The Missing

themselves. “Who’s the man, Jillian?”

    Her voice shook softly. “He’s a monster,” she whispered. She clutched the notebook to her chest, and Cullen realized she was trembling like a leaf.

    Futile anger rushed through him, and he bent down to catch her small body in his arms. He murmured to her gently and stroked her back. She felt too fragile to deal with this burden she’d been handed. This isn’t fair, Cullen thought bitterly and wished he was alone someplace where he could give in to the anger building inside. But, despite his rage, he knew how sensitive Jilly was. If he let even a little of his anger show, it would add to whatever else she carried inside. So instead, he just hugged her close. “It’s going to be okay, Jillian. Promise.”

    And deep inside, he only hoped he wasn’t lying to her.

    SIX weeks later, Cullen had mostly forgotten about the weird episode in the airport. For a day or two, Jillian had been like a little rabbit, jumping at every sound and unable to sleep without Cullen right beside her. But after a few more days passed, she slowly started acting more like herself. And Cullen had forgotten.

    It was hotter than hell and so humid that it felt like a weight was pressing down on his chest every time he went outside. The deadline from hell was looming closer and closer, and he still wasn’t anywhere near to being done with the last book in his contract. If he didn’t hurry the hell up, he wasn’t entirely convinced his editor was going to want to see the proposal he had put together for her.

    Shoving back from the desk, he rubbed his hands over his face and tried to clear the cobwebs from his brain. He’d dreamed about Taige again last night. She’d been hurt. The dreams made little or no sense, unless he looked at them as yet another form of torture. There was no way imaginable he would have chosen to dream seeing her like that, her left eye puffy, swollen and bruised, and her right hand in a soft cast that went halfway up her forearm.

    The dream had disturbed him more than usual, and as a result, when he got up at four that morning, he hadn’t felt like he’d slept at all. Instead of going back to bed, he’d settled down to work, and with the exception of refilling his coffee cup every hour or so and fixing some breakfast for Jilly, he’d been there ever since.

    Movement caught his eye, and he looked up to see Jilly peeking around the corner into his office. There was a smile on her usually somber little face, and as she edged into the room, he saw the phone in her hand. “Mandy called. They want to know if I can go swimming with them.”

    Later, it would haunt him as he recalled how relieved he’d been when the Paxton family had shown up to take Jillian to a local water park. Loaded down with sunscreen, money, dry clothes, and a towel, she’d wrapped her arms around his neck, squeezing tight. “Love you, Daddy . . .”

    Now, as Kelly Paxton sat across from him on a hard bench, sobbing helplessly, Jillian’s words echoed inside his head: Love you, Daddy . . .

    “Mr. Morgan, I realize how terrible a time this is for you, but I need some more information about where you were today . . .”

    Numb, Cullen looked into the agent’s face. His voice was rusty as he repeated, “I’ve already gone over this. A hundred times.”

    “Let’s go over it once more,” Special Agent Holcomb said, his voice polite, professional.

    Frustrated, Cullen turned away, scrubbing his hands over his face. “I’ve been at home. Working. Around two, I talked to my agent. Around three, I stopped to take a piss and get a sandwich. Around three forty-five, my dad called.” His voice cracked, and he had to stop for a minute. “Dad wanted Jilly to come spend the weekend with him,” Cullen said softly. “He hasn’t seen her much this summer. I’ve been so busy . . .”

    Although the agent had heard all of this before, he nodded and continued to jot notes down on his notepad. “And your father lives . . . where?”

    “Shit.” Cullen blew out a harsh breath and then turned to face the agent. “Look, I get what you’re doing. I know you need to check me out, and you’ll even have to check up on my dad and make sure one of us hasn’t been hurting her.” Even thinking it filled him with an irrational fury, but he knew they had to ask. Cullen had had it, though. His temper was frayed, he was scared to death, and his overactive imagination, such a blessing when it came