I Wish You Missed Me Read online

  Contents

  Cover

  A Selection of Recent Titles by Bonnie Hearn Hill

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  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

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  A Selection of Recent Titles by Bonnie Hearn Hill

  The Kit Doyle mysteries

  IF ANYTHING SHOULD HAPPEN *

  GOODBYE FOREVER *

  I WISH YOU MISSED ME *

  The Star Crossed Series

  ARIES RISING

  TAURUS EYES

  GEMINI NIGHT

  * available from Severn House

  I WISH YOU MISSED ME

  A Kit Doyle mystery

  Bonnie Hearn Hill

  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 published in Great Britain 2016 by

  SEVERN HOUSE PUBLISHERS LTD of

  19 Cedar Road, Sutton, Surrey, England, SM2 5DA.

  First published in the USA 2017 by

  SEVERN HOUSE PUBLISHERS of

  110 East 59th Street, New York, N.Y. 10022

  This eBook edition first published in 2016 by Severn House Digital

  an imprint of Severn House Publishers Limited

  Trade paperback edition first published

  in Great Britain and the USA 2017 by

  SEVERN HOUSE PUBLISHERS LTD

  Copyright © 2016 by Bonnie Hearn Hill.

  The right of Bonnie Hearn Hill to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988.

  British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data

  A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

  ISBN-13: 978-0-7278-8679-8 (cased)

  ISBN-13: 978-1-84751-782-1 (trade paper)

  ISBN-13: 978-1-78010-851-3 (e-book)

  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 actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is purely coincidental.

  This ebook produced by

  Palimpsest Book Production Limited,

  Falkirk, Stirlingshire, Scotland

  For Stacy Renée Lucas, talented writer, cherished friend

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Thanks to everyone who helped me with this book, most of all, my brilliant literary agent Laura Dail. I’m grateful to the following, who provided ideas, support, and inspiration: Hazel Dixon-Cooper, Christopher Allan Poe, Jen Badasci, Ann Brantingham, John Brantingham, Stacy Lucas, John Milburn, Kara Lucas, Unni Turrettini, Larry Hill, Rochelle Kaye, Michael Ko, Brenda Najimian Magarity, Kay Rutherford Adams, Tom Adams, Terrie Wolf, Margaret Mizushima, Lisanne Harrington, Alice McCord, Janice Noga, Cyndi Avants, Jeani Tokumoto Brown, Dianne Swain, Cece Hawkins Avila, Dee and Jon Rose, Elbie Groves, Jeannie Groves Erdman, and my talented friend Kim Stephens, the Awesome Anchor.

  ONE

  Megan puts on the large, white-framed sunglasses, even though it’s starting to get dark out. The dress Will insisted she wear is too low cut for an evening in a pub and too sexy, even for her. She ties his red bandana around her neck and makes a double knot, turning it into kind of a cowboy kerchief.

  ‘You ready yet?’ Will calls from outside the cabin. Then he walks inside and his boots squeak to a stop on the wood floor when he sees her. ‘Nice.’ He circles her slowly and then stops so they are eye to eye. ‘Very nice. But take your hair down, will you?’

  ‘I thought a ballerina bun would look better with this dress.’

  ‘You’re not paid to think.’ He grins and swats her on the ass. ‘Come on, beautiful. Time’s a-wasting.’

  She shakes out her hair, pulls it behind her ears and over one shoulder. The cracked bathroom mirror makes it look as if she has five eyes. Megan blinks all of them and says, ‘Let’s go.’

  He’s promised this will be the last one and she believes him. Will is many things but not a liar. Not to her, anyway.

  They pause at the top of the stairs and the sound of the creek in back, combined with the redwood scent of the deck after a morning of rain, reminds her why she came here with him and why she stays. Not that she needs reminders.

  ‘What are you thinking?’ he asks.

  Just like that, she remembers something. ‘I was supposed to help Priscilla and the other women make blueberry jam tonight.’

  ‘Like she will care if you don’t show up?’ He starts down the stairs. ‘Priscilla. Michael. I’ll never figure out these people.’

  ‘Good people,’ she reminds him. ‘They took us in with no questions.’

  ‘And they leave jars of jam in those little stands with no one manning them. Like anyone would actually leave money in the freaking jar.’ He reaches the ground ahead of her and puts out his hand.

  ‘But they do.’

  ‘You’ve got that right.’ He helps her over the space at the bottom where the last step is missing and then puts his arm around her waist as they walk to the driveway. ‘Why would anybody leave money when they take jam from a stand with no one in charge? Once I’m back in school I’m going to write a paper on that one.’

  ‘Me too,’ she says, and they laugh because they both know that only one of them will be returning to school.

  ‘Ready?’ he asks when they reach the car, and she tells him the truth because she is sure he knows it anyway.

  ‘Ready to get it over with.’

  TWO

  Sometimes driving was tricky but today Kit Doyle had managed fine. The breeze through the window of her car carried the promise of spring rain, but she knew better. Soon enough, summer in Sacramento would arrive in all its brutal reality. As early as June, the unrelenting sun would spread its thick, muggy heat over the city. On nights like this, Kit missed living in Seattle and, as always, she missed her mom.

&nb
sp; You can’t live in the past. All you really have is now. She could almost hear Elaine Doyle, her adopted mom’s no-nonsense voice, so vital and confident when she was alive. Her message of mindfulness – not that she would have ever called it that – was echoed by the mediation group Kit had tried to join and then dropped. Her head was still too full of noise and memories to fully relax.

  As Kit drove away from the shelter, she thought about how good it would feel to get home, escape into the shower and wash away the hopelessness of her day. Volunteering there had been her way of giving back and maybe even an attempt to heal, but most of what she had witnessed in almost four months offered little redemption. Although she knew she wouldn’t bounce back – a term her friends liked to use – from what had happened right away, Kit hadn’t counted on losing her passion for everything.

  She couldn’t listen to John Paul and Farley on the radio segment that she and Farley used to share. The stories they discussed reminded her too much of her own. Only watching the kaleidoscope of young lives that passed through the cots and kitchen of the temporary reprieve of the shelter brought her back to volunteer one more day.

  The traffic was as aggressive as usual for a Friday. As she pulled off the freeway, dusk gave way to night and Sacramento became a blaze of headlights. A vehicle behind her came up too fast. Kit touched her brake and adjusted her rear-view mirror, but she couldn’t see anything except a dark van, its windshield reflecting back the light.

  So pass me.

  She slowed down more so that the van could go by.

  Instead, it slowed.

  OK, don’t pass me.

  Lots of vans in Sacramento. No reason to worry. But she did have to wonder why this one seemed to be following her, though now keeping its distance. Kit turned off at the intersection, glad to be free of the glare. She let the cool breeze blow back the hair from her face. Fifteen more minutes and she would be home.

  At the stoplight on Broadway, she glanced in her mirror again and saw a van merge into the lane behind her. Same one? Maybe it was heading to the fast-food place in the brick-front shopping center to her right. She squinted to see better but the streetlights reflected off the van’s windshield and distorted her view of the driver.

  Only one way to figure this out. Kit steered into the next lane and took a sharp left. Probably a paranoid move on her part but she already felt her heartrate slow down.

  A yellow glow cut across her vision from behind. Any vehicle. It could be any vehicle, she thought. She slowed; so did the van. She sped up. So did it.

  As she shot through the red light, Kit remembered everything that had happened to bring her to this moment and knew she had to just drive, just run, get away as far and as fast as she could.

  John Paul didn’t live far from here. She could call him. But first, another stoplight. Kit grabbed her phone, dropped it and realized she was shaking. Carefully she picked up the phone again and sent a text to John Paul.

  Need help. Just passed Stockton and Broadway. I think there’s a van following me.

  His reply popped up immediately. Come here. My place.

  OK.

  Come now.

  She no longer knew exactly where she was. Sweat soaked her shirt and her slick hands could barely hold onto the wheel.

  Not sure how. Find me. I’ll go around the block back to Jack In The Box on Broadway.

  Headlights sneaked up behind her again. They looked the same and she took an illegal left turn.

  Her phone buzzed and Kit looked down. John Paul. She took the call, pressed speaker and slammed the phone down in the seat beside her.

  ‘I can’t talk, John Paul. It’s a van, and it’s …’

  Headlights washed over her again.

  ‘… right behind me.’

  The van nudged closer but she still couldn’t make out the person inside it. She pulled over to the curb and waited. The van paused, then backed up and went right. Kit began to tremble. Tears filled her eyes.

  ‘It’s OK,’ she said to herself. ‘It’s just a driver who made a wrong turn. Weird coincidence. That’s all. It’s OK.’

  Minutes passed. She calmed down. Finally new lights illuminated Kit’s car. Her phone beeped. She looked down at the text on it. John Paul.

  I’m here. Found you.

  Kit yanked open the door and met him between their two vehicles.

  ‘Thanks for coming.’ She stopped short of hugging him and gripped both of his hands in hers.

  ‘Are you all right?’ His smile was slow and guarded. ‘Any idea who was following you?’

  ‘Not a clue.’ Now, under the bright streetlights, she felt her cheeks burn. ‘I’ve had a bad time lately. I’m starting to think that maybe I imagined it.’

  ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Your hands are freezing. Let’s get you some coffee.’

  ‘I’m fine.’ She let go of him. ‘Sorry I bothered you. Guess I’m still dealing with stuff.’

  ‘You have to be. That’s normal after what you’ve been through.’

  He didn’t move. For the first time since he arrived, she really saw him. He had shaved off his short Afro again, but that wasn’t what made him look different. His expression was worried. He also seemed distracted, and something she didn’t understand hung in the air between them.

  ‘What is it?’ she asked him.

  ‘Do you have time for a drink?’

  ‘Just tell me, John Paul.’

  ‘Not out here on the street. Get in, please.’

  Kit climbed into his truck and realized that she was more afraid now than when she was trying to lose the van. Whatever was wrong with John Paul had nothing to do with her fears about being followed. ‘Tell me,’ she said again. ‘It’s not my dad, is it?’

  ‘Mick’s fine.’ He sighed. ‘No easy way to say this, Kit. It’s Farley. He’s missing.’

  ‘No, he’s not.’ She sank back in the seat, relieved. ‘Farley’s surfing. He’ll be back Sunday night.’

  ‘Listen to me.’ John Paul spoke softly. ‘That girlfriend of his says he never showed up for their trip. She hasn’t seen him since Wednesday.’

  As the words sank in, Kit realized what he was trying to tell her but he had to be wrong. Farley had been in touch with her just today.

  ‘What about his phone?’

  ‘It’s not taking messages.’

  ‘And his girlfriend?’ At that moment, she didn’t mind using that term for Monique.

  ‘Beside herself. She’s the one who called me from Malibu. Farley was supposed to meet her there.’

  ‘Then there’s been some kind of misunderstanding,’ Kit said. ‘You know how often he loses his phone. You probably have an old one.’ She pulled out hers and punched in Farley’s new number.

  Only a flat electronic ring, over and over. Slowly Kit started to realize Farley was really missing, not just off the grid. John Paul was a former cop. He wouldn’t jump to conclusions about anything this serious.

  She looked up into his eyes. ‘What are we going to do?’

  ‘You’re going to do nothing.’ He turned the key in the ignition. ‘Let me walk you to your car. Then I’ll follow you home, just to be sure you’re all right.’

  ‘But what about Farley?’

  ‘I’ll find him, and I’m starting tonight.’

  The dismissal in his voice awakened her anger.

  ‘You expect me to just go home?’

  ‘Hey, maybe whatever happened is as simple as a flat tire.’ John Paul gestured toward the quiet street. ‘But we don’t know for sure if you were followed, Kit, and we can’t take any chances.’

  ‘I told you, I think I just imagined it. I overreacted.’

  ‘And you’re doing that right now.’ He opened his door. ‘Come on. I want to get back and call Monique again.’

  ‘What about your cop friends?’ she asked. ‘Did you talk to them?’

  ‘Sure, but they’re dealing with crime twenty-four seven. So far, nothing’s actually happened to him. For now, he’s just a
surfer who didn’t show up where he said he would.’

  ‘Which isn’t like him. You know that. Farley doesn’t lie and he doesn’t dodge his commitments.’

  ‘That’s true.’

  They sat like that for a moment, the breeze and the now-soft traffic noises drifting through John Paul’s truck. Kit had been afraid when she’d caught sight of that van behind her. Now she was really worried, not for her own safety but Farley’s.

  ‘John Paul,’ she said, ‘we can do this together or we can do it separately.’

  ‘Threatening me, are you, Doyle?’

  He hadn’t called her by her last name since they had grown close. But that was four months ago. Right now, they could be strangers again – strangers with one friend in common. For the first time in a long time, Kit’s head cleared and she could really think again, really feel.

  ‘I’d rather do this with you,’ she said.

  With one hand on the door, John Paul turned slowly and looked at her. ‘No, Doyle. I can’t risk it.’

  ‘If that’s the way you want it.’ She kept her voice flat and hoped he hadn’t heard the annoyance in it.

  ‘It’s the only way. You need peace and quiet and I need to be able to move quickly.’

  ‘Let me know if you find out where Farley is and I’ll do the same.’

  Before he could reply, Kit hopped out of the truck, hurried back to her car, got in and drove away.

  Farley, she thought as the street signs flew past and she headed toward home. He wouldn’t lie to her about where he was going. Just before she took the turn on Markham Way, Kit noticed headlights behind her again and caught her breath. Then she realized that no dark van followed her this time, only a silver pickup, and it wasn’t trying to hide.

  She lifted her hand, waved to John Paul and then turned onto her street. Next to her dad, who had been Farley’s mentor, and now, next to Monique, Farley was closer to Kit than anyone. John Paul would start looking for him tonight, and she would do the same. Something had happened to her friend, and it was worse than a flat tire.