by Debra Webb
His disappearance changed her life forever.
Twenty-five years ago, Halle Lane’s best friend vanished from their Tennessee town. When a childhood photo brings Liam Hart to Winchester, Halle is certain the man is the same child who disappeared. Now Liam seeks out Halle to help him investigate the circumstances of his mysterious past. Can Liam and Halle uncover the truth before a killer buries all traces of the boy Halle loved—and the man he may have become—forever?
“What’s wrong?”
Halle shrugged. “You know when it feels like someone is watching you? Maybe it was my imagination.”
Liam opened her door for her. She stared at him a moment, then said, “Thanks.”
He climbed in and fastened his seat belt. There was another question burning in his brain. “Were you considering writing a book about Andy’s disappearance?”
“I’d thought about it, but the time never seemed right. Some part of me thought maybe if I put all my thoughts and memories into a book, maybe if he was out there somewhere he would read it and remember. He would know we hadn’t forgotten him and that we still love him.”
He stared at her profile as she moved her foot from the brake to the accelerator and the car rolled forward. The line of her jaw, the rise of her cheekbones, her lips, her nose—all of it filled him with a sudden sense of longing. How would it feel to have someone love you that much? His heart started pounding.
He understood how it would feel. It would feel exactly like this.
BEFORE HE VANISHED
USA TODAY Bestselling Author
Debra Webb
Debra Webb is the award-winning USA TODAY bestselling author of more than one hundred novels, including those in reader-favorite series Faces of Evil, the Colby Agency and Shades of Death. With more than four million books sold in numerous languages and countries, Debra has a love of storytelling that goes back to her childhood on a farm in Alabama. Visit Debra at www.debrawebb.com.
Books by Debra Webb
Harlequin Intrigue
A Winchester, Tennessee Thriller
In Self Defense
The Dark Woods
The Stranger Next Door
The Safest Lies
Witness Protection Widow
Before He Vanished
Colby Agency: Sexi-ER
Finding the Edge
Sin and Bone
Body of Evidence
Faces of Evil
Dark Whispers
Still Waters
Colby Agency: The Specialists
Bridal Armor
Ready, Aim…I Do!
Colby, TX
Colby Law
High Noon
Colby Roundup
Debra Webb writing with Regan Black
Harlequin Intrigue
Colby Agency: Family Secrets
Gunning for the Groom
The Specialists: Heroes Next Door
The Hunk Next Door
Heart of a Hero
To Honor and To Protect
Her Undercover Defender
Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com.
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Halle Lane—Her career in Nashville took a dive; now she’s Winchester’s hotshot new investigative reporter. But can she find the truth about her neighbor and best friend who disappeared twenty-five years ago?
Liam Hart—His life is as close to perfect as can be. He owns a beautiful vineyard that his father started before he was born. When a newspaper article questions all that he believes to be true, he has no choice but to find a way to dispel the lies…or find the truth.
Nancy Clark—Her son, Andy, Halle’s best friend, went missing when he was seven. With the news of her cancer, Nancy believes it’s time everyone knew the truth.
Penelope Hart—Since Liam’s father passed away, his stepmother hasn’t been around much. What is she avoiding or hiding from?
Claire Hart—Claire adores her older brother. She is determined to help him solve this mystery.
Chief of Police William Brannigan—The top cop in Winchester; he will not stop until he solves the newest crime in his town.
This book is dedicated to the many, many children who go missing every day and the determined folks who work so hard to find them.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Excerpt from Mysterious Abduction by Rita Herron
Excerpt from Heartbreaker by B.J. Daniels
Chapter One
NOW
Friday, March 6
Winchester, Tennessee
Halle Lane listened as her fellow newspaper reporter droned on and on about the upcoming community events in Winchester that he planned to cover, which was basically everything on the calendar for the next month.
She couldn’t really complain. Halle was new. Hardly ninety days on the job, but she knew Winchester every bit as well as Mr. Roger Hawkins. She couldn’t bring herself to call him Rog. The man was seventy if he was a day and he’d covered the social events of Winchester for about fifty of those years.
How could she—a fading-star investigative journalist from Nashville—expect to get first dibs on anything in Winchester? Hawkins had the social events, including obituaries. Her boss and the owner of the newspaper, Audrey Anderson-Tanner, generally took care of the big stories. The only potential for a break in the monotony of covering barroom brawls and petty break-ins was the fact that Audrey was pregnant. At nearly thirty-eight, she was expecting her first child.
Halle had wanted to jump for joy when she heard the news last month. She was, of course, very happy for Audrey and her husband, Sheriff Colt Tanner, but mostly she was thrilled at the idea that she might actually get her hands on a real story sometime this decade.
So far that had not happened. Audrey had covered the big federal trial of Harrison Armone last month. His son’s widow, the sole witness against him, had been hiding out in Winchester for months. Surprisingly for such a small town, Winchester had more than its share of big news happenings. This time last year a body had been discovered in the basement of this very newspaper building. Halle’s gaze shifted to the head of the conference table, where her boss listened with seemingly rapt interest as Hawkins went on and on.
It seemed Winchester also had more than its share of family secrets, as well. A man posing as a Mennonite had turned out to be a former member of a Chicago mob. Not a month later, Sasha Lenoir-Holloway had uncovered the truth about the deaths of her parents. Cece Winters had come home from prison a few months back and blown open the truth about her family and the cult-like extremists living in a remote area of Franklin County.
Nashville had nothing on Winchester, it seemed.
“This all sounds good, Rog,” Audrey said, her voice pulling Halle back to the here and now.
The boss’s gaze shifted to her and Halle realized her mistake. She had been silently bemoaning all the stories she’d missed and now it was her turn to share with those gathered what she was working on for this week’s Sunday edition.
“Halle, what do you have planned?” Audrey a
sked.
For five endless seconds she racked her brain for something, anything to say.
Then her gaze landed on the date written in black across the white board.
March 6.
Memories whispered through her mind. Voices and images from her childhood flooded her senses. Blond hair, blue eyes...
“The lost boy,” Halle said in a rush. The words had her heart pounding.
Of course. Why hadn’t she thought of that last month or the month before?
Audrey frowned for a moment, then made an “aha” face. “Excellent idea. We’ve just passed what? Twenty-four years?”
“Twenty-five,” Halle confirmed. “Andy Clark was my neighbor. We played together all the time as kids.”
Brian Peterson, the editor of the Winchester Gazette, chimed in next. “What makes you think Nancy Clark will allow an interview? She hasn’t in all these years.”
Audrey made a frustrated face. “That is true. You tried to interview her for both the ten-year and the twenty-year anniversaries, didn’t you?”
Brian nodded. “I did. She refused to talk about it. Since her husband passed away year before last, she’s practically a shut-in. She stopped attending church. Has whatever she needs delivered.” He shrugged, shifted his attention to Halle. “Good luck with that one.”
Halle’s anticipation deflated. Hawkins looked at her as if she were something to be pitied.
“Still,” Audrey said, “if you could get the story, it would be huge. Maybe since you and the boy, Andy, played together as children before he vanished, she might just talk to you.”
Halle’s hopes lifted once more. “I’m certain she will.”
The conference room started to buzz with excitement. Titles were tossed about. Potential placement on the front page above the fold.
All Halle had to do was make it happen.
* * *
HALLE CRUISED ALONG the street on the east side of the courthouse, braking at a crosswalk for a mother pushing a stroller. That little ache that pricked each time she saw a baby did so now. Passing thirty had flipped some switch that had her yearning for a child of her own.
Now that she was back home, her chances of finding a partner, much less having a child, had dropped to something less than zero.
Winchester was a very small town compared to Nashville. With a population of around ten thousand, if you counted Decherd in the mix, it truly was the sort of place where everyone knew everyone else.
There were times when this could be a very good thing. Like when Andy Clark went missing twenty-five years ago. Halle had been just a little kid, but she remembered well how citizens from all over this county as well as those surrounding it had rushed to help look for Andy. Headlines about “the lost boy” scrolled across every newspaper in the state. His face was all over the news. Detectives and FBI agents were in and out of the Clark home for months.
But Andy had vanished without a trace.
Halle turned onto South High Street. The Clark home was on the corner of South High and Sixth Avenue. The historic Victorian was among the town’s oldest homes. A meticulously manicured lawn and sprawling front porch greeted visitors. She pulled to the curb in front of the house and shut off the engine. The ancient maple on the Sixth Avenue side of the lawn had been Andy’s and her favorite climbing tree.
Next door was Halle’s childhood home. Her parents, Judith and Howard, had been thrilled when she’d announced last Christmas that she would be moving back to Winchester. They had, of course, insisted that she move back into her old room. As much as she appreciated the offer and adored her parents, that was not happening. Eventually the two had talked her into taking the apartment over the detached garage where her Aunt Daisy, the old maid everyone always whispered about, had once lived, God rest her soul.
Considering she would have her own parking spot and a separate entrance, Halle decided it wasn’t such a bad idea. She would have her privacy and her parents would have their only daughter—only child, actually—living at home again.
A win-win for all involved. As long as she didn’t dwell on the fact that she had turned thirty-two at the end of last month and that her one and only marriage had ended in divorce two years ago or that her ex-husband had since remarried and had a child—no matter that he had said they were too young for children when she had wanted one.
Not.
Maybe the garage apartment was fitting considering her mother’s peers all now whispered about her unmarried status. Bless her heart, she’s like poor Daisy.
Halle heaved a weary sigh.
The divorce had turned her world upside down, shaken her as nothing ever had. She’d lost her footing, and the upheaval had shown in her work. Just as she’d begun to pull her professional self together again, she’d been let go. Cutbacks, they had said. But she’d known the truth. Her work had sucked for two years.
It was a flat-out miracle they had allowed her to keep working as long as they had.
Luckily for Halle, Audrey was open to second chances. She had understood how one’s life could go completely awry. Though the Winchester Gazette was only a small biweekly newspaper, it was a reasonable starting place to rebuild Halle’s career.
She climbed out of the car, draped her leather bag over her shoulder and closed the door. The midmorning air was crisp but Halle much preferred it to what would come between June and September. The melting heat and suffocating humidity. The not-so-pleasant part of Southern living.
Stepping up onto the porch, she heard the swing chains squeak as the breeze nudged this wooden mainstay of every Southern porch gently back and forth. On the other end of the sprawling outdoor space stood a metal glider, still sporting its original green paint, offering a restful place to sit and watch the street. But Mrs. Clark never sat on her porch anymore. Halle’s mother had said the lady rarely stepped out the door, just as Brian had also mentioned. But Mrs. Clark did come to the door as long as she could identify the person knocking or ringing her bell. Whether she opened the door was another story.
Halle hadn’t attempted to visit her in years. She was relatively certain she hadn’t seen the woman since her husband’s funeral two years ago. The one thing Halle never had to worry about was being recognized. With her fiery mass of unruly red curls, the impossible-to-camouflage freckles and the mossy green eyes, folks rarely forgot her face. The other kids in school had been ruthless with the ginger-and-carrottop jokes but Andy had always defended her...at least until he was gone.
God, she had missed her best friend. Even at seven, losing your best friend was incredibly traumatic.
Halle stepped to the door and lifted her fist and knocked.
“What do you want?”
The voice behind the closed door was a little rusty, as if it wasn’t used often, but it was reasonably strong.
“Mrs. Clark, you might not remember me—”
“Of course I remember you. What do you want?”
It was a starting place.
“Ma’am, may I come inside and speak with you?” She bit her bottom lip and searched for a good reason. “It’s a little chilly here on the porch.” Not exactly true, but not entirely a lie.
A latch clicked. Anticipation caught her breath. Another click and the knob turned. The door drew inward a couple of feet. Nancy Clark stood in the shadows beyond the reach of daylight. Her hair looked as unruly as Halle’s and it was as white as cotton. She was shorter than Halle remembered.
“Come in.”
The door drew inward a little more and Halle crossed the threshold. Her heart was really pumping now. She reminded herself that just because she was inside didn’t mean she would manage an interview.
One step at a time, Hal.
The elderly lady closed the door and locked it. So maybe she anticipated Halle staying awhile. Another good sign.
“I was having tea in th
e kitchen,” that rusty voice said.
When she turned and headed deeper into the gloom of the house, Halle followed. She knew this house as well as she knew her own. Until she was seven years old it had been her second home. More of those childhood memories whispered through her, even ones her mother had told her about before Halle was old enough to retain the images herself.
Her mother had laughed and recounted to her the many times she’d had tea with Nancy while the babies toddled around the kitchen floor. The Clarks had not always lived in Winchester, Halle’s mother had told her. They had bought the house when their little boy was two years old, just before Easter. Judith Lane had been thrilled to have a neighbor with a child around the same age as her own. Halle had been twenty months old. Even the fathers, Howard and Andrew, had become fast friends.
It was perfect for five years.
Then Andy disappeared.
The shriek of the kettle yanked Halle’s attention back to the present.
“You want cream?”
“That would be nice.” She forced a smile into place as she stood in the kitchen watching Mrs. Clark fix the tea.
Nancy prepared their tea in classic bone china patterned with clusters of pink flowers ringing the cups. She placed the cups in their saucers and then onto a tray. She added the matching cream pitcher and sugar bowl.
Halle held her breath as the elderly woman with her tiny birdlike arms carried the tray to the dining table. To be back in this home, after so many years, to be talking with this woman who’d occupied a special place in her heart because of her relationship to Andy was enough to make Halle feel lightheaded.
“Get the cookies,” Nancy called over her shoulder.
Halle turned back to the counter and picked up the small plate, then followed the same path the lady had taken. They sat, added sugar to their tea and then tested the taste and heat level. Mrs. Clark offered the plate of cookies and Halle took a small one and nibbled.
Rather than rush the conversation, she reacquainted herself with the paintings and photographs on the wall. Beyond the wide doorway, she could see the stunning painting over the fireplace in the main parlor. Andy had been five at the time. His hair had been so blond, his eyes so blue. Such a sweet and handsome boy. She hadn’t a clue about what handsome even was or any of that stuff back then; she had only known that she loved him like another part of her family...of herself. They had been inseparable.
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