The Missing - Kiersten Modglin (the reading strategies book TXT) 📗

When we broke apart, he put his hands on either side of my head, brushing my hair out of my face. “My god, where were you? What happened? I never thought I’d see you again, Katy… My Katy Kat…”

“I was taken…” I said, starting at the beginning and relaying the whole story. I left nothing out, though I glazed over my feelings for Noah and our night together as I saw the pain in Ned’s eyes. I just needed to get it out. All of it. I couldn’t hold the weight of it alone anymore.

When I’d told him everything, we sat in silence, him processing all that I’d told him as I did the same. “How long was I gone?” I asked finally.

“A little over two months,” he said, his voice powerless. “When you left, I called the police, but they weren’t helpful. They kept saying that there were no leads. Nothing. No one had seen a thing. I called you and called you and called you, and… I’m so sorry I wasn’t there. I’m so sorry I didn’t protect you.” He kissed my forehead, his touch tender as he pulled me in for another hug.

“You never gave up on me?” I squeaked, desperately needing to know the answer to that question.

“I hired a private investigator a month in when I’d heard nothing. I thought, well he thought, and he half convinced me that you’d run off with someone else. We’d been fighting, and I wasn’t doing enough… I thought you’d left me.”

I rested my head on his shoulder, breathing in the scent of him. “I never thought I’d see you again.”

“I thought I’d lost you.” He kissed my forehead again, then my lips, and his kiss felt wrong. I pulled away, but he didn’t seem to mind. Instead, he wrapped me in his arms and lay down across the bed, the two of us bundled under the sheets as I felt my breathing slow, my heart calm.

“I don’t know how I’m going to handle this,” I told him. “I’m falling apart.”

“You don’t have to deal with it alone. I’m here for you.”

“I’m sorry about Noah,” I said, though I wasn’t sure what I was apologizing for. Sleeping with him or falling for him. Maybe both.

“Shh.” He rubbed my arm gently. “We don’t have to worry about that right now. Let’s just be here. Rest. We’ll deal with everything else once we’re home. Just rest.”

At his command, I closed my eyes, great relief washing over me as I realized how tired I felt, how close to sleep I was. The bed felt wrong—too soft, too comfortable—as I drifted to sleep. Somehow, even there, I could hear the crashing ocean waves ringing in my ears.

Chapter Thirty

ONE YEAR LATER

I carried my daughter across the living room as my phone buzzed, picking it up and staring at the phone number on the screen. My pulse quickened, breathing slowed.

Over the last year, I’d never given up on finding the people who’d done this to me. The woman and the two men from the cliff house who had ruined my life. I’d used part of the money they’d given me to hire a professional sketch artist and had them craft a drawing of the woman, every bit of her features down to the freckle next to her eyebrow. I’d memorized them for a reason.

Ned had begged me to give it up. The private investigator had found nothing. The police had all but called me crazy, stating that there were no missing persons reports for anyone matching the descriptions I’d given them for Noah, Harry, James, and Ava. The woman had been right. When all else failed, I’d posted the woman’s sketch online, hoping someone somewhere might have a lead.

That was three months ago, just after giving birth to our daughter. Ned had never mentioned the fact that her hair color didn’t match either of ours, or that her features didn’t match our own. He loved her just the same, but still, I’d vowed to get revenge on the people who ended her father’s life. I owed him that much.

Still, in three months, we’d received no real leads. Until that morning when a detective from Georgia had reached out and asked me to call him back. I’d missed him when I did, but the number on the screen was him again.

I set Cara down, sliding my thumb across the screen and placing the phone to my ear.

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this Mrs. Katy Corbeil?”

I nodded slowly, then realized he couldn’t see my nod and replied. “Yes.”

“This is Detective Armbruster with the Chatham County Police Department. I’m calling about a photo you posted online. Is now a good time to chat?”

“Yes,” I squeaked out again.

“I’ve been leading an investigation into a woman I believe is conning people out of large sums of money around this area. One of the men who was duped by this woman, she got him for a deposit on a wedding, pretending to be a famous event planner… He saw your picture on social media and forwarded it to me. He believes this is the woman who did it. I wondered if I might be able to come to wherever you are so I could ask you some questions about her.”

“Sure,” I said, hardly managing to breathe, let alone speak. He asked where I’d be able to meet, and I told him the name of a restaurant in downtown Nashville, somewhere busy and crowded, where there’d be witnesses if something were to happen.

I’d become more cautious thanks to the island. I now knew of the dangers all around me, even in places where I should’ve felt safe.

We hung up the phone, and I picked my daughter back up, kissing her soft, black hair and making my way into the kitchen with a racing mind.

“We’re one step closer, sweetheart,” I promised her.

She stared up at me, her eyes wide and innocent, so unaware of the darkness that existed just outside our doors.

That evening, when