Shirlee McCoy - Missing Persons

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To Emma Grace, daughter and ally in our house

filled with men—I love you just because you’re you.

And to Jessica Alvarez, editor extraordinaire, who

helped make sense of this wonderful continuity.

Thanks!

Special thanks and acknowledgment are given to

Shirlee McCoy for her contribution to the

REUNION REVELATIONS miniseries.

PROLOGUE

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

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

EPILOGUE

She wasn’t angry. She wasn’t even mildly annoyed.

And Lauren Owens figured if she told herself that enough times she just might believe it.

Okay. Maybe angry wasn’t the right word. Maybe irritated was a better fit. Perturbed. Frustrated.

She only had herself to blame. She’d been such a pushover. Why hadn’t she refused when Steff asked her to participate in the Magnolia College fund-raiser dinner and auction?

Because she hadn’t wanted to disappoint her friend, that’s why. Instead, she’d managed to add two very unwanted complications to her already complicated life.

Seth.

His son.

Her hands tightened on the steering wheel of her Mustang convertible, the blackness of the night beyond the car’s headlights reflecting her dark mood.

Up ahead, her sister Deandra’s house beckoned, a light shining in an upstairs window spilling out into the darkness. Dee was probably waiting for a rehash of the evening’s events. Unfortunately, that would have to wait. Lauren wasn’t in the mood to talk.

She pulled around to the back of the house, following the driveway to the small converted carriage house at the edge of the property. Trees loomed over it, dark shadows against the night sky, hulking figures that looked like giant men waiting for the unwary to step beneath their grasping arms. Lauren shivered, her gaze riveted to the front of the carriage house. She’d left the light above the front door on, but it was out now, the large bushes on either side casting deep gray shadows over what should have been a well-lit area.

A warning raced along her spine and lodged at the base of her skull, but she ignored it. Bad things didn’t happen in small-town Georgia.

Didn’t they?

The question whispered through her mind as she stepped out of the Mustang and started toward the door. A woman had died in Magnolia Falls, her body hidden for ten years and just recently found during Magnolia College’s library renovations. That was proof enough that bad things did indeed happen in small towns. But that was a long time ago and right here, right now a burned-out lightbulb was more likely the cause of the darkened stoop than some faceless, nameless murderer.

Right?

A breeze brushed against her hair as she moved toward the carriage house, ghostly fingers that trailed along her skin and made her shiver. She could almost imagine someone watching from the darkened windows or shadowy corners. Almost hear the raspy breath of the watcher.

“Stop it!” She hissed the words, refusing to allow the timid mousy creature she’d once been to take hold. Ten years living alone, ten years building her reputation as a premier Savannah chef, ten years learning who she was and where she belonged had made her strong. Independent. A woman who didn’t panic, didn’t overreact, and did not allow her imagination to get the better of her.

She shoved open the carriage house door, flicked on the living room light and froze. Shredded fabric. White stuffing pulled from once-pristine sofa and chairs. Books strewn across paint-splattered hardwood floor. Framed photos trampled and torn. To the left, the bathroom door yawned open, light spilling across the floor and reflecting off a slick, wet substance that might have been shampoo, lotion. Blood. To the right, the lone bedroom door was closed. She’d left it open. She was sure of it.

A sound drifted into the silence. The pad of feet on carpet. The brush of a hand against the wall. Lauren didn’t wait to hear more. She stumbled backward, away from the subtle sound and from the chaos. Then turned and ran toward Dee’s house and safety.

Three days earlier

Fund-raiser Dinner and Auction, Mossy Oak Inn

Late summer painted the sky in shades of gold and purple, the setting sun sliding toward the horizon in a final blaze of light as Lauren eased out of her sister’s car and smoothed her hand over the simple lines of her black cocktail dress. “Ready or not, here we go.”

“I’m definitely ready, but you look like you’re going to chicken out.” Dee’s words held a hint of humor, but her gaze was somber as she rounded the car and put a hand on Lauren’s arm.

“Chicken out of what? It’s just a dinner.”

“And an auction.”

“Which I said I’d participate in.”

“And which we both know you regretted doing two seconds after the fact.”

It was true and Lauren didn’t bother denying it. Her older sister knew her too well to be fooled by anything she might say. “It’s not that I don’t want to help raise funds for Magnolia College. It’s just that this stuff isn’t my thing. I’d rather not have all the attention.”

“You’d rather let other people take center stage while you hide in a back room somewhere.” Dee smiled, her perfectly applied makeup showcasing flawless skin and vivid blue eyes—the only feature the two sisters had in common. Pretty and popular in high school and college, Dee had never seemed to mind being in the spotlight. Lauren always had.

“There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“No, but this will be good for you and good for your business. Just think of all the clients you’ll gain.”

“I don’t need any more clients. I’m busy enough.” Her personal chef business had taken off in the past year, word of mouth expanding her clientele enough that she was considering hiring another chef.

“Then skip out. I can tell Steff you’re not feeling well. You can go back to my place and chill. Come back and pick me up when the fund-raiser is over.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

“I know you won’t do it, which is why there’s no sense standing around here talking about it any longer.” Dee tightened her hold on Lauren’s arm and started toward the door of Mossy Oak Inn.

Lauren wanted to pull back, take a minute to study the people moving in groups toward the entrance. She wanted to search their faces, looking for the one person she didn’t want to see. If he wasn’t there, she’d be fine. If he was…

She’d still be fine.