When She's Gone

by Palmer, Jane;

  Oliver sat next to her, held her hands in his, and Holly leaned into him. Ara understood—had always known—the clear attraction between the couple. For Oliver, Holly helped provide a softening around the edges of his life, which was mostly spent in the cutthroat world of business. She was cultured and proper enough to throw the best dinner parties and manage a household, but also intelligent enough to hold her own in conversations with him about his companies.

  For Holly, Oliver provided her with comfort and kindness. A sweetness and thoughtfulness she responded to. He also represented protection, a shelter against the harsh realities of life. With him, there was nothing that couldn’t be fixed or attended to.

  Sam’s kidnapping had blown all her illusions to smithereens.

  Oliver glared up at Luke, his tone a clear warning. “As you can see, my wife is having a very hard time. Please ask your questions carefully.”

  Luke sat down in the armchair angled toward the sofa. “Mrs. Boone, my name is Luke Patrick. I’m the FBI agent assigned to investigate this case.”

  His face grew soft, gentle. Ara instinctively understood that Luke was being kind not because Oliver ordered it but because he knew it was the best way to get what he needed.

  “I’m sorry, but I must ask you a few questions,” he said. “As I understand it, you were having dinner with a friend last night, correct?”

  “Yes. Claire Hutchinson. She’s a trustee at Princeton, and I wanted Sam . . .” Holly’s eyes flooded with sudden tears. Ara grabbed some tissues from a nearby table and handed them to her. They looked at each other for a moment, and Ara saw the depth of her pain, the regret mixed with the agony of the unknown.

  “I asked Ara to pull Claire’s car around. I wanted to impress her. I never should have . . .” Her shoulders shook violently. “It’s all my fault.”

  “No,” Ara said firmly. “It’s my fault. It was my job to keep Sam safe.”

  Oliver flashed her a grateful glance, even as he hugged Holly tighter. “Shush, shush, darling.”

  “You need to leave,” Luke quietly ordered, his gaze locked on Ara. He was upset with her. His fingers flexed against the arms of the chair. “You can’t be in here.”

  “No,” Oliver said, his mouth tight. “Ara stays.”

  “You have no need for a bodyguard—”

  “This is my home and my wife. I will decide what we need and don’t need.” Oliver countered coolly. “Ara was there when the attack on my stepdaughter occurred, and she may remember important information. She stays.”

  Ara thought for a moment that Luke would insist, but when Holly’s crying subsided, he turned his attention back to her, obviously abandoning the argument.

  “I know this is difficult, Mrs. Boone,” he said, “but I need to speak with you about what happened. It’s the best way for us to find your daughter. Every bit of information helps.”

  “Of course. Of course it does.” Holly pulled away from Oliver slightly, straightening her shoulders. A glint of resolve hardened her features, and she tucked a few loose strands of hair neatly behind her ears. Inwardly, Ara smiled. This was Holly Harper, strong news reporter. She was buried, sometimes long forgotten, but she existed.

  “Claire left, and then you went to the back to check on Sam. Is that right?”

  “Yes.” Holly swiped at her red face with the tissues. “As I stepped toward the back of the restaurant, where the bathrooms are, I caught sight of a man wearing a black ski mask pushing Sam out of the exit door.”

  “What did the man look like?”

  “I told you, he was wearing a mask.”

  Luke smiled slightly. “Was he taller than Sam? The same height?”

  “Oh, I see what you mean.” Holly’s eyebrows creased in thought. “He was the same height as her, but Sam had on heels, so he must be an inch or two taller. I would say around five nine or so.”

  “Good.” Luke nodded. “That’s very good. What was he wearing, other than the ski mask?”

  “Blue jeans. A black jacket. Sneakers.”

  “Any logos anywhere? Any identifying markers?”

  “Not that I noticed. I’m sorry, it all happened so fast.”

  Luke gave her a reassuring smile. “It’s all right. When you saw Sam fighting with the man, what did you do?”

  “I ran after them. I was just a few seconds behind, but when I got the door open . . .” Her voice trailed off as fresh tears welled in her eyes. “It was too late.”

  Ara’s stomach twisted at the pain vibrating in Holly’s voice.

  “The white van—did you catch a glimpse of the license plate?” Luke asked.

  “No. It was dark in the alley.” Holly turned in toward Oliver, obviously drained from both the stress and the questions.

  “She didn’t see anything,” Oliver snapped. “I think it’s time you left her alone.”

  “Almost done.” Luke remained calm in the face of Oliver’s annoyance. “Mrs. Boone, how is your relationship with Sam lately?”

  The simple question caused Holly to crumple. A sob rose from her chest. She pressed a hand to her mouth, as though desperate to keep a scream inside. Ara’s own protective instincts flared and her fists clenched at her side.

  “You’re finished,” Oliver said. “No more.”

  “Do you want Sam brought home again?” Luke looked back and forth between Holly and Oliver. “Then let me do my job.”

  “Your job is to find her, not torture my wife with personal questions about her relationship with her daughter.” Oliver rose, pulling Holly along with him. A sudden, sharp knock at the door caused Holly to jump.

  “Come in,” Oliver barked.

  The door swung open, and an FBI agent entered. Behind him, lingering in the hallway, was Charlie, Oliver’s son. He was dressed in his pajamas, his hair tousled, his eyes swollen and red.

  “Charlie.” Holly crouched down and extended her arms, and the boy rushed to her side, burying his face in her neck. Fresh tears stained both of their faces.

  “Is it true?” Charlie asked, his voice muffled. “Did someone take Sam?”

  Holly’s only answer was to clutch him tighter. A mother who’d lost her own child but was still willing to offer comfort to another. Ara felt a lump form in her throat, and she swallowed hard against it.

  “I’m sorry to intrude, but sir,” the FBI agent said, “I have some information you need to hear.”

  Luke rose, leaning toward the man expectantly. “Go ahead, Thomas.”

  “The boy remembered a teenager who came to the house last month, along with some of Sam’s regular friends. He’d seen the guy a few times before, but the last time . . .” Thomas’s dark eyes darted in Oliver and Holly’s direction. The message was clear. He wasn’t sure how much to say.

  Ara’s heart skipped a beat.

  “Just spit it out,” Oliver ordered. “We’re going to find out eventually anyway.”

  Thomas’s gaze shifted to Luke, who gave a small nod of permission. His mouth pursed, the lips tightening just a bit. The room was deadly quiet, and Thomas’s words carried across it, unmistakably clear.

  “He tried to sell the boy drugs.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  It was like a bomb had gone off.

  Luke carefully watched every expression, every emotion that flitted across the faces in the room. Ara closed her eyes.

  Holly gasped, her mouth dropping open in shock.

  Oliver’s jaw clenched so tight that Luke was afraid he would crack his molars.

  “Charlie, is that true?” Holly pulled back so she could look him in the eyes.

  “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to get Sam into trouble.”

  “You are going to tell me exactly what happened.” Oliver’s face flushed with anger. “And you are going to tell me right now, or so help me—”

  Charlie scooted a little closer to Holly. Luke read the situation and stepped in quickly.

  “Mr. Boone, I know this is upsetting, but yelling won’t make this any ea
sier.”

  Oliver broke away to pace the room like a caged animal.

  “I’m sorry,” Charlie whispered. “I’m so sorry. Maybe if I’d told, Sam wouldn’t—”

  “You’re telling now,” Luke cut in. “And everything you remember can help us find Sam.”

  “We went through the house security footage and found an image.” Thomas opened the folder he was carrying and pulled out a photograph. He handed it to Luke, who studied it carefully. The suspect had the clean-cut good looks of a movie star, with jet-black hair and a strong jaw.

  “Do we have a name?”

  “Only a first one. Grant.”

  “He goes to Sam’s school,” Charlie offered. “I know that because he came with one of Sam’s friends, Kelly.”

  Luke nodded. “Okay. And you told Thomas that he offered you drugs.”

  Charlie nodded, passing a nervous glance at his father. “I didn’t take them.”

  “Of course you didn’t,” Luke agreed smoothly. “What kind of drugs did he offer you?”

  “Pot. Some strange pills.”

  “Were you alone with him?”

  Charlie shook his head, brown hair waving with the movement. “No, Kelly was there. She told him to cut it out. To leave me alone and save the stuff for Sam.”

  Holly collapsed on the sofa with a soft wail. Oliver cursed.

  Luke stepped forward and put a hand on the boy’s bony shoulder. So small and delicate—like a bird’s. He must have been terrified to confess what he knew. Yet he’d done it anyway.

  “You’re a brave boy, Charlie. Thank you for telling us.”

  His chin trembled. “Will you find her? Will she be all right?”

  “I’m going to do everything I can to bring her home.” Luke met the boy’s gaze. “You have my word on that.”

  “Charlie.” Oliver pointed at the door. “Go to your room. I’ll come find you later.” He waited until the door clicked shut behind him before turning on Luke. “Do you think this druggie had something to do with Sam’s disappearance?”

  “It’s a lead we have to consider. He was here in your house, presumably had a certain amount of information about your family from Sam.” Luke glanced down at the picture. “She could owe him money. Or he could be looking to get rich quick.”

  When you mixed drugs and rich teenagers, all kinds of bad things could happen. Kidnapping wasn’t the worst he’d seen.

  “I knew she was getting into to trouble.” Oliver ran a hand through his hair. “But I didn’t think things had gotten this bad.”

  Holly was shaking on the couch, her hands trembling so badly, she appeared to be in an earthquake of her own making.

  “I just can’t believe it,” she said. Oliver moved to place a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

  “None of you had any idea Sam was involved in drugs?” Luke ignored the parents, directing the question toward Ara. He didn’t need Holly and Oliver’s answer. It was clear they weren’t clued in to what had been happening right under their roof.

  Ara’s back was ramrod straight, her face smooth. In the short time Luke had been observing her, he’d never seen her so expressionless.

  She was hiding something.

  She’d known.

  He thrust the photograph in her direction. “Do you know what this kid’s last name is?”

  Her gaze flickered down, but no recognition crossed her face. “No. I’ve never seen him before.”

  “Who is Kelly?”

  “Sam’s best friend. Kelly O’Neill. She lives a few streets over.”

  Adrenaline coursed through him as he quickly made a plan.

  “Thomas, I want an address on this girl now.” Luke spun on his heel, had almost left the room before he remembered the parents. He looked over his shoulder at Oliver. “I’ll contact you when I have some more information.”

  Oliver reached out to touch Holly’s shoulder and gave Luke a nod.

  Luke tore out of the room into the hallway, Thomas right next to him. “I want this kid found. Wake up the principal, go through the yearbook if you have to. I want to know where he lives and whether he has any priors. I also want every agent on the case to have his image. Let’s find this guy.”

  * * *

  Ara raced out of the room, hot on the heels of the two FBI agents. Thomas broke off at the base of the stairs, heading toward the dining room and the control center the FBI had created there.

  Luke, the picture of Grant clutched in his fingers, went straight for the front door. She followed close behind. So close that when he stopped abruptly, she rammed right into him.

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  She lifted her chin. “I’m coming with you.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  He turned his back on her and walked away. She hurried through the door after him, this time keeping pace with his frantic steps.

  “You need me.” The bright sunlight blinded her, and Ara blinked several times, trying to clear her vision. “I know all of Sam’s friends and they know me. They’ll tell me things they’d never tell you.” She grabbed his arm, forcing him to a stop. “Let me help.”

  “You’ve helped enough.”

  “What does that mean?”

  He didn’t answer but kept on to his car. It beeped as he hit the fob, and he reached for the door handle.

  Ara shoved his shoulder slightly. “I’m talking to you.”

  “And I answered you,” he said smoothly. That professional mask was back, and she found it infuriating. “No.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “Because you think I’m responsible for her kidnapping. You think this is my fault.”

  “Do I think it was smart of you to leave her alone? No. Are you a potential suspect?” He raised his brows slightly. “I think you’re intelligent enough to figure out the answer to that. However, even if those two things weren’t true, you still can’t tag along with me while I interview witnesses.

  “This is an FBI investigation,” he continued, placing a slight stress on FBI. “You are neither an agent nor a police officer. You are a bodyguard, and as such, have no place in my investigation.”

  Luke opened the car door. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a missing teenager to find.”

  He drove away, his taillights barely winking as he sped around a curve in the driveway. Ara clenched her jaw. Spinning on her heel, she headed for the parking garage on the far side of the property. If Luke Patrick thought she would be so easily dismissed, he was mistaken.

  She was going to find Sam. And she was bringing her home.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Fear churned Sam’s stomach. She’d nearly thrown up twice, and her heart felt like it was about to leap right out of her chest. There were no windows in the back of the van, and the obscurity only fed her anxiety. Alone, in the dark and the cold, a million questions fluttered through her head.

  Along with the echo of her mother’s scream.

  Metal scraped against metal, and the van lurched forward. Sam bounced against the floor and winced. The engine went silent. She swallowed hard and tried to slow her racing heart.

  The back doors of the van swung open, and Sam blinked against the sudden flood of bright light assaulting her eyes. A shadowy form, male, stood motionless at the doors.

  “Sam?” he asked, surprise and confusion heavy in that one word.

  The squint of her gaze lessened as her eyes adjusted. Nick’s gorgeous face slowly came into focus, bewilderment creating lines in his forehead.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  She scooted toward the edge and held out a hand to him. He took it, his warm palm stark against her own freezing fingers. She climbed down from the van, her legs trembling slightly. She was missing one shoe. She kicked the other off, sending it clattering, and stood barefoot on the icy, concrete floor of the warehouse.

  She scanned the space around them, the paintings and workbench in the corner, the overflowing garbage can, the wide expanse of g
ray walls. Sam strained, listening for any noise coming from the other side of the metal warehouse door.

  Nothing.

  No sirens.

  No one chasing them.

  The passenger door to the van opened, and a well-built man with short dark hair and a crooked nose climbed down. When he caught sight of Sam, he grinned broadly, his jet-black eyes twinkling with excitement.

  “We did it.”

  His words swept over her, and Sam broke out in a wide smile.

  They did it.

  A sudden high, a rush of excitement, flooded her veins, and she let out a whoop. “Oh my God, I was so scared we were going to get caught when my mom saw us wrestling. I thought for sure we were done for.”

  “Nah.” Eddie threw a hand in the air dismissively. “That part was the best. Now they’ll know right away you’re in trouble. So much better than if you’d just disappeared.”

  “Hold up,” Nick stepped in between them. “What is going on?”

  “I’ve been kidnapped.” She wrapped her arms around his waist, leaned into his warmth. But it was like hugging granite, hard and rigid.

  “What in the hell are you talking about?” Nick pulled her back and turned toward his cousin. They looked nothing alike. Nick, with his shaggy blond hair and baby-blue eyes, towered over his dark-eyed, dark-haired relative. “Eddie, what in the hell is going on?”

  “Exactly what Sam told you.” Eddie gave Sam a wink. “We kidnapped her.”

  “It was fun, too.” Gina, Eddie’s girlfriend, came around the side of the van, her gum snapping like punctuation marks. “If I’d known kidnapping was going to be so much fun, I woulda done it a lot earlier.” She tossed her dyed blonde hair over her shoulder. “I told ya, Eddie, I make a good getaway driver.”

  “Ah baby, you were fuckin’ awesome.” Eddie grabbed Gina’s wrist and pulled her over to him. He planted a sloppy kiss on her mouth.

  “Eddie, cut it out.” Nick punched his cousin lightly on the arm, drawing his attention back to him. “Will someone explain to me what in hell is going on?”

  Eddie punched Nick back harder, as a warning. “I already told ya, dipshit, we kidnapped Sam. Right out of the back of the restaurant. Her mom saw us and started screaming. It couldn’t have gone any better.”