Missing Child

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Recent Titles by Patricia MacDonald

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  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

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Recent Titles by Patricia MacDonald

  THE UNFORGIVEN

  STRANGER IN THE HOUSE

  LITTLE SISTER

  NO WAY HOME

  MOTHER’S DAY

  SECRET ADMIRER

  LOST INNOCENTS

  NOT GUILTY

  SUSPICIOUS ORIGIN

  THE GIRL NEXT DOOR

  MARRIED TO A STRANGER

  STOLEN IN THE NIGHT

  FROM CRADLE TO GRAVE *

  CAST INTO DOUBT *

  MISSING CHILD *

  *available from Severn House

  MISSING CHILD

  Patricia MacDonald

  This eBook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author's and publisher's rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

  First world edition published 2012

  in Great Britain and in the USA by

  SEVERN HOUSE PUBLISHERS LTD of

  9–15 High Street, Sutton, Surrey, England, SM1 1DF.

  Copyright © 2012 by Patricia Bourgeau.

  All rights reserved.

  The moral right of the author has been asserted.

  British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data

  MacDonald, Patricia J.

  Missing child.

  1. Missing children—Fiction. 2. Stepfamilies—Fiction.

  3. Suspense fiction.

  I. Title

  813.6-dc23

  ISBN-13: 978-1-78010-212-2 (ePub)

  ISBN-13: 978-0-7278-8120-5 (cased)

  ISBN-13: 978-1-84751-413-4 (trade paper)

  Except where actual historical events and characters are being

  described for the storyline of this novel, all situations in this

  publication are fictitious and any resemblance to living persons

  is purely coincidental.

  This ebook produced by

  Palimpsest Book Production Limited,

  Falkirk, Stirlingshire, Scotland.

  To our dear friends and neighbors,

  Karen and Yogi Kurtz

  PROLOGUE

  Caitlin stood up and shook hands with the long-haired Asian girl in black-rimmed glasses who had been seated in front of her desk. ‘Giang,’ Caitlin said, ‘I think we are going to be a very good fit for you.’ Caitlin handed her a business card.

  ‘I want you to call and make an appointment for your parents with this gentleman in the financial aid office. He will be able to help you sort out an aid package.’

  Giang looked uneasily at the card. ‘My parents don’t speak any English,’ she said.

  ‘You can sit in on the meeting and translate for them,’ said Caitlin. ‘Brunswick University needs students of your caliber. We’ll do all we can to make it work for you.’

  Giang beamed. ‘Thank you, Mrs Rogers,’ she said.

  ‘It’s Miss,’ said Caitlin. ‘And trust me, the pleasure was mine.’

  Caitlin watched as the petite, blue jean-clad high school senior left the minority recruitment office. She had given a presentation at Giang’s inner-city school in Philadelphia recently, and had spoken to a number of likely prospects from that disadvantaged environment. Caitlin was the director for diversity recruitment at Brunswick University, and it was her job to seek out and encourage low-income minority students to fulfill their dreams of college at Brunswick. Sometimes she saw herself as a one-woman rescue operation, helping kids find a way out of poverty and into a brighter future. She felt lucky to have work that was meaningful to her.

  ‘She was a cute one,’ said Beverly, Caitlin’s receptionist. Beverly had four kids of her own, and a heart big enough to accommodate every student at Brunswick, and then some.

  ‘I hope she decides to come here,’ said Caitlin. ‘I sent her to financial aid. She needs help applying for scholarships, but I think it will work out for her. She’s very motivated.’

  ‘We like them motivated,’ said Beverly. ‘Speaking of motivated, how’s your brother doing with that therapist?’

  Caitlin sighed. Her brother James was, at sixteen years old, twelve years Caitlin’s junior and had been assigned to therapy by family court. He had lost his provisional driver’s permit for being caught trying to buy beer in a convenience store. He was suspended from school for fighting and he had a problem with prescription drugs – for which he had no prescription. She did not know where he got his supply, and he denied ever using the drugs she found in his room.

  She tried not to judge him too harshly. She and James were still reeling from the death of their parents, who had both succumbed to illness in the past two years. Caitlin, who had been on staff at an Ivy League school in New England, was forced to come home, move into her parents’ house and assume the role of her brother’s guardian. It had turned out to be a heavy responsibility. ‘Well, this is only the second visit. Last week was mostly filling out paperwork and family history. We’ll see,’ she said.

  ‘Sixteen is such a tough age,’ said Beverly. ‘And he is really kind of isolated around here.’

  ‘I know,’ said Caitlin. ‘He hasn’t made any friends yet.’ Their parents had raised them in Coatesville, Pennsylvania, a blue-collar suburb of Philadelphia, and they had bought the house in among the marshes and inlets of South Jersey as a retirement home. But they decided to make the move early when James began getting into trouble in high school. In Coatesville, James had a girlfriend named Karla, a biracial girl who ended up busted for drugs and serving time in a juvenile facility. Caitlin’s parents had hoped that by removing James from Coatesville, they would get him away from Karla and his other troublemaking friends. Instead, James managed to get into even more trouble on his own.

  ‘It’s hard on you,’ Beverly said sympathetically. ‘How are you supposed to have a life of your own when you’re running around from counselors to lawyers to school? You’re a young woman. You need to meet somebody and have some fun.’

  ‘One of these days,’ said Caitlin.

  ‘Well, you can’t wait too long,’ said Beverly. ‘Not if you want to have kids.’

  ‘I’ll tell you something. After this business with James, I’m not sure kids are for me.’

  ‘Oh, don’t say that. It’s
different when they’re your own. Speaking of which,’ said Beverly, gathering up her purse and shopping bag, ‘I’ve got to go pick up my youngest and get home. It’s pizza night.’

  ‘Probably pizza night for us, too,’ said Caitlin. She waved to her assistant as Beverly left the office. Then, with a sigh, Caitlin filled out the paperwork about her last interview, and closed up her office as well.

  The fact was that Beverly was right, Caitlin thought as she got into her car in the waning light of the November afternoon. She felt as if she had no life here, other than trying to deal with her brother’s issues. When their mother died, leaving James alone, Caitlin had considered moving her brother up to where she lived in New England. But she hadn’t wanted to dislocate him again, after all the loss and change that he had been through. Sometimes, she was not sure if she had made the right decision. She had made a life for herself and friends in New England. Here, she felt completely isolated.

  The deserted marshes and pine forests of South Jersey under a melancholy gray, salmon and lavender sky reflected her mood. This whole part of South Jersey was, at once, scenic and down at the heels. She drove past a lovely field with horses grazing on the brown grass. But there was a rusted-out car beside the barn, and the barn had a hole in the roof.

  When her father took early retirement, he had planned to hunt and fish and her mother was looking forward to taking a book to the beach on nice days. They had hoped that perhaps James would abandon his bad habits and start again. And they could enjoy their hard-earned free time. That was their plan, but they miscalculated. Now, they were both gone, and Caitlin had inherited their retirement cottage and their problems. If only, she thought, James would show some improvement, it might not seem like such an uphill battle. But most of the time he was depressed, and didn’t talk to her. It was as if she was living with a wraith who silently inhabited the house, drifting from room to room.

  Caitlin pulled into the driveway of the neat, square little home that her parents had furnished and cared for with such high hopes. All the lights were out and the house looked forlorn. Her father’s pick-up truck, normally kept in the garage, was parked in the driveway, and Caitlin instantly felt angry and anxious. James’s driving permit was suspended. He had better not have been out driving, she thought.

  Don’t jump to conclusions, she told herself. You asked him to clean out the garage while he was suspended. Maybe he moved the truck out to get easier access to the jumbled mess in there. She didn’t feel very optimistic about the possibility, but she reminded herself to try to be patient, and not jump to the worst conclusion.

  Caitlin walked into the house and was startled by James, who was sitting in the living room without a single light on. She turned on a lamp and frowned at him. ‘What are you doing sitting here in the dark?’ she asked.

  He looked at her, grave and hollow-eyed. ‘Nothing,’ he said.

  ‘Do you want to tell me what Daddy’s truck is doing in the driveway?’

  ‘I just . . . moved it,’ he said.

  ‘You weren’t out driving, I hope. You know you have no permit.’

  ‘I know,’ he said.

  ‘OK,’ she said. She decided not to make an issue of it. ‘As long as you know.’ She set her briefcase down on a chair, took off her jacket and hung it up. ‘I’m going to see what I can put together for us for supper. You better go get a shirt on over that T-shirt and put some shoes on.’

  ‘What for?’ he asked.

  ‘James. The therapist. That’s tonight.’

  James did not reply.

  ‘Go on. Go get ready,’ she said. She glanced at the clock. Too late to wait for a pizza delivery. She opened a can of soup and began to heat it on the stove. She pulled out plates and put sandwiches together.

  ‘Caitlin?’

  She looked up and saw him standing in the doorway to the kitchen. ‘What?’

  ‘I don’t think I can go tonight,’ he said.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I don’t feel well,’ he said.

  In the bright, overhead light of the kitchen, she could see that he did indeed look ill. His skin was white and his eyes were sunken in his head. She put a hand on his forehead beneath his shock of greasy hair. He was not feverish. If anything, his skin was cold and clammy.

  ‘You don’t look too good,’ she admitted.

  ‘I have to go lie down,’ he said.

  Caitlin sighed. ‘All right. I’ll call and cancel.’

  James disappeared from the doorway and Caitlin called the therapist’s office.

  ‘If you cancel,’ said the receptionist, ‘you’ll still have to pay for the session.’

  ‘OK, fine,’ said Caitlin. ‘Send me the bill.’

  She hung up the phone and called out to her brother. ‘Do you want some soup? Or a sandwich?’

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘I’m not hungry.’

  Caitlin exhaled, and turned on the television to keep her company while she ate. On the news, the anchor was recounting the death of a young mother, the victim of a hit-and-run driver on Route 47, about ten minutes from where they lived. Caitlin was too distracted to pay much attention. As usual, she was worrying about James and wondering how she was ever going to get through to him. After she finished her supper, Caitlin switched off the tele-vision, and washed up her few dishes. She looked out the kitchen window at the truck which was still in the driveway. She wondered if James had made any attempt to clean out the garage. She went through the hallway off the kitchen and called out to him.

  ‘James? Did you get to work on that garage today?’

  He did not reply.

  What’s the use? she thought. She knew the answer. Might as well put the truck away, she thought. She grabbed the keys off a hook by the kitchen and went outside. She entered the garage by the side door and flipped on the lights, hoping against hope that he might have made a start on the project. Nothing had been moved. The garage was as full of junk as ever. She sighed, and shook her head. What had he done all day? He hadn’t moved the truck to work on the mess in the garage. He said he hadn’t been out driving, but she felt queasy, realizing that she didn’t really believe him. It would be just like him to go out joyriding without a permit. Tomorrow, she thought, I’m going to take the keys with me to work.

  She opened the main garage door from inside, walked out, and stopped short. In the glow of the spotlight above the garage door, she instantly saw the damage. The truck was dented in the front. Seriously dented. Goddammit, she thought. First he lied about not driving. His permit is suspended, and now this. No wonder he doesn’t feel well, she thought angrily. The closer she got to it, the more severe the damage looked. This was not a tap. It looked like he’d run into a tree. The whole front of the truck was pushed in.

  ‘James!’ she yelled, not caring if he was sick or not. ‘Goddammit.’

  She bent down to examine the damage, and saw something dark and shiny on the imploded bumper. She reached down to touch it, and her fingers came up wet and sticky. Caitlin held up her hand and stared at it. There was no mistaking the substance on her fingers. Heart pounding, she jumped back, away from the truck.

  All of a sudden she realized that James was standing there in the darkness, just out of the arc of the garage floodlights. He was watching her intently. She looked from her own sticky fingers to his haunted face.

  ‘What the hell happened here?’ she whispered.

  ‘I’m sorry, Caitlin,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘James. I asked you what happened. There’s blood all over this bumper.’

  James stared back at her. ‘There was an accident,’ he said.

  ONE

  ‘This is gonna be the best party ever,’ Geordie declared.

  Caitlin attached the last of the streamers, and carefully dismounted the rickety stepstool. ‘Well, I hope so.’ She looked fondly at Geordie. ‘It’s not every day you turn six years old,’ she said.

  ‘YESTERDAY, I turned six years old,’ he reminded her.

&nbs
p; Caitlin nodded. ‘I know.’ They had held off on having the party until Sunday because Geordie’s only cousin, ten-year-old Travis, had Boy Scouts on Saturday, and his mother didn’t like for him to miss a meeting. ‘It was nice of you to put off the party until today so Travis could come.’

  Geordie nodded gravely. ‘No one wants to miss my party,’ he said. Geordie was a wiry little boy with a missing front tooth, buzz-cut brown hair and large glasses. Tucked under his arm was Bandit, a shabby stuffed Dalmatian with one ear hanging on by a thread, and black rings around its eyes. ‘Is the cake here yet?’

  ‘Aunt Haley should be here any minute.’

  As if on cue, the front doorbell rang. ‘That’s probably her,’ said Geordie.

  Geordie scampered off toward the front door while Caitlin made a mental inventory of the party goods she had set out. Cider and soda and paper cups, plates for the pizza and for the cake. Plastic forks. Noah was outside putting up the last of the games on the front lawn. They were pretty much ready.

  ‘Caitlin, look!’ Geordie cried.

  He came dancing into the kitchen ahead of a round-faced, blond-haired woman carrying an enormous cake shaped to appear like a medieval castle with playmobile knights tucked into the ramparts.

  ‘Oh, Haley,’ Caitlin exclaimed. ‘That is fantastic.’

  Haley Jordan smiled proudly. ‘He asked for a castle.’

  ‘I didn’t know you could make gray icing.’ Caitlin laughed.

  ‘Oh, sure. There’s just not a very big demand for it.’ Haley owned Jordan’s, a bakery in downtown Hartwell. She was the ex-wife of Geordie’s uncle Dan, who now lived in Philadelphia. In the two years that Caitlin had been married to Geordie’s father, Noah, she and Haley had become friends. Caitlin suspected that Haley still carried a torch for Dan, although they were now ostensibly just friends. ‘So, who all is coming?’ Haley asked casually.

  ‘Well, everybody,’ said Caitlin. ‘Half a dozen kids from Geordie’s class. Emily’s parents, of course, and Dan.’

  ‘It’s really good of you to have Emily’s family,’ said Haley. ‘I know they appreciate it.’