Missing Chapter 1 PDF
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MISSING? Copyright 2013. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author. All characters and events are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
CHAPTER 1
It was still dark when Logan McCall slowly opened his eyes. The dream had pulled him from sleep again. The only thing he could remember was a young girl. She was twelve or so with a soft, round face and hay-colored hair…but it was her sad, gray eyes he couldn’t escape. They looked like the eyes of a wounded animal begging for help. He sat up in bed and, though still tired, immediately knew he was up for the day. Truth be told, he would have loved to sleep a few more hours. It was Sunday and there was nowhere he had to be. Logan couldn’t remember the last time he had slept a full eight hours without the intrusion of those eyes. He wondered, not for the first time, why the dream disturbed him so deeply. With a sigh he sat up and after some light stretching and a few push-ups, he took a shower and began the day. The girl’s face, especially her eyes, danced around his mind as he got dressed. She didn’t look familiar. He could’ve seen her anywhere. He’d been a police officer in Camden Springs for seven years now. In that time he’d met countless people. She could easily have been in the backseat of a routine traffic stop or the daughter of someone he arrested. For that matter, he could’ve seen her in a television commercial. He didn’t understand why but he knew she was real and his every instinct screamed that she was in trouble. Logan was a logical man and the unsettled feelings left by the dream were troubling. He wondered if stress was causing him to crack. The gray-eyed dream girl wasn’t the only issue Logan was dealing with. He was set to begin his new position tomorrow as Lead Investigator. It was a big promotion and a necessary step if he ever wanted to be a detective in a major city. The current chief, Allan Yates, constantly told Logan his place was here, in Camden Springs, as his successor but Logan dreamed of bigger things. He had advanced quickly primarily because he was one the few officers with a college degree. He’d wanted to be a policeman for long as he could remember, and idolized the cops he saw on television. They always seemed to prevail in the end while not sacrificing their integrity. He quickly found out that was rarely the case in the real world. He’d resisted telling his family the good news. Buck Prescott, the man Logan was replacing, had retired but then changed his mind several times. This time, probably because of his advanced age and salary, Buck’s retirement seemed to have stuck. Because of this, Logan decided it was time to share the news of his promotion and knew just where to start. Once dressed, he checked himself in the mirror to make sure every hair was in place. He wasn’t displeased with what he saw looking back at him. At well under six feet tall he was the shortest of the brothers McCall. His muscles weren’t bulging but he was lean and in great condition. His brown hair was cut so short that it was barely long enough to part. He had wide brown eyes that looked like they saw everything. Even though he was pushing thirty, people often referred to his looks as boyishly handsome. This wasn’t exactly a hindrance but didn’t help his career either. He was guilty of overcompensating for his boy-next-door looks by being overly professional at all times. He was unaware that many mistook his formal demeanor for a holier-than-thou attitude. Logan just wanted to be taken seriously and make a difference. He wanted his life to have meaning Logan’s mother had died giving birth to him leaving her three boys to be raised by their father. As a small child, He had been told how his mother died. Since he knew her death was his responsibility, he made it a point to think of her for several minutes every day. Some days he
could think of little else. He assumed the reason he was so different from his brothers was that they at least had the opportunity to know their mother, even if only for a few years. Ethan was the oldest brother by a year. At 17 he had left Camden Springs for college and never returned. Sawyer was a year younger and went away to college but returned eventually to Camden Springs. Both were legitimate geniuses but neither particularly benefited from their first-rate educations. Ethan was perpetually between jobs and Sawyer ran a successful, albeit controversial, radio talk show. Though he loved his brothers and knew their lives weren’t a competition, Logan hoped his mother would be proud of the man he had become. He needed to believe her ultimate sacrifice hadn’t been in vain. After a quick shower and unnecessary shave Logan dressed and headed out to his 1983 powder-blue Jeep Comanche. It was his pride and joy. He’d bought it when he was right out of high school from a used car lot that was willing to carry the note for a young kid starting out. The truck suited him and once it was paid for there was never a need to upgrade. He would never understand other’s constant struggle to “keep up with” society. He was a practical man who believed that something not broken shouldn’t be fixed. He made the short drive across town to Coleman’s Diner. At just after five a.m. the parking lot was already half full. Most of the vehicles were overpriced sedans or high end pickups far too luxurious to be practical. Though it was early, Logan knew his father, Walter, would most certainly be there already. Even on a Sunday, the diner was where all the businessmen approaching retirement age gathered to discuss the “goings-on about town.” Logan wasn’t even in the door before his father spotted him. Walter McCall was as huge man in both stature and personality. He’d been a star running back years ago for the local high school. Those days had long passed. The closest he could come to running now was a brisk waddle. He always wore dress pants with an elastic waist hidden under the belt. What was left of his gray hair was combed over the top and pasted down with hairspray. He had a booming voice that sounded like a man on the radio trying to sell something that probably didn’t work. He was seated with three other men at a large round table. They were all local men who had enough money to retire but would have nothing do if they did. Walter owned more rental property than anyone in town. He had mostly low-cost housing, but did have some nicer properties. The nicest one was rented to Sawyer - although Logan doubted he paid any type of rent. Walter stood up to greet his son and asked, “What’re you doing up this early, son?” “I couldn’t sleep,” Logan replied. “Thought I’d come see you.” “Gentlemen, you’ll have to excuse me,” Walter said to the men at his table. “I’m gonna go over here and sit with my boy.” He squeezed his way through and pointed at a table far enough away to provide some privacy, but close enough to not miss any gossip. Logan followed the lead and sat down across from his father at a small two person table. After some huffing and puffing Walter settled in and tucked his gut under the edge of the table. “So how are ya?” Walter asked. “I’m good,” Logan replied. Before their conversation could continue the server, a black-haired, middle-aged woman with the gait of a stalking cat approached them. She sat a fresh cup of coffee down in front of Walter and asked Logan, “You want some coffee, hon?” “Some grape juice please,” Logan replied. She rolled her eyes but carried on, “Anything for breakfast?”
He didn’t want breakfast, at least not the type he could get there, but knew he had little choice. “I’ll take a couple of pieces of dry wheat toast.” “Grape juice and white toast,” she repeated. Logan suspected this was more insolence than poor hearing. “Wheat toast, please,” Logan corrected, knowing he’d get whatever she wanted him to have. “You don’t want any eggs or anything?” She asked still confused by this odd order. “No thanks.” “What about you, Walt?” She asked in a much more playful tone. “You want some toast and cranberry juice?” “Hell no,” Walter replied. “Western omelet, hash browns with cheese and onions and a couple biscuits.” “That’s better,” she said, and scurried away. Walter began talking as though he were resuming a conversation. “I think something’s up with your brother,” he said. “Which one?” Logan asked, but knew the answer. “Ethan,” Walter replied. “Of course, something is always wrong with that boy I guess. Have you talked to him lately?” “It’s been a week or two,” Logan answered. In truth, Ethan had checked himself into rehab for the third time in the past two years. His wife had called Logan and told him the news a few days earlier. At the moment, Walter didn’t know and this wasn’t the time to tell him. “I can’t get him on the phone and Audrey just keeps giving me the runaround,” Walter said. “Why don’t you call him later and see if he’ll answer for you.” “I’ll do that,” Logan said, opting to quickly change the subject. “What about Sawyer? Talk to him lately?” Sawyer wasn’t a much safer topic but definitely the lesser of two evils at the moment. “Yeah, I have,” Walter said exaggerating his ire. “The little shit called me at damn near midnight.” “What did he want?” “Who knows? I gave him a cussin’ and hung up on him,” Walter said. “And let me tell you, Linda was none too happy either.” Logan chuckled internally at the entire situation and said, “You know Sawyer. Who knows what he was thinking?” “Enough about those two knuckleheads,” Walter said. “How are you doing?” “Well, that’s one of the reasons I came to see you this morning,” Logan started. “You know I’ve told you before that when Buck retired, I would be promoted to his position?” “Yeah,” Walter replied playing along. “Well, he finally retired,” Logan said and his father’s excitement was already showing. “As of tomorrow morning, I’m the new Lead Investigator.” “Hot damn!” Walter exclaimed. “Congratulations son.” “Thank you,” Logan said. As always, he couldn’t tell how much of the excitement was real. “How much of a pay raise does that mean?” Walter asked. “Not a lot, but enough,” Logan replied. He hated that everything was money with his father but it had always been that way. “And I get to wear plain clothes.”
"That’s great,” Walter said casually. He’d used up his energy with the initial burst of excitement. “Tomorrow night you come to dinner at the house. I’ll have Linda whip up something good.” “You don’t have to do that.” “No, I insist,” Walter said. “You can even bring…what’s-her-face.” “Lisa,” Logan filled in the blank. She was his semi-girlfriend. They’d met when Logan arrested the father of her children on a drug charge. “That’s her,” Walter said. “How about seven o’clock?” “That’ll be fine,” Logan said. “I’ll give you a call tomorrow and let you know if she’s coming or if it’ll be just me.” “Perfect,” Walter said. They spent the next few minutes having breakfast and making small talk. They may not have the perfect relationship, but it had been a pleasant visit. Soon, the sun hit the eastern horizon and Logan decided it would be the perfect time for a run. He just had to make a graceful exit. “Thanks for breakfast, Dad,” Logan said. “You’re welcome,” Walter replied. “No reason to run off though.” “Oh, I’ve a few things to line out for tomorrow,” Logan said. “But I’ll see you guys tomorrow night.” “Hey, kiddo,” Walter said slowly. He locked eyes with his son and continued, “I’m damn proud of you. You’re gonna do great.” “Thanks,” Logan said. “Elizabeth…your mom, she would’ve been proud too,” Walter added. “Thanks,” Logan said after a slight pause. As with any mention of his mother, a brief moment of silence had followed her name. “See you tomorrow, Dad.” He patted his father on the shoulder and turned for the door. “See you then,” Walter said. As Logan exited the diner he could hear his father already shuffling around to rejoin the table with his friends. The cool morning breeze was refreshing, and flushed away the stagnant smell of coffee and old grease that had filled the air in the diner. He fired up his old truck and lowered the windows to take in the air on his drive home. He plotted the route for his run as he backed up and drove toward the exit. It was still well before church on Sunday morning so traffic was sparse. There was only one other car, a white Volvo, in sight. It was approaching slowly from the left. He had time to make the turn but was in no hurry. When the Volvo reached the intersection, Logan couldn’t believe what he saw. It was her. His foot slipped off the clutch killing the motor. His eyes locked on the young girl in the back seat. Her big gray eyes were just as helpless as they were in his dreams. Logan sat, paralyzed by shock and disbelief, as he watched the car disappear down the street.
CHAPTER 1
It was still dark when Logan McCall slowly opened his eyes. The dream had pulled him from sleep again. The only thing he could remember was a young girl. She was twelve or so with a soft, round face and hay-colored hair…but it was her sad, gray eyes he couldn’t escape. They looked like the eyes of a wounded animal begging for help. He sat up in bed and, though still tired, immediately knew he was up for the day. Truth be told, he would have loved to sleep a few more hours. It was Sunday and there was nowhere he had to be. Logan couldn’t remember the last time he had slept a full eight hours without the intrusion of those eyes. He wondered, not for the first time, why the dream disturbed him so deeply. With a sigh he sat up and after some light stretching and a few push-ups, he took a shower and began the day. The girl’s face, especially her eyes, danced around his mind as he got dressed. She didn’t look familiar. He could’ve seen her anywhere. He’d been a police officer in Camden Springs for seven years now. In that time he’d met countless people. She could easily have been in the backseat of a routine traffic stop or the daughter of someone he arrested. For that matter, he could’ve seen her in a television commercial. He didn’t understand why but he knew she was real and his every instinct screamed that she was in trouble. Logan was a logical man and the unsettled feelings left by the dream were troubling. He wondered if stress was causing him to crack. The gray-eyed dream girl wasn’t the only issue Logan was dealing with. He was set to begin his new position tomorrow as Lead Investigator. It was a big promotion and a necessary step if he ever wanted to be a detective in a major city. The current chief, Allan Yates, constantly told Logan his place was here, in Camden Springs, as his successor but Logan dreamed of bigger things. He had advanced quickly primarily because he was one the few officers with a college degree. He’d wanted to be a policeman for long as he could remember, and idolized the cops he saw on television. They always seemed to prevail in the end while not sacrificing their integrity. He quickly found out that was rarely the case in the real world. He’d resisted telling his family the good news. Buck Prescott, the man Logan was replacing, had retired but then changed his mind several times. This time, probably because of his advanced age and salary, Buck’s retirement seemed to have stuck. Because of this, Logan decided it was time to share the news of his promotion and knew just where to start. Once dressed, he checked himself in the mirror to make sure every hair was in place. He wasn’t displeased with what he saw looking back at him. At well under six feet tall he was the shortest of the brothers McCall. His muscles weren’t bulging but he was lean and in great condition. His brown hair was cut so short that it was barely long enough to part. He had wide brown eyes that looked like they saw everything. Even though he was pushing thirty, people often referred to his looks as boyishly handsome. This wasn’t exactly a hindrance but didn’t help his career either. He was guilty of overcompensating for his boy-next-door looks by being overly professional at all times. He was unaware that many mistook his formal demeanor for a holier-than-thou attitude. Logan just wanted to be taken seriously and make a difference. He wanted his life to have meaning Logan’s mother had died giving birth to him leaving her three boys to be raised by their father. As a small child, He had been told how his mother died. Since he knew her death was his responsibility, he made it a point to think of her for several minutes every day. Some days he
could think of little else. He assumed the reason he was so different from his brothers was that they at least had the opportunity to know their mother, even if only for a few years. Ethan was the oldest brother by a year. At 17 he had left Camden Springs for college and never returned. Sawyer was a year younger and went away to college but returned eventually to Camden Springs. Both were legitimate geniuses but neither particularly benefited from their first-rate educations. Ethan was perpetually between jobs and Sawyer ran a successful, albeit controversial, radio talk show. Though he loved his brothers and knew their lives weren’t a competition, Logan hoped his mother would be proud of the man he had become. He needed to believe her ultimate sacrifice hadn’t been in vain. After a quick shower and unnecessary shave Logan dressed and headed out to his 1983 powder-blue Jeep Comanche. It was his pride and joy. He’d bought it when he was right out of high school from a used car lot that was willing to carry the note for a young kid starting out. The truck suited him and once it was paid for there was never a need to upgrade. He would never understand other’s constant struggle to “keep up with” society. He was a practical man who believed that something not broken shouldn’t be fixed. He made the short drive across town to Coleman’s Diner. At just after five a.m. the parking lot was already half full. Most of the vehicles were overpriced sedans or high end pickups far too luxurious to be practical. Though it was early, Logan knew his father, Walter, would most certainly be there already. Even on a Sunday, the diner was where all the businessmen approaching retirement age gathered to discuss the “goings-on about town.” Logan wasn’t even in the door before his father spotted him. Walter McCall was as huge man in both stature and personality. He’d been a star running back years ago for the local high school. Those days had long passed. The closest he could come to running now was a brisk waddle. He always wore dress pants with an elastic waist hidden under the belt. What was left of his gray hair was combed over the top and pasted down with hairspray. He had a booming voice that sounded like a man on the radio trying to sell something that probably didn’t work. He was seated with three other men at a large round table. They were all local men who had enough money to retire but would have nothing do if they did. Walter owned more rental property than anyone in town. He had mostly low-cost housing, but did have some nicer properties. The nicest one was rented to Sawyer - although Logan doubted he paid any type of rent. Walter stood up to greet his son and asked, “What’re you doing up this early, son?” “I couldn’t sleep,” Logan replied. “Thought I’d come see you.” “Gentlemen, you’ll have to excuse me,” Walter said to the men at his table. “I’m gonna go over here and sit with my boy.” He squeezed his way through and pointed at a table far enough away to provide some privacy, but close enough to not miss any gossip. Logan followed the lead and sat down across from his father at a small two person table. After some huffing and puffing Walter settled in and tucked his gut under the edge of the table. “So how are ya?” Walter asked. “I’m good,” Logan replied. Before their conversation could continue the server, a black-haired, middle-aged woman with the gait of a stalking cat approached them. She sat a fresh cup of coffee down in front of Walter and asked Logan, “You want some coffee, hon?” “Some grape juice please,” Logan replied. She rolled her eyes but carried on, “Anything for breakfast?”
He didn’t want breakfast, at least not the type he could get there, but knew he had little choice. “I’ll take a couple of pieces of dry wheat toast.” “Grape juice and white toast,” she repeated. Logan suspected this was more insolence than poor hearing. “Wheat toast, please,” Logan corrected, knowing he’d get whatever she wanted him to have. “You don’t want any eggs or anything?” She asked still confused by this odd order. “No thanks.” “What about you, Walt?” She asked in a much more playful tone. “You want some toast and cranberry juice?” “Hell no,” Walter replied. “Western omelet, hash browns with cheese and onions and a couple biscuits.” “That’s better,” she said, and scurried away. Walter began talking as though he were resuming a conversation. “I think something’s up with your brother,” he said. “Which one?” Logan asked, but knew the answer. “Ethan,” Walter replied. “Of course, something is always wrong with that boy I guess. Have you talked to him lately?” “It’s been a week or two,” Logan answered. In truth, Ethan had checked himself into rehab for the third time in the past two years. His wife had called Logan and told him the news a few days earlier. At the moment, Walter didn’t know and this wasn’t the time to tell him. “I can’t get him on the phone and Audrey just keeps giving me the runaround,” Walter said. “Why don’t you call him later and see if he’ll answer for you.” “I’ll do that,” Logan said, opting to quickly change the subject. “What about Sawyer? Talk to him lately?” Sawyer wasn’t a much safer topic but definitely the lesser of two evils at the moment. “Yeah, I have,” Walter said exaggerating his ire. “The little shit called me at damn near midnight.” “What did he want?” “Who knows? I gave him a cussin’ and hung up on him,” Walter said. “And let me tell you, Linda was none too happy either.” Logan chuckled internally at the entire situation and said, “You know Sawyer. Who knows what he was thinking?” “Enough about those two knuckleheads,” Walter said. “How are you doing?” “Well, that’s one of the reasons I came to see you this morning,” Logan started. “You know I’ve told you before that when Buck retired, I would be promoted to his position?” “Yeah,” Walter replied playing along. “Well, he finally retired,” Logan said and his father’s excitement was already showing. “As of tomorrow morning, I’m the new Lead Investigator.” “Hot damn!” Walter exclaimed. “Congratulations son.” “Thank you,” Logan said. As always, he couldn’t tell how much of the excitement was real. “How much of a pay raise does that mean?” Walter asked. “Not a lot, but enough,” Logan replied. He hated that everything was money with his father but it had always been that way. “And I get to wear plain clothes.”
"That’s great,” Walter said casually. He’d used up his energy with the initial burst of excitement. “Tomorrow night you come to dinner at the house. I’ll have Linda whip up something good.” “You don’t have to do that.” “No, I insist,” Walter said. “You can even bring…what’s-her-face.” “Lisa,” Logan filled in the blank. She was his semi-girlfriend. They’d met when Logan arrested the father of her children on a drug charge. “That’s her,” Walter said. “How about seven o’clock?” “That’ll be fine,” Logan said. “I’ll give you a call tomorrow and let you know if she’s coming or if it’ll be just me.” “Perfect,” Walter said. They spent the next few minutes having breakfast and making small talk. They may not have the perfect relationship, but it had been a pleasant visit. Soon, the sun hit the eastern horizon and Logan decided it would be the perfect time for a run. He just had to make a graceful exit. “Thanks for breakfast, Dad,” Logan said. “You’re welcome,” Walter replied. “No reason to run off though.” “Oh, I’ve a few things to line out for tomorrow,” Logan said. “But I’ll see you guys tomorrow night.” “Hey, kiddo,” Walter said slowly. He locked eyes with his son and continued, “I’m damn proud of you. You’re gonna do great.” “Thanks,” Logan said. “Elizabeth…your mom, she would’ve been proud too,” Walter added. “Thanks,” Logan said after a slight pause. As with any mention of his mother, a brief moment of silence had followed her name. “See you tomorrow, Dad.” He patted his father on the shoulder and turned for the door. “See you then,” Walter said. As Logan exited the diner he could hear his father already shuffling around to rejoin the table with his friends. The cool morning breeze was refreshing, and flushed away the stagnant smell of coffee and old grease that had filled the air in the diner. He fired up his old truck and lowered the windows to take in the air on his drive home. He plotted the route for his run as he backed up and drove toward the exit. It was still well before church on Sunday morning so traffic was sparse. There was only one other car, a white Volvo, in sight. It was approaching slowly from the left. He had time to make the turn but was in no hurry. When the Volvo reached the intersection, Logan couldn’t believe what he saw. It was her. His foot slipped off the clutch killing the motor. His eyes locked on the young girl in the back seat. Her big gray eyes were just as helpless as they were in his dreams. Logan sat, paralyzed by shock and disbelief, as he watched the car disappear down the street.
