Darcy paces the terminal until the police call. The home is secure and Bronson got the power running. After she speaks to the police, her phone rings. It’s Bronson.
“What happened to the power?”
“I threw the main breaker, and the lights started working again. Must have been a power surge.”
“What about the cameras?”
“That’s the weird part. They started working on their own before I flipped the breaker.”
“I tried to call you, but I got your voice-mail. Same with the kids.”
“None of us could make a phone call,” he says. “Otherwise, I would have gotten a hold of you sooner to tell you what happened.”
“Bronson, what’s going on?”
She hears him walking to another room. A door shuts, blocking out Jennifer, who sounds like she’s panicking.
“When the power went out things got crazy around here. Amy locked herself in your room and refused to come out.”
Did Amy see the crime scene photos boxed inside the closet?
“Hunter found the key to the bedroom doors, except…”
“Bronson?”
“When I unlocked the door, the window was open. Amy must have panicked and run off.”
“Oh, God. Do the police know?”
“Amy is an adult, and she’s only been gone an hour.”
“But she’s not an adult,” Darcy says, strolling to the window. A crew fuels a plane at their gate, but this isn’t their flight. “She’s a fifteen-year-old in a nineteen-year-old girl’s body.”
“That’s not everything. Hunter went out looking for Amy. I tried to call him as soon as the phones started working again, but he’s not answering.”
“What are you saying? Amy and my son are both missing?”
“If he doesn’t return in the next hour, I’ll put Jennifer in the truck and we’ll look for him together.”
Rivers’ words come back to her. Where does Hunter go when he leaves? She can’t let Rivers into her head.
Her son isn’t a killer in the making.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Three hours later, the flight to DC boards with Hunter and Amy missing. Darcy leaves messages on their phones, but she might as well be speaking in a vacuum. The male flight attendant tells Darcy to shut her phone down while they await takeoffs. She’s near the front, Hensel stuck somewhere in the back of the plane with the flight filled to capacity. The man beside her is too large for his seat. Darcy leans into the aisle to buy herself breathing space. As soon as the plane lands, Darcy accesses her messages. Hunter is back home, thank goodness, but no one can locate Amy.
With a degree of guilt, Darcy sleeps through the connecting flight. Hensel shakes her awake, and her eyes open to gray daylight while the vent blows cold air on her. The plane is empty except for the flight crew. Hensel reaches into the overhead compartment and grabs Darcy’s bag.
“Any word on Amy Yang?”
“Nothing.”
“She’s survived this long. Never discount she escaped a serial killer. Have faith. She’ll show up today.”
Bleary-eyed, Darcy shakes her head and follows Hensel down the ramp. Lightning splits the eastern sky. As if the charge tears a hole in the dark underbelly of overcast, rain pelts the car and blurs the way forward.
“Let me drive,” Darcy says, rubbing the clouded windshield clean with her shirtsleeve. “I’ve slept enough.”
“Nowhere to pull over. Anyhow, I caught a few hours during the flights.” A road sign flashes past. “We’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
Bronson’s bright red pickup is the first thing Darcy sees when they turn the corner into her neighborhood. The truck grounds her, makes her believe she won’t topple off the spinning world. Hensel shuts off the engine.
Wearing a nightshirt, Jennifer stands barefoot in the doorway. Circles beneath her eyes scream the girl hasn’t slept.
“You have to find her,” Jennifer says, throwing herself into Darcy’s arms.
Darcy drops her bag and holds her daughter and tells her it will be okay, though recent events make her words seem empty.
“Why did she run away? She was safe here, Mom. Now she’s alone, and that man is stalking her.”
“It’s been twelve hours. The police know the killer targeted Amy. They’ll declare her missing and begin the search.”
“We should be looking for her, not standing here waiting for the police to do their job.”
Over Jennifer’s shoulder, Darcy spots Bronson in the living room. He has his jacket on, keys jangling in his hand. He approaches, and Darcy can’t decide if she should hug Bronson.
“You made it back,” Bronson says, twirling the key ring around his finger.
Darcy sets her bag down and leans against the wall.
“Tell me Hunter hasn’t pulled another vanishing act.”
“Sound asleep in his room.”
“Good. Are you heading somewhere?”
Bronson’s eyes swerve to Hensel in the doorway.
“I’ll take a drive over to Smith Town and look for Amy in case she headed back that way. Afterward, I suppose I should eat something.”
“Oh, shit. I’m sorry I haven’t shopped this week. I promise I’ll pick up food after I shower.”
“Hey, now. That’s not what I meant. You’re shouldering all the load you can handle. All I’m saying is I’ve got a refrigerator full of food and nobody’s eating it. It wouldn’t be a bad idea if I brought a few items over. No sense in it going to waste.”
“I know what you meant. I can’t think straight.”
“You haven’t slept. I’m amazed you still function.”
After Bronson leaves, Hensel leans against the door.
“I hate to do this to you, but I’m heading back to Quantico this afternoon.”
Darcy creases her brow.
“So soon? You just arrived.”
“Another case popped up. Corruption this time, thankfully. I could use a break from serial killers.”
“Eric, it meant a lot that you checked on my family and flew me to see Rivers.”
“Not much good came of it, I’m afraid.”
“After three years of having that bastard inside my head, it was therapeutic to worm into his for once.”
Hensel fishes into his pocket and opens his wallet. He removes a card and scribbles a number on the back.
“This is my emergency cell. I reserve it for family, no work. If anything should come up…” He hands her the card and glances down at his shoes. “Anyhow, I’m a heel for leaving you under the circumstances. If all goes well with the case, I can be back in Genoa Cove early next week.”
“You don’t need to.”
“Yes, I do, so don’t try to convince me otherwise. In the meantime, I’ll dig into the GCPD database. Poke around a little and see if I can find a connection between local offenders and Rivers. Hey, Amy will turn up soon.”
“I know.”
Except she doesn’t.
“Promise me you’ll talk to someone. Follow your prescription.”
“It’s under control, Eric.”
When Hensel heads back to his hotel, Darcy collapses on the couch. His presence buoyed Darcy. Now that he’s gone, she unravels again.
Scott, the lead installer for Gilmore, knocks at noon and jolts Darcy out of a restless sleep. He apologizes over the cameras and gets to work, checking cables and using a meter to test signal strength. The tech specialist is a whirling dervish of activity, always running in high gear as he bounces from one corner of the house to the next.
“I can’t explain it,” Scott says, sliding a screwdriver into his shirt pocket. “All the signals appear strong, and I reattached the cables. I ran diagnostics on your system and determined you never lost battery power.”