Gone In The Night

In a field of violets.

Allie touched a hand to the hollow of her throat. “Chloe.”

“Hope,” Deputy Sutherland corrected. “Dr. Hollister, if you think we need to be searching elsewhere—”

Allie shook her head, got to her feet and pulled out her cell phone. She pointed at the deputy while it rang. “You need to get your team back here, but no one should touch anything. Not a thing, do you understand?” Allie’s hands shook. When the deputy didn’t move, she shot into command mode. “I think we’re standing in a crime scene. I’m a special consultant with the Sacramento PD, Deputy. I also work extensively with the FBI, so believe me when I tell you you’ll want to do as I suggest. Now.”

“Ma’am.” The hostility was expected; clearly he wouldn’t appreciate being told what to do in his own jurisdiction. “What exactly is going on?”

Allie held up her hand to silence him. “Lieutenant Santos? It’s Allie Hollister.”

“Allie?” The shock on the other end of the phone didn’t surprise her, nor did the distinctive sound of rustling sheets and murmured voices. “Hang on. We had a late night with the kids.”

Allie pressed her lips tight and wrapped her free arm around her waist.

“Ma’am?” Deputy Sutherland’s tone strained to the point of snapping. “Would you please tell me what’s going on?”

“Hope didn’t run away,” Allie whispered. She returned her attention to the potted plant, resisting the pull once again to fall solidly into a past she’d been trying to climb out of for two decades.

“Allie?” Lieutenant Santos came back on the line. “This can’t be good news if you’re calling me before seven on a Sunday. What’s going on?”

“You need to get Cole and Jack and get up to—” she recited the Vandermonts’ address, grateful that she could request two detectives who were friends “—as soon as you can. One of my patients, who was staying overnight at a friend’s house, went missing in the last few hours.”

“That’s out of our jurisdiction, Allie. As much as I’d like to help—”

“Hope Kellan is nine years old. She was camping with her three best friends. Now she’s missing.” Allie’s eyes burned. “But this isn’t just about Hope.” She took a deep breath and uttered the words that would turn her nightmare into reality. “It’s about Chloe Evans.”

Chapter 2

Max Kellan missed a lot of things about Florida. Late-night boat parties, fire-emblazoned sunsets, that ocean-tinted smell that wafted along the shoreline after a summer rainstorm. Humidity? That obnoxious gift of nature didn’t come close to making his list, not when it meant his morning jog required a before-sunrise start time. Too bad that in the weeks since he’d moved to the upscale suburb of Sacramento, California, he’d been unable to reprogram his brain to allow for mid-to late-morning runs.

His feet pounded in familiar 7:00 a.m. rhythm as he focused on his breathing, felt the cool morning air wicking away the sweat building on his face and arms. His lungs burned in that familiar five-mile, pressing-himself-too-far kind of way.

Pushing his limits, embracing the aches and pains, forcing himself to feel reminded him he was still alive.

Having spent most of his thirty-three years on the strict, self-imposed routine that acted partly as life-preserver, Max didn’t feel inclined to abandon the regime. Yep. He’d had more than enough change to even think about ditching his schedule. Working out cleared his head, helped keep it clear. It had been a rotten six months. Max ducked his head in a useless effort of avoiding the wave of depression that threatened him. Near as he could tell, the only good thing to come out of the last year was his brother’s suggestion he make a fresh start of things.

Leave it to Joe to tell him the truth: that he’d wallowed too long. It was time to get up off the mat and fight back. But what to fight for? That was the question. What did an ex-firefighter do when he walked away from everything he knew? Come out to California, obviously. Plenty of space for him to live his life, Joe had said. A life on his own terms for a change.

With strings attached, of course.

Max grinned. As if he’d ever call his brilliant, beautiful, willful niece Hope a string. He’d been crazy about her from the day she was born. She was his video-chatting buddy, his email pal; they even competed against each other in that online game about birds destroying pigs. The few weeks during the summer she’d come out to visit him were what he looked forward to most. It didn’t matter how bad a day he’d had—seeing Hope’s face, hearing her voice, put everything in perspective. And now he got to see her every day.

If moving out here made his niece smile again—even a little—what was packing up his shattered life compared to that? The visible change in Hope since her parents’ less-than-amicable separation physically hurt him. His niece needed security, familiarity. With her father’s hectic travel schedule and her mother’s lack of parental interest, Hope needed reminding just how much she was loved.

All the things Max and his brother had growing up. Until they didn’t.

Taking up residence behind a country club had never been in Max’s plans. He was as blue collar as they came. His kid brother had gotten all the brains and earned his status by turning his ideas into a freaking fortune. Who was Max to complain when his new digs came with an amazing, inspiring jogging view?

He rounded the corner, picking up the pace as he headed for the driveway, his body already humming in that way it had when it knew he was nearly done with his daily overexertion. Coffee. Max’s blood pumped in anticipation. He needed coffee, stat.

He gave a cursory glance to the sedan parked on the street in front of one of those dinky wannabe SUVs. As if his appearance had triggered their release, two people climbed out of the sedan and approached him. He stopped jogging, planted his hands on his thighs and bent over, took slow, deep breaths to bring his pulse down to normal. He pushed his too-long hair back when it fell over his eyes. “Can I help you?”

Cops. The blazer one man wore wasn’t the only giveaway, nor was the badge on the waistband of his jeans or the uniformed deputy right on his heels. Despite this guy’s congenial expression and California-boy good looks, Max had spent enough time around the police to identify one from thirty paces.

The deputy behind him, however, appeared barely old enough to shave, with that fresh-faced blue-eyed optimism still shiny and new. Max tilted his head. He’d give it another year, two tops, before he tarnished. He shifted his attention to the woman shuffling about as she climbed out of her car.

She barely reached the detective’s shoulder. Jet-black hair that curved over her ears and brushed over concerned brows, along with the pale pink pants and shirt reminded Max of those flitting-fairy animated movies Hope was so nuts over. Not his type, Max told himself, trying to recall the face—and figure—of the last woman he’d dated. Instead, all his mind could come up with was this smiling pixie of a woman.

“Joe Kellan?” the seasoned cop inquired.

“My brother’s on a business trip.” Max didn’t have as easy a time catching his breath as he usually did. Probably because his pulse was beginning to hammer in an unsteady rhythm. “What’s this about?”

“You’d be Max Kellan, then.” The detective scanned the area as he approached. Between the steady hand on his badge and the serious tone in his voice, Max’s skin prickled.

“That’s what my driver’s license says, Officer.” Grudging respect didn’t mean he didn’t enjoy ribbing the boys in blue. He planted his hands on his hips and let his gaze return to the woman as she joined them. Any thoughts he might have had about aiming a smile at her faded as he caught the uneasy glimmer in her eyes. Wow. Max took a sharp breath. He’d never seen such dark eyes before, eyes that reminded him of the deepest dives he’d taken in the Keys.

“I’m Detective Jack MacTavish. This is Officer Bowman and Dr. Allie Hollister. Do you mind if we go inside?”

Doctor? Max’s smile vanished. “Not until you tell me why you’re here.” Cops and doctors on the doorstep first thing on a Sunday? Alarm bells Max hadn’t heard in months, had hoped he’d never hear again, clanged in his head. “Is Joe in some kind of trouble? Did his plane—”

“As far as we know, your brother is fine,” Detective MacTavish said. “We’ve been unable to get in touch with him or his wife. We’ve also been trying to reach you for the last few hours—”

“Yeah, my cell phone’s charging. It’s insi—” The words he planned to speak vanished from thought. “What is this about? Wait.” He searched his memory, eyes pinned to the woman’s face as she very lightly, almost imperceptibly, flinched. “Dr. Hollister. I know that name. You’re Hope’s shrink.”

“I’m her therapist, yes.” Dr. Hollister’s eyes narrowed in a way that told him she didn’t appreciate the moniker. “Please, Mr. Kellan—”

“Max. It’s Max. Tell me what’s going on.” His heart picked up speed, racing faster than it had at any time during his jog. His entire body went cold.

“Please.” Dr. Hollister took a step toward him. “Let’s go inside so we can talk. It’s about Hope.”

He dug in his pocket for the house key. Once inside, he managed to hold out until they had closed the door behind them. “Tell me.”

He leaned against the wall and stared blankly at the three people in his brother’s foyer. He focused on Dr. Hollister, daring her to blink, to look away. She didn’t blink. Nor did he see anything other than cool detachment in her stoic expression.

“Your niece has been missing for at least four hours. The Vandermonts contacted us when they realized she was gone from their property. We’ve been searching ever since,” Detective MacTavish said. “We still have people searching for her as we speak.”

“How could she have disappeared?” He bent double, bracing his hands on his knees as his stomach rolled. “Are you sure? How can you be sure? The Vandermonts were home when I drove her up there last evening.” Everything had been fine when he’d left. Hope had been so happy and excited, she’d run off without even saying good-bye.

Good-bye.

“Let’s go sit down, Mr. Kellan. Get you something to drink to calm your nerves.”

“I don’t need to sit down.” His spine stiffened against the fear coursing through him. Hope missing? How was that possible? He pushed off the wall, walked to the kitchen and poured himself the coffee he’d been looking forward to for the last mile. Once it was swirling in the mug, all he could do was stare down and feel himself fall...falling...

“What are we looking at? A kidnapping for ransom? A stranger ab—” He dropped his chin to his chest, unable to complete the thought. He needed to find some logic here, something to grab onto like the plans made to combat a nasty out-of-control fire. But where was logic when a child was missing? When there wasn’t anything other than complete and utter panic.

“We’re considering every possibility,” the detective told him, but he found the statement far from reassuring.

“My brother—”

“Mr. Kellan. Max.” Detective MacTavish stood across the counter from him while Dr. Hollister remained just inside the doorway, those eyes of hers scanning the room like a laser beam. “I realize this is difficult, but we need to know if you’ve heard from your niece since you dropped her at the Vandermonts’ yesterday evening.”

“Um, yeah.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “She sent me a text message before she went to sleep. It’s our routine.” Max spun in a circle. Where had he left his phone? “Here.” He pulled it free of the charging station and handed it over. “There’s a picture of her with her friends. I think they were eating s’mores. It’s all over her—” He couldn’t think. Why couldn’t he think? He stared down, transfixed, at the grinning image of the only person who brought him a modicum of joy these days. “I need to call my brother.”

“Please.” Detective MacTavish nodded, but Max could tell the cop was humoring him.

Max dialed, clenching his teeth so tight his head ached. “Voice mail. Typical. Joe, it’s me. Call me back. Now. It’s about Hope. She’s...” He scrubbed his hand across his forehead. Missing? Dead? Gone? His chest hurt from breathing so hard. “Just call me back, man. Please.” He clicked off, let out a sound that might have been a laughing sob. “Can you believe my brother’s invented some of the most advanced technology on the market and half the time he forgets to turn on his cell?” He tossed the phone on the counter, barely noticing when the detective picked it up. He needed to move, to think. To do something, anything.

“You haven’t heard from Hope since she sent you that picture?” the detective asked.

“No. You said you’re considering everything. That means she might have gone off.” Was she out there? Alone? God, he hoped she was alone. But she could be freezing. Hurt. Scared. “I know there’s some pretty thick wilderness around the home. I didn’t think it was anything—”

“Again, we aren’t ruling anything out,” Detective MacTavish said. “We have sheriff’s deputies searching the property around the Vandermont home. We also have officers going door-to-door in case anyone saw anything or anyone suspicious in the area in the last few days. Do you have other contact information for your brother besides his cell number?”

“Yeah.” Max returned to the mug, watched the steam swirl up but still couldn’t bring himself to drink. “Yeah, he wrote it down and stuck it on the message board.” He walked around the detective to the recessed desk, pulled the paper off the corkboard. “He’s been working on a merger with a Japanese company interested in his latest invention, app, something I don’t understand.” Joe with all his big ideas that always paid off. Out to change the world, make it better. For everyone. For Hope.

“Do you know where we can find Gemma?” Dr. Hollister asked.

“She said she was going to a spa until Joe got back.” Because his morning wasn’t going bad enough, now he had to think about Hope’s mother. “Joe wanted her to go with him, thought maybe they could work out some of their issues. She refused. Big knock-down, drag-out fight the night before he left. Nothing violent,” he added when he realized the impression that statement would make. “Joe would never hurt either of them. But things have been difficult between them. As I’m sure she knows.” He glanced at Dr. Hollister, who gave a nod of agreement. What was wrong with the woman? She knew Hope; she’d been treating her. Why did she look as if she didn’t want to be bothered to be here?

“Do you know what spa Mrs. Kellan was going to?” Detective MacTavish asked.

“Honestly, I don’t pay much attention to anything Gemma says.” Max blinked. “And no, before you ask, I haven’t heard anything from her since she took off. She knew she wouldn’t have to worry about Hope with me around.” Guilt walloped him in the gut.

“I’d agree with that assessment,” Dr. Hollister said as she flipped through something on his phone. “Gemma isn’t the most hands-on parent, but if she stayed local, I’d lay odds on the Camellia Day Spa off Fair Oaks Boulevard, Jack.”

“We’ll have one of our officers work on tracking her down,” Detective MacTavish said. “May we have your permission to search your cell phone and the house? Maybe there’s a chance someone picked her up and dropped her off here late last night.”

“Search whatever you want,” Max said. “Hope hasn’t been here. I’d know. I don’t sleep much.” Maybe never again.

“Hope told me you’re living in their guesthouse,” Dr. Hollister said as she returned the phone to the detective.

“Officially, yes, but I moved in here when my brother left so I’d be close to Hope. The guest room is on the other side of the stairs. You’re wasting your time questioning me.” But he knew they had to. How many child abductions led to relatives or friends of the family? Frustration began to swirl. “I should be out there trying to find her.” He couldn’t just sit—or stand—around and wait. He needed to be doing something.

“We are doing that, believe me.” Detective MacTavish left the room with a gesture that he’d soon return.

Max stared at the doctor, anger boiling inside him as he pushed aside those warm, fuzzy feelings that had descended out on the street. The last thing he needed in his life again—in any capacity—was a useless doctor. “Stop looking at me like I’m a specimen under your microscope, Doc. I won’t lose it completely.” He gripped the edge of the counter, leaned over and squeezed his eyes shut. “Not yet, anyway.”

“I haven’t used a microscope since college.” She walked over and picked up his coffee, carried it over to the sink and dumped it out. She searched the cabinets, pulled out another mug, one of the ones Hope used for her hot chocolate, and filled it with coffee. “Here. Drink.”

He wrapped both hands around the white ceramic, his eyes falling on the cartoon princess frolicking with her animal friends. “Why did you do that?”

“To give you something of hers to hold on to.” Dr. Hollister pressed her hand over his for a brief moment, long enough to warm him in conjunction with the coffee. “We’re going to find her, Max. We’ve got a lot of smart, dedicated people who are going to help us. Jack and his partner? You won’t find better. We just need you to be here when she comes home.”

“Easy for you to say, Doc. I bet you don’t feel what I’m feeling.”

“You’d be surprised what I feel.” Her faint smile was anything but bright. “And it’s Allie, please. Doc sounds a bit clinical.”

“All doctors are clinical.” He sounded harsh. He didn’t care. Couldn’t let himself care. The only thing that mattered was Hope. “What if she’s run away again? She’s been doing that lately. It’s one of the reasons I moved out here.”

“If that’s what’s happened, we’ll find her sooner than later.”

“But you don’t think that’s what this is,” Max countered, daring the doctor to claim otherwise.

“She’s well aware she can trust you,” she said after the briefest of hesitations. “I’ve seen a marked improvement in her since you came to stay. She’s spoken about you often during our sessions. She loves you. Worships you, as a matter of fact. Her hero uncle Max who fights fires and saves people. I think I actually saw stars explode in her eyes talking about you one day.”

“Twist the knife deeper, why don’t you.” Max drank more coffee, surprised at how soothing the jolt of caffeine felt. The last thing he needed to dwell on was Hope out there waiting for him to find her, which he couldn’t do as long as he was stuck in here. Not that leaving was an option. What if a call came in...

His arms shook as his muscles clenched. “For the record, I don’t fight fires. Not anymore, anyway.”

Detective MacTavish reentered the kitchen.

“What?” Max’s spine went stiff.

“Crime scene unit is on its way. My partner is working on getting some FBI assistance while he’s up at the Vandermonts’ home. We want as many agencies on this as possible. The more we blanket the valley, the sooner we’ll find her.”

“Tell him to request Special Agent Eamon Quinn,” Allie said. “He’s out of the San Francisco office, but he’s one of their top experts in cases like this.” She flinched, as if afraid she’d said too much.

“Cases like what?” Max demanded.

“Missing persons,” Allie said quickly. Too quickly.

“Before this goes any further,” Detective MacTavish said, “I need to ask you something, Max.”

“Ask away.” What was it with these people that they were treating him with kid gloves? “I don’t have anything to hide.”

The detective glanced at Allie, who gave an encouraging nod. Max reined in his temper. Damned doctors always thought they knew best about everything.

“Given the custody fight over Hope,” Detective MacTavish said, “do you think it’s at all possible that either your sister-in-law or your brother could have taken her without telling you?”

“You have got to be kidding me.” Max set the mug down with a clack. “Seriously?”

“Very seriously. Allie’s filled me in on what she can—”

“Did she?” Max sneered. “Stretching those confidentiality boundaries are we, Doc?”

If his words hit an emotional target, he couldn’t tell. Not even a flicker of acknowledgment. Boy, she was one cold ice queen. “I told the detective what I could,” she said. “That your brother’s case has been contentious. Something I’ve been witness to in court on numerous occasions.”

“Joe wouldn’t do that to me.” Max couldn’t shake the sensation there was something more to this situation than he was being told. Or maybe he was overreacting. The last thing he could rely on these days was his own judgment. He’d never done well when people he loved were threatened. Situations like this always threw him into a tailspin and that’s when he made bad choices. Life-altering choices. “My brother wouldn’t set me up like this or use me. It doesn’t matter how much Joe and Gemma might loathe each other, he wouldn’t let me think Hope was in danger.” The very idea would have made him laugh if he could remember how.

“What about Hope’s mother?” Detective MacTavish asked.

“Gemma wouldn’t have any problem letting me hang.” Max grimaced. “We aren’t the other’s favorite person. We only get along for Hope’s sake. I’ve never trusted or liked her and she knows it.”

“Why don’t you trust her?” Allie asked.

He hesitated. No need to air that bit of dirty family laundry unless absolutely necessary. “Because my brother’s worth about three-quarters of a billion dollars and she didn’t pay him much attention until he hit the Fortune 500.” Aggravation built to the point of bursting. Max had long believed Gemma had only had Hope to ensure she would be financially tied to Joe forever. “Search the house, take my prints and DNA, hunt down Gemma, set up your phones or what have you, but I need to do something. I’ve got training. I can be out there looking—”

“We need you to stay close to home for the time being,” Detective MacTavish cut him off. “At least until we can get your brother or sister-in-law back here. You being around to answer any questions we might have is exactly the kind of help we need. Beginning with any friends of Gemma who might be able to help us track her down.”

“I’ll be here if you need me,” Allie’s too-soothing voice grated on Max’s nerves.

“I don’t need you,” he spat. “I don’t need anything other than for my niece to walk through that door and prove to me this is all some horrible mistake. So take your niceties and your platitudes and put them to use somewhere else. You find my niece.” He moved in on the detective, who straightened to meet him eye-to-eye. “And you do it fast. Or I’m going to do it myself.”

Chapter 3

It was strange, Allie thought, how time possessed a vicious will of its own. It sped up when you wanted to stretch out the memories and slowed to an agonizing crawl when all she wanted to do was push forward.

The hours that had passed since she’d sat before three terrified little girls felt like days, days she’d do anything to pretend had been a dream. Now, as she stepped inside Hope Kellan’s second-floor bedroom, the reality of the little girl’s absence hit her like an anvil.

She watched as the last member of the Sac PD’s crime scene unit snapped a metal case shut and left. The tech offered a strained, understanding smile as he did so. Never before had Allie put so much faith in the department she’d worked closely with and in the detectives heading up the case. She trusted them, absolutely and without question.

And yet...

Allie, of all people, knew there were no absolutes in life. Not where children were concerned. Not twenty years ago and not today.

She’d needed solitude; she’d needed quiet. Watching Max Kellan occupy himself with pacing, sitting, standing, and then repeating the pattern, pressed in on her. She understood how he felt; all she wanted to do was go out the front door, breathe in the fresh air and walk until she couldn’t walk anymore.

His panic, his concern, tasted bitter in Allie’s mouth as she tried not to surrender to the logic of what statistics said about how Hope’s disappearance would play out. The first twenty-four hours were vital—forty-eight, if they were lucky—but Allie was a realist; she knew the odds didn’t favor a happy reunion. Chances increased by the second that she’d be standing in another field, over another little girl’s body.