Debra Webb - Missing

“Do as he says!” Lennox squeaked around the pressure on his throat.

Smart man. “You,” Foley said to the underling who’d followed Lennox into the warehouse, “call 911 and give our location. Then give me my cell.”

Weapons clattered to the floor as the two thugs who’d tortured Foley raised their hands in surrender. “You got what you want,” the one who’d brandished the paddles said. “You don’t need us.” The two started backing away, most likely toward an exit somewhere beyond the scope of the single bare bulb’s illumination.

“You’re right.” Foley studied the two men. “But you’re walking away from your best chance at cutting a deal,” he warned. “Your prints are all over the place.” He nodded to the tools of the torture trade. “Chances are the police will find you eventually.”

Paddle punk’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of deal?”

Now that was loyalty. “I’m sure the DA will be very interested in any details the two of you can give regarding his—” he tightened his hold on Lennox “—activities. Your cooperation could earn you a very sweet deal.”

Lennox attempted to blubber his own warning. Foley clamped his arm tighter around the bastard’s throat and shot a look at the man who’d trailed in here after him like a puppy. “Make the call,” Foley repeated.

While the assistant in the expensive suit entered the necessary digits, the two thugs dropped to their knees then went face down on the concrete floor.

“You might think you’ve won,” Lennox screeched, “but you and your employer will suffer the consequences.”

“Maybe.” Foley nodded to the guy who’d made the 911 call. “Bring my cell to me,” he ordered a second time, “then join your pals on the floor.”

The younger man glanced at the filthy floor then swallowed hard.

“Now,” Foley prompted.

The man inched close enough to give Foley the phone, then side-stepped in those same small increments back toward his partners in crime. It was almost worth the torture Foley had endured to watch that silk suit kiss the dirt and, during the short minutes before the cops arrived, to listen to Lennox’s offers of excessive amounts of cash for his freedom.

But Foley had one thing on his mind. Her. She’d called. Unbelievable. He hadn’t seen her, hadn’t heard her voice in three years.

I need your help.

Worry throbbed in his skull, flexed in his jaw.

She wouldn’t call him…unless it truly was a matter of life and death.

Fear trickled into his veins.

He had to get to her.

When the cops arrived, Foley gave one of the officers his business card and walked away. He ignored the warning that he wasn’t supposed to leave until the detective in charge of the case arrived.

There wasn’t a force on earth that could prevent him from going.

The cell in his pocket sang its annoying tune.

Foley withdrew it, checked the display in case it was her calling again.

It wasn’t. It was his employer.

Not at all surprised his employer already knew Lennox was down—he seemed hotwired into everywhere with everyone—Foley hit the answer button even as he quickened his pace. “Foley.”

“Outstanding job,” the voice on the other end praised. “I knew you were the right man for this one. File your final report and relax. I’ll contact the office with your next assignment.”

What kind of man could position a player to bring down a man like Lennox? A god in the murky and political world of government contractors.

“Who are you?” Foley had been hired as an Equalizer more than five months ago. He’d heard this voice a dozen times, but he had no idea who the guy was or even what he looked like. Foley and the other two Equalizers currently on staff had done their research, gone to all sorts of lengths to find that answer.

And there was nothing. It was as if the man behind the voice didn’t exist.

“One day you’ll know,” the voice promised. “For now, your payment will be deposited into your bank account today.”

The connection severed.

Foley stalled, stared at the phone a moment. One day he would know? What did that mean? Then he shook off the questions and broke into a sprint.

She needed him.

He shouldn’t care.

Stepping back into her life would be a mistake…for both of them.

But he couldn’t ignore the call.

Not even if he tried.

Bay Minette, Alabama

Friday, May 28th, 9:15 a.m.

Calling him had been a last resort.

Melissa Shepherd hugged her arms around her middle and stared through the window over the kitchen sink at the drizzling rain. She was desperate.

Or crazy.

She shuddered. Jonathan Foley had disappeared from her life three years ago. The ache, though dull, still swelled deep inside her whenever he came to mind. She shouldn’t have called him. Bay Minette’s entire police force, aided by numerous volunteers from surrounding towns and counties, hadn’t been able to find her niece, so why in the world would she believe he could?

Misery washed over Melissa. Polly had been missing for five days. Five endless days and nights.

Melissa’s brother was scheduled to ship back to Afghanistan on Tuesday, the day after Memorial Day. She shook her head. How could he leave with his three-year-old daughter missing? The military didn’t seem to care.

Closing her eyes, Melissa blew out a heavy breath. That wasn’t fair. It wasn’t that they didn’t care. Her brother, William, was trained in a highly critical MOS—military occupational skill. It was a miracle he’d even gotten this too-short, two-week leave in the first place.

That was the real reason Melissa had called Jonathan. He didn’t like talking about his past career in the military but, from what she’d gathered, during that time he had been connected to extremely high-level people—important people. He could call someone. She was certain of it.

She’d asked him to do that when he’d returned her call in the middle of the night last night. He’d promised to call her back this morning.

So far she hadn’t heard a word.

Melissa opened her eyes and searched the backyard of her childhood home, her heart automatically hoping her gaze would land on sweet little Polly playing there. But the yard was empty. The old rope and wood swing her father had built for her as a child hung empty from the big old pecan tree’s massive branch.

She’d tried. For days Melissa and the rest of the family, along with friends and neighbors, had searched. And nothing. It was as if Polly had vanished into thin air, leaving no trace of the reason for, or the person behind, her disappearance.

Other than the fact that Stevie was missing, too. Melissa shook her head. She couldn’t believe that Stevie would ever harm Polly. He loved her. Stevie Price had suffered immense cruelty and severe trauma as an infant. The physical trauma had resulted in brain damage, leaving him mentally challenged. By the time he was four his self-centered mother had abandoned him. His father had tried to take care of him, but he’d had problems of his own. When Stevie was nineteen his father had died. He’d lived off the kindness of folks in the community ever since. And though he was thirty now, his mind was like a child’s. The children in the community loved Stevie.

Melissa had played with him as a kid.

He wouldn’t do this.

Someone else was responsible for this horror.

Hadn’t the Shepherd family suffered enough tragedy? First her father had been killed by serving his country while she and William were just kids. Melissa was convinced that was the reason William insisted on joining the military in the first place—to somehow feel closer to his father. Then, as if that hadn’t been a kick in the teeth, their mother had died four years ago. Melissa hadn’t been anywhere near ready to lose her mother. But Polly had come along and she’d brought new light to that dark, empty place.