The Missing (2 page)

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Authors: Shiloh Walker

Tags: #Contemporary, #Romantic Suspense, #Romance Suspense

BOOK: The Missing
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But the guy on the left, the one she had felt staring at her, she hadn’t quite been able to dismiss in the same way. She’d seen him around, out fishing with his dad a few times, in the wildlife refuge a few miles down the road, and in a couple of the oyster houses in town. This was the first time she’d seen him up close, though.
Taige had passed within a few feet of him, close enough to see the faint tan line on his shoulders and neck where he’d been wearing a tank top like the one he’d worn the other night while he was out fishing with his dad. Close enough to see that his hair wasn’t black like she’d thought but a deep, rich brown. The sun had brought out some gold highlights, and she imagined if he was down here long enough, his hair would lighten even more.
And she’d been close enough to see his eyes.
His eyes were the most amazing color, nearly the same shade of turquoise as the Gulf. She loved that color. Taige could spend hours out on the water, staring at the ever-changing waves, and she had the unsettling feeling that she could spend hours staring into his eyes, too.
Those sorts of mushy feelings were the kind she was unfamiliar with. Warm, soft feelings had little place in Taige’s life since her mom and dad had died, leaving her alone. Her uncle had taken her in, but Taige wished they hadn’t been able to find Leon Carson. She would have ended up in foster care, because they hadn’t been able to find any of her father’s people. But it would have been better than where she had ended up.
Hell would have been better.
Hell . . .
Like an insidious whisper, Leon’s voice echoed inside her head:
“You got the devil inside you, girl. You going to hell, and there’s nothing you can do to change it.”
How many times had she heard him tell her that? Hundreds. Thousands. Almost every day, sometimes more, for the past eight years. Ever since the social worker had brought her to the church were Leon had been preparing his sermon for the coming Sunday. She’d left Taige alone with the man, and Taige had stared at him, into the gray eyes that looked so much like her own, like her mother’s. He had pale blond hair like Taige’s mama, and he had a beautiful voice. She had thought he sounded like an angel when he sang.
But he was no angel. And though he often walked around the house singing hymns in a rich baritone, his voice sounded more and more like a Hollywood monster than a minister from Gulf Shores, Alabama. He was as close to the devil as anything walking on the world, and Taige had the scars to prove it. Most of them were faint, and almost all of them were a couple of years old or more. The last time he had hit her had been nearly a year ago, and she had hit back. Then he’d slapped her with an open hand, knocking her to the floor, and when Taige had climbed to her feet, she had grabbed a dirty knife from the sink and brandished it at him.
“You’re evil, just like your mama was evil. Just like your daddy was evil—lying with that whore and making another demon child,” Leon had said.
“Touch me ever again, and this demon child will send you straight to hell where you belong.” And she had meant every last word. Apparently Leon figured it out, because he didn’t ever touch her again. Days passed when they never even saw each other, although Taige wasn’t stupid enough to think he had actually realized the error of his ways.
He’d go inside her room when she wasn’t there. She could sense his presence and knew that he spent hours going through her things, as though he hoped to find some sort of proof that she was the demon he accused her of being. There wasn’t much for him to find. Anything important, like the few pictures she had of her parents and her books, she’d long since started hiding outside of the small house. Those things she kept tucked away in the storeroom at Ernie’s.
The little oyster house just outside of town was the closest thing to a home that Taige knew. She spent hours and hours there in the small office helping the owner with paperwork, reading, or listening to music. The cool air of the office was like a glimpse into paradise. Leon didn’t believe in a lot of modern conveniences like air-conditioning.
It was little wonder she was more comfortable there than at her home. Ernie, whoever he was, had long since gone on to bigger and better things, and the little restaurant was owned by Rose Henderson and her son, Dante.
Rose had known Taige’s mother and her father; Taige could spend hours just listening to the stories about her parents. Dante had taught her how to swim and how to fish. Taige worked for the two of them, either helping out in the kitchen, or with the paperwork, or on rare occasions in the dining room. Sometimes she went out with Dante on the boat, and they’d stay out on the water until they had caught enough fish to feed thousands. Or at least it seemed that way, but food didn’t last long at Ernie’s. It was one of the best places to eat in the area, but it was set back from the road and was unpretentious, at best. An honest person would probably call it a dive, and Taige had to admit the place wasn’t much to look at.
But the food was good and fresh, the people were friendly, and Taige felt safe there. Safe and accepted, or about as accepted as she’d ever be.
By the time she got to Ernie’s, the lunch crowd was thinning out. It was the middle of the week, and for the next couple of hours, there would be only a few stragglers here and there. Mostly quiet this time of day, unlike what happened around five o’clock, when the place would be hopping until midnight or later. She entered the kitchen, the familiar scents of seafood cooking filling the air. Rose stood by the stove, and if Taige was right, then Rose was making jambalaya.
She glanced back at Taige and smiled. “There you are, baby. Where you been?”
Taige shrugged. “What are you making over there, Rose?”
Rose grinned, her smile gleaming white against the darkness of her skin. “You know what I’m making. I can tell by the drool all over your chin.”
“I’m not drooling.” Yet. Her belly rumbled demandingly, and she dug a bowl out of the industrial dishwasher. Rose laughed and ladled out a heaping serving for Taige.
The first taste, spicy and savory, exploded on her tongue, and she didn’t bother waiting for the food to cool as she quickly devoured half of it.
“You didn’t sleep last night.”
Rose’s voice was quiet and devoid of emotion, but nonetheless, Taige heard the worry in it. She shrugged. “I slept a little.”
“A little—how little? What did you get, maybe two hours?”
“Probably,” Taige muttered. She shoveled another spoonful of food into her mouth, but she knew better than to think Rose would let it go at that.
“Those dreams again?”
Taige nodded haltingly.
“Was he there?”
He
being her uncle. Leon Carson had been sleeping in his bed when Taige finally fell asleep, but when she woke up from the dream, he had been standing over her bed. “You had another one of those devil dreams,” he’d said, shaking his head in that sad, mournful way of his, like she’d done something to let him down.
He always seemed to know when one of the dreams came. The dreams were just as hard to control as the visions that came to her during the day. Vision, prophecy, it didn’t matter what she called them. They happened, and they had for as long as she could remember. Taige had been eight years old when she had the dream where her parents died—and they’d died that very night.
“Yeah. He was there.”
“Did he . . . ?” Rose glanced around, knowing how much Taige hated anybody to know what her uncle did.
Taige shook her head. Nobody was standing close enough to hear. “No, Rose. He didn’t do anything. He won’t, either.”
Rose shook her head. She had a scarf wrapped around her head, completely covering the wealth of dark hair. The scarf was white, and Taige knew that somehow, when Rose left, it would be as white then as it was now. Taige couldn’t work in the kitchen without covering herself with stains. She didn’t know how Rose managed it.
“You can’t know that, girl. He done it before. He gets mad enough, he’ll do it again.”
“No. He won’t.” Because Taige knew he had believed her when she told him she’d kill him if he ever touched her. Leon was a lot of things, but he wasn’t stupid. Self-preservation was high on his list of priorities. He couldn’t do his preaching on Sunday, telling the damned that they must repent if they didn’t want to burn in the lake of eternal fire, not if he was dead.
Taige looked down at her bowl, still half full. The food she had eaten weighed in her belly like lead, and she blew out a breath. She turned to dump the jambalaya and caught Rose looking at her with mournful eyes. “I’m sorry, girl,” Rose murmured. “Come on, we don’t need to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
Guilt churned in Taige’s stomach as she looked into Rose’s dark eyes. She hated making Rose feel bad, inadvertent as it was. “I know you worry. And I know it’s because you love me.”
Rose smiled and pressed her hand against Taige’s cheek. “You look so much like your mama. You’ve got so much of her inside of you. Not just your gift, either.” Her voice dropped. “It is a gift, Taige. You’re going to do great things with your life. Just like your mama did. But you got your daddy’s strength. You’ve had to, to live the life you have. Lord, but I wish he had some family left around here that you could have gone to. You would have been so much happier if you had family instead of that crazy uncle.”
Taige covered Rose’s hand with hers and smiled. “I got a family, Rose. I got you.” It was nothing more than the truth. Taige had lost her parents, and the crazed bastard they put her with would have liked nothing more than to beat the “evil” out of her, but Taige hadn’t been alone because of Rose and because of her son. Rose and Dante were the family that Taige hadn’t thought she would have.
Rose had been there when Taige got her period. Rose had been there when Taige came face-to-face with bigots, and Rose had been there as the years passed and Taige’s weird gift became stronger and stronger.
It’s a hard road you’ve got to walk, Taige, half-white, half-black, and different from just about everybody else. You’re different in ways most people couldn’t understand, because you got the sight.
But you’re strong. You can do it. And I’ll always be here,
Rose had murmured to her, time and time again. True to her word, Rose always had been there, and Taige loved her dearly.
“Oh, baby.” Rose pulled Taige in close, holding her tight. Taige breathed in the familiar scents of lotion and spice and fought the burn of tears in her eyes. She pulled back when Rose’s arms loosened and opened her mouth to say something.
But the skin on her spine rippled. A cold chill danced along her flesh.
Rose recognized the look, although Taige knew that her friend didn’t truly understand. As much as Rose meant to her, Taige wished desperately for her mother, for somebody who would understand the odd, disturbing dreams, the random visions, and the pressing need to act. It was imperative, as important to her as breathing, and although she might well pay dearly, she had to act.
“I’ve got to go,” Taige said unnecessarily.
She pushed the bowl into Rose’s hands and was out the door before Rose even managed to call out, “Be careful.”
The door banged shut behind her, and Rose lifted her gaze to the heavens. “Lord, take care of that girl.”
THE currents were strong.
Cullen rode the boogie board through the waves, a grin splitting his face and exhilaration pulsing through him. He wasn’t ready to hit some of the big waves, but he could see why it would be such a thrill.
There was nothing like the feel of it, the water moving around him, under him, almost like it was alive. He hit the shallows and immediately turned to head back out when something caught his attention: the little yellow inflatable boat, bobbing up and down in the waves, drifting farther and farther from the shore. A couple had brought it down with them, and they’d let their little boy play in it on the sand, and for a while, the dad had pulled the boy around in it in the shallow water.
The sun shone down brightly, sparkling on the water, and Cullen squinted against the light as he stared at the yellow boat. The boy was there, and even at a distance, Cullen could see the stark terror on his face as the kid realized how far he was from the shore.
“Hey!”
He saw the boy about the same time the kid’s parents did, and all three of them hit the water. But the waves were rough and getting rougher. Cullen swam toward the raft, outdistancing the parents. He was a strong swimmer, but he was used to the pool at the Y, not the rough waters of the Gulf.

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