Missing Page 8

  “But then it was time to come home.”

  “Yes.” She smiled. “God can be very convincing when it comes to putting wrongs to right, you know?”

  Mason pursed his lips. “Yeah. I know.” He flipped through each and every page, lingering, studying, learning about his child. When he lifted his eyes, she saw the tears there.

  He blinked and the tears dissolved. “Thank you for sharing this with me. It’s hard knowing what I missed, but—” he nodded and tapped the album with a finger “—this helps.”

  Throat tight once again, she nodded. He stood as her mother came back into the kitchen. Looking at Lacey’s mother, he said, “Y’all try to get some rest.” To Lacey he said, “We’ll get back to it first thing in the morning.”

  “What about the hospitals?”

  “I’ll let you know if I find out anything, I promise.”

  Lacey hesitated, fatigue sweeping over her. Yet the thought of Bethany out there, scared, alone…or worse—not alone—made her tremble. “How can I sleep?” she whispered, agony flowing through every part of her.

  Mason pulled her into a hug, almost as though he couldn’t stop himself and she let herself fold against him. Then she heard him say, “You have to. For Bethany. When we find her, she’s going to need you strong and able to care for her.”

  In her mind, she knew he was right. Convincing her heart wasn’t going to be that easy.

  *

  Climbing into his car and leaving Lacey behind in her current state of angst wrenched his gut. Almost angry at himself for letting the woman he once considered a cheat of the worst kind weave herself back into his heart within the span of twelve hours, he ordered himself to be wary.

  Lacey adamantly denied kissing Daniel, placing all the blame on his friend.

  But his mother had very convincingly done the same thing to Mason’s father.

  Over and over again.

  Until she finally just left.

  He felt his muscles tense. All his life he’d sworn never to be like his father. To learn from his father’s mistakes. Never to fall for a woman’s charming lies.

  And then he’d met Lacey and fallen hard.

  And she’d turned out to be just like his mother.

  At least he’d sure thought so at the time.

  Now? Doubt beat with an insistent knock on the door to his emotions.

  Pulling in a deep breath, Mason drove down Main Street, eyes probing the darkness, desperately hoping to catch a glimpse of a reddish-blond head.

  Nothing. There weren’t even that many people on the street at this time of night.

  As he scanned each and every face he could see, he debated the best way to put his skills to use in order to find Bethany.

  One question nagged at him. Why hadn’t she simply gone to the cops?

  The only answer he could come up with was that Bethany felt as if she couldn’t go to the police because, for some reason, she didn’t trust them to keep her mother safe.

  That bothered him.

  Picking up his cell phone, he dialed Joseph’s number.

  “Hello?”

  “Joseph, this is Mason. Sorry it’s so late, but I need your FBI connections again.”

  Mason gave the man the courtesy apology, but he knew the late hour wouldn’t bother Joseph, he was used to working when he had to.

  “Absolutely. What can I do for you?” Joseph asked.

  “I need to know if there were any gunshot-wound treatments at hospitals within a thirty-mile radius of the accident. Specifically males shot in the leg. If so, I need a name and address of each one.”

  All business, Joseph said, “Give me the details.”

  Mason provided the date and time of the accident.

  “I should know something soon,” Joseph promised. “And listen, I was just getting ready to call you, anyway. Bethany called her friend from a pay phone near the homeless shelter. I’ve got uniforms driving by more often and keeping an eye on the place just in case Bethany shows back up.”

  “She’s not there now?”

  “Nope. I already checked. And I’m sending you a picture of the guy the sketch artist came up with according to Georgia’s description.”

  “All right. Thanks.”

  “One more thing. Austin Howard.”

  Mason felt his blood start to boil at the mention of the name. “What about him?”

  “He’s—gone.”

  Alarms sounded in his head. “Gone? Gone where? And since when?”

  “For about a week. His mother said he took off with a group of friends and she hasn’t seen him since.”

  A cold knot settled in the pit of Mason’s stomach. “Did she say where they were headed?”

  “South. She said the last she heard he was going to find an old girlfriend and they were going to hang in Florida for the rest of the summer.”

  “Old girlfriend, huh?” He really didn’t like the way this sounded. “Did you get the name of the girlfriend?”

  “The mother said she wasn’t sure. But get this—he’s nineteen.”

  His boiling blood just spilled over into a raging fury. “And he was messing around with a fifteen-year-old?”

  Joseph coughed. “It’s not his first time. He has a record.”

  “For?”

  “Statutory rape.”

  Silence settled between them. Then Mason growled, “I hope you have someone in Florida looking for this guy.”

  “You know I do. I’ve also got a BOLO on him around town here, too. Apparently, he can be quite a nasty person. His mother said she had to call the cops on him when he was thirteen. He threatened to kill her because she wouldn’t let him go out with friends.”

  “Send me his picture. I want to flash his face to everyone I come into contact with. If this is the guy that snatched Bethany…”

  “All right, it’s headed your way.”

  In less than a minute, a good-looking young man appeared on Mason’s phone. “Got it.”

  He hung up and headed for the homeless shelter. Even though Joseph had said she wasn’t there, Mason couldn’t stop himself from looking. Two blocks later, he cruised past it, eyeing two men on the corner sharing a cigarette.

  Had Bethany been staying there?

  He swallowed hard as he thought about his daughter staying in a shelter, his heart thudding with the knowledge that she’d been involved with someone like Austin Howard.

  God? I know we haven’t talked in a while, but she’s just a kid. Please protect her.

  All of the things he’d seen in his career in law enforcement played through his mind like a bad movie. Sometimes missing teenagers came home. Sometimes they didn’t.

  Most often they didn’t.

  Had Austin found her and grabbed her? But the print on the car didn’t match anyone in the system. And Austin was in the system.

  He sighed and pulled over to the curb to watch the shelter. Picking up his phone, he scrolled through his contacts until he found his father’s number.

  To call or to wait?

  He dialed the number.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, Dad, it’s me.”

  His father’s gruff voice came through the line. “Been a while since I heard from you. You doing all right? The shoulder okay?”

  Mason went along with the small talk for a few minutes, then said, “I have something I need to tell you.”

  Silence.

  “You remember Lacey Gibson. From high school?”

  “Yeah, she was that little girl that did a number on you. I remember her.”

  Mason flinched at the hardness in his father’s tone, but didn’t address it. His father may have found God, but he still had his rough edges. He sighed. “Dad, Lacey had a baby fifteen years ago. My baby.”

  A swift drawn-in breath and more silence. Then his father cleared his throat. “Come again?”

  “You heard me. Lacey had a daughter. Her name is Bethany.”

  “I’m a grandfather? You’re sure?”

>   “When you see her picture, you’ll know.”

  “Well then, when do we get to meet her?”

  “I need you to—um—ask for prayer for her. Maybe at your church or something. You know I’m not into the whole God thing anymore.” However, it seemed he found himself turning to God more and more. Interesting. “She’s missing.”

  “What?” Confusion echoed in Mason’s ear. “What do you mean, missing?”

  “I’m sorry, Dad. It’s a long story, but the basics are Bethany was kidnapped a few days ago, which is why Lacey came to me. She needed my help to find her. It’s what I’ve been working on ever since.”

  He heard his father talking to someone in the background. Then, “Maggie says you’d better find that girl, she wants to meet her.”

  “I do, too, Dad. I do, too.”

  “We’ll be praying.”

  “Thanks. I’ll call you when I know anything.”

  He hung up and stared back at the shelter, the lights turned low and everyone settling in for the night.

  His father had met Maggie at a church function and the woman had had a major influence on the man. He’d stopped his workaholic tendencies and had finally shown interest in another woman. It had shocked Mason, but he was glad his dad wasn’t lonely. And Maggie was a good woman.

  Kind of like Lacey.

  Giving up the search for Bethany for now, Mason turned his car toward home.

  The dark empty house greeted him and for the first time in a long while he thought about what it would be like to have someone to come home to.

  No, not just someone.

  Lacey.

  His gut tightened at the thought, at imagining her with his ring on her finger. She’d greet him with a hug and a kiss and…

  Okay, time to turn his thoughts elsewhere. He’d seen her for the first time after sixteen years and already his imagination was running away from him.

  His iPhone buzzed, and he tapped the screen to look at the next picture Joseph had sent him. The sketch.

  A dark-haired man with a square jaw, wide-set eyes and thin lips. Not the monster Mason had been expecting. For some reason the mild-looking man surprised him.

  He sighed, committed the picture to his memory with a side note to himself that the actual person might not look anything like the sketch.

  Pulling out Georgia’s cell phone, Mason looked at the number his daughter had called from. A pay phone near the homeless shelter.

  It would be one of the first places he’d check tomorrow morning.

  *

  Lacey jerked out of a restless sleep and peered at the clock—3:04 a.m.

  What had awakened her?

  Once the surprise that she’d actually managed to fall asleep faded, she froze and listened to the stillness.

  Nothing. Slowly, her muscles began to relax.

  Then she heard something.

  Lacey shot straight up in the bed, fingers gripping the comforter, her eyes probing the darkness. There wasn’t even a full moon to help light the room. Her breath quickened and her heart began to gallop in her chest.

  Was someone there?

  Her parents?

  Or had Bethany come home?

  Did she dare call out?

  No, not with all the weird things that had been happening lately.

  But it was possible, right? It could be Bethany trying to sneak in. Maybe. Maybe not.

  Hope, that it was Bethany in the house mingled with terror that it wasn’t, curled inside her.

  Slipping out from under the covers, Lacey tiptoed to the door then paused.

  She needed a weapon.

  A glance around the room brought nothing helpful in sight.

  Pulling in a steadying breath, she paused, straining her ears for the slightest out-of-place noise. Nothing.

  Had she just imagined that she’d heard something? Was it the wishful thinking that Bethany had come home making her crazy?

  Or was it one of her parents moving around?

  Only one way to find out.

  Heart thumping so loud it almost deafened her, she kept to the shadows and made her way down the hall. Pausing at her parents’ bedroom door, she peeked in.

  Her dad’s familiar soft snores reached her ears. A streak of light from the cracked bathroom door lit a line down her mother’s face.

  Another light thump made her jump.

  Smothering a startled gasp, Lacey silently pulled the door shut.

  It wasn’t her parents.

  Bethany?

  Oh, please, dear God, let it be her.

  Slowly she turned to the room across the hall. The door was shut.

  She’d left it open since Bethany’s disappearance.

  Eager, yet still cautious, Lacey placed her hand on the doorknob, turned it and pushed the door inward.

  And screamed her horror.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The vibrating cell phone snapped Mason awake.

  Confused for the brief second it took him to focus on the phone in his hand, Mason finally realized he’d fallen asleep in the recliner, his fingers wrapped around Georgia’s phone. His one connection with his missing daughter.

  And now it was ringing.

  Snatching it to his ear, he barked, “Hello?”

  Silence.

  “Bethany, is that you?”

  Faint breathing reached his ear.

  “Bethany,” he tried again, “this is your fa—”

  Click.

  He looked at the number.

  It was different from the phone near the shelter.

  Immediately, he called Joseph. The man answered on the second ring. “I’m assuming this is important,” he stated without ire, sounding wide awake.

  “I think Bethany just called. I have Georgia’s phone. When I answered, the person on the other line didn’t say anything, but I could hear breathing. I need this number traced and you’re the one that can get it done yesterday.” Mason rattled off the number.

  “I’ll call you back as soon as I know something.”

  Mason hung up the phone only to realize he had a call coming in.

  Lacey.

  Fear shot through him. Something was wrong if she was calling at this hour of the night. He answered. “Lacey, what’s wrong?”

  “You’re right,” she whispered through the line. “I’ve made someone really mad. Come quickly.”

  At her trembling almost inaudible words, Mason felt his heart thump wildly in his chest. “I’m on my way over.”

  Less than five minutes later, he was in his car and speeding across the three-mile distance to her house.

  When he pulled into her driveway, he noticed every light in the house blazed.

  *

  Lacey heard the car drive up.

  Mason. He’d beaten the police.

  She flew from the house, leaving her parents still shaken and clutching one another as they whispered prayers for their granddaughter’s safety.

  Lacey launched herself into Mason’s arms not caring about the past, what he thought of her—or what anyone else would think if they saw her actions.

  She needed him.

  “What is it, Lacey?” His lips touched the top of her head, ruffling her hair with his warm breath. “What happened?”

  She couldn’t seem to stop the trembling. “Oh, Mason, I think she’s dead.”

  Lacey heard herself wail the words but felt like they came from someone else.

  Strong fingers gripped her forearms, and she felt him push her away so he could look down at her. Intense blue eyes bored into hers. “Why do you say that?”

  “You have to see,” she whispered. “In her room.”

  Two police cars with lights flashing pulled up, followed by Joseph, Caitlyn and Daniel.

  Lacey blinked against the harsh red-and-blue lights even as she registered Daniel’s presence.

  “What’s so urgent this couldn’t wait till morning?” He looked tired, bleary—and impatient.

  Joseph shot the man a surpri
sed look and Catelyn simply raised a brow. Mason lasered his former friend with a look that produced a flush on Daniel’s smooth cheeks. “Uh, sorry. It’s been a rough night all around.” In a more congenial tone, he asked, “What happened, Lacey?”

  “Someone was in my house and left another message.” Tears trickled down her cheeks. She honestly didn’t know how much more of this she could take. God, why is this happening?

  “What!” Mason exclaimed over her silent, anguished prayer. “Where?”

  “Bethany’s room.” A welcome numbness seemed to come out of nowhere and seep into her bones as Mason let her go to head into the house.

  The others followed while Catelyn issued orders into her phone requesting a crime-scene unit.

  From the far reaches of her brain, Lacey heard someone caution the others about disturbing a crime scene.

  She squelched a hysterical giggle. Her whole house was considered a crime scene. How surreal.

  Yet Bethany’s continued absence was very, very real.

  The thought allowed her to gather her composure and even though she vaguely remembered someone telling her to stay put, she followed, anyway.

  Maybe she’d dreamed the scene in Bethany’s room.

  As she turned the corner to walk down the hall, she heard Mason exclaim and Catelyn draw in a shocked breath.

  Coming up behind them, Lacey peered around Mason’s shoulder and gave a little whimper.

  She hadn’t dreamed it.

  *

  Mason heard Lacey behind him and tore his eyes away from the scene. Too bad he couldn’t delete it from his memory.

  Someone had fashioned a white-foam wig stand into a Bethany look-alike, complete with reddish-blond hair, painted blue eyes and a light dusting of freckles across the bridge of the nose and cheeks. Pink lipstick decorated the lips.

  But what had him worried was the red liquid someone had place at the base of the neck.

  The head had been made to look like it had been decapitated. Crime-scene members worked feverishly through out the room, a camera flash snapping incessantly.

  Mason wrapped an arm around Lacey’s shoulders and pulled her to his side. Right now he wasn’t thinking about the past, he was racking his brain trying to come up with a reason for everything happening. To Lacey he said, “That’s not real. It doesn’t mean anything except someone has a twisted desire to see you hurting.”

  “It could mean…”