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Last Call to discover The Vanished Ones by N.V. Sumner before the bestseller ends its reign as KND Thriller of The Week!

Last call for KND Free Thriller excerpt:

The Vanished Ones (A San Francisco Thriller Book 1)

by N.V. Sumner

The Vanished Ones (A San Francisco Thriller Book 1)
4.9 stars – 18 Reviews
On Sale! Everyday price: $2.99
Or FREE with Learn More
Text-to-Speech and Lending: Enabled
Here’s the set-up:

N.V. Sumner brings you the first book in the Li Chen series, The Vanished Ones, winner of the 2014 Indie Excellence Book Awards.

From her office in the SOMA district of San Francisco, missing children investigator, Li Chen, receives an early morning phone call. A successful architect and her young child have vanished. The only trace: the mother’s fingerprints found during a drug raid over ninety miles away. The only witness: a disturbed woman with a link to the victims who appears out of nowhere and claims a sadistic cult leader is the kidnapper. With memories of her missing twin sister stirring, Li buries herself in the case, one that puts her unique and highly specialized skills to the test and could ultimately end her life.

And here, for your reading pleasure, is our free excerpt:

ONE

SUNDAY 8:47 P.M.

 

THE WOMAN SHIELDED the child from the downpour, hugging her beloved before placing the toddler in her car seat and buckling her in. She slipped into the driver’s seat with a slight foreboding. After driving a few miles through the neighborhood, set among lofty sequoias and families of deer, her gunmetal-gray sedan began to rattle and cough as she entered a secluded part of Sir Francis Drake Boulevard. Surrounded by trees and darkness, she felt the rumblings of panic rise in her. She glanced at her cell phone and realized she had no reception. She was alone, and she felt it like a deep ache. As she rounded a corner, the car lurched angrily and began to sputter.

“Shit,” she whispered, slowly maneuvering the sedan to the side of the road. Once stopped, she turned the ignition over and over, hearing only a slight ticking with each futile attempt. A minute later, a dark SUV with heavily tinted windows pulled up next to her. She rolled down her window, dodging the raindrops that forced their way inside.

“Need some help?” asked a middle-aged man with a thick goatee and disordered eyebrows.

“I think so… My car won’t turn on. It was running perfectly fine a few minutes ago, and suddenly it just died.”

“Pop the hood, and I’ll take a look.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“Happy to help a woman in distress.” He tipped his Stetson forward.

He parked in front of her, hood to hood, and jumped out of his SUV. He appeared more fully in the headlights, his bristly facial hair glistening as the rain fell hard on him. He then disappeared behind the rising hood of her car. Five or six minutes went by without a word from the stranger.

“Find anything?” she yelled over the howling wind.

No response. Her heart pumped a little faster. She stuck her head out the window, trying to get a look, but rain flew into her eyes, forcing her back into the car.

“Hello? Can you tell me what’s wrong with the car?” she hollered again as she flicked water from her face.

Silence.

She looked back and said to the little girl, “I’ll be right back, honey.” The tot was half asleep, hugging a stuffed bear. The woman struggled to push the door open against the strong gale. When she stood, she was met with a deluge. Shivering, she pulled her hood over her head.

“Hello, sir,” she said again as she walked to the front of her car.

The mysterious man was nowhere to be seen. She looked back inside her car to find her little girl now fully asleep, and she let out a deep sigh of relief. An ominous warning crept across her skin though she did not understand why. She zipped her jacket up farther.

“Sir, where are you?”

The man did not answer back.

She cautiously walked toward the rear of his car. The rear gate had been lifted open. She could hear nothing but the tempest whipping in unison with her worry. She stopped and looked back at her little girl once more. But remembering her phone was of no help and she was marooned on a dark, desolate road, she walked on. As she came around the corner to the back of the man’s car, she found him standing frozen, as if in a trance, seemingly unbothered by the water pouring off the front of his hat.

“Uh, hi. Did you figure out what’s wrong with my car?” she asked, her voice wavering slightly.

The man said nothing while staring intensely at her. The woman nervously shifted her weight from left to right as she wiped rain from her face.

“Maybe I’ll just go back to the car and wait for you.”

“Do you believe in fate?” the man asked.

With a quizzical look, she replied, “I don’t know what you mean, and I’m really cold, so I’m going to wait for you back inside my car. I appreciate your help.” As she spoke, she instinctively stepped backward.

“I mean, do you believe we, you and me, were meant to meet?” he asked with a nefarious smirk.

Her neck tightened, and she began to bite her nails. She had no idea what the man was talking about. She peered down the street, hoping to see another car’s headlights.

Something doesnt feel right.

“Sir, I appreciate your help—really, I do—but I’m going back inside my car.”

She turned quickly and walked back to her sedan. As she opened the driver’s door, she let out a tortured scream.

“Oh my God, where is she? Where’s my little girl!”

She whipped around and found the man standing before her. He grabbed the back of her head and pressed a damp rag hard against her nose and mouth.

 

MONDAY 6:47 A.M.

 

The tranquil morning sat silent and still. The sun stretched its rays through the fog, longing to be seen. Li Chen, principal and CEO of Industry, Inc., sat at the desk in her San Francisco office, peering steadily out the small oval window at the thick brume saturating the air. She had started her business after moving from Virginia six years ago. To the untrained, she was a specialist in missing-children cases. But her skills went far beyond those of an ordinary private investigator.

Back east, she had worked at the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children in Alexandria as a staff analyst in the Exploited Child Division. Li found great satisfaction in her work at the Center, but as a staff analyst, she had spent most of her time in an office, reviewing data and trying to identify unknown victims of child pornography. No doubt her work was important, but she wanted, needed, to be on the front lines. Her thoughts were constantly hijacked by the image of wrapping her hands around the necks of those sick perpetrators.

With her eyes fixed on the droplets sliding down the window, she was happy to see the storm had finally let up after drenching the ground throughout the night. She could only take so much rain although she loved the typical overcast San Francisco weather. Pulling her eyes from the window, she glanced at her e-mails and noticed a one-liner from her mom asking how she was doing. She suddenly felt as if all the world’s problems were swirling through her. She let out a long sigh as she sent a brief reply, the kind sent to someone who only asked to be polite.

Li was generally happy, but lately a slight melancholy reigned. It wasn’t depression—she knew what that felt like. The past few months had been more of a funk, like the sun’s warmth veiled by a thick marine layer. She always thought she’d be a mom by age thirty, with two kids and a two-story house with a large yard. Instead, she had one unshared wall, two litter boxes, and an antechamber balcony. She cringed, recalling the Barnes & Noble outing where she’d picked up a book with pictures of kittens on the cover and actually thought, This would be so cute on my coffee table. To detox, she bought a John Steinbeck novel and went dancing with friends. She glared at her manpellent cats, Maw and Paw, for two days. In response, Paw pooped on the floor as if to say, “I won’t take any shit from you, missy.”

While sinking into her office chair, she took a bite of a blueberry muffin and washed it down with a lukewarm vanilla latte, feeling the caffeine igniting every nerve in her sinewy frame. Li knew she needed to eat better and over the past year had been trying to better her diet. As she grew up, her parents had been strict about food, sugar never a part of the menu. As a kid, she knew nothing different and couldn’t understand why her friends made fun of her kale and tofu lunches. Unfortunately, surrounded by a multitude of fast-food restaurants, her vitamin-packed diet was tossed aside her first year of college. Li, along with all her friends, lived on sugary cereal and ramen noodles, nothing an eighteen-year-old body couldn’t handle. Lately though, she’d been feeling really run down and was sure the packaged food had something to do with it. Im not twenty anymore; its time to get serious about eating healthy. Next week definitely next week.

Savoring the velvety morning, she took another sip of coffee and glanced at the clock as the phone gave a half ring, as if it were not quite awake either.

“Li Chen,” she declared into the receiver as she rolled her eyes. She was sure it was a telemarketer with a relentless passion about whatever goddamn thing was being sold.

The line was silent.

“Hello, is someone there?” she demanded.

“Hey, it’s me,” whispered the soft voice on the other end, lifting Li’s spirit.

“Hi, sweetie…” She paused with the realization that Angie never got up before eight in the morning and then said, “It’s not even seven. Are you okay?” As the question spilled out, Li became aware of a slight thumping in her chest.

“No, I’m not okay, not at all,” Angie murmured, timid and breathless.

“What’s going on? You’re scaring me.”

As fear rose in her, Li’s mouth felt like an arid wasteland. Her right leg shook up and down in rhythm with her rapid pulse. In an attempt to steady herself, she rested a hand on her knee.

“It’s Matti and Kendall. They’re missing, Li. I don’t know where they are. What am I going to do? I’m so scared!” she cried.

“What are you talking about, Ange? What happened?” Li’s stomach twisted as Angie’s words propelled her back in time to the day her sister, Yulin, went missing. Li was suddenly feeling the same dread she had felt, sitting in her father’s car that fateful morning.

“I don’t know.” Angie pushed her words out between sobs, stumbling on every other syllable. “Police aren’t sure. Matti called me around f-five o’clock yes-s-terday afternoon and said she was taking Kendall to the park then to her mom’s house for a visit. I-I started worrying when they weren’t home by ten and called Georgia. Sh-she said they had left about nine. The police found Matti’s car about two thirty this morning, near Mount Tam. They searched the entire area for hours but have no idea what happened. What am I going to do? They’re my life. I can’t lose them,” she whimpered.

Li felt light-headed and queasy as she tried to make sense of Angie’s words. “I’m at the office. I’ll leave now, run home, and grab my car. Everything will be okay, Ange. I’ll be there soon.”

“Okay. Hurry, please.”

Li immediately took a cab back to her flat in Noe Valley. Her condo was on the top floor of a three-unit building with a panoramic view of the city. She’d purchased the unit a year after receiving an unexpected check from a client whose daughter Li helped find. The unit’s decor was mostly modern, with a few strategically placed antique pieces that provided a sophisticated yet warm atmosphere for dinner parties or a night in front of the fire, with a good book. A dark-gray herringbone couch leaned against the north wall, the perfect location from which to take in the expansive city view, the lights from the Bay Bridge shimmering in the distance. For a more intimate experience, a plush red chair playfully filled a small space next to a wall of windows, Li’s favorite morning spot, where she spent time sipping coffee while watching the sun rise. Li’s bedroom brought out her feminine side, with blossoming pinks and yellows and tasteful flower prints. The walk-in closet was filled with an array of designer clothes. Most days, Li wore the latest fashion, but at night, as soon as she stepped through the front door, couture turned into comfort.

As she gathered her purse and keys, sudden nausea sent her to a nearby chair. She sat back and took a few deep gulps of air until the turbulence passed. Before heading out, she was grabbing an apple out of the mostly empty fruit bowl and a strawberry yogurt out of the refrigerator when her phone rang. Glancing down at the number, she felt a weight lift a little as she answered it.

“Honey, hi. I’m so glad you called. Where are you?” She tried to keep her voice steady.

Her boyfriend, Jackson, replied, “Hi, babe. I’m at home. Where are you? I called the office, thought you were working today.”

“Yeah, I was, but I just got some really bad news. Matti and Kendall are missing. Police found Matti’s car early this morning near Mount Tam.”

“What! What happened? Are you okay?”

“Not really, but I’m going into work mode. I don’t really know what else to do.”

“I’m so sorry… How’s Angie?”

“Not good. She called me an hour ago. I’ve never heard her so scared. She doesn’t know much of anything.” Li felt a lump rising in her throat and heat burning in her eyes.

“Do you want me to come over?”

“Thanks, honey, but no. I’m going over to Angie’s right now.”

“I could go with you.” He paused. “I’m here for you. I hope you know that by now.”

“I know, and you are so great. But I need to be with Angie alone right now. I think it will be easier for her to talk if we’re alone. I am so grateful for you in my life, Jackson. I hope you know that. I’ll call you later.”

Li hung up, grabbed her car keys and snack, and left.

TWO

MONDAY 8:33 A.M.

 

 

 

TRAFFIC WAS LIGHT on Highway 101 as Li drove over the Golden Gate Bridge, heading north. She had crossed the iconic landmark hundreds of times, but each felt like the first. Li often thought of the lives lost, the hopeless ones standing on the famous edge. She wondered what filled their minds as they let go of the railing and tumbled toward the frigid waters below.

Once the International Orange was no longer visible, Li’s dark-gray Audi wound its way through the hills of Sausalito and down through Mill Valley, her nerves on high alert as she sped down Tiburon Boulevard. Every stoplight loomed like death. Li made her way past Main Street, lined with boutique shops and restaurants. In the summer, the town hosted a street fair, complete with face painting for the little ones. Along the waterfront sat Sam’s Cafe, a popular drinking spot for those hoping to catch a tan while sipping on pear cider as the boats sailed into the marina.

Li arrived at Angie’s Cape Cod–style house perched on a hilltop above the tiny town of Tiburon, an affluent suburb docked about twenty minutes outside San Francisco. Matti and Angie had bought the seaside delight overlooking Angel Island a few years prior. Like so many thirty-somethings, they fled the urban life for fresh air, sun, and ample parking. Li felt an earthquake of fear rumbling inside her. She wasn’t sure whether to run or stay seated and she was uncertain when it would stop. She parked in the driveway but couldn’t get her legs to move. Parched, she took a sip of water and hoisted herself out of the car. Her feet felt numb on the pavement, as if they were someone else’s. Her head spun from worry and the large quantity of caffeine she had consumed earlier. Trying to ground herself before making her way to the house, she stood up and took a long, deep breath.

Angie opened the front door before Li got up the steps to the porch. She was holding onto the door knob as if it were the only thing keeping her upright. The bottom of Li’s heart fell away as their eyes met. Angie’s luminous sparkle was lost behind shock and anguish.

The look was all too familiar to Li, the same one she had seen on her mother.

Angie’s statuesque body seemed small and contracted. She had cut her hair short since the last time Li had seen her. Their visits had been fewer since Angie left San Francisco. Prior to Angie’s move to Tiburon, she and Matti had spent many evenings at Li’s place. Even though Li’s diet was, at times, about as complicated as the kid’s menu at Denny’s, she was a genius in the kitchen and often made elaborate dinners for her friends. Angie’s hair was still blond but now spiky with a subtle femininity softening her sharp nose. The dark crescents under her eyes glistened below spidery lashes glued together by tears and the faint trace of mascara. The lines around her eyes were deeper, more serious, and her olive skin looked drawn and thin. Angie was not a classic beauty, but she had a presence that drew people in. When she was with Angie, Li always knew, felt deeply, that she would be okay.

Aware of her awkward movement, Li reached out and pulled Angie to her anyway. Li always felt like an impostor when it came to emotions. She was good at fixing, not so good at feeling. Even with her discomfort, Li wrapped her arms around her distraught friend, knowing Angie should be held with love. She wasn’t sure she was doing it right. It felt wobbly, like when she played in her mother’s high heels as a little girl.

“We’ll find them,” Li whispered. “It’s going to be okay.”

A familiarity grabbed hold of Li’s senses as she held her best friend, and she was suddenly flooded with memories of college. Images whirled in her mind: the kitchen of their tiny, one-room apartment in Berkeley, part of an old, dilapidated house with intermittent heat and leaky pipes; the one bedroom separated by a movable screen. Despite its disrepair, they made it their home with purple velvet curtains and a menagerie of space heaters. Li remembered furiously cramming for an economics exam while Angie prepared her famous lasagna. She cooked dinner for the two of them almost every night and always made sure the apartment was clean. Angie had grown up with five younger sisters and was thrust into a parental role at a young age. Her mother and father loved them all and did the best they could, but raising six girls in a small town in Maine was a challenge. As the oldest, Angie took on a lot of responsibilities, becoming a motherly figure to her siblings. She continued in her caretaking role after she left home for college, and Li was the happy recipient.

The young women met in the dorms during their first year at UC Berkeley. They were both a little timid, being so far from home, so they spent most of their time together, drinking coffee, studying, and talking about how they were each going to change the world. Even though they were the same age, Angie felt like a wise, older sister to Li. During the difficult times, Li found great solace when she was with Angie. Throughout their college years, Angie spent countless nights sitting by Li’s side while talking Li through a panic attack. When Li told her about Yulin’s kidnapping, Angie didn’t say “I’m sorry” or “That’s awful” or any of the usual remarks people say when told of that sort of unthinkable tragedy. She simply wrapped her arms around Li, held on to her tightly, and cried.

“Come in,” she whispered as she turned toward the hallway leading to the kitchen. “I’m sorry, I can’t seem to stop crying.” She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. The air in the house stood still as if it, too, were grieving.

“Ange, it’s okay… of course it’s okay. I can’t believe what’s happened.”

They walked down a narrow hallway toward the kitchen. Photographs of the joyous family lined the walls, quick bursts of time captured so as not to be left behind. Li turned away.

Once in the kitchen, Angie went straight to the coffee pot and poured two cups, dropping a sugar cube and a dash of cream in Li’s, her usual. Li leaned against the counter, too nervous to sit, wincing as she lightly bumped her head on the cabinet overhead.

“Have you heard any more from the police?” Li sipped her drink then quickly pulled her lips from the cup, cringing as the hot liquid seared her tongue.

“Nothing since this morning. They’ll be here in a few minutes. I don’t know what to do.” Angie began pacing the slate tile floor.

Li felt helpless too. She had no idea how to comfort her shaken friend. “Tell me what happened. When did you last talk to Matti?”

Angie nodded as she wiped her nose with her sleeve again. “She called me on her cell around five yesterday. I was still at work. She said she was taking Kendall to the park for an hour, and then they were going over to Georgia’s house for dinner. She said she would be home around nine, nine thirty.”

“What park? Do they have a usual one around here?”

“I’m not sure which one they went to. There are a few different parks near our house and one near Georgia’s house. But I don’t understand why they were near Mt. Tam,” she said. “I don’t know why they would have been over there and so late in the evening.”

“Have you talked to Georgia? Did she say anything about how Matti was acting?”

“She was at the police station with me all morning. She was her usual rude self, interjecting something mean and patronizing as much as possible. I can’t believe Matti’s related to her.” She sniffled while rolling the plastic end of her sweatshirt string between her fingers. “She said Matti seemed fine, said she went over there with Kendall as planned, had a salad, and left around nine or so. She said nothing seemed out of the ordinary.”

Li paused as her gaze caught a photo of Kendall and Angie on the refrigerator. She quickly wiped her eyes dry and took another large gulp of coffee, burning her tongue once again.

A heavy rap on the front door interrupted their conversation. Li followed Angie back down the hallway, standing behind her as Angie opened the door. A female detective stood outside with her younger male partner. She looked like Sharon Gless from Cagney and Lacey.

“Hi, Ms. Longstead. I’m Detective Stinson; this is Detective Lark. We spoke this morning on the phone. May we come in?”

The woman was tall, at least five foot ten, with stringy hair, dark circles under her eyes, and a large nose that took up much of her face. Her deep voice was steady but soft, the kind you would use with a small child who had fallen off a bike. It was clear she ran the show and Detective Lark was there only to help when asked. He stood behind her, staring blankly ahead. Lark was unattractive, plump, with no hair and eyes set too close together. He wore light-brown pants and a rumpled shirt. He looked like the kind of cop who would have a drinking problem in five years.

“Yes, come in.”

“Would you like some coffee?” Angie asked the detectives.

Both declined as they sat on the couch. Angie settled in a white leather chair facing them. Li balanced on the arm, wanting to be close to her friend.

“I’m really sorry, and I know this is difficult,” Detective Stinson started, “but I need to ask you some questions.” She pulled out a pad of paper from her small shoulder bag, flipped over the cover, and looked back up at Angie.

“Of course. Go ahead,” Angie answered.

“I was looking at the statement you gave to the police earlier. I’m wondering, did Mathilda work?”

“Yes, why do you ask?”

“Just gathering information at this point. Sometimes the things we think are unimportant or irrelevant turn out to be the break in a case. Did she have any issues with anyone at work? Any arguments, that sort of thing?”

“No, not that I know of. She loves her work. She owns her own landscape architecture firm. It’s called Urban Renewal. Everyone likes her… loves her, really.” Angie’s head dropped down.

“When we’re done talking, I want you to write down every person you know. Every friend, every co-worker, every family member. I know you already gave some names earlier, but more might come to you.”

“Okay, sure. Anything you need. Please, just find them.”

The detective gave her a slight smile and then quickly looked down at her pad. “Now, I know this is hard, but can you tell me, is there anyone you know that would want to hurt her or her daughter?”

“She’s my daughter too!” Angie snapped. “She’s our daughter. We had her together.”

“Of course, please forgive me,” Detective Stinson replied in a gentler tone. Detective Lark remained quiet while taking notes. The light bounced off his rounded head, reminding Li of Charlie Brown.

“No, nobody. Matti is kind and warm. She’s a wonderful person. Kendall is just a little girl. She’s only five years old. Who would want to hurt her?” Without thinking, Li picked up Angie’s hand and held it tightly.

“How about Mathilda’s family? Any problems, discord, that sort of thing?”

“Her mom, Georgia, is not the most pleasant person, but she loves Matti and Kendall. Matti’s an only child, and I don’t know about any cousins or other family. Matti never mentioned problems with anyone.”

“Please forgive me for asking this. Is it possible she took off with Kendall?”

“What? No, no, not at all!” Angie bellowed. “Matti is a wonderful mother and wife. She is happy and successful. She would never just take off, and she would never kidnap our daughter. She loves this family more than anything.”

“I’m sorry. Please understand I have to ask,” Detective Stinson said in an apologetic voice. Li could sympathize with the detective, having been in her position many times. She was grateful she wasn’t the one having to ask such questions.

The detective continued. “I know this is difficult, but we came up with a possible lead.”

“What? What did you find?” Angie’s voice crumbled.

“We found Mathilda’s prints on her car, which of course is not a surprise. Unfortunately, we didn’t find any other prints. We then ran her prints through our system, which is routine, and a match came up to another crime scene.”

Angie’s eyes widened. “What are you talking about? Matti has never been in trouble with the law.”

The detective took a sharp breath. “When we ran her prints, a match came up to a drug raid up in Stockton. The police found a crystal methamphetamine lab in the basement. Mathilda’s fingerprints matched prints that were found there.”

“I don’t understand. Matti has never done drugs, and she certainly wasn’t involved with crystal meth. You don’t know her. If you did, you would see how absurd that sounds. Plus, I don’t think she’s ever even been to Stockton.”

“When was the raid?” Li asked.

“I believe it was about a month ago. I haven’t seen the full report yet.”

“Well, you need to have your lab check those prints again. There is no way they are Matti’s,” Angie demanded, a crispness to her words.

“I understand, and I’m really sorry to upset you. There’s something else.”

“What? Tell me, what else is there?” Angie barked.

“We found drug paraphernalia in Mathilda’s car: needles, syringes, and something that appears to be a methamphetamine pipe. They were found in the glove compartment, hidden behind some maps, in a black zipper bag. We are having our narcotics team check it out now.”

“That isn’t possible. Matti has never done drugs. You don’t know her. She is a health nut. She doesn’t drink alcohol, except once a year on our anniversary. She’s never smoked a cigarette a day in her life. She works out daily, sometimes twice a day. In fact, she just finished a half-marathon in San Francisco about two weeks ago. Does that sound like someone involved in drugs? This has to be some kind of mistake.”

“I’m sure we will get to the bottom of it,” Stinson replied.

The detective continued her inquiry about Matti, her habits and recent activities, Angie becoming more and more upset with each probe. Finally, Stinson admitted the police had no other leads and were in the process of conducting further interviews.

“We don’t yet know what happened, but usually in these cases, someone known to the victim is involved. Rarely are kidnappings random when it involves an adult. As I mentioned, we searched the entire car for fingerprints, but I’ll have them do a second sweep, just to be sure we didn’t miss anything.”

“Did you find her cell phone in the car?” Li asked.

“No, so far we haven’t found her phone, but we will check her cell records. I will let you know if we find anything or have any questions. Does she have a home computer?”

“Yes, it’s in the office,” Angie replied.

“I’ll send someone over to take a look at it, probably this afternoon. We may find something crucial on it.”

Li looked over at Angie, whose eyes were distant, as if contemplating something heavy. Li watched her friend, who had been struck with the unexpectedness of a plane crash, and mourned silently.

“If you think of anything, please call me,” Detective Stinson requested and handed Angie her card as she and her partner walked to the door. Her sidekick stayed silent.

Angie shut the door behind them and leaned her forehead against it. Li rubbed her friend’s back as Angie dropped her head in her hands and cried clear rivers that were cold and unmanageable.

“Ange, you need some rest. You’ve been up all night, and you look exhausted.”

“I know I should sleep, but I’m afraid that when I wake up, they’ll tell me they are dead.” She turned around and wiped her eyes dry. “What is going on, Li? Why did they find her fingerprints in a drug lab?”

“I don’t know, honey. It’s probably just a mistake.”

“I guess, but why was she carrying needles and drug pipes in her car?”

“I don’t know. I just don’t know.” Li put her hands on her solemn friend’s shoulders and looked her in the eyes. “Ange, I will do everything in my power to make sure we find them alive. Now, please lie down and get some rest. You are no good exhausted like this.”

“Okay. You’re probably right. I’m not sure I can sleep, but I’ll try. My parents’ flight just landed. They should be here in about an hour. Will you stay until they get here?”

“Of course, sweetie. I will do anything for you. If you don’t mind, I’m going to take a peek at Matti’s computer before the police search it.”

“Do whatever you need to do. Just find them… please. Hand me a paper and pen, and I’ll write down her e-mail password.”

Li tucked Angie in bed and read her passages from The Prophet. As soon as Angie fell asleep, Li trudged downstairs to the office and opened Matti’s computer. She logged on to her e-mail account and sighed at the four hundred messages in Matti’s inbox. She slogged through them, annoyed at the large amount of spam. Finding nothing salient, she logged out, closed the window, and looked on the computer’s desktop. Tucked away in the top right corner was a folder labeled “Personal.” Li unconsciously looked around the room, as if Matti was going to walk in at any moment and scold her for going through her private things. She clicked on the folder and found receipts from a woman named Leslie Dunston, MFT. Having been to one herself, Li immediately recognized the initials as one of a licensed clinical therapist. Li found bills dating back three months. Matti had been seeing the therapist once a week. Li wondered why she was seeing Dunston. Matti always seemed so together. However, with the new information from Stinson, Li wasn’t so sure.

She opened up a web search engine, typed in the therapist’s name, and saw that Dunston treated a number of disorders but mainly specialized in Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. She then went back to the desktop folder and opened up a document titled “meds” and found bills for two medications, Diazepam and Zoloft, used to treat anxiety and depression. From the dates on the bills, it appeared Matti had been taking the prescription drugs for at least two months. Li waded through the rest of the documents and other folders on the computer but found nothing else of importance.

“Matti, what is going on? What happened to you?” Li whispered as she closed the computer and sat with a heavy heart.

THREE

 

EVERYWHERE WAS PITCH black, like the darkest night of winter. Her temples throbbed as she stretched to pull her eyes open. She was extremely thirsty, parched in a way she’d never felt before. The cold, hard floor and her crusty lips reminded her of the harshness of her situation. She tried to sit up, but her arms were held down tightly with some kind of restraint. She remained still, the mental haze clearing with each breath.

Jesus, where the fuck am I?

Then the realization that she was lying trapped in total darkness began to take hold, roots of terror digging deep into her psyche. In a frenzy, she whipped her head around, looking for any bit of light. The sudden movement caused the world to spin and tumble. She turned to the side and retched, vomit sticking to the side of her face as it dripped out of her mouth. Forgetting that her wrists were pinned down, she tried to pull her right hand up to her mouth to wipe her lips, and the roughness of the rope cut into her skin.

Her blood pressure rose, and sweat beaded along her hairline. In vain, she tried to pull her right leg up but knew it, too, was tied down. Her breath quickened, her mind racing so fast she couldn’t catch hold of any thought.

“H-hello,” she whispered in a weak voice, wondering how long she’d been out. Swallowing what little saliva remained in her barren mouth, she tried again, this time a little louder. “Hello, is someone there?”

Nothing. No sound at all. Absolutely nothing but deafening silence.

Continued….

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The Vanished Ones

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