CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 16

Acold snake slithered down Brooke's spine as she read the message.

Gideon knew! Goddamn it, he knew about Marilee! Where she was.

Her heart kicked into overdrive as she raced up the stairs and into the house.

He wouldn't hurt her! He wouldn't dare!

But she'd seen the fury in his eyes, caught the bit of malice when she'd struggled with him.

How far would I go?he'd queried, as if it were a hypothetical question, one never to be tested. I would do anything, he'd said. Anything.

Her blood turned to ice.

"We have to go. Now!" Brooke was frantic as she pushed open the door to the den. "We have to pick up Marilee! Now!" Her stomach was in knots, her worst fears crystalizing.

Neal, seated at the desk, hastily closed his laptop. "What? Why?" He was on his feet in an instant. "Did something happen?" His expression said it all: He was suddenly panicked as he reached for his jacket, which was slung over the back of his chair. "Oh God." He glanced at the television mounted on the book case to the side of his desk, where a picture of Allison Carelli appeared, the number of a tip line beneath her smiling visage.

"I don't know," she said.

"What?" He was forcing an arm down the sleeve of his jacket.

"I mean I haven't heard of anything new. It's—it's just a feeling I have."

"A feeling?" He glared at her. "Did Marilee call? Text?"

"No."

"What?"

"It's just a feeling I've got that something is wrong." Even to her own ears, her reasoning sounded ridiculous, but she couldn't tamp down the panic that was bursting through her. Gideon knew. Somehow he knew about Marilee being at the dance. Her heart was pounding, dread riding on the back of the swelling alarm.

Neal was thoroughly confused. "Because she's there with Nick?"

"Because of everything!" she nearly yelled, motioning toward the television and the room in general.

"Hey, shh," he said. "It's okay."

"It's not okay, Neal. It's not okay."

"So you want to go to the school, force your way into the dance, and pull Marilee out of there?"

"Yes!"

"Brooke, that's crazy."

"Fine." She wasn't going to be dissuaded. She backed toward the door. "If you won't come with me, I'll go alone." She was racing for the garage when he caught her elbow and spun her back to face him.

"Listen to yourself."

"No, you listen to me!" She yanked her arm away. "I told you, I have this feeling that our daughter is in danger and I'm going to go get her."

"Just wait." He found his cell phone lying on his desk and scooped it up. "I'll text her."

"And you think she'll answer? She's with Nick, for God's sake! She won't answer a text from her father! She won't even have her phone on her."

"You don't know that. She always has her phone, lives with it. And she'll answer this text. Guaranteed." He was already typing.

"Oh sure."

"I'm going to tell her that her crazy mother is going to come flying into the dance and rip her out of there if she doesn't respond."

"What?"

He was still typing.

"No, Neal, don't!"

"Too late." He suddenly looked up at her. "I don't know what's going on with you, but you're acting like a damned lunatic. I thought we talked this all out in the car after we dropped her off. Has something changed?" he demanded, and for a second, when he looked into her eyes, she thought he knew more than he was admitting.

"I'm just worried."

"And it's over the top." He frowned and eyed his watch. "The dance is over at eleven. We'll go—together—at ten forty, so we're there in plenty of time, and we'll wait for her. Just as we planned." His phone dinged and he glanced at it.

"Marilee says she's fine." He rotated the cell so that she could read the screen, and she saw his text, just asking if she was okay—no reference to Brooke—and then Marilee's response: I'm fine. Don't worry! The text was accompanied by a cat emoji with hearts for eyes, Marilee's favorite. He slipped the phone into his pocket. "Satisfied?"

"No." But how could she explain her apparent hysteria? "I would just feel better if we went to the school now and saw that she was inside."

"Where do you think she is?"

"She could be anywhere. Just because she responded doesn't mean she's at the dance, just that she's close enough to a cell tower to get a signal."

"She's with Nick," he said again.

"And that's supposed to make me feel better?"

"Yes! She's not alone. He's a good kid, you said so yourself."

"Then suit yourself. I'm going now."

"Oh, for the love of—!" He shook his head and his expression turned to stone. "Fine. I'll come, even though the damned dance won't be over for an hour! Swear to God, Brooke, I don't understand what's gotten into you lately. Sometimes you're completely irrational."

She was already heading for the garage. "I guess, then, this is one of those times."

She drove. Fast. Like the madwoman she was.

With Neal hanging on for dear life.

Gideon's text was a threat. Oh Jesus, if he hurt her daughter . . . Brooke's teeth clamped together. She thought about Allison. About Penelope. She didn't think Gideon was involved with their disappearance, but what did she really know about him?

Nothing.

She punched the gas through an amber light turning red, then screeched around a corner.

"Watch it!" Neal yelled. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"It's just a feeling I have."

"You're acting like a crazy woman."

They made it to the school in record time. Her SUV bounced into the parking lot near the gymnasium.

"This is nuts," Neal said as Brooke slammed her Explorer into Park, threw open her door, and was out of the car in an instant. "Brooke! Wait! This is nuts! For the love of—"

She heard him cut the engine.

Let him think what he wanted. As she sprinted across the parking lot, she didn't care that her husband thought she was going out of her mind. She didn't care that her ankle was throbbing. She didn't care that she looked like she'd gone stark raving mad.

Not when her daughter's safety was at stake.

The security guard who had been posted at the gym door was nowhere to be seen. Good. But in his stead was a chaperone, a middle-aged, thickset woman with short hair and a fussy attitude, someone Brooke didn't recognize. The woman looked up from her phone as Brooke ran up. "Hi," she said. "Can I help you?"

Brooke barely broke stride. "I'm looking for my daughter."

"Oh. No problem. Who is she?"

Brooke sped past her and into the gym.

"Wait! You there, wait! I need to see some ID. We've had some trouble here at the school. Hey! Hey!" she screamed, her voice barely audible over heavy bass and wailing guitars.

Frantic, her eyes scanning the crowd in the dark gym, Brooke pushed her way through couples on the dance floor and singles or knots of kids crowding around the perimeter. "Marilee!" she cried.

"Hey!" one deep voice yelled.

Another muttered, "What the fuck?"

She ignored them, her eyes scouring the ever-moving crowd as she searched for her daughter or anyone she recognized. "Marilee!" she yelled, spinning wildly, the faces beginning to blur, the scents of sweat, perfume, and a hint of smoke mingling.

Where was she? Where? She started to panic but fought the urge to freak out.

Somewhere, over the din, she recognized her husband's voice. "Excuse me! Sorry—excuse me! Brooke! Stop!"

She didn't. Nor did she see Marilee as she moved through the throng. But they were here. Surely. They had to be. And Nick was a couple of inches over six feet, so he should stick out in the crowd. But nowhere did she spy the tall kid with the mop of dark hair.

Heart hammering, she spied Zuri Davis, Andrea's daughter, standing with a group of friends near one corner.

Brooke beelined to her daughter's friend. "Zuri," she said in a panic.

"Wha—oh." The girl's dark eyes rounded. "Mrs. Harmon?" The other kids, two girls and three boys, stopped their conversation. In fact, Brooke was vaguely aware of the music stopping and voices yelling behind her.

"Someone call security!" a woman—the chaperone—demanded, parting her way through the teenagers while kids backed away.

Brooke ignored her and caught Zuri by the arm. "Have you seen Marilee?"

Zuri's brown eyes widened. "Uh. Yeah. Earlier."

"Where is she? Is she still here?" Brooke released her grip, tried to gather her ever-fraying wits.

"I don't know." Zuri stared at Brooke as if she were an escapee from a mental hospital. She rubbed her arm and glowered. "I haven't seen her for a while."

"You!" The woman chaperone was still blocked by several couples, but she yelled loudly. "You stop right there!"

Brooke ignored her. "What about Nick?" she asked her daughter's friend. "Is she with Nick Paszek?"

Nodding, Zuri backed up a step. "The last I saw."

"And they didn't leave?"

"I don't know," Zuri said. But one of the boys with her, the short kid with an acne problem, glanced to an exit near the restrooms, double doors that opened to an inner courtyard.

Brooke didn't miss a beat.

She headed in the direction of the doorway. The door was propped open to let in a little air. No chaperone was posted nearby.

"Brooke!" Neal was closer now, but she kept plowing through the throng until she reached the door and shot through to a darkened courtyard. There, on a bench, huddled under a sapling devoid of leaves, was a couple, faces pressed together, bodies tight.

She recognized her daughter instantly. "Marilee!" she said, and the couple jumped away from each other as if electrocuted. "What the hell is going on here?"

From the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of two other couples who were startled by her voice.

"Mom!" Marilee turned wide, mortified eyes on her mother. "What the fu—what are you doing here?"

"Oh, um, hi, Mrs. Harmon." Nick shot to his feet and blinked wildly, as if he wanted to be anywhere but in this secluded courtyard.

"The better question is what're you doing out here?" Brooke replied.

Marilee's initial shock and dismay turned to anger. "Oh God, Dad too?" She got to her feet and stared past her mother as Neal caught up. "I can't believe this!" She looked as if she hoped to disappear, to just vanish into thin air.

Too bad.

To his credit, Nick said, "Uh, maybe we should go back inside." The other couples were slinking to the gym door.

"Let's go!" Brooke said to her daughter.

"What? No!" Marilee was having none of it. She sidled even closer to Nick.

"Right now!" Brooke wasn't backing down, though her heart was slowing and a sense of relief that she'd found her daughter alive and unharmed was coming over her. Thank God!

"Are you crazy?" Marilee asked, then, "Dad?"

"It's okay, honey," Neal said.

But Marilee was shaking her head violently. "It's definitely not okay! What're you two doing here?"

"Your mom had a feeling something was wrong."

"A feeling?" their daughter repeated. "Crap, Mom, really?"

It was more than a feeling, but what could she say? And then she spied a security guard approaching from the far entrance and her throat clamped shut. She recognized his frame, the way he walked in a straight line toward them.

Gideon.

No. Oh no!

"Oh, sh—oot," Nick said, spying the uniformed man quickly approaching.

"Mom!" Marilee's voice was a plea.

"Go back into the dance," Neal instructed. "I'll deal with this."

"This," of course, meant Brooke and whatever hassle the guard would give them.

Nick, his face ashen, was already heading for the double doors, Marilee scurrying after him.

Gideon, dressed in a full uniform, reached the bench.

Stricken, Brooke glared at him while Marilee cowered behind Nick.

"Is there a problem?" Gideon asked in a voice lower than usual. His face was shaded by a cap, his beard darker than usual, glasses with colored lenses covering his eyes. His clothing bore official-looking patches, and on his belt was a walkie-talkie and a holstered weapon.

"No problem," she said through gritted teeth, though panic pounded through her. What the hell was he doing here? How could he be so bold? So menacing?

"You're sure?" he asked, his voice authoritative.

"Nothing we can't manage," Neal assured him. "We were just checking on our daughter."

Gideon turned his gaze to Brooke. "And is she all right?" He nodded toward Marilee, still hiding behind Nick.

"Yes." Brooke's jaw hardened. "She's fine."

"No issue?"

"None," Neal assured him.

"You've got everything handled?" Gideon was still staring at Brooke.

"Absolutely." She stared right back, almost daring him to expose the truth. Trembling inside, fury melding with fear, she managed to keep her voice even. "We don't need any help dealing with our daughter." Brooke took a step closer to Neal and entwined her fingers in his.

"We've got this," Neal assured him.

"If you say so." Gideon finally broke her gaze to look toward the gym. The outraged chaperone, security guard in tow, was bustling through the door. "Well, you all keep tabs on your daughter. These days you can't be too careful." With that, he turned on his heel and headed for the outer gate.

"There she is!" the chaperone announced, wiggling an imperious, plump finger in Brooke's direction.

The same security guard Brooke had seen at the entrance when they'd dropped off Marilee was now with the chaperone. He didn't pause, just walked up to the group. "Is there any trouble?"

"No. We're just checking on our daughter," Neal explained. "We already explained it to the other guard." He motioned toward the far exit.

"What other guard?" The guard glowered toward the gate, now hanging open, Gideon nowhere in sight.

"The guy who was just here."

"I thought I was the only guard. I guess the service sent somebody else." He rubbed the back of his neck and scowled, then glanced at Neal and Brooke as if they were lying. "Look, we just don't want any trouble here."

"And we don't mean to cause any," Neal said, his fingers tightening over Brooke's, silently telling her not to make any more of a scene. "We're leaving now. We had a scare a little earlier and were worried about our daughter. I tried to reach her on her cell and couldn't. With all that's going on right now, with the Carelli girl still missing, we got worried and my wife, here, overreacted." He gave the guard an engaging, I'm-sure-you-understand smile meant for husbands of unpredictable wives.

As if! Brooke tried to yank her hand from his, but his grip tightened to the point of pain as he went on, "She's our only child, and when she didn't respond, we came down here, couldn't see her, and well . . . we're really sorry."

The guard glanced at the chaperone, but much of her bravado had deflated after hearing Neal's explanation.

Scowling, the guard said, "Maybe it would be best if you all went out this side gate; it's unlocked because of the fire code, you know. You can wait for your daughter outside in the parking lot. The dance will be over in about half an hour or so."

"We will," Neal agreed and pulled Brooke toward the exit where only minutes before Gideon had slipped out. As the guard ushered them past the smug chaperone to the gate and held it open for them, he said, "I understand about worrying about your kid. Got three daughters of my own."

"Thanks." Neal sketched out a wave with his free hand but didn't release Brooke for a second.

Once the gate clanged shut behind them, Brooke jerked her hand from Neal's punishing grip. "That was unnecessary!"

"No, that—what you did—was uncalled for. Jesus, Brooke, you didn't have to go charging in there like a raging lunatic!" They reached her dented Explorer and Neal opened the side door, motioning her into the passenger seat.

"This is my car."

"And you nearly killed me on the way over here! I'm driving home."

She slid into the passenger seat. "You're being an ass."

"Am I?" He slammed the door shut and rounded the car to take his position behind the steering wheel. "Well, at least I didn't act like a fucking psycho! You bullied your way into that gym like you were storming the damned Bastille."

She didn't respond. Just fumed.

And tried like hell to keep her real fears at bay.

Gideon.

Here.

At the school.

Pretending to be a security guard.

Knowing about Marilee.

Dear Lord, what a mess. She stared out the window past the leafless branches of the nearby trees to the sky above, where flimsy clouds wafted over a crescent moon.

But her thoughts were on Gideon and the lengths to which he would go to terrorize her.

She knew now he would never leave her alone.

And now he was involving her daughter.

She dug deep, found some resolve. Somehow, some way, she had to get rid of him.

Forever.

As that thought crossed her mind, she heard the whine of a motorcycle. Never had the sound been more ominous.