Before He Vanished Page 4

  “Do you and Dad want to meet me for dinner somewhere?”

  “No, that’s not necessary. I’ve already started dinner. Your favorite, lasagna. I just wanted to be sure you would be here and to warn you about the vultures out front.”

  Halle laughed. “I’m one of those vultures, Mom.”

  The whisper of her chuckle reached across the line. “I’m sure you’re always thoughtful and considerate when going after a story.”

  “Of course,” Halle fibbed as she remembered times when she’d had to be aggressive to get to a reluctant source. “You and Dad raised me that way.”

  “So you’ll be here? Maybe you can park on the street behind us and sneak in again so they won’t bother you. Or I could have Daddy sit on the porch with his shotgun.”

  The idea made Halle smile in spite of herself. “No, Mom, that’s not necessary. I’ll be fine. I’ll be home around six or so.”

  “All right, sweetie. Love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  Halle ended the call and stared at her cell for a moment. Her parents had raised her to be kind. Though she had always been relentless going after the story, she did try to be considerate—most of the time.

  She pulled open her middle drawer and picked up the photo she’d brought to the office as inspiration while she wrote the article on the lost boy. It was a picture of her with Andy the fall before he went missing. They were at the school Halloween carnival. She had been dressed as a fairy with wings and all. He’d been Batman, complete with the cape and mask. Their faces were jammed cheek to cheek for the shot. She couldn’t recall which mother snapped the pic, hers or his.

  There were so many fun times like this one. She’d spent the first year after he was lost in a state of depression. Her parents had tried every way to cheer her up but nothing had worked. Finally, she had moved on to some degree. By the time she was ten she had stopped being so sad but she still missed him.

  But she had always wondered what if. What if he hadn’t disappeared? What if they had grown up together? Would they still be friends? Would it have turned into more? They had pretended to get married once. A smile tugged at her lips. She and her parents had attended the wedding of the daughter of a friend of her mother’s. Halle had been so enthralled by the decorated church and the wedding dress she had rushed home afterward and told Andy they had to get married.

  He’d shrugged and said okay. He’d always been up for whatever made her happy.

  Funny, maybe that was why she’d never found the right guy. Maybe the right guy had disappeared twenty-five years ago.

  “I’m sorry, Halle.”

  She looked up as Tanya burst into the room.

  “I tried to tell him we were closed. I was locking up when he bullied his way through the door.”

  A tall man stood in the corridor beyond Tanya. She watched his nervous movements through the open door. He was looking side to side as if he feared security would be showing up any second.

  “He says he needs to speak with you about the article.”

  She sighed. “Is he a reporter?”

  “No. He said he has some information, though. And some questions.”

  They’d had a lot of emails with “clues” since the article ran, nearly all of them crazy, some asking if there was reward money, many mentioning children who looked like the photos of Andy, as if he would still be seven years old. She wasn’t up to talking to one of those tipsters face-to-face.

  Tanya went on, “He says he has some pictures.”

  A shiver ran up Halle’s spine. Maybe she’d talk to this one, just this one, and get him out of the way so Tanya could go home.

  “It’s all right, Tanya.” Halle stood. “I’ll talk to him.”

  Tanya nodded and turned to go. The man stepped out of her way and she hurried off down the corridor.

  That was the moment Halle got her first full glimpse of the unexpected visitor as he stepped into her office doorway.

  Tall, blond. Very good-looking.

  His gaze collided with hers.

  Blue eyes. The bluest she had ever seen.

  Her heart stumbled. Tension rifled through her, and her face flushed, her muscles clenched.

  “How...” She cleared her throat of the strange emotion lodged there. “How can I help you?”

  He held out a wrinkled page from a newspaper. “Are you Halle Lane?”

  She nodded, still grappling for composure. Who was this man? “Yes.”

  He stepped fully into her office, still holding out the newspaper as if it were a weapon or something otherwise lethal. The thought chilled her. Why had she said she’d see him? “Did you write this article?”

  She extended her arm across her desk. He shoved the newspaper close enough for her to take it from him without touching his fingers or his hand. It was the front page of Sunday’s paper, the one with her article on Andy’s disappearance.

  “Yes. I did.”

  His jaw tightened. “Did you mail that to me?” he snapped.

  She blinked. “What? No. I don’t even know your name, sir. How could I mail anything to you?”

  He had no discernible accent. His skin was tanned. He wore jeans and a tee. The tee sported the logo from a Napa Valley vineyard. Surely he hadn’t come all the way from California to talk to her. If he had...

  The curiosity she’d experienced earlier morphed into fear. Maybe this was a mistake. She suddenly wished Tanya had called 911 and wondered if she could surreptitiously dial it on her cell.

  Something was very, very wrong.

  Rather than respond to her question, he stood there, staring at her as if he’d suddenly lost his ability to speak. Frankly, he looked shell-shocked. Halle wasn’t sure whether she should call for medical assistance or the police.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, then decided calming him was the best course of action. “Why don’t we begin again?” she suggested “Please, have a seat. I’m sure we can sort this out.”

  Somehow he found his way into the chair in front of her desk without taking his eyes off her face.

  Halle settled into her chair. “You know who I am. May I ask your name?”

  “Liam.” He swallowed hard. “Liam Hart.”

  Summoning a polite smile, she gave him a nod. “Mr. Hart, why don’t you tell me what happened? You mentioned someone mailed my article to you?”

  His head moved up and down, slowly. “Yesterday. It was addressed to me at my office in...in California.”

  “You came all the way from California to ask me about the article?” She tried not to allow the tension to slip into her voice again.

  He looked away. “I’m not some stalker or crazy person.” His gaze met hers once more. “I came because...”

  Rather than finish his sentence he reached into the pocket of his tee and withdrew something, tossed the items on her desk. Photographs. She grabbed them, her pulse racing toward some unseen finish line for reasons still unknown to her.

  “I came because of the photos that accompanied your article.”

  Halle stared at the two photos. Andy. “Where did you get these?” she practically whispered.

  For a moment he only continued to stare at her.

  Who was this man? How did he have these photos of Andy? Why were his eyes so blue?

  The idea that he might be... No, no, it wasn’t possible.

  Was it?

  “Those photos came from a family album,” he finally said. “My family album.”

  She left the photos on her desk and clasped her hands together to conceal their shaking. “Do you...” She moistened her lips, tried to swallow, but it wasn’t happening. “Do you know the boy in these photos?”

  The question was foolish. The photos had been in his family’s album. Of course he knew who the boy was.

  “Me.”

/>   The single syllable quaked through her. Not possible. “I’m not sure I understand.” She held up one of the photos. “I know this boy. His name is Andrew—Andy Clark. He went missing twenty-five years ago.”

  Mr. Hart shook his head. “Those photos are me. That house you see in the background is my home. In California.”

  Halle stared at the photo with the house. It certainly wasn’t a house in her neighborhood. Definitely not Andy’s house.

  “The dog in the other one,” he said, “that’s Sparky. The dog my father got me for my birthday.”

  Halle’s head was spinning. This was incomprehensible. She struggled for rational thought, for what to do next. “Mr. Hart, I can’t explain why you look exactly like Andy.” She simultaneously shook her head and shrugged awkwardly. “I honestly don’t know what to say. I can see why you were shaken by the article and the photos. If the photos you brought with you are of you—” she tapped the newspaper “—and I know these are of Andy...” She looked him in the eyes. “Let me pursue this. With you. We could both work on it. In ways that law enforcement can’t.”

  The reporter in her wouldn’t allow the opportunity to pass without trying to get to the truth.

  * * *

  LIAM STARED at the woman. He’d been doing that practically from the moment he laid eyes on her. She seemed so familiar to him. Like someone he’d gone to school with or met at a party. Somehow he knew this Halle Lane. From the wild mane of red hair to the freckles and those too familiar green eyes.

  “I came here to ask you,” he said, his chest heavy with some emotion he couldn’t define, “about this Andy—the boy who went missing. I tried to google for information but what I found was vague at best. There was no explanation of what happened to him.”

  “I can tell you anything you want to know,” she assured him. “Andy and I were neighbors and best friends. But, to my knowledge, no one knows what happened to him. The police, the FBI, even private investigators were never able to solve the case.”

  Best friends. Neighbors. Liam drew in a big breath. “All right.” He glanced around her office. “My flight got into Nashville and I drove straight here. I don’t have a hotel yet, but maybe we should have dinner. Talk. I’ll find a place to stay later.”

  He felt like a total idiot. Talk? Dinner? But then, he was here. He’d come a long way to get some answers. He might as well get those answers straight from the horse’s mouth, so to speak.

  “There’s a couple of options for lodging,” she said. “As you say, we can worry about that later. I don’t know about you but I’m starving. My parents are expecting me for dinner. Why don’t you join us?”

  He blinked, startled at the invitation. “Sure. If you think your parents won’t mind.”

  She laughed. “I can guarantee you they won’t mind. And a dinner out might draw attention you don’t want or need.”

  He grabbed his photos from her desk and tucked them back into his pocket. “I can follow you.”

  “Actually—” she picked up her shoulder bag “—it would be better if we rode together. We’ll have to park on another street and sneak into my backyard. Reporters are camping out in front of my house.”

  He wasn’t so sure that being without his own transportation was a good idea.

  “Don’t worry,” she offered, “I’ll bring you back for your car.”

  Too tired to argue and too curious to miss out on the opportunity, he said, “Fine.”

  Fine might be an overstatement but he would ride it out.

  The dreams that had haunted him last night wouldn’t fade. As a boy, he hadn’t been able to remember his name at the ER when he’d broken his arm. The doctor had assured his father that it was probably the concussion causing the confusion and it would likely clear up in a couple of days. And it had.

  Maybe the newspaper article wouldn’t have gotten to him if it hadn’t been for that one disturbing memory in that hospital...and Claire’s insistence that there were no pictures of him.

  He was here. He intended to find out what his true past was.

  * * *

  SHE PARKED ON a short, shady street that wasn’t so different from some of the streets back home. Liam surveyed the neat yards and the quaint old houses. He reached into the back seat and got his jacket. He’d almost left it in his rental. The temperature had dropped dramatically after sunset. Something else that reminded him of home.

  “This way,” she said in a stage whisper.

  He followed her between two houses and across the backyard of the one on the right. No exterior lights came on, no dogs barked. The moon and the glow from the windows provided just enough illumination for their trek across the property. A clothesline and a swing set were the only items they encountered.

  “Mrs. Jolly is the neighbor who lives behind us,” Halle said in a low voice. “I warned her on Monday that I might have to use her backyard to avoid the reporters.”

  Liam glanced at the back of the small house. He spotted an older woman peering from one of the windows. The light behind her highlighting her presence.

  “Here we go.”

  His guide stopped at a white picket fence and opened the gate. Once they were through, she closed it behind them.

  “Home sweet home.”

  She marched to the back porch and climbed the steps, chattering the whole time about how good her mother’s lasagna was and how excited she would be to have a guest for dinner.

  The overhead light came on and the door opened as they crossed the porch. An older version of the woman he’d followed through the darkness stood in the doorway. Her red hair was shot through with gray and pulled back in a long braid.

  “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.”

  “I was held up at the office. Mom, this is Liam Hart. He’s joining us for dinner. Liam—” she glanced at him “—this is my mom, Judith.”

  “I hope that’s okay, ma’am,” he said when the mother stared openmouthed at him.

  “Yes, of course.” She blinked once, twice. “Come in.”

  As they entered the house, Judith called out, “Howard! Halle’s home and she brought a guest.”

  The kitchen smelled of garlic and fresh baked bread. Liam watched as the two women chatted excitedly—as if he was some celebrity or something. A tall, gray-haired man entered the room.

  He hesitated, assessed Liam, then thrust out his right hand. “I’m Howard, the father.”

  “Liam,” he said as he shook the man’s hand. “Liam Hart.”

  “Let’s eat before it gets cold,” Judith announced.

  They gathered around the table that stood on one end of the massive kitchen. The whole back of the house appeared to be a kitchen. It was nice. Homey. Looked well loved. That was one of the things he liked most about his family home. It was a real home. Used and loved and...his. His home. Whatever happened here twenty-five years ago had nothing to do with him. Whoever mailed that newspaper to him had made a mistake.

  “So, Liam,” Howard said as the various dishes made the rounds of those seated at the table, “tell us about you.”

  “I’m from Napa. My sister and I run the Hart Family Winery. It’s been in my family for more than two decades.”

  “Oh, my,” Judith said. “Would you prefer wine rather than the sweet iced tea?”

  “No, ma’am. The tea is fine.”

  “Sweetheart,” Howard announced, “I do believe you’ve outdone yourself. The lasagna is splendid.”

  Liam ignored his salad and took a bite of the lasagna. Halle’s father was right. It was exceptional. He smiled at Judith. “Really outstanding.”

  She beamed at him. Something deep inside him shifted. He looked from Judith to Howard and then to Halle. These people shouldn’t feel so damned familiar to him.

  This was all wrong.

  THEN

  Monday, Octo
ber 31

  Twenty-five years, five months ago...

  HALLE DIDN’T WANT to be a fairy. She wanted to be Robin. Andy was Batman and she wanted to be Robin. They were best friends after all. Just like Batman and Robin.

  Their moms walked behind them, not allowing them to get too far ahead. Even though they knew everyone on this street and all the other streets around them, their moms always worried.

  “I like your costume,” Andy said.

  Halle smiled at him. “Like yours, too. I wanted to be Robin.”

  They walked on, heading for the next house.

  When they turned up the sidewalk, Andy leaned close and whispered, “You are Robin. You’re just in disguise. Sometimes superheroes do that.”

  A big old grin spread across her face. “Yeah. I am Robin. In disguise.”

  They rushed to the front door and rang the bell. It was her turn, so she was the one to press the lit button.

  When the door opened they shouted, “Trick or treat!”

  Mr. Olson made a surprised face. “My goodness, I had no idea Batman was in the neighborhood. Who’s your friend, Batman?” Mr. Olson winked at Halle.

  “It’s my friend Robin—in disguise.”

  “Well, this really is a special visit.” He held out the bowl. “Robin, you and Batman take all the treats you want.”

  Giggling, they grabbed a handful of candy each and dropped it into their pumpkin-head pails.

  “Thank you!” they recited simultaneously before dashing away.

  “Be careful out there, Batman and Robin,” Mr. Olson called after them.

  The mothers waited on the sidewalk by the street. Halle and Andy hurried past and headed for the next house.

  “Thanks for letting me be Robin even in this fairy suit,” Halle said as they skipped up the sidewalk to the next house.

  “You’ll always be my Robin,” Andy promised.

  “Forever and ever,” Halle said on a laugh.

  By the time their moms made them go home, they had a ton of candy each. They were never going to run out of candy.