Sleep No More (35 page)

Jason's stomach dropped to his knees. "She hasn't called, either?"

"No."

"Have her call me when she shows up."
If she shows up.

As he disconnected the call, Jason closed his eyes. Where in the hell was she?

He thought about the text message. Something about it had bothered him when he'd read it, but Bren had arrived and the thought had skittered away.

He brought it up on the screen again.

phone almost dead stopping to c dad c u later

Then he brought up her previous text.

Deputy Bigelow and I are having a party. Wish you were here.

Shit! That second text didn't sound like Abby sent it.

"Brenna!" Jason called as he hurried into the den. "Shut off the TV, sweetie. We need to go do something."

"Daaad, it's almost over."

"You can finish it when we get back." Jason shut off the TV himself. "This is an emergency."

With the word "emergency," Brenna looked at him with fearful eyes and grabbed her shoes. "What kind of emergency?"

"We need to find your brother."
And Abby.
Jason prayed the two were in different places.

"Is he okay?" Brenna asked in a small voice.

Jason stopped and put his hand on the top of her head. "I'm sure he's fine. He just isn't where he's supposed to be."

"So he's in trouble." At least she looked more sad than afraid now.

"Maybe. Now go get in Abby's Explorer," he said. "I'll be right out."

He watched her from the window as she got in the SUV. Then, just in case, he went to the gun safe and got out his handgun. Then he untucked his shirt and slipped the gun in the back waistband of his pants.

As he grabbed the Explorer's keys from the kitchen counter where Abby had left them, he called Sergeant Kitterman. The police could comb the roads for Abby much more effectively than Jason could. Jason's first responsibility was to find Bryce; he just couldn't turn his son over to the police for vandalism until he talked to him first.

When the Sergeant came on the line, Jason said, "I can't get a hold of Abby and she didn't show up at the funeral home after she parted company with your deputy."

"What's she driving?" Kitterman asked.

"My car. A silver Nissan Altima." He gave Kitterman the license plate number. "I spoke to her when she was pulling out onto the road from her lane. That was about twelve-fifty."

"I'll be in touch," Kitterman said and hung up.

When Jason got into the Explorer, he asked Brenna, "Do you know where Bryce likes to hang out? Is he friends with anyone in particular now?"

"He's all into this comic book stuff. He took me to the comic shop one day after school."

"The one on Market Street?"

She nodded. "Are you going to yell at him about the iPod?" She looked like she wanted to melt into the seat.

He reached back and patted her on the knee. "Don't worry, your secret is safe. There's something else I need to talk to him about."

"You said it was an emergency," Brenna said.

"It is. Bryce didn't go to school today like he was supposed to."

"I know that. Mom was mad because he was supposed to babysit me after school."

"And he's always home when he's supposed to babysit you. So I want to find him and make sure he's okay."

She frowned. "You think he had a wreck or something."

Jason backed the Explorer out of the drive and muttered, "Or something."

Jason took his daughter by the hand and led her in to the comic and card shop. It was filled with pimply-faced teenage boys and a few Goth-looking girls. There were two aisles. Bryce wasn't in either one of them.

Jason went to the register. It was manned by a guy wearing a black T-shirt with skulls on it. He had spiky hair and a goatee. He was too old for the spiky hair and T-shirt by about a decade.

After Jason introduced himself, he asked, "Do you know my stepson, Bryce Patrick?"

The man smiled. "Sure, he's in here all of the time."

"Has he been in here today?"

The man's eyes went narrow and he got busy straightening the comics in the case. "Hey, I don't get in the middle of family crap."

"I'm worried. He didn't come home, and it's not at all like him."

The man looked at Jason. "Well, if it's like that." He shrugged. "You know how it is, man, parents come in here all of the time trying to make it seem like I'm supposed to keep track of their kids--usin' me for a babysitter."

Jason just waited.

"Yeah, Bryce was here earlier. Left with Toby about eleven o'clock."

"Toby?" Jason didn't recall any friends named Toby.

"Toby Smith. His grandma lives in town. He and Bryce seem to be tight."

"His grandma? Toby doesn't live in Preston?"

The man shook his head. "Visits a lot lately, though."

"Do you know where his grandma lives?"

The man looked perturbed again. "Dude, you're pushing your luck. It's not my job to keep track of every freakin' one."

"Hey." Jason cast a glance at his daughter. "Easy." Then he asked, "Do you happen to know if they took Bryce's car? I didn't see it out there."

"Well, then I'd say they took Bryce's car, wouldn't you?"

Jason decided since he'd already crossed the line, might as well ask one more question. "Do you know what Toby drives?"

The man huffed. "Gray Impala."

Jason's breath locked in his lungs. "Dark tinted windows?" Under the circumstances, that Impala had been around Abby too many times to ignore.

"Yeah. Now get outta here, you're freakin' out the customers."

"Does Toby have access to a boat?" Why would he go after Abby? Had he been the one to place the 911 call? Or did it have more to do with Bryce? Dear God, he hoped not.

"How the hell should I know!" The man lowered his voice. "Get out."

Brenna was already tugging on Jason's hand, trying to drag him to the door.

Once out on the sidewalk, Jason knelt in front of his daughter. I don't want you to worry. Bryce is probably just off with this friend having fun."

She nodded solemnly.

"Let's take a walk around the block." Jason wanted to see if that gray Impala was parked nearby.

Bren took his hand and walked silently by his side.

They made the circuit. No gray Impala. That gave Jason hope that Bryce and Toby had gone separate ways.

Jason's cell phone rang.

It was Kitterman. "We found your car about a quarter mile from Abby's lane."

"And Abby?" Jason asked, his heart swelling with fear.

"No. It looks like she just pulled to the side of the road. One of the tires is flat. The flowers are still in the backseat. No purse. No sign of struggle."

"She lost her purse in the fire. She did have a cell. Was it in the car?"

"No."

"She's not answering it. Can you use it to locate her?"

"As long as the battery is still in it."

"I think it's dead."

"Doesn't matter; as long as it's inside the phone we can locate it. Give me her number."

Jason recited it, then he heard paper tear and Kitterman tell someone to start locating it.

Jason asked, "Did someone check to make sure she didn't walk back to the shop? That'd be her nearest phone if her cell's dead."

"She's not there."

Jason explained his theory that someone other than Abby had sent that last text message. Then he said, "There's a car that may be involved. I've noticed it enough times to make me suspicious. A late model gray Impala with dark-tinted windows. I just found out it belongs to a guy named Toby Smith."

Jason was so dry that his tongue rasped against the lining of his mouth as he explained how the driver of that gray Impala had befriended his son. He stopped short of saying Bryce had vandalized the cemetery and slit Abby's tires. He'd give Bryce the chance to turn himself in. Things would go much better for him that way.

"Do you think it's more than coincidence that he's hanging out with your kid?" Kitterman asked.

"I don't believe in coincidence."

"Neither do I," Kitterman said. "I'll get this info out to our patrols. And I'll see if I can find anything on Toby Smith. Have any idea what he looks like?"

"No. But you can ask the owner at Hi Flying Comics in Preston. Toby hangs out there." Jason was certain that the police would have better luck getting information out of the owner than he could.

He almost asked Kitterman to have the patrols keep an eye out for Bryce's car. But he wanted to check all of his friends' houses and their hangouts before he got the police involved in locating his son. Besides, he didn't want the police to divide their attention from finding Abby.

"All right," Kitterman said. "I'll keep you posted--hang on."

There were muffled voices, as if Kitterman had covered the mouthpiece with his hand. When he spoke to Jason again, he said, "The battery must be out of her phone. We can't locate it."

Jason closed his eyes and sent a rare prayer to heaven for Abby's safety.

What had seemed like a really good idea a few hours ago didn't look so great now that Bryce had Abby unconscious in his back seat, her hands bound behind her with duct tape. What had sounded like a logical plan to fix more than one problem, now felt more like he'd started an avalanche.

Why hadn't he thought this through more completely? What if he scared the crap out of her and she told anyway? Then both he and his mom were in deep shit.

He beat his palms against the steering wheel. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Tears burned his eyes. He sniffed and refused to cry. That only backed them up in his chest until he felt he'd choke on them.

Get a grip!

It was done. He couldn't undo it. God! He should have gone with his instincts and made certain she hadn't seen him. It would have been harder to do, but then he could just dump her somewhere and no one would ever know.

He kept driving around country roads, afraid to take the next, now necessary, step.

His cell rang. Shit, it was probably his dad again.

It wasn't.

"Where the hell are you?" Toby sounded pissed. "Something go wrong?"

"No."

"Then why aren't you here yet?"

"I don't know, man." He ducked his head and swiped the sweat from his forehead on his T-shirt sleeve. "I just don't think we should do this. It was a bad idea."

"Too-fucking-late. There's no going back now. Get your ass here, before the cops find you."

Bryce shot a look at his back seat. How long would the chloroform Toby had given him to use keep her out?

Toby was right. How would he explain if the cops stopped him?

All he could do now was hope the plan worked.

"I'll be right there."

J
ason called Bryce again, not expecting him to answer. He regretted sending that text message. It might only serve to delay Bryce's response since he now knew he was in trouble.

Jason drove past all of Bryce's friends' houses, the park and Jeter's arcade. His son's car wasn't at any of those places. He decided to head out to Abby's. Maybe he could find a clue the police had missed--or maybe Bryce was out there breaking windows. Either was a long shot, but it beat the hell out of sitting still doing nothing.

As he drove past Randall and Roberts, he saw Lucy standing on the side street, talking to a man in a suit. Jason circled around the block. He had to double-park and put on his flashers because the streets were so packed with cars calling on the Robard family. He felt more comfortable leaving Brenna in the car on this little traveled side street for a couple of minutes than letting her hear what he was about to say to her mother.

When he got out, he realized the man Lucy was with was Senator Robard.

From the immediate guilty looks on both Lucy and the senator, it didn't take a nuclear physicist to figure out there was something going on between them. Apparently that was one accusation Jessica Robard had right.

Jason now understood at least one of the secrets that had been making Lucy act strangely of late. He hoped this was the only one. And he hoped there would be no fallout from this poor judgment that would affect the children.

The senator made a quick comment to Lucy, then disappeared back into the funeral home.

"What are you doing here?" Lucy snapped. It was clear she'd been crying.

"Jesus, Lucy, really? You dropped off our daughter at the curb, without even making certain I was available, so you could hook up with the senator at his dead son's viewing?"

She sniffed and turned her back on him. "You don't understand."

"Oh, I'm pretty sure I do. And so will anyone who got a look at you two out here."