Barb Han - Texas Prey

She’d need more than a piece of material to block out her thoughts. Time was the enemy. A killer was after her. Thoughts of being locked in that shed brought the terrifying sensation of her abduction back. And everything that had happened after...

When she’d returned, the town had been in chaos. Volunteers were assigned to a search team. Hundreds of people fanned out over the fields surrounding Mason Ridge Lake. Others opened car trunks and abandoned structures. People carried guns and set up neighborhood patrols. Even the wealthiest man, Mr. Alcorn, had thrown considerable resources into the effort.

Later, searchers joined hands as they walked in a line through the fields near Mason High School.

Two FBI agents had taken up residence in the Hughes’s front room. A half dozen crop dusters and military planes had circled the sky, searching. The 4-H club had sent riders out on horseback.

Local law enforcement had encouraged people to keep their porch lights on at night and be ready to report any activity that might be suspicious. The Texas State Police had set up a half dozen roadblocks. Railroad cars, motel rooms and the bus station were searched—as was every house in the city.

Shane’s comb had been shipped off to the FBI lab near Washington for analysis. As had his favorite toys—trucks, LEGO and his handheld game system.

Rebecca had suddenly found herself under twenty-four-hour watch. Dr. Walsh, her pediatrician, had checked her for signs of sexual assault.

When a week of fruitless searching had passed, authorities had alerted residents to look out for scavengers, believing that Shane’s body might have been tossed into a field or nearby farm. They’d been told to keep an eye out for large gatherings of buzzards and crows and were advised not to touch a body if one was found.

It wasn’t long after that the FBI ran out of steam. Reporters had been a different story. They’d followed her parents for months, relentless.

Normally, Rebecca forced those thoughts out of her mind, unable to think about them. Having Brody in the next room brought way more comfort than it should. She told herself no one would care about her more than him, and that’s why his presence gave her such a sense of well-being. Nothing about her current situation should cause her to let her guard down. The last time she’d gone against her better judgment, she’d ended up in a shed out in the woods. And her brother...

She couldn’t even go there. Couldn’t sleep, either. She tossed the covers and pushed off the mattress. She threw on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, pulled her still-damp hair into a ponytail and met Brody in the living room.

He glanced up from the laptop, a look of determination creasing his forehead, and offered a quick smile. “Can’t sleep?”

“No. This time of year is always...challenging. So, dealing with all this other stuff has my system out of whack.” She threw her arms up, exasperated.

Brody studied her. His clear blue eyes seemed to see right through her. “I’ve said it before, but we will figure this out. I already reached out to Ryan and he’s following up with the others, trying to see if we can figure out a good time for everyone to meet.” He patted a spot on the sofa right next to him. He looked good. Damn good. He’d filled out his six-foot-two frame nicely. He was all muscle and strength and athletic grace. His blond hair was cut tight with curls at the collar. He wore a simple shirt and jeans.

Rebecca took a seat next to him, ignoring how her stomach free-fell the minute she got close. “Have you heard anything from your contact?”

“Yes. She emailed as much as she could. The suspect list is long.” He had a pen and notepad out, scribbling notes as he flipped through a file on-screen. “I’d also like to take a look at your social-media account.”

“Sure.” She waited for him to click on the icon before giving him the password. “Nice pen.”

He glanced at it and nodded. “A present from the old man.”

“How is your father?”

“He’s getting older, but he’d never admit it.” Brody half smiled, still maintaining focus. “I’ve been thinking of moving him onto the ranch. Hate the thought of him being alone. But he’s stubborn.”

“Sounds like someone else I know.” She laughed. “I doubt he’ll give up his own place without a fight. He’s a good man. I always liked him.”

Brody nodded, but his expression turned serious again as he studied the screen.

“Find anything useful?”

“Hold on.” He clicked through her chat messages, studying the accompanying faces. He stopped at one, considered it for a long moment and then clicked on the image, which opened the guy’s home page. “There’s something about this one. Randy Harper.”

“If Shane was still...alive, I’d imagine him to look just like this. I mean, he and I look related, don’t we?” Her cell, on the coffee table, buzzed. She picked it up and checked the screen. It was her father. She hit Ignore and tucked it half under her leg.

Brody had seen who the caller was. She steadied herself for the inevitable questions about why she was refusing to take her father’s calls. The cell vibrated under her leg, indicating he’d left a voice mail. She didn’t want to get into it with Brody right now, didn’t want to think about her father’s new life while she still hunted down what had truly happened to his old one.

She glanced up, catching Brody’s stare. He didn’t immediately speak. Then he said, “The others resemble you, too, but there’s something special about Randy.”

“I had the same feeling.”

“How long ago did you find him?” he asked.

“Six months or so.”

“He doesn’t live far.”

“Nope. But he didn’t respond to my message. I’ve been doubling my efforts with him and a few others lately.”

“The city of Brighton is located two counties east of here. I used to know a girl who lived out there while we were in high school...” His voice trailed off at the end, as if he suddenly realized who he was talking to.

Sure, a twinge of jealousy nipped at her. More than that, if she was being totally honest. But she had no right to own the feeling. Shoving it aside, she smiled. It was weak, at best, but Brody took the peace offering, returning the gesture.

He scrolled down the page. “He hasn’t posted anything in months. He either hasn’t been online or he’s abandoned his page altogether.”

“We can rule him out as a phony, then. He can’t be a crackpot trying to rattle me if he doesn’t even realize I’ve tried to contact him. Plus, he’s too old to be Shane. Look at the birthdate.”

“You’re probably right, but if it was him, then he might not really know when he was born. I’ve read about cases of abducted kids being told lies about when and where they were born to make it more difficult for them to dig around in the past.”

“Wouldn’t he need an actual birth certificate to enroll in school? My stepmother had to produce that, shot records, and a current electric bill for my half brothers,” Rebecca said. She didn’t want to feel the spark of hope that Shane might actually still be alive. She wanted her brother to be somewhere safe—had dreamed it, hoped it and prayed it. But she didn’t want to create false expectations based on a social-media page.

“A birth certificate can be made. For a price. The rest would fall into place from there. Maybe we can find some of Randy’s friends. Dig around a little in his background. Pay him a visit.” Brody scribbled down a few names. “I don’t want to invite them into your social network, so we’ll have to reach out another way.”

He scanned through photo after photo on the home pages of the people connected to Randy. A good fifteen minutes had passed when Brody made a satisfied grunt. “Look here. At this pic. And this one. Then, this one. See what’s in the background?” He displayed the pictures in a larger window to view one at a time. Three friends had tagged Randy at a local restaurant called Mervin’s Eats.