Gone (Deadly Secrets #2)(23)

“Nothing.” She grabbed her coat from the back of the couch, pulled it on, then reached for her bag. Slinging it over her shoulder, she picked up her purse and moved around the couch.

Unease rolled through his gut as she slid on her impractical pumps. An unease that caught him off-balance. “Something’s happened.” He stepped in her path so she couldn’t reach the door. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“You don’t want to hear about it.”

Suddenly, he did. “Tell me.”

Sighing, she looked up at him. And when their eyes met he saw that she wasn’t just shocked from her phone call or hurt from their earlier conversation, she was mad. Spitting mad, judging from the fire brewing in her deep-green eyes.

“A two-year-old boy was abducted from his backyard early yesterday evening in North Portland. The babysitter didn’t notice he was missing until close to eight p.m. An Amber Alert was issued, but the police found no sign of him until this morning. Cops discovered an abandoned blue Ford Focus on the shoulder of Highway 26, about ten miles from Banks. Looks like it had engine trouble. The boy was in the backseat alone.” She stepped around him and pulled the door open.

Cool air swept over Alec’s spine as he stood in the center of the room, his heart beating fast, his skin tingling not from the sudden drop in temperature but from a prickly heat that swept all over his body. An uncomfortable heat he didn’t like. He turned after her. “Raegan, was he—”

She stopped on the snowy porch. “He’s alive. Just scared. Sorry I bothered you last night. It won’t happen again.”

She tugged the door closed with a snap and rushed down the steps. Heart pounding hard, Alec stared after her through the rectangular windows in the top of the door, unsure what to do, what to say, what to think for that matter.

Another missing kid. Gone without a trace. Almost the same age as Emma.

Was it a coincidence? It had to be a coincidence. But no matter how hard he tried to convince himself of that fact, he couldn’t quite believe it.

Raegan’s voice echoed in his head. “What happened to the man I fell in love with? The one who would do anything to help another person?”

His mind stumbled back over the papers he’d scanned this morning. All those missing kids. Too many missing kids. The heat searing his skin intensified, and his pulse turned to a whir in his ears.

He didn’t believe Emma was still alive. He knew she was dead. Knew John Gilbert had killed her, even if he could never prove it. But the kids who’d shown up in the last two days weren’t dead. They were alive. They had parents somewhere who were probably as desperate to find them as Raegan was to find Emma. And if they were somehow connected to the other missing cases in Raegan’s bag—and that was still a big if at this point—someone needed to figure out how. The police weren’t doing it. The FBI so far hadn’t been able to find a link. He and Raegan were both journalists. Their whole lives were spent investigating things others gave up on.

Make direct amends with the people you have harmed . . .

The ninth step in his recovery program echoed in his head. He still hadn’t made amends with Raegan. He’d wanted to this morning, then he’d found those papers. Something was always stopping him. Time, distance, work. Excuses. The heat in his skin turned to a tingle he couldn’t ignore. If he didn’t make things right with her now, he might never have the chance again. If he let her walk away this time, something inside told him he’d regret it for the rest of his life.

His gaze drifted down the road to her car already out of the ditch and parked on the shoulder. The temperature had warmed up enough so the ice was beginning to thaw. He focused on Raegan standing next to her car, writing a check for the tow-truck driver.

Urgency sent him into the kitchen. He shoved his feet into his boots and pushed the back door open. Moving quickly around the side of the house, his boots crunching on the snow, he headed down the drive. Out on the road, Raegan’s engine started, and exhaust spilled out of her tailpipe. Alec pushed his legs into a jog and reached her just as she pulled out onto the road.

He rushed in front of her car. Her Audi jerked to a stop, and she stared through the windshield as if he’d lost his mind.

The driver’s side door swung open. “What the hell are you doing?” She stepped one foot out of the car, her hand on the top of the door, her other hand still on the wheel. “Get out of my way.”

He held up both hands. “Just wait.”

“Wait for what? You already said everything there was to say.”

“No. I didn’t.”

Her features tightened with an anger he didn’t miss. “Just get out of my way, Alec.”

She climbed back into the car, slammed the door. Panic spread through his chest. A panic he couldn’t contain. He moved to the driver’s side door and stood close—too close for her to pull away without running over his feet—and knocked on the glass.

Her jaw clenched down hard as she lowered the window halfway. “What?”

“Just . . . wait. Okay?” He floundered for the right words. Now that he was out here, he wasn’t sure what he wanted to say.

“I don’t have all day.” She glanced at the clock on her dashboard. “I have to be back in Portland for work.”

It was barely six a.m. She didn’t have to be at work this early. She just wanted to get away from him. And he couldn’t blame her for that. Not after the things he’d said to her in his house.