Chapters (34)
- Cover
- Title Page
- The Emanations Series
- Dedication
- Author’s Note
- Prologue
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Epilogue
- About the Author
- Excerpt from Solatium, Book 2 of Emanations
- Glossary of Places, Terms, and Individuals
“It’s okay. I’m okay. I’m just getting out of town for a while, until that Williams guy leaves. You heard they didn’t charge him, right?”
“Beth, Justine’s gone!”
It so was not the response I was expecting that it took me a moment to grasp it.
“What do you mean, ‘gone’? She left you?”
“No, I don’t know, she’s just gone! She didn’t pick the kids up from school yesterday. No one’s seen her. Beth, I know something terrible happened to her. She might leave me, but she’d never leave the kids.”
I stood there in shock.
“Beth? Beth?”
“I’m here. When’s the last time someone saw her?”
“The security camera at the Cenex caught her getting gas a little before noon. That’s it. She was supposed to be at the school at 3:30, but she never showed.”
Doyle had called me at 2:15 to say Williams would be out soon. “Within the hour,” he’d said.
Oh god, oh my god.
He hadn’t been able to get at Ben. Ben had been at work, surrounded by people. So he’d taken Justine instead.
“Beth?”
“Did you call the police?”
“Of course! Beth … they want to talk to you about it.”
It took me another few seconds to understand what he meant.
“They think I kidnapped Justine? Ben, you can’t be serious!”
“I know. They’re wasting their damned time. But they couldn’t find you either, and people saw you two fighting at church.” His voice slid from anger to defeat. “I think it’s the only lead they have. Could you please just talk to them? Maybe once they let go of that idea, they’ll get a better one. Beth, we have to find her. I need her.”
“Ben, I’ll call you back.”
“Beth —”
I hung up on him. Then I stumbled to the curb and threw up my breakfast beside someone’s junky pickup. I was in the parking lot of a 7-Eleven — the first place I’d seen a pay phone. What a place to be when you find out you’re going to die.
Even taking the most direct route, it took me more than twelve hours to get home.
That morning, I’d bought a bottle of water and rinsed out my mouth. Then I’d called my brother back and told him I’d be there to talk to the police as soon as I could.