Debra Webb - Little Girl Lost

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Cover

Title Page Little Girl Lost Debra Webb www.millsandboon.co.uk

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Copyright

Endpages

Wallace Institute, Huntsville, Alabama

May 3, 2:38 p.m .

Jenna Thompson stared at the clock on the wall. Thirty-eight minutes she had waited. Every second thickened with mounting uncertainty. And the need for a cigarette. Didn’t matter that she hadn’t smoked in nearly two months. The craving was a living, breathing demand swelling inside her.

She got up, hiked the strap of her purse higher on her shoulder. Sitting in that infinitely uncomfortable plastic chair a minute longer was out of the question. Standing here waiting wasn’t doable either, so she paced the sterile lobby, her steps stiff with the rising tension.

What was going on here? This wasn’t the sort of place where one expected to have to wait. The institute reeked of wealth and power. Only a dozen students were in residence; each one hand-chosen by a panel of brilliant forward-thinkers.

Fury burned in her brain and in her belly. Don’t think about it, Jen. Focus on the task at hand . She couldn’t screw up.

She’d had an appointment at two o’clock for the final test that stood between her and the first step of her plan. Had the administrator figured out the truth?

Had Jenna so carefully laid the foundation for this deception only to get caught now? At this pivotal moment?

Or had something happened here…to one of the students?

Fear twisted more tightly inside her, followed by a shudder that shook her whole body. Nothing had happened. She was freaking out for no reason. Certainly her appointment would have been cancelled if anything had occurred.

There was always the chance that waiting was another test.

Truth was, this place gave her the creeps. On this floor there was no phone in the small waiting area. No receptionist. No windows. Just white walls and unpleasant chairs standing in formation on the white tile floors. Even the two doors didn’t offer a chance at escape. One opened to a small corridor, where an elevator and a stairwell provided access up to the next floor or down to the main lobby and the institute’s check-in station. The other door with its secured access panel stood between her and where she wanted to go.

But what if she was wrong? What if she’d made another mistake? More of that fear started to quake inside her.

What had she been thinking starting this thing? If she was wrong again…if she went a little over the edge, she’d end up back in that private sanitarium, where they had filled her veins with medications and forced her to forget for two solid weeks. A place not unlike this one, perhaps.

She could never forget for long.

Second thoughts raced around and around, plowing into her reflections, stirring up her fears, threatening to crash her composure. Mistake or not, there was no going back now. It was too late. She paused in her pacing, closed her eyes and massaged her aching neck. Hours and hours of poring over newspapers and the internet these past few weeks had given her permanent whiplash.

Seven years was a long time. According to those around her she had lived every single one of those years in the deepest depths of denial. Her inability to face the truth had stolen her life and devastated anyone she cared about—especially him . But she couldn’t allow herself to be distracted, even if her plan—this whole thing—was far-fetched.

If the authorities, from local law enforcement all the way up to the Federal Bureau of Investigation and Homeland Security, hadn’t been able to find the truth, how the hell did she think she could?

Maybe her mother’s brain wasn’t the only one rotted by alcohol. Jenna had given that up, too…just a month ago, but who was counting? It was nothing but time, and according to everyone else she’d wasted plenty already. Besides, she couldn’t possibly have given up smoking and drinking simultaneously. She regretted her detour into those particular bad habits but, at the time, the diversions had seemed necessary. Giving herself grace, she had dredged up the fortitude to quit one and then the other just as she’d managed to never give up her quest. That was more than she could say for the people who supposedly cared about her.

The idea that he had stopped believing hurt more than all the others who’d done the same put together.

She would show all of them. Refusing to give up had paid off. A sense of giddiness flitted along every nerve ending. The truth was close…so very close. She could feel it. This time, she wasn’t wrong.

“Miss Thomas.”

At first Jenna didn’t acknowledge the greeting. It still took her by surprise when anyone referred to her by that name. Jane Thomas. For this, she was Jane Thomas. A whole new identity was required. Shoring up her determination, she turned to find the facility’s administrator waiting, the door she needed to get past open, inviting her to the other side…to her. Jenna’s heart fluttered and her stomach did one of those crazy flip-flops.

She was here. This time was different from all the other failed attempts.

Jenna produced a smile that was as counterfeit as the story she’d given the man who was now gifting her with the opportunity for which she had waited six long weeks. “I was beginning to think I’d gotten the time wrong, Dr. Hancock.”

Inside, she cringed at the lame response. God, she was tired. And desperate for the truth and for things forbidden to her. Like booze and smokes and him—the man she’d once trusted and loved with all her heart. The same one who’d turned his back on her and this search.

“We had an unexpected staff meeting. I apologize for the delay, Miss Thomas. Follow me, please.”

“Thank you.” A new kind of anticipation fired through her. The moment she had waited for was at hand. But what if the unexpected staff meeting was about her? What if they were on to her and…?

Stop, Jenna. Just stop .

A smile that hurt her heart tugged at her lips. She sounded like him. Some tiny part of her wondered where he was today. She hadn’t seen or spoken to him in nearly a year. Not since the last time.

Focus, Jenna. You have to focus .

Settling her attention on the man in front of her, she considered what she had learned about him and this secretive institute. Dr. Stuart Hancock was well north of retirement age and ruled this facility as if it were his kingdom and the residents his subjects. There was nothing about his frame or face that could be called powerful or distinguished. He looked like someone’s chubby uncle or older brother. A round, jolly sort of fellow who dressed up like Santa Claus each year to entertain the kiddies.