Lost in Silence (The Lost Series Book 1)(77)

I climb out of Missy’s car, worried there weren’t any lights on and no sign outside the house of Alice. Testing the front door, I note it’s locked. I put my key in the lock and turn the knob, the alarm beeps as the door opens. It was armed. I punch in the code disarming it. My heart picks up a notch and I look around the room.

“Alice?” I call out to the dark house. She isn’t in her usual spot, Hudson’s chair. Her purse was flung over the couch, the truck keys on top of it. I turn towards the hall and notice a soft light glowing from the bedroom door. Maybe she’d decided to take a shower. After straining my ears, I don’t hear any running water.

“Alice?” I call again, walking down the hall. The door is ajar but I hear no movement. Pushing it open, I see her duffle bag open on the bed. A few pieces of clothing hang out of it, as if something had caught her attention. My eyes travel around the rest of the room. Nothing seems out of place.

They stop on the bathroom door. I swallow hard and my stomach clenches tightly. It takes me three strides to cross the room, the door is already open. I reach in and flick on the light, my heart stops at the sight.

Son of a bitch!

My cell phone is in my hand and I’ve dialed without thinking. The line rings twice before King answers.

“I fucked up. He got her.”





Chapter 30


Hudson

My assignment wrapped flawlessly. We were able to makes our arrests with enough evidence the major players would be locked away for a long time. The FBI made it look like I had died trying to escape since they weren’t going to need me on the stand as a witness. This turn of events left me free and clear of any blowback.

What I found interesting was the role Devlin played in this investigation. An agent for the DEA, he was placed into the ring a few years prior to me. He knew of my status but it was decided long before I arrived that I wouldn’t be informed of his.

He was one of the good guys, like me. Despite the orders he’d passed down from the top, he did his job. I worried about him. It isn’t easy coming back from a job like this and he’d been in longer than me. I told him about King’s operation and exchanged numbers. I didn’t think we’d hear from him but I hope he will surprise me again.

I stepped out of the airport into the cold Chicago night air and take a deep breath. The city wasn’t anything like Oregon but it was where Alice grew up and where her family lived. I probably should’ve waited, even spoken with her before taking this step, but she needed to find herself again. Breaking Erik’s hold was only part of taking herself back, she needed her family.

The drive to their house didn’t take as long as I thought and I found myself standing on the porch around seven in the evening. I briefly contemplate my decision to come back in the morning, before knocking on the large mahogany door. I was under a time constraint, especially if I wanted to be home on time tomorrow.

A shadow passes over the small window next to the door, a woman peeks through the lace curtain before I hear the click of locks releasing the door. It opens and the woman peers out at me, I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry. I blink and shake my head, are my eyes playing tricks on me?

“Can I help you?” she asks, her brow puckers just like Alice’s would and I realize who I’m looking at. Her mother.

“Good evening, I apologize for calling so late but I’m looking for the Michaelson family,” I know I’ve found them without a doubt.

“I’m Jeanette Michaelson,” she informs me, pushing her shoulders back and standing straighter. She’s wearing a pair of dark jeans, a red top and her hair is pulled back into a messy bun. She looks nothing like the woman I imagined.

“My name is Hudson Rivers,” I stick my hand out towards her, she doesn’t take it. Instead, she crosses her arms and frowns deeper at me. “I’m a friend of your daughter.”

Her frown blanks, she pales. Her arms unfold and they reach out for support. I step forward, catching her just as her legs give out. She’s a feather of a woman, all limbs and no weight. Like Alice.

“She’s dead isn’t she?” she chokes, struggling to pull air into her lungs. “That son of a bitch killed her, didn’t he?”

“No,” I say quickly, supporting her as she makes her way to a bench in the entry way. I cringe because she thought I was here to give her bad news. “She’s not dead.”

“Is she hurt? I don’t understand. Who are you? Why are you here? Where is my daughter?” her voice grows more urgent with each question. I squat down in front of her and look her in the face. Her eyes, although they are brown, are much darker than Alice’s eyes.