Vanished: A Beautiful Mess Series Novel

by T. K. Leigh

“The second that report hits my desk, you’re the first phone call I’ll make.”

  “Thanks for calling me, Dave.” He gave his brother-in-law an appreciative smile.

  “You bet.”

  With a heavy heart, Alexander left the warehouse, walking in the brisk night air back to his darkened SUV. The rain had started once more, coming in at an angle, the cold drops stinging his face. Instead of running to the car to escape the elements, he slowed his steps, the icy droplets cutting through him like a blade. On a night like this, he’d normally want nothing more than to curl up next to his wife in their king-sized bed, a fire crackling in the hearth. But tonight, he couldn’t gaze into her eyes and tell her what happened.

  Tonight, he just needed to be alone with his guilt.

  Chapter Three

  December 18

  6:05 AM

  RAYNE COLLAPSED ON THE bed in a hotel room overlooking the waterfront in Boston. Trying to catch her breath, she wiped sweat from her brow. She placed her hand on her chest, feeling the vibration of her heart thumping against her palm. She closed her eyes and lost herself in the rhythm. Listening to Mark panting next to her, his body warm, she drew in a long breath, the smell of sex in the air helping her forget, if only for a minute. Forget the feel of Landon’s skin on hers, the heat in his eyes as he said he loved her, the itch of his five-day beard when he kissed her neck.

  Landon had survived bullets, bombs, and a helicopter crash. He was deployed to some of the most dangerous parts of the world where his chance of survival was slight, at best. He had walked away from all of that with barely a scratch. The one assignment that was supposed to be safe turned out to be the one he’d never walk away from.

  Rayne hated it. She hated herself for not worrying about Landon as much as she should have. She hated Landon’s friend, Alexander, for breaking his promises to her. Above everything, she hated the people who took Landon from her. She wanted nothing more than for them to feel her pain, but knew that would never happen. She was left alone with her rage, unable to dispel it. The only thing that helped was the feel of Mark’s slick skin against hers as they both worked through their pain and grief the only way they knew how.

  Mark reached across the mattress, searching for Rayne’s hand, squeezing it. She pulled away. She didn’t mind the intimacy during sex. When she was finished, though, she didn’t want to be touched or to talk. She just wanted to be left alone. Mark knew that. Why was he acting different now?

  Draping the soft robe with the hotel’s insignia over her body, she opened the sliding glass doors and walked onto the balcony, lighting up a much-needed cigarette.

  “Want to talk about it?” Mark’s deep voice came up behind her.

  She whirled around, pulling the robe closer to her body, glaring at him. Regardless of the fact he was the one who paid for their hotel room every week, she hoped he would get the hint and leave while she took a minute to pollute her lungs with toxins.

  She blew smoke in his face, studying his resilient expression. There had been a change in him over the past few weeks. When they first met, he battled his depression just as fiercely, if not more, than she did. His anger consumed him. Recently, however, there was a calmness about him. He smiled. He looked people in the eye. He no longer had that agitated expression on his face as if he were about to snap at the next person who asked how he was. Rayne noticed he seemed a bit more open and agreeable, a trait she now found herself envious of.

  How come he gets to move on while I’m stuck in this place? Will I be banished here forever?

  “No,” she barked, spinning around to look at the city lights once more, everything twinkling in shades of red, green, and white.

  Merry fucking Christmas, she thought.

  “It might make you feel better.” He approached her, leaning back on the railing.

  She tried to ignore his proximity, his presence, his peace, growing even more irritated.

  Sighing, she put her cigarette out, resisting the urge to use his arm to do so, and stormed back into the luxurious hotel room, searching for her discarded clothes. She had never taken Mark back to her place, and vice versa. What they had was superficial. Permitting him inside her home, allowing him a glimpse into who she was as a person, was too intimate. She didn’t exactly live anywhere she’d be proud to call home anyway.

  “I told you I don’t want to hear any of that shit from you.” She whipped around to face him. “And what’s with the change in personality lately anyway? Four months ago, you were just as angry as I was. Hell, probably more so. Now, just like that, you’re cured?”

  “What can I say?” He shrugged. “Going to group therapy’s been helping.”

  She eyed him for a minute. “Bullshit. I’ve been going to that same meeting for over six months now. The only peace it’s brought me is knowing there are other people consumed by grief, too. Other people’s pain is the only thing that gives me hope. But that hope is fleeting when, one day, they stop coming because they’ve been able to move on. They’ve been able to accept their new life, their new normal, but I’m still stuck in stage two. I’ve been angry for a year now. One…entire…year.” Her neck strained as she spit out her words. “Then, almost overnight, you’re able to just flip the switch and find comfort in your anger and accept what’s happened?” she scoffed, incredulous. “I don’t buy it for a fucking second. Tell me what’s really going on.”

  Mark studied her intently, in direct contradiction to the empty gaze with which he typically gazed upon her. There was heat. There was electricity. There was life. She wanted that life, too. She was tired of being angry, of barely living.

  “Please, Mark,” she quivered, her voice almost inaudible. She felt weak, showing him a side of her she promised herself no one would ever see. She had been so strong for too long. She was willing to do anything to return to her old life.

  Exhaling, he sat at the foot of the bed, patting it, gesturing for her to join him.

  She took measured steps, keeping her guard up as much as possible. Her spine straight, she lowered herself onto the mattress, keeping her eyes fixed on him.

  He scanned her face, a moment passing. Abruptly, he stood up. “Glass of wine?” He headed to the fully-stocked wet bar by the balcony doors.

  “No, thank you.” Truthfully, she had been craving some sort of drink since she left work earlier that evening. She didn’t know what Mark wanted to tell her and she needed a clear head…or as clear as she could possibly have with all the anti-depressants she took.

  “Come on,” he pushed, pouring a robust red wine into two glasses and bringing them over to the bed. “Don’t make me drink alone.” He winked, holding a glass toward her. His chestnut eyes were alight with a rejuvenated energy.

  Rayne wondered if it was the sex that had that effect on him or something else. His entire body buzzed with vigor and liveliness, something she hadn’t felt in months. Hell, she couldn’t remember the last time she smiled, apart from the forced smiles she gave her coworkers, assuring them she was okay. That couldn’t have been further from the truth. She was anything but okay. She was sinking. Each day she woke up without Landon by her side, another weight pulled her deeper and deeper into the abyss.

  With pinched lips, she swiped the glass out of Mark’s hand and took a sip of the wine. It was heavy, just the thing to warm her chilled body.

  “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Mark asked, lowering himself back to the bed, wearing only his boxers. He was a fit guy…his shoulders broad, his chest defined, his abs ripped. His naturally tan skin contrasted with the brilliant white of his teeth. On looks alone, he was any girl’s dream, but he was as broken and angry as Rayne. At least he used to be. Now, she wasn’t too sure of anything, making her even more upset. If he no longer shared her anger, what was she going to do? Knowing he was stuck where she was got her through most days. How could he move on and accept his new normal so easily when Rayne didn’t see how she ever would?

  “I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t be drink
ing my pain away,” she commented.

  “There are other ways to deal with your pain,” he replied guardedly, eyeing her.

  “Oh yeah? And what’s that?” she asked, drinking another hearty sip.

  He leaned his forearms on his legs. Bowing his head, he seemed to weigh the pros and cons of what he was about to do, as if the moment were the point of no return. Rayne’s interest piqued at the battle she could see raging in Mark’s head.

  “Her name was Sabrina. She had a smile and laugh that would light up any room.”

  Rayne surveyed his shrunken stature, the unfocused gaze, the trembling fingers. “Your sister?”

  He shot his eyes to hers. “How did you—”

  “Lucky guess. After months of going to grief counseling, you start to pick up on the little clues, I suppose.”

  Nodding, he faced forward once more, as if his story were written on the wall in front of them. “She was two years younger and the most beautiful girl. Of course I’d say that. She was my sister. But she truly was. Once she became of dating age, she had an endless line of men interested in her. My father was a bit traditional and didn’t permit her to date until she turned sixteen. She didn’t mind. She wasn’t interested in any of the boys who asked her out. She didn’t want to waste her time on any man who couldn’t measure up to her expectations.” His laugh was subdued. “She was an old soul.

  “One day, she met Benjamin, and her reluctance to date disappeared. They hit it off instantly. She was eighteen. He was a college graduate. Things were going good, so he asked my father for her hand in marriage. He agreed. Benjamin came from a very wealthy and well-liked family. He could provide for her. She’d be taken care of for the rest of her life. It was a good fit.”

  “But…,” Rayne said, sensing there was more to the story.

  “I think she got cold feet.” He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “She started disappearing from the house for hours at a time, then would come back with a made up story about where she had been. Worried she was starting to hang around with the wrong type of people, I followed her when she said she was going to the library. She pulled up to an alley, then knocked on a door. A man I recognized answered. He wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her, but it wasn’t just a friendly kiss. This was a kiss that didn’t leave much to the imagination. I had always respected my sister…until that moment.”

  “Who was he?” Rayne asked, glued to Mark’s every word. He had never opened up about what happened. Now that he was finally sharing his story, she couldn’t get enough.

  “His name was Omar. He was a year or two older than Sabrina and had a bad reputation around town. He had been arrested for a variety of things, mostly petty thefts and vandalism. He ran with people who were suspected of a bunch of violent crimes, although the police never had enough to make a case stick. They just brushed it all under the rug. I guess the law doesn’t apply to everyone, especially the son of the police chief.” He clenched his fists, drawing in a protracted breath.

  “Did you confront her about it?”

  “Of course I did,” he responded in a curt tone. “But she brushed me off, telling me to mind my own business. I threatened to tell my father and Benjamin. She said to go ahead, that she was tired of living according to my father’s rules. She said she wanted to make her own decisions, including whom she could date and love.”

  “What did she mean by that?”

  “I guess she felt forced into the relationship with Benjamin.” Mark shrugged, shaking his head. “I thought she was happy with him. We all did. Hell, she’d never have to work a day in her life if she married him. But Sabrina had a wild streak in her, and I think the finality of marriage to Benjamin brought it out. Still, I loved and cared about her. Instead of mentioning anything to my father or Benjamin, I kept what I saw to myself. I figured she’d eventually get over her rebellious phase.” His chin quivered as he glanced at Rayne, unshed tears filling his eyes. “Maybe if I had said something…” His voice trailed off, the tears he had probably kept at bay for months, maybe even years, trickling down his masculine cheeks.

  “One day, she was there; the next, she wasn’t. She disappeared off the face of the earth. The police questioned everyone — me, my father, Benjamin, Omar — and they said there was no evidence of foul play. It was most likely just a case of a girl who wanted to get away.”

  “Without telling her family about it?”

  “They refused to listen to our concerns that Sabrina wouldn’t just pick up and disappear. I thought I was being helpful when I told the police what I had seen the day I followed her and our ensuing conversation.”

  “But it didn’t, did it?”

  He shook his head solemnly. For the first time in months, Rayne felt something other than anger. She felt sympathy. She had been there. She had begged Alexander to do everything within his power to find Landon before it was too late. If he had only listened to her and been proactive about finding out what happened, Landon might still be alive.

  “With no physical evidence to the contrary, they closed the case. Disclosing our argument that day was just the icing on the cake they needed to move on to the next case, one that didn’t name the son of the police chief as the main suspect.”

  “Mark,” Rayne began, clutching his hand in hers, “I’m so sorry.”

  He shot his eyes to hers. “Everyone I spoke to brushed it off. No one understood what I was going through until…” He swallowed hard. “Until I met you.” He cupped her cheek in his large, calloused hands.

  For once, Rayne didn’t brush him away. She melted into him, their bodies fusing through their shared heartache.

  “Like you, I let my grief consume me. I was so angry, I wasn’t coping. What made it worse was not having closure. If we knew what happened, I could learn to move on. Not knowing for years, well… That’s a fate worse than death. Always jumping when the phone rings or there’s a knock on the door, wondering if it’s the news you’ve been waiting for.”

  “What’s changed?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Obviously something changed recently that helped you move past all this.”

  Drawing in a deep breath, he stood up and walked to the wet bar to refill his glass. A glow from the approaching dawn began to filter through the hotel room window, the city still blanketed in a sheet of gray.

  Another miserable day.

  Pacing, he eyed Rayne, unnerving her. She pulled her robe tighter, never feeling so exposed and vulnerable as she did at that moment. Mark’s dark eyes penetrated her. Then he stopped, a bright smile crossing his face, lighting up his entire body. He buzzed with happiness. Rayne grew envious. She wanted to know the secret to moving on. She didn’t care what it entailed. She couldn’t go on like this anymore. Whatever Mark said he did to pull himself out of his grief, she would do. She had to.

  “I knew I wouldn’t survive if I didn’t do something to cope with my grief.”

  “Which was…?” She raised her eyebrows.

  Stopping in his tracks, Mark hesitated, unease covering his face. “I wish I could tell you,” he admitted finally, lowering himself onto the bed again. Taking her hand in his, he continued. “I may be walking a fine line of legality with what I did. I’d hate for you to get wrapped up in all this, too. The last thing you need is any more pain in your life, especially when I can prevent it.”

  “What did you do?” she asked, her voice heavy with suspicion and intrigue.

  “What any good brother would do. I found who was responsible for taking Sabrina and made them feel and understand my grief, my anger, my loss. For years, I was empty, thinking nothing and no one would ever be able to fill the gap left in my heart, but I was wrong. Finally confronting those responsible, making them understand my anger, healed me in ways I didn’t think possible.”

  “Did you…?” Rayne trailed off, her mind racing with a thousand different scenarios of what Mark’s words could imply. Did he kill Omar? Was someone else responsible
for her disappearance? Did he find Sabrina?

  “I told you,” he said, his voice calm. “I—”

  “I know. I just…” She took a deep breath, lowering her walls for a brief moment so she could begin to heal. “I want that, too, Mark. I need it.”

  “Then go after it. Get the closure you need.”

  Her shoulders shrinking, she pulled away. “It’s not that simple. The people responsible for what happened to Landon live on the opposite side of the world,” she scoffed. “What am I going to do? Head over to the Middle East and knock on every door until I find the right person? Great plan.”

  “There’s another way to get the closure you want and deserve.”

  “I don’t see how.”

  “From what you’ve talked about, it sounds like there’s someone else who’s actually responsible for what happened to your fiancé.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him, processing his words. “You don’t mean…”

  “I do,” he responded gravely.

  Rayne shook her head, feeling like she was in a fog.

  “Remember how you felt when you were left without answers? I understand the hopelessness and desperation that invaded every inch of you. Most people have never been in that situation where they would give their life, their soul, anything just to have their loved one safe and in their arms. Until they experience that same anguish, they’ll never truly feel and understand your anger.”

  “What are you saying?” Rayne asked, her heart thumping in her chest at his impassioned words.

  “I think you know exactly what I’m saying.”

  Her jaw dropping, she stared at Mark, his eyes intense, focused, determined. She couldn’t believe they were even having this conversation. Yes, she wanted closure more than anything, but at what cost? By harming one of Landon’s best friends? She didn’t think she could live with the guilt.

  Standing up, she placed her wine on the dresser and found her jeans and sweater, frantically dressing. “You may be able to bend or break the law to get the closure you need, but I’m not,” Rayne hissed, her skin prickling. “It’s wrong. This man was Landon’s best friend, not just a pawn for me to use to feel better.”