Missing Persons
Leave while you still can The warning had been spray-painted on Lauren Owens's walls. And whoever had vandalized her house meant business. But Lauren couldn't–wouldn't–leave the Magnolia College campus. Not when she'd finally found her way back to Seth Chartrand, the single father who'd broken her heart years ago.And not when the cold-case murder everyone was talking about remained scarily unsolved–including the young woman's identity. Because Lauren had a sinking feeling she knew exactly who the victim was….
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Missing Persons
Shirlee McCoy
To Emma Grace, daughter and ally in our house
filled with menâI love you just because youâre you.
And to Jessica Alvarez, editor extraordinaire, who
helped make sense of this wonderful continuity. Thanks!
Special thanks and acknowledgment are given to
Shirlee McCoy for her contribution to the REUNION REVELATIONS miniseries.
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
EPILOGUE
PROLOGUE
She wasnât angry. She wasnât even mildly annoyed.
And Lauren Owens figured if she told herself that enough times she just might believe it.
Okay. Maybe angry wasnât the right word. Maybe irritated was a better fit. Perturbed. Frustrated.
She only had herself to blame. Sheâd been such a pushover. Why hadnât she refused when Steff asked her to participate in the Magnolia College fund-raiser dinner and auction?
Because she hadnât wanted to disappoint her friend, thatâs why. Instead, sheâd managed to add two very unwanted complications to her already complicated life.
Seth.
His son.
Her hands tightened on the steering wheel of her Mustang convertible, the blackness of the night beyond the carâs headlights reflecting her dark mood.
Up ahead, her sister Deandraâs house beckoned, a light shining in an upstairs window spilling out into the darkness. Dee was probably waiting for a rehash of the eveningâs events. Unfortunately, that would have to wait. Lauren wasnât in the mood to talk.
She pulled around to the back of the house, following the driveway to the small converted carriage house at the edge of the property. Trees loomed over it, dark shadows against the night sky, hulking figures that looked like giant men waiting for the unwary to step beneath their grasping arms. Lauren shivered, her gaze riveted to the front of the carriage house. Sheâd left the light above the front door on, but it was out now, the large bushes on either side casting deep gray shadows over what should have been a well-lit area.
A warning raced along her spine and lodged at the base of her skull, but she ignored it. Bad things didnât happen in small-town Georgia.
Didnât they?
The question whispered through her mind as she stepped out of the Mustang and started toward the door. A woman had died in Magnolia Falls, her body hidden for ten years and just recently found during Magnolia Collegeâs library renovations. That was proof enough that bad things did indeed happen in small towns. But that was a long time ago and right here, right now a burned-out lightbulb was more likely the cause of the darkened stoop than some faceless, nameless murderer.
Right?
A breeze brushed against her hair as she moved toward the carriage house, ghostly fingers that trailed along her skin and made her shiver. She could almost imagine someone watching from the darkened windows or shadowy corners. Almost hear the raspy breath of the watcher.
âStop it!â She hissed the words, refusing to allow the timid mousy creature sheâd once been to take hold. Ten years living alone, ten years building her reputation as a premier Savannah chef, ten years learning who she was and where she belonged had made her strong. Independent. A woman who didnât panic, didnât overreact, and did not allow her imagination to get the better of her.
She shoved open the carriage house door, flicked on the living room light and froze. Shredded fabric. White stuffing pulled from once-pristine sofa and chairs. Books strewn across paint-splattered hardwood floor. Framed photos trampled and torn. To the left, the bathroom door yawned open, light spilling across the floor and reflecting off a slick, wet substance that might have been shampoo, lotion. Blood. To the right, the lone bedroom door was closed. Sheâd left it open. She was sure of it.
A sound drifted into the silence. The pad of feet on carpet. The brush of a hand against the wall. Lauren didnât wait to hear more. She stumbled backward, away from the subtle sound and from the chaos. Then turned and ran toward Deeâs house and safety.
ONE
Three days earlier
Fund-raiser Dinner and Auction, Mossy Oak Inn
Late summer painted the sky in shades of gold and purple, the setting sun sliding toward the horizon in a final blaze of light as Lauren eased out of her sisterâs car and smoothed her hand over the simple lines of her black cocktail dress. âReady or not, here we go.â
âIâm definitely ready, but you look like youâre going to chicken out.â Deeâs words held a hint of humor, but her gaze was somber as she rounded the car and put a hand on Laurenâs arm.
âChicken out of what? Itâs just a dinner.â
âAnd an auction.â
âWhich I said Iâd participate in.â
âAnd which we both know you regretted doing two seconds after the fact.â
