The Missing

Christmas.”

    He’d asked her before. She’d always said no. But this time . . . She leaned in and kissed him. “Maybe.”

    Grabbing her in his arms, he stood, lifting her out of the chair and spinning her around. “You’ll come.” Then he lowered her feet to the ground, his smile fading. He placed his hand on her belly. “You’ll call me and let me know, right?”

    She didn’t need to ask him what about. She nodded. But she already knew she wasn’t pregnant. She hadn’t gotten her period or anything, but she just knew.

THREE

    November 1996

    L ATE one night, right before Thanksgiving, Taige rolled out of bed, hit the floor on her hands and knees, and puked. She puked until she had emptied her stomach right there on Rose’s worn, polished floors. She puked until she had nothing left inside her, and then she just dry heaved until she almost choked with it.

    Rose came running in, woken from a sound sleep. “Damn, girl, what the hell . . .”

    She took one look at Taige’s face and spun around. Taige continued to hover there on her hands and knees, unable to move, frozen inside. When Rose returned with a wet rag, Taige couldn’t even take it. The older, smaller woman had to strong-arm Taige into a sitting position, and she ended up wiping Taige’s face like a child’s.

    “Cullen . . .” She forced the words out.

    Rose shook her head, her eyes going wide. “No, baby, please don’t tell me . . .”

    Taige shook her head. “Call him. It’s . . . it’s his mother.”

    There was no answer though, not through that long night. Not the following morning. By ten, she was itching to be with Cullen, and Taige couldn’t wait anymore. She convinced Rose to let her borrow the Jeep. The drive to Atlanta was long and agonizing. She pulled over three times to try calling him again on pay phones, but there was no answer. She hadn’t ever wanted a cell phone, but on that long, dreary drive, she wished she’d gotten one.

    She ended up lost and had to pull over and ask for directions to Georgia State University. Then she had to ask for directions to his dorm. But he wasn’t there. His roommate, some vacant-eyed weird guy with a grunge thing going on, answered the door and mumbled, “He left for home. Dunno when he’ll be back.”

    So she had to leave again, get on the expressway and head north, going to the little town where she’d been invited to spend Christmas. She hadn’t ever been to Cullen’s home where he lived with his parents, but she recognized it from some pictures. It was huge, a sprawling three-story building made from what looked like creek stone, with huge windows and a driveway full of cars. She had to park at the very end, and she made her way up the driveway on legs that shook.

    Too late. Too late. Too late.

    She knocked, and when Cullen answered, she didn’t know what to say.

    “You knew.” His voice was stark and harsh, and it hit her like a slap on the face.

    “No.” She licked her lips and shook her head. “Not until yesterday.”

    “She was killed two days ago.” He reached out, grabbed her arm, and pulled her inside, pulling her along behind him, ignoring the people who called his name as he led her up one flight of stairs and then another. When he finally stopped, it was inside a huge room that was nearly as big as Rose’s entire house. “Two fucking days ago, Taige. Some sick fuck grabbed her outside the mall, forced her into his car, raped her, and choked her to death. Why didn’t you help her?”

    Taige shook her head. Tears spilled down her cheeks, and she felt sick inside. Useless . . . “I didn’t know in time, Cullen. I swear, if I had . . .”

    She reached out for him, and he pulled back. He shook his head and said, “Don’t. Okay? Just . . .” He turned away from her, and his broad shoulders slumped as he covered his face. A harsh sob escaped him, followed by another and another.

    With timid steps, she moved toward him. She touched his back, waited for him to pull away. When he didn’t, she slid her arms around his waist and rested her cheek against his back. “I’m so sorry, Cullen.”

    He reached down and grabbed her wrist. She waited for him to push her away, but instead, he pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her waist, burying his face against her neck as he cried. “Shhhh . . .” she murmured against his hair, rocking him and stroking his back, his neck, wherever she could reach.

    His hands roamed restlessly up and