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For M.N.F.
The book has already been written…
Thanks to the following wonderful people for helping me with my research: Mike Fitzpatrick, Simon Batcup, Gloria Fournier (all marathoners), Dr. Shouresh Charkhandeh, Dr. Gordon Bird and Gwen at Jefferson Inn
CONTENTS
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 ONE
T HE NOTE WAS STUCK to the fridge with a magnet when Leigh Hartwell came home from work, but she was too rushed to read it.
She set the bag of groceries on the counter, then opened the fridge to store the assorted cheeses she’d picked up for the party tonight. She’d hardly finished when the phone rang. It was the caterer, her friend, Tina O’Dell.
Leigh had a premonition of trouble. “Don’t tell me you couldn’t find fresh scallops.”
“I found them.” Tina sounded grumpy. “But why didn’t you tell me you weren’t inviting men to this party?”
“I sent you the guest list a month ago and you’re just noticing that now? Anyway, why should it matter whether there are men at the party or not?”
It wasn’t as if she and Taylor had set out to avoid them. It just so happened that when they’d listed the important people in their lives—her coworkers at the dental clinic and the people in her running group, Taylor’s best friend and her pals from ballet—no males had made the cut.
“I bought a low-cut blouse to wear tonight, that’s why it matters. I was going to look hot. ”
“I’ll take a photo. You can put it up on an Internet dating site.”
“Hey, I’m not that desperate. You, on the other hand—”
“No lectures, Tina. I don’t have time.” She still had to shower and change before Tina arrived with the food. “You still planning to be here in an hour?”
“Of course. I’m never late for a catering gig. So how was the run? You know I love Taylor and wouldn’t have missed cooking for her party, but I hated to miss it.”
“I didn’t go, either.”
“Leigh—”
“How could I, when I’m expecting twenty guests less than two hours from now?”
“But running relaxes you, and worrying about your guests is my job. If you trusted me—”
“I do. Really. I know everything will be perfect. It’s just—what’s one run? We’ll both go a few extra miles on the weekend.”
“This isn’t about your training schedule. It’s about your need to relax and enjoy yourself now and then. I want you to have fun at Taylor’s party. Not worry about every little detail. Speaking of Taylor, how’s our girl doing?”
“Actually…I’m not sure. She should have been home by now. There’s a note on the fridge. Let me just grab it.” She snatched it too quickly, sending the magnet flying to the floor.
“Wasn’t today the first day of her new summer job?”
Leigh grabbed the magnet and stuffed it into the drawer where she kept pens and paper. “Yes, if she made it on time. She didn’t get to bed until after midnight last night.” She’d been on the computer again. Since receiving her letter of acceptance from Cornell University a month ago, Taylor was forever on their Web site.
“Look, Tina, I’d better run. See you soon, okay?” As Leigh returned the phone to the counter, she skimmed the note.
Hi, Mom, Taylor had written. I know this is going to sound crazy…
Leigh stopped breathing as she read the rest.
No. Impossible.
This had to be her daughter’s sick idea of a joke.
She set the paper down, pulled out an open bottle of white wine and poured herself a glass. She took a long swallow, then read the note again.
I know this is going to sound crazy, Mom, but I’ve been chatting with this really nice guy over the Internet for several months and last week he asked me to come and visit him. Don’t worry, he’s a great person and I’m not in any danger. I’ll call you once I get there.
Love, Taylor
P.S. Sorry about the party…
No matter how many times Leigh read the note, the message wouldn’t change. And yet she still couldn’t believe it. She and Taylor had had so many conversations about the dangers of meeting people over the Internet and the folly of dating someone you only knew through correspondence.
All those late nights when Leigh had assumed Taylor was either studying or researching Cornell…she’d really been chatting with this guy.
And who was he? Taylor had left her no clue. No name, no address, no contact information of any kind. Leigh grabbed the phone again and tried her daughter’s cell phone. She was shuffled straight to the message service.
“It’s Mom, Taylor. I’ve found your note. Please call me as soon as you get this.”
Damn.
How could Taylor have done this? Leigh’s daughter was a shy girl who didn’t date much. Years of struggling with acne had left her self-esteem a little battered where boys were concerned. In a way, Leigh could understand why Taylor had felt more comfortable meeting a guy at the distance the Internet offered.
But why hadn’t Taylor said anything? Their relationship was close, or so Leigh had thought, but she’d had no clue Taylor was carrying on this way.
Who was this guy? How old was he? Was he a predator?
No, no, don’t panic. Stay calm. Think. Focus.
It was no use. One scary possibility led straight to another. Where was her daughter, right now? Still en route? Or had they already made contact?
The very idea had Leigh hyperventilating. Don’t worry, the note had said. He’s a really nice guy.
Well, how would Taylor know? Had she had the guy checked out? Leigh knew she hadn’t.
Oh, God. Please don’t let this guy be some sort of pervert.
Leigh jerked away from the table. The first thing she had to do was phone Kerry. Surely Taylor’s best friend would know all about this.
But Kerry didn’t.
“That’s insane, Ms. Hartwell. Are you sure?”
Leigh read her the note.
“Taylor never mentioned a word about this guy.”
“So you can’t give me a name? You don’t have any idea where he might live?”
“Sorry, I don’t have a clue.”
Leigh could have banged her head against the wall. “I can’t believe Taylor would do something like this.”
“I can’t, either. It’s totally not like her.”
Leigh disconnected the call, more concerned than ever. For a moment she contemplated the bizarre possibility that her daughter had been abducted and forced to compose the note. But there was no sign of any stress in Taylor’s neat printing. No sign of a struggle in the pristine apartment.
She checked her daughter’s room and found it atypically neat. Taylor’s backpack, the one she’d used for school, was missing. So were several pairs of jeans and her favorite hoodie.
Leigh looked in her own room next and found her closet in disarray. Not a good sign. It was usually when Taylor wanted to look older that she borrowed from her mother’s wardrobe.
The computer was the next logical place to go. Leigh and Taylor shared the same password, since it was a family machine, and she had no trouble getting into Taylor’s e-mail account, though it was something she’d never done before.
She groaned at the list of saved messages, almost all of them from someone who called himself PartyMan. Why hadn’t she thought to check up on her daughter sooner? The media were always warning parents to monitor their children’s computer usage.
But Leigh never thought to worry about Taylor. She was such a good kid and there’d been no decline in her marks at school. Wasn’t that one of the warning signs that were supposed to alert parents that their kid might be in danger?
But she couldn’t pinpoint any changes in Taylor’s demeanor or behavior. If anything, Taylor had seemed in higher spirits and even more cooperative these past few weeks. Leigh had attributed this to excitement about her graduation from high school and acceptance at Cornell. Apparently, though, her daughter had been excited about something else, entirely…
An Internet romance.
But was that really what was happening here? Fear crawled over Leigh’s skin and she tried not to think of the many newspaper articles and made-for-TV movies about far more sinister scenarios.
Her daughter had a golden future before her. She had to be all right. She just had to be.
Leigh opened the most recent message from PartyMan and skimmed the contents. Most of the message contained plans for when he and Taylor would finally be together. It all sounded quite innocent…long walks together, picnics, listening to music, that sort of thing. But of course, if this guy was a pervert he wouldn’t be broadcasting his intentions, would he?
Her attention zeroed in on the last paragraph of his message: I’ll pick you up at the bus station. It’s just a few miles from my place. Can’t wait to finally meet you!
Her stomach dipped, and her skin crawled again. “I’ll just bet you can’t wait to meet her, you creep.”
Needing specific details about their plans, she opened the previous message. It was all there. PartyMan’s real name was Josh Wallace—or so he claimed—and he lived in a town called Jefferson in Mount Washington Valley, New Hampshire. He’d given Taylor information on the bus route, and, thank goodness, a home address.
Leigh closed the computer and picked up the phone again. She had to rent a car and go after Taylor right away. She was negotiating a weekly rate, with unlimited mileage, when the doorbell buzzed.
“Okay, that sounds fine. Can you have someone drive the car to this address?” She recited her apartment number and street quickly, as she crossed the room to the front door.
Tina O’Dell, her curly hair in a messy ponytail, arms laden with a huge casserole dish, stepped into the room.
“Party time,” she announced gaily.
Leigh disconnected the call and shook her head. “Afraid not.”
“What—”
“Taylor is missing and I’m on my way to find her. But first I’m going to call the police.”
T HE WINDOW of the 2003 Buick LeSabre slid downward and a grizzled face peered out from the driver’s seat. “Fill ’er up, Sam.”
Sam Wallace heard the phrase every day, and each time it made him smile. “Fill ’er up,” sounded a lot like “Batter up” to him. Not too many people would see much in the way of similarities between playing baseball and working at a small-town gas station, but Sam did.
Though he hadn’t played the game, or even checked a box score, in six years, baseball was part of him. He couldn’t shake it.
“You bet, Ernie.” He reached in the open window to clasp the older man’s shoulder, before moving to the other side of the vehicle. He unscrewed the gas cap, then inserted the nozzle for regular unleaded gasoline.
He listened to Ernie chat about the Red Sox until the pump shut off automatically. He recapped the tank, then waited while Ernie counted out the twenties with age-worn hands. “Bloody oil companies,” the older man muttered.
“I’ll be right back with the change.” Sam took the money inside to his nephew, Robin, who was working for him for the summer.
Two elderly women were sitting in chairs, waiting for the bus for Concord, which was due any minute. He nodded at them, then passed Robin the money. The sixteen-year-old passed him back the change with practiced efficiency.
While Sam was settling up with Ernie, the bus from Concord pulled in. Three young people emerged into the warm New Hampshire sunshine. He nodded at two teenage boys he recognized. They were often in the store buying slushy drinks and chatting up girls.
The young woman, though, Sam didn’t think he’d seen before. He guessed she came from the city. She looked like a model, all made up with stylish clothes. But the expression on her face was that of someone young and vulnerable.
“You okay?” he asked. “You seem a little lost.”
Her smile was sweet. “I’m fine, thank you. It’s just that someone was supposed to meet me.”
Her voice confirmed it. This was a New York City gal. He wondered what she was doing here, who’d she’d come to meet.
“Do you know Josh Wallace?”
Sam blinked. “Ah…sure. He’s my—”
Before he could finish, the sound of squealing tires had both him and the girl turning to watch as Josh’s van pulled into the station. Josh swung into a vacant parking spot, and a second later leapt from the driver’s seat and jogged over toward them.
“Sorry I’m late.” Josh sounded breathless and he looked…different.
Sam checked the impulse to comment on his son’s reckless driving. He couldn’t remember when he’d last seen that look in Josh’s eyes. The girl seemed equally excited to see him, too. They couldn’t take their eyes off each other.
He stepped between them and held out his hand to the newcomer. “I’m Sam Wallace, Josh’s father.”
“Oh.” She shook his hand. “I’m Taylor Hartwell. It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Wallace.” She frowned. “You look kind of familiar. Are you—”
“Taylor’s here to visit for a few days,” Josh explained. He’d interrupted Taylor, but she didn’t seem to mind.
“Oh?” Sam said. “You didn’t mention anything at dinner last night.”
Josh just shrugged, then hooked a hand around the straps of the backpack on Taylor’s shoulders.
“Can I carry this for you?” he offered gallantly.
Sam struggled not to smile as Taylor slipped off the pack and passed it over. As he took a closer look at the girl, though, Sam felt a twinge of concern. “So, where are you from, Taylor?”
“New York City.”
As he’d thought. “That’s quite a distance from here. Where did you two meet?”
His stomach dropped when he saw the look that passed between her and Josh. At first it didn’t seem as if they were going to answer his question. “Josh?” he prodded gently.
“On the Internet. A few months ago.” His son squared his shoulders, unconsciously taking a stance that told Sam he was expecting criticism and was prepared to do battle against it.
It’s a new world out there, Sam told himself. He’d seen plenty of articles in the paper about Internet dating sites and such things becoming more popular. No sense overreacting.
And yet…was the girl as old as she looked?
“Your family knows you’re here?”
She nodded.
“Cut it with the questions, Dad.” Josh sounded annoyed. “We’ve got to get going.” Josh had slung Taylor’s pack on one shoulder. With his free arm he took her hand.
“See you later.”
Taylor twisted to face him, even as Josh pulled her toward his waiting van. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Wallace.”
Polite girl. But she sounded even younger than she looked. Just how old was the girl?
Sam watched after the couple, not sure how to react. His son was nineteen, an adult under the law. Hopefully the girl was, too. Should he have asked to make sure?
As Josh’s van pulled away from the station, Sam’s sense of unease grew. He wished Taylor had looked him in the eyes when she’d told him her family knew where she was.
CHAPTER TWO
L EIGH REFERRED TO the MapQuest directions she had taped to the dashboard, next to the cup holder. From the Washington Bridge she was supposed to merge onto I-95.
She did a shoulder-check, then shuddered. A steady stream of cars came up from behind her. Oh, God. Why did all the drivers have to hang on to each other’s bumpers? She was never going to be able to make a safe lane change.
But she had to.
She switched on the indicator light, shoulder-checked again, then steered the car to the next lane. Mercifully, the vehicle behind her made room.
Oh, God, she thought again. This traffic was unrelenting. Thank goodness she didn’t need to drive very often.
In fact, if the guy at the car rental agency had known just how rarely she did drive, he probably would have thought twice before handing her these keys.
Living in Manhattan, she had no need for a car, which was lucky because she had no interest in them, either. She couldn’t even recall the make of this one. It was red and had four doors. When the needle on the gauge fell near empty, it would need to be filled with gasoline. That was the sum total of her automotive knowledge, and she could only pray she wouldn’t be called upon to figure out anything else.
She glanced at the MapQuest directions again. In seven-point-three miles she would have to take the Hutchinson Parkway North exit and then almost immediately take another exit to the left.
Usually, Taylor navigated for her. She had a natural sense of direction and was good at reading maps. On top of all that, she had common sense, which was why this whole escapade just didn’t compute.
Taylor wasn’t the kind of kid to fall in love over the Internet, then run off for a secret meeting. Well, she’d left a note. But a discussion beforehand would have been far more acceptable. Not to mention mature.
If Taylor thought being eighteen and graduating high school was all it took to make you grown up, she had a lot to learn.
“Hey, buddy!” Leigh slowed as a blue car from the right suddenly came into her lane, practically on top of her. Immediately she forgave every rude thing New York taxi drivers had ever said in her presence. Talk about job stress.
Her cell phone rang and she glanced at it, worried. She needed both hands on the wheel. But what if it was Taylor?
She picked it up to check the call display. It was Wenda, the office manager at work. Before she’d left home, Leigh had called and left a message that she wouldn’t be able to make it in on Friday. Oh, and by the way, Taylor’s graduation party had been canceled.
Wenda was probably panicking right now, but Leigh would have to talk to her later. Right now, the only call worth taking in this traffic was one that might be from her daughter.
Fear tightened her stomach, squeezed her throat. Taylor was okay, she kept telling herself, but what if she wasn’t? Only rarely did Leigh regret the fact that she was a single mother. This was one of those times. It would be nice to have a husband to lean on right now. Someone who knew Taylor and who understood that this sort of behavior just wasn’t like her.
The police didn’t get it. Her call had not been treated with the urgency it deserved. In their eyes Taylor was an adult. The fact that she’d left a note proved she was acting of her own free will.
Just this winter, Leigh had been required to sign the application for Taylor’s college admission. Now, if Taylor felt like it, she could enlist in the military and go to war.
As if a few months and a birthday were all it took to make you a grown-up.
The world was a crazy place.
A car on Leigh’s tail honked, then pulled out and passed. It seemed to Leigh that the vehicles on both sides of her were driving much faster than she was. She pressed a little harder on the accelerator, gripped the steering wheel a little more tightly.
This was terrifying.
Suddenly, spending a few thousand on a cab fare seemed like a brilliant idea. If only she could take the bus, as Taylor had been smart enough to do. But there was no time. She probably couldn’t get to Jefferson before Taylor did, but Leigh was going to get there as fast as possible.
Before PartyMan had a chance to…
No, she couldn’t think about that.
According to MapQuest, she had over three hundred miles ahead of her, six hours of driving.
Six hours that her daughter would be at PartyMan’s mercy…
“D ID YOU CATCH the Red Sox game last night, Uncle Sam?”
“Huh?” Sam flipped a page in the Lands’ End catalogue. Lately, his sister had been at him about his wardrobe. It seemed like every item he owned was wearing out. Even the cleaners had told him he needed some new shirts. But what colors? What size? Susan had always bought his clothes for him.
“The Mets trounced them.”
He closed the catalogue and looked at Robin, who was grinning at him as he read the sports section of the Boston Globe. Robin loved baseball, like just about everyone else in Jefferson—except for Josh and Robin’s mom, Kate.
“That rookie pitcher for the Mets is hot. Some say he reminds them of you, in the early years.”
“Is that right?” He opened the catalogue again and heard Robin sigh. Poor kid was always trying to engage him in baseball talk. You’d think his mother’s aversion to the subject would have turned him off, but it hadn’t. Sam’s own feelings about the game were ambivalent. Baseball had given him a lot, but it had cost him plenty, too.
“Say, when you were pitching, did you ever—”
The sound of a bell cut Robin short. Outdoor lights illuminated a cherry-colored Ford Fusion as it pulled up to the pumps.
“I’ll get this one.” Sam tossed the catalogue behind the counter, then moved briskly toward the car. The Fusion’s plates told him it was a rental from New York. The driver was an attractive brunette, who must not have noticed this was a full-service station because she was out of the driver’s seat before he could ask her what grade of gas she wanted.
She looked to be in her thirties, a petite, pretty woman who radiated tension. He eyed the fancy dress she was wearing. The matching shoes. The slender, yet muscular, calves.
“Can you tell me where Jefferson is?”
He bristled at her tone. A “hello” would have been a nice courtesy. But this woman was clearly in a hurry.
“You’re in it.” She couldn’t have missed the hand-painted sign just a hundred yards up the road.
It wasn’t unusual for strangers to have recognized him by now, but this woman’s glance was dismissive and short. She was far more interested in the surrounding countryside than the human being in front of her.
“But where are the stores?”
He pointed out the Grocery sign behind him. “Right here. School’s around the bend. So’s the post office and general store.”
As she processed that, he glanced through the window into her car. A black duffel bag was tossed on the back seat. MapQuest directions were taped to the front dash. He smiled at that. On the front passenger seat, along with a cell phone, lay some crumpled tissues and an empty bottle of water.
He gave the woman a closer look. There were smudges of mascara under her eyes. Had she been crying? But she didn’t look sad. She looked angry.
“On holiday?” he asked, though she clearly wasn’t. She was dressed as if she was on her way to a fancy cocktail party, though that couldn’t possibly be the case. Cocktail parties in Jefferson were about as rare as beach parties in the Antarctic.
“No. I’m looking for Oak Valley Road. Do you know where that is?”
She was looking for his place? No, he realized suddenly. Josh’ s.
Now he made the connection. This woman had the same delicate build and coloring of the girl Josh had picked up from the bus earlier.
She seemed a little young to be Taylor Hartwell’s mother, but Sam would have bet his business that was who she was. The woman was burning off more carbon than any gasoline-sucking combustion engine he’d ever seen.
She was pissed.