Little Girl Lost [Book 2]

by Alexandria Clarke

  “You ruined your life, Fox,” I told him, heart throbbing against my rib cage. “Not me.”

  I dashed to the side, hoping to evade him, but he grabbed me and slammed me against the trunk of the tree. The length of his body pressed against mine, his face inches from my own. The rough bark scratched against my back as he pushed my T-shirt up, exploring my body as if it belonged to him. As if this might be the last time he’d ever get to touch it. He forced me to look at him, his long, soft fingertips squeezing either side of my face.

  “I wish I’d never met you,” he whispered.

  “Likewise.”

  A searing pain cut me in half as Fox plunged a serrated hunting knife into my torso. The blade glanced off a rib and ripped deeper. A feral scream, more animalistic than human, tore from my lips, and Fox grinned to bare all of his teeth. He swallowed my yell with his lips, biting down, tugging at me, all while the knife protruded from my abdomen like a lone dart on a dirty bar board. He grasped the handle of the knife. He was going to twist it. Hard.

  “Any last words?” he asked against my lips.

  “Burn in hell.”

  His free arm supported me against the tree as I began to slump downward, cradling me in an embrace that might’ve looked romantic were it not for the weapon in his opposite hand. He kissed me again. “I’ll see you there.”

  “No, you fucking won’t,” another voice said.

  A softball bat swung out of nowhere, crashing against the side of Fox’s head. He lost his grip on me, and I sank to the base of the tree. Fox toppled over, dazed but not entirely unconscious, and revealed Holly in all her glory, standing with her feet shoulder-width apart in perfect batter’s stance, the bat poised over her shoulder to swing again.

  “I found her!” my little sister called over her shoulder. “She’s over here!”

  Holly dropped to her knees beside me as the woods lit up with LED search flashlights. A party of twenty-some police officers flooded the small clearing, weapons drawn and fixed on Fox’s head. Two women led the charge. One wore the familiar Belle Dame P.D. logo on the sleeves of her uniform. The other was dressed like a civilian but had pinned her CIA badge to the belt loop on her jeans. It was Mac and Taylor, and suddenly I realized why Taylor had always looked familiar.

  “You’re sisters,” I gasped as Mac knelt next to Holly.

  “Yup,” Mac said, examining the knife wound. “Normally, we don’t get along, but I gotta thank you for bringing us back together. I couldn’t have pulled this off without Taylor.”

  As the other officers cleared the area and called codes through their radios, Taylor pinned Fox’s hands behind his back and handcuffed him. He groaned feebly. “Oh, shut up.”

  “How—?” I croaked.

  “I knew you were feeding me bullshit in Raleigh,” Taylor said, patting Fox down for other weapons. “I could see it all over your face, so I figured I’d pay my sister a visit in Belle Dame and fill her in. Luckily, they’d already put together the case for me. I was just filling in the missing bits.”

  “When you gave Holly Fox’s real name, you also gave us the last piece we needed to fit everything together,” Mac said.

  “But how did you find me?”

  Holly raised her hand proudly. “I figured out how to use our connection as a homing beacon. It took a lot of focus though. That’s why I couldn’t talk to you at the same time.”

  I slung an arm around Holly and dragged her down to the ground for a hug then immediately released her as the knife tweaked against my rib.

  “Quite moving, idiot,” Mac ordered. “Unless you want this knife in your lungs. The medics are on their way.”

  Taylor yanked Fox to his feet. “Mathéo Renard, you are under arrest for aiding in the kidnappings of Holly Dubois and Melody Harver, along with a whole slew of other charges. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say may be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney…”

  She led Fox through the trees until her voice faded out, and they disappeared from view. It was the last time I ever saw him. It was all over. Finally.

  11

  Epilogue - One Year Later

  A loud cheer went up from the bleachers of the ballfield at Belle Dame’s local recreation center as I creamed the ball and sent it flying toward the back half of the field. The outfielders scrambled to get under it but missed the drop, so I rounded first and stopped on second for a solid double, grinning from ear to ear.

  “Way to go, Bridget!” Bill hollered from the sideline.

  “Whoo-hoo!” Emily cheered, bouncing a baby on her lap. Next to her, Aunt Ani put two fingers between her lips and let out an earsplitting whistle.

  The Millers’ kids were lined up from shortest to tallest to watch, poking their fingers through the chain links of the backstop. I flashed them the thumbs-up as Mac stepped up to the plate. She got a decent piece of the ball and landed safely on first. We caught each other’s eye across the field, and at the same time, saluted each other with two fingers. It was an inside joke that had developed over the last year.

  Autumn stepped up to the plate next. She adjusted her batting helmet, cooing to the baby on Emily’s knee through the backstop, then hoisted the bat over her shoulder. Her eyes tracked the pitch before she swung through, sending a solid grounder right between first and second. Everyone advanced, and I planted my feet on third.

  “Bases loaded,” Officer Scott called from the dugout. As captain and unofficial manager, he had been the one to expand the Belle Dame P.D. softball team in order to include a few of his favorite locals. “Two outs. Dubois Number Two. You’re up. Don’t disappoint me.”

  “Never,” came the confident reply.

  When Holly walked onto the field, the bleachers exploded in an uproar. She grinned and waved as spectators banged noisemakers together and shouted her name. She wore a blue and orange practice jersey, emblazoned with the University of Florida’s logo. It had been her decision to go to Florida over UCLA. It was closer to home, a mere eight-hour drive from Belle Dame. She’d been home for Thanksgiving and Christmas. For spring break, we all met up at Daytona Beach. Now she was home for the summer, and I couldn’t be more happy to have her back.

  It was hard to believe that a year ago, I thought I might never be happy. So much had changed. Fox was gone. I’d stopped bothering to keep up with his case. Though he was being held in the States, he was wanted in multiple countries. From what Mac had told me, France was eager to take a crack at him. For now, he wasted away in a federal prison, where I hoped his pretty face was getting rearranged on a daily basis. Taylor, having redeemed herself in the eyes of her boss, was in charge of his case. She updated us just enough to reassure us of his captivity. Otherwise, we didn’t hear from her often, as her and Mac’s sibling rivalry had resumed shortly after they’d apprehended Fox.

  I had moved in with Aunt Ani, like she’d suggested so many months ago. We bought a house halfway between the Millers’ property and Autumn’s boutique, which I now co-owned with Autumn. Most days, Autumn tried to teach me about the trends in small-town fashion, which I was sure she made up herself, while I organized the store. I still had no idea what tops matched best with denim or florals, but I did have a decent handle on the business side of things. On slow days, I played with Autumn’s beautiful baby girl, Summer.

  “Might as well continue the season’s trend,” she’d said to me in the delivery room. She had been drenched in sweat. My hand was still white and numb from how hard she’d held on to it as Summer made her entrance into the world.

  “It’s always about the trends with you,” I’d joked, crying freely over my best friend and her precious pink newborn.

  The whoosh of Holly’s practice swings brought me back to the present. She took up her stance over the plate and blew a pink bubble of chewing gum. The pitcher wound up as it popped.

  Holly crushed the ball. It ricocheted off the bat with a beautiful thwack! that echoed across the dusty pink summer sky. I di
dn’t have to watch it to know that she’d hit it out of the park, but I did anyway, jogging leisurely toward home base to pull in the first run of Holly’s grand slam. The rest of the team met us at the plate, high-fiving each runner as we came in. When Holly skipped down the third baseline and stomped on home base, the team lifted her up onto their shoulders.

  It was the last game of the season, a fake championship of sorts. As we shook hands with the losing team, the referee handed Scott a tiny plastic trophy.

  “Here, Dubois,” he said, tossing it to me. “Just so you don’t feel embarrassed next to your sister.”

  Holly slung an arm across my shoulders. “Hey! Don’t be mean to my sister. She’s got a lot of great qualities, Marshall.”

  Scott’s mustache quivered as if he was restraining a smile. “I swear, if anyone at the force hears you call me by my first name, I’ll never hear the end of it. Good night, ladies.”

  Mac jogged over and clapped Scott on the shoulder. “You leaving, boss? You’re not joining us for celebratory pizza and beer at The Pit?”

  “Some of us have to work tomorrow, Hart.” He flicked her ball cap off her head. “Including you. Don’t stay out too late. Dubois? If she turns up tomorrow hungover, I’m blaming you.”

  I saluted him. “Yes, sir.”

  Together, we left the field and joined the Millers. Aunt Ani had already handed Summer over to Autumn, who was lifting the toddler Simba-style and singing the Belle Dame High School fight song at the top of her lungs. I tickled Autumn’s side, and when she crumpled to defend herself, I plucked the baby out of her grasp to balance her on my own hip.

  “Who’s the best little girl in all of Belle Dame?” I asked Summer, tapping her nose with the tip of my finger as she giggled and cooed. “It’s you, isn’t it? It’s you.”

  “Never thought I’d hear Bridget Dubois use a baby voice,” Bill said gruffly.

  I straightened up and cleared my throat. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Holly grinned and took Summer from me. “I have no qualms using my baby voice. Do I, Summer? Do I?”

  “Personally, I’ve heard everybody’s baby voice enough,” Autumn cut in. “In fact, I hereby demand that the rest of the night remain free of all baby voices except Summer’s because she’s an actual baby.”

  “Sounds good to me,” I said, wrapping one arm around Holly and the other around Mac as I happily studied my little family. “So. To The Pit?”

  “To The Pit!” everyone chorused.

  And we walked off the ballfield to celebrate another day of simply living.

  Many thanks to everyone who read my story!

  Writing is the best way I know to express myself, and I’m so glad that you all have rewarded me with the opportunity to share my imagination with you. As an author, I learn and evolve from the input of others, so if you have a spare moment and you enjoyed the story, please leave a short, spoiler-free review of the book. As readers, your personal opinions are often the best references for a writer. Your commentary allows me to further provide you all with fun, engaging material.

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  All the best,

  Alexandria Clarke

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