First Girl Gone(2)

When he tried to shove her into the backseat of a sedan, she lurched. Clawed for his eyes, for his masked face.

Missed.

He dropped her. The back of her skull thumped down on the asphalt.

Things got far away again. Distant. Quiet. That black circle around the edge of things cinched tighter.

“Enough already,” he hissed between his teeth.

He knelt over her. Picked her head up and slammed it down again. A solid connection of skull and concrete that shot bolts of lightning through her vision.

The last circle of light retreated. The darkness became total.





Chapter One





Misty sobbed in the seat across from Charlotte Winters’ desk, tears tinted with mascara gathering along her jaw.

“Jesus H,” Allie said. “The waterworks came on like she flipped a switch.”

The observation was true enough, Charlie thought, even if it was phrased in Allie’s typically rude fashion. The girl never knew when to keep quiet.

Misty hadn’t managed a word yet. She’d just walked into Charlie’s office, sat down, and started bawling.

Now her face wrinkled up like a Halloween mask, and violent sobs shook her from the center of her torso out. The little pot belly quaked, the shoulders and legs seeming to throb a beat later.

Charlie was so taken aback by the abrupt blubbering that she froze. Lips parted. Watching Misty cry. Not sure what to say or do.

She stared at a strand of clear snot collecting in the center of Misty’s top lip, threatening to rush down into her mouth.

“Get her a Kleenex before I puke, for God’s sake,” Allie said.

Charlie nudged the box of tissues closer to Misty, thanking the universe for the millionth time that no one could hear Allie’s running commentary.

She hadn’t seen Misty Dawkins since high school graduation. They’d been friends back then. Maybe not close, but the kind of friend you paired up with in biology lab and ate lunch with in the cafeteria.

Charlie studied her. Misty looked mostly the same, with her small elfin chin, freckled nose, and kind brown eyes. She spotted a few strands of gray here and there, but Misty’s dishwater-blonde hair hid it well. None of these observations told her why her old friend was in her office or why she was crying. She suspected the two were related.

“Just breathe,” Charlie said, her voice finding that soothing tone two notches louder than a whisper. “Take your time, and tell me what you need.”

Misty nodded, her shoulders rising and falling with a deep breath.

A crying woman wasn’t what Charlie had expected when she arrived at A1 Investigations this morning. Her stomach grumbled, and she couldn’t help but think longingly of the bagel going cold in the other room.

“It’s probably the standard,” Allie said. “Missing cat or cheating husband. No offense, but my money is on the cat.”

Misty smeared a wadded tissue across her cheeks, which had now gone red and splotchy beneath the smudge of makeup.

“I’m sorry, Charlie. I guess I didn’t expect to see you here. I was all prepared to say my piece, and then I came in here to find you instead of Frank, and it just… How long have you been back in town?”

“A few months,” Charlie said, trying to find a comfortable position in her chair.

Misty’s eyes fixed on a photograph on the wall. A snapshot of Charlie, age eight, her twiggy arm slung around the shoulder of her twin sister. The water of Lake St. Clair sparkled in the background, dotted with boats. Misty got the same sad look on her face people always got when they looked at old photos of Charlie’s sister.

“I bet your family is glad to have you back home.”

“Yeah.” Charlie’s chair creaked like an ancient ship as she leaned back. Eager to avoid any further questions about her family, she flipped the question back at Misty. “What about your family? How’s Kenny?”

The furrow between Misty’s eyebrows pretty much answered that question. Charlie should have known better, really. Kenny Barnes, the guy who’d knocked Misty up while they were still in high school, had always been kind of a loser.

“Oh, he left way back, when Kara was five. Got together with a gal down in Columbus. They have a four-year-old now. He sends money when he can. Child support, you know. Tries to call Kara on her birthday and at Christmas.”

Charlie noted the phrases Misty had used: “Sends money when he can…” and “Tries to call Kara on her birthday…”

She was the same old Misty, alright. Still too damn nice for her own good and making excuses for people who didn’t deserve it.

“That’s why I’m here, actually,” Misty said, the words coming out strangely high-pitched and tight.

And then she burst into tears again.

“Damn it,” Allie muttered. “I should have known it would be a deadbeat ex.”

Charlie did her best to block out Allie’s voice so she could focus on Misty.

“I don’t know what to do, Charlie. I’m so scared,” Misty wailed.

Tugging another tissue free from the box, Charlie leaned across the desk and handed it to Misty.

“Why don’t you start by telling me exactly what happened,” Charlie said.

“It’s Kara. She’s missing.”

Charlie flinched at the word “missing,” and goosebumps prickled over her forearms. Her own twin sister had gone missing when she was eighteen, and she’d never been found. The jolt of alarm Charlie got when she heard about disappearances was an old tic she’d never been able to shake. But she’d gotten good at covering the reaction, and Misty hadn’t seemed to notice.