Elizabeth Heiter - Vanished

Still, after Kyle had helped her face down a serial killer, she’d shocked them both by acting on their attraction. She’d thought they would sort out what it all meant while she was on medical leave, but he’d been called out of town three weeks ago.

And now that her immediate emotional vulnerability from that case had faded, and the most important investigation of her career had surfaced, she couldn’t make any mistakes. Not even for Kyle.

As she shuffled her feet, Kyle’s expression got serious. “Greg called. He told me you were on your way.”

Unspoken was that Greg had asked Kyle to watch out for her, but Evelyn heard it in Kyle’s voice.

He stepped closer, seeing far too much as he studied her. “I know you’re working on your friend’s case, Evelyn. If you need anything, I’m here for you.”

She nodded silently, unable to meet his gaze, unable to talk about it yet.

He must have sensed that, because he told her, “I’ve got the boxes. Go check in and I’ll carry them up for you.”

Letting Kyle anywhere near her room? Bad idea. Her mind might’ve been made up, but her hormones didn’t seem to have gotten the message. “You don’t need to do that.”

Amusement sparkled in his eyes, as if he could guess exactly what she was thinking. “Sure I do.”

Instead of wasting time arguing, she checked in and let him follow her up to her room. After he’d set the boxes inside, she shooed him out by telling him she had to be back at the station in three hours with a profile.

And when the door closed behind him, she breathed a nervous sigh of relief. She’d worry about Kyle later. Right now, she had to figure out if Cassie’s abductor really was back, or if Rose Bay had a copycat.

* * *

Turkey vultures soared overhead in wobbly circles, their wings spread in a wide V. They were scavenging, and Kyle knew what that meant. They’d found a fresh carcass.

Kyle looked at the sky, out in the distance, over the high grass that led to the marsh. In his line of work, he’d seen way too much of what one human being could do to another. But the kids always hit him the hardest.

Knowing how important the case in Rose Bay was to Evelyn made it even worse. He hadn’t been able to get her out of his head since he’d seen her at the hotel. How the hell was she profiling this?

He prayed she’d get the answers she’d been searching for all these years, but even if she did, they were unlikely to be good. And there wasn’t much he could do besides join the search for the girl who’d gone missing yesterday.

Behind him, police officers and civilian volunteers from the search parties were heading in the opposite direction, toward the overgrown field beside the cemetery. Overhead, a helicopter buzzed, on its fifth hour of an aerial search.

Officially, despite his training, Kyle wasn’t supposed to be involved at all. He wasn’t here for this case. But his current mission only claimed his nighttime hours, so he and his Bureau partner, Gabe Fontaine, had volunteered with the civilian search parties looking for Brittany Douglas this morning.

Gabe wasn’t aware of Evelyn’s connection to the case, but Kyle didn’t need to tell him about it for Gabe to want to help. In HRT, they were often a last resort—an overwhelming tactical solution when all else failed—so they’d seen a lot of screwed-up situations. But the ones where kids were in danger tended to piss off the guys the most. The rest of his team would probably take a shift later in the afternoon.

When he and Gabe had arrived, he’d pulled aside Noreen Abbott, one of the administrative assistants from the Rose Bay PD who was coordinating the search parties. He’d quietly told her their full names and shown her their badges, knowing they’d be checked out otherwise. All volunteers were, because sometimes the perpetrator joined the searches. He didn’t want anyone wasting time doing background checks on him and Gabe.

Exhaustion weighed down his steps. He’d managed a three-hour nap after his team came in from their mission around 8:00 a.m. But he and Gabe had vowed to help as soon as they were marginally functional. Sleep was overrated, anyway.

Except that now, as the turkey vultures narrowed in on something they wanted down below, sleep sounded like a damn fine idea.

“Shit,” Gabe muttered next to him. He swiped a hand over his forehead and Kyle knew it wasn’t the ninety-degree heat, but fear of what they might find that was making his normally unflappable teammate sweat.

“Not a good sign, turkey vultures,” a man said.

Kyle turned around, surprised someone had come up behind them without him or Gabe noticing.

And the man was big, considering his stealth. He wasn’t tall—he was actually a solid four inches shorter than Kyle’s six feet. But he was wide. And none of his girth was fat. He appeared to be in his sixties, although Kyle’s gut said he was younger, and the deep lines on his face were from hard living.

Kyle held out his hand. “I’m Kyle. This is my friend Gabe. We’re here on a company trip, so we figured we’d help with the search.”

The man’s dark gray eyes narrowed in his craggy face, then he put his hand in Kyle’s and shook forcefully, before pulling his hand free. “Frank Abbott.”

Gabe gestured back toward the sign-up table for the search parties. “Are you related to the girl handling the sign-in?”

“My niece,” Frank replied. “She works at the station. And I didn’t have any jobs today I couldn’t reschedule, so here I am.” He heaved out a heavy sigh. “This again.”

“You lived here during the original abductions?” Gabe asked.

“I’ve lived here all my life. Can’t believe this shit has started up again.” He shook his head, suddenly looking tired, and headed toward the marsh, glancing back to call, “You want to check this out with me?”

Hell, no. Instead of saying it, Kyle nodded tightly and fell into step beside Frank. The older man walked fast, with purpose, his jaw set in a grim line.

The sounds of the search party faded as they walked, replaced by the strange clapping sounds someone had told him were made by Clapper Rail birds. It would’ve been peaceful had the circumstances been different.

Beside him, Gabe and Frank were silent, too. Gabe had the same training he did, the same ability to force back fear and get the job done, but a civilian wouldn’t. To Frank’s credit, he didn’t slow as the low, nasal whine of the vultures reached their ears.

Kyle tried to prepare himself as they continued walking, as the marsh grasses got taller and thicker, as his feet began to get stuck in the muddy ground.

“Watch your step,” Frank warned, trudging ahead without looking back. “The marsh is low now, but to get to the vultures, we have to go in.”

“If there’s a body out here, wouldn’t the alligators have gone after it by now?” Gabe spoke up, shoving back blond hair in need of a cut.

Frank snorted and kept going. “No gators. Not in these marshes. Down the coast, maybe. But not here. Come on.”

Kyle followed, his shoes sinking deeper until it was difficult to pull them free. The marsh grasses crept up around his knees as they got closer to the water. High enough to hide a body. And definitely deserted enough. The sound of the other searchers had become nothing more than a low murmur.

Kyle knew that as soon as Evelyn gave her profile, she’d be out there among them, just like she’d probably insisted on doing eighteen years ago. It was easy to imagine her as a young girl. Her best friend torn from her life, abducted only hours after Evelyn had seen her.

Even at twelve years old, Evelyn wouldn’t have sat home hoping everything would turn out okay. He could picture her, green eyes too big for her face, long hair in pigtails, wearing the determined look that seemed to be her default expression. There was no way she would’ve tolerated being left behind.