One Child Alive
An absolutely gripping crime thriller packed with nail-biting suspense
Ellery Kane
Books by Ellery Kane
Rockwell and Decker Series
Watch Her Vanish
Her Perfect Bones
One Child Alive
Available in Audio
Rockwell and Decker Series
Watch Her Vanish (Available in the UK and the US)
Her Perfect Bones (Available in the UK and the US)
Contents
Santa Barbara, California
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
*
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
*
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
*
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
*
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
*
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Epilogue
Hear More from Ellery
Books by Ellery Kane
A Letter from Ellery
Watch Her Vanish
Her Perfect Bones
Acknowledgments
For Gar
My partner in crime
The axe forgets; the tree remembers.
—African proverb
Santa Barbara, California
Three months earlier
Hannah Fox leaned against the cold marble of the bathroom counter, examining the fine smile lines visible at the corners of her eyes in the magnifying makeup mirror. She pulled at her skin, stretching it smooth, imagining herself twenty-something again, before she applied another layer of the La Prairie concealer that cost more than she cared to admit. A spritz of hairspray and a dab of her signature scent, Chanel No. 5, to finish. She wiped a rogue spot of concealer from the bathroom counter just in case Marie Abbott requested a tour of the house. Journalists could be nosy, even those who worked for froufrou lifestyle magazines like Santa Barbara Living. She stood back, admiring the Theory dress she’d carefully selected for this occasion—the perfect emerald shade to complement her red hair—and pronounced herself camera-ready. Even if she still felt like a little girl playing dress-up.
Hannah nudged open the bathroom door, planning to reveal herself slowly, knowing her husband, Peter, would be waiting in the bedroom to admire her. She’d convinced him to come home early from the law office—a rare feat—so the magazine’s photographer could take advantage of the golden hour. Following the family interview with Ms. Abbott, the renowned Claude Cappo would snap the cover shot in their backyard just after seven o’clock. Hannah had overlooked no detail.
Peter met her eyes in the dresser mirror, where he stood lacing the necktie she had picked out for him.
“Whoa.” He let out a low whistle as he turned to her.
“Does that mean you like it?” Not wanting to ruin her lipstick, she offered her cheek for a quick peck.
“You look beautiful, Hannah. You always do.”
She took over, straightening his tie and smoothing the shoulders of his matching sports coat. “Thanks for agreeing to do the interview. I know it’s not your cup of tea, but Marie insisted. And it will be great publicity for the Children’s Hospital. Not to mention for the law practice.”
He chuckled. “I’m happy to talk up the charity work you’re doing for the hospital. But if I get any busier at the office, I might have to set up a bedroom there. The DA agreed to a plea deal in the Markum case, by the way.”
“You’re a genius.” Hannah beamed. Peter had been voted Top Defense Attorney in Santa Barbara five years running. A skilled trial lawyer with a book of high-profile cases, he always had the DA running scared. That kind of influence attracted attention, hence today’s interview and the tightness in her throat. “So, an office bedroom, huh? Will you let me sleep over sometimes?”
She wiggled her eyebrows at him, giving him a quick swat on the butt before she left to wrangle the children.
Hannah checked four-year-old Thomas’s room first, sighing at the mess she found there. His navy plaid shirt and little blazer lay on the bed just where she’d placed them over an hour ago, overtaken by his green plastic army men. She scooped the soldiers up by the handful and tossed them into the plastic bin, hoping Thomas hadn’t gone far.
Next, she knocked on Dylan’s door, pounding hard enough to jar him from his adolescent stupor—video games, cell phones, and the surge of testosterone that had turned him overnight from a boy into a gangly, pimple-faced zombie. At fourteen, he was the spitting image of his father and just as stubborn. “Ten minutes and counting, Dylan. You need to look presentable.”
“Alright, alright.” A groan, then silence.
“And comb your hair.”
Hannah hurried downstairs, where she spotted eleven-year-old Lily already dressed and seated on the plush sofa that had set them back for more than Hannah’s first car. She could always count on her daughter in a pinch.
Gritting her teeth in frustration, Lily looked up at her. “Will you put this on for me?”
Lily opened her hand, revealing the charm bracelet she’d unwrapped at Christmas. As Hannah looped it around her daughter’s slim wrist and fastened the delicate clasp, a single butterfly charm dangled from the gold band. Hannah had promised Lily another—a pair of ballet slippers—for her birthday in August.
“Where is your little brother?” Hannah asked.
Lily shrugged, mirroring Hannah’s annoyance. “I haven’t seen Thomas since he asked Dylan to play with him. Dylan called him a baby and made him cry.”
Sighing deeply, Hannah glanced at the oversized wall clock that hung above the stone fireplace. It had been a wedding g
ift from her sister, Nora. Lovely, but a little tongue-in-cheek, since Nora knew she’d never been late—and never would be—a day in her life.
“Will you help me look for him, Lily-bear?” Hannah began back up the staircase. “Be careful with your dress though. It’s silk.”
While Lily searched downstairs, Hannah met Peter on the landing, greeting him with an exasperated smile. She wanted today to be perfect, to finally prove to herself she belonged here. In a neighborhood with a gate and a security booth. In a house three times the size of the one where she and Nora had grown up. In clothes with fancy designer labels. With a husband everyone admired.
“Are you alright?” he asked, squeezing her shoulder.
“Thomas is missing.”
“Again?”
“You know how he gets.” Already, Hannah felt the first signs of panic. A flutter in her chest, dampness beneath her armpits. A sense that time had run out. Because it had, in fact, nearly. In exactly eight minutes, Marie Abbott would appear on the doorbell camera, looking effortlessly chic and expecting the Fox family to be present in their entirety to regale her with tales of their success. Hannah felt like a total impostor.
With tunnel vision, Hannah led the search through the house. They checked all the usual places. Beneath the coffee table and behind the sofa. In the well-stocked pantry and under the bed. Closet doors, flung open. Curtains, pulled back. But Thomas had left no trace.
When the bell rang, Hannah winced as if she’d been struck. Still, she composed herself, took a breath, and followed Peter to the door. He laughed as he opened it. Next to Marie and Claude and their assistant, Thomas shuffled from one bare foot to the other, his red hair wild as the weeds. In his hand, his very favorite toy soldier, Ranger Rob.
“I take it this charming fellow belongs to you.” Marie gazed down at the little boy adoringly, while Hannah plastered a smile onto her own face. Thomas troubled her, with his quiet sensitivity. She feared the world would break him. “Claude discovered him stowed away in the hedge. He gave us quite a scare.”
“That’s Thomas,” Hannah managed. “Always finding the best hiding places.”
Later, after Thomas had been cleaned up and dressed to match the rest of the family, after the interview and the photo shoot by the pool in the golden hour, Marie pulled Hannah aside, showing her a digital mock-up of the cover. “Next month’s issue,” she pronounced. “We’ll call it Santa Barbara’s Perfect Family. What do you think?”
Hannah nodded her approval dispassionately. But in all her life, she had never been more pleased.
One
Olivia Rockwell flinched at the first explosion. Fireworks bloomed in the night sky, sending ripples of color across the black ocean water and lighting the freckles on her sister’s face. Olivia paused briefly, watching the crowd gasp and cheer, before tugging Emily toward the car.
“But Liv, this is the good part.”
“You’re drunk.” That word had history, and it zipped off Olivia’s tongue, keen as a blade.
“So?” Em shrugged off her hand but followed behind. “That’s the whole point of summer break. I’m only here for a few weeks. Let me have a little fun.”
“Fun?” How many times had their mother used that line, sloshed drunk from a long night at the Hickory Pit? “You asked Warden Blevins for a piggyback ride.”
Another blast illuminated the parking lot and muffled Emily’s sharp scoff. “Well, he didn’t say no.”
“Because he was mortified.”
Pushing thoughts of the red-faced warden from her mind, Olivia unlocked the Buick station wagon she’d inherited from their mother. She was stone-cold sober and, unbelievably, her sister’s antics hadn’t been the most embarrassing moment of her night. Still, she directed a stern finger at the passenger seat that Emily promptly ignored. “He’s my boss, Em.”
“It’s not like I have a thing for him.” In the tradition of little sisters, she raised her voice with one purpose: big sister’s abject humiliation. “You’re the one who’s got the hots for—”
“Car. Now.”
Em groaned as she joined Olivia inside the airless Buick, still stuffy from the warmth of the day. “You’re not hiding it from anyone, you know. And neither is Deck. He barely took his eyes off you the whole night. I told you that sundress would turn his head.”
Though Olivia couldn’t deny Detective Will Decker looked damn good in a swimsuit, she ignored the wiggle of Emily’s eyebrows. She busied herself instead, rolling down the windows, starting the car, pulling out of the crowded lot, and steering for home. Pine Grove Road could be crowded with tourists this time of year, so she opted for the dirt road cut-through instead. “Can you believe Graham Bauer punched that lawyer? I’m pretty sure Deck was too busy reining him in to notice my outfit.”
“Oh, he noticed.” Em giggled. “But nice try changing the subject. Do you think that lawyer guy could really get Graham kicked off the force?”
Olivia didn’t answer. As the car rumbled down the path, her heart drummed faster and louder, matching the distant sounds of the fireworks. “Is that smoke?”
Em leaned out the passenger window, letting the breeze blow back her strawberry-blonde curls. She scrunched her nose. “It smells like it.”
“Look.” Olivia maneuvered off the road, pointing in horror at the silhouette of a sports utility vehicle parked on the shoulder. The bright orange flames transfixed her, flaring from the back seat and licking at the tree trunks like angry waves against the sheer cliffs. Black smoke plumed from its center, signaling doom.
“There’s someone inside.” Olivia’s throat burned.
She cracked her door open.
The fire threw sparks at her, its embers glowing in the grass, warning her to come no closer.
But still, she charged forward until she felt its simmering heat.
Through the open driver’s window, the man lay still in the seat. Only the fire moved, flicking like a snake’s tongue at his back.
Neither the heat nor Olivia’s frantic shouting roused him. She looked back to where Emily stood, wide-eyed and talking hurriedly into her cell phone. At least she’d be safe.
Olivia pulled her thin sweater tight around her body, covered her nose and mouth with her forearm, and darted nearer to the flames. The heat met her like a brick wall. She started to sweat, the soft fabric of her blue sundress clinging to her skin.
Still secured by his seat belt, the man’s body had slumped sideways onto the console. When she shook his shoulder, he made no sound. She reached inside, disconnected the belt, and grabbed his arm, struggling to maneuver him through the door as the fire slithered closer and closer to the cab. The flames taunted her in a dangerous game of strike and retreat.
“Leave him!” Emily yelled.
Olivia’s eyes burned as she choked on the thick smoke, already feeling lightheaded. But she nearly had him. She held the man beneath his armpits, dragging him out and to the ground. His feet dropped heavy as boulders into the grass.
The greedy fire moved faster now. But Olivia’s body refused to move. The man lay half on top of her, his head lolling on her stomach. Though she didn’t know him, she recognized his face in an instant, and she couldn’t look away from the vicious wound in his left temple. The blood, wet and red on her hands, took her right back there to the Double Rock projects, with her father standing over Tina Solomon’s dead body, a knife in his hands. She was eight years old and helpless, her legs useless as stumps.
Olivia gasped for breath, her vision blurring. Above her, the black sky stretched forever. Pinpricks of light danced at its periphery, flickering like stars.
A distant wailing cut through the roar in her head. From somewhere, her sister screamed her name.
She imagined her father scooping her up and carrying her far from this place, the same way he’d taken her from Apartment E that night twenty-seven years ago.
When a pair of strong arms lifted her, she latched on and surrendered to them completely. With the last of
her effort, she tilted her head, expecting to see her father’s face. No matter that he’d been dead four months now.
“Deck?”
Two
Detective Will Decker pondered the ridiculousness of his tan boat shoes and navy swim trunks. Entirely appropriate for the Hickory Pit’s Barbecue Bash, but completely out of place at a crime scene. The only barbecue here the charred remains of the victim’s SUV that had been doused ten minutes ago by Fog Harbor Fire and Rescue.
Will studied the body near his feet while he waited for the medical examiner, Chet Clancy, to arrive. Already, he could imagine Chet’s practiced voice pronouncing, Single gunshot wound to the head.
Olivia had risked her life to rescue a dead man. Will let his eyes wander to the back of the ambulance, where she sat by Emily, wrapped in a blanket and inhaling oxygen through a mask. Half her mouth twisted at him in an ironic smile, and her dimple tugged at his heart like she held it by a string.
One Child Alive: An absolutely gripping crime thriller packed with nail-biting suspense (Rockwell and Decker Book 3) Page 1
