winded amusement to that steely deep tone that resonated through his chest and reminded her he was a cop. “Weird? How? Are you all right?
Is Tyler okay?”
Trent Dixon was on a date. He might be in the middle of more than a date. She’d forgotten about setting him up with that friend from the coffee shop a few weeks back. Trent wasn’t her knight in shining armor to call whenever she had a problem she couldn’t fix. He wasn’t Tyler’s father and he wasn’t her boyfriend. Trent was just the good guy who’d grown up across the street and had a hard time saying no to her. Knowing that about him, because she was his friend, too, she’d worked really hard not to take advantage of his good-guy tendencies and protective instincts. “Is that Erin Ballard? I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. You have company.”
“I dropped Erin off an hour ago after dinner. I stopped by the twenty-four-hour gym because I needed to work off some excess energy. And it’s too cold to go for a run outside.” He paused for a moment, wiping down with a towel or catching his breath. “Apparently, I’m not the only night-owl fitness freak in KC.”
He felt energized after his date with Erin? Was that excess energy a code for sexual frustration? Had he wanted something more from Erin besides dinner and conversation? Or had he gotten exactly what he wanted and was now on some kind of endorphin high that wouldn’t let him sleep? The momentary stab of jealousy at the thought of Trent bedding the willowy blonde she’d introduced him to ended as she tripped over the leg of a chair in the darkness. “Damn it.”
“Katie?”
“I’m sorry.” She should be thinking of her son, not Trent. Not any misplaced feelings of envy for the woman who landed him. Tyler was the only person who mattered right now. And a panicked late-night call to a man she had no claim on wasn’t going to help. “Never mind. I’m sorry to interrupt your evening. It’s late and I need to get Tyler home to bed. Tell Erin hi for me.”
