Vanished (Private Justice Book #1)

Irene Hannon

Description

Reporter Moira Harrisons is lost. In the dark. In a thunderstorm. When a confusing detour places her on a rural, wooded road, she's startled by the sudden appearance of a lone figure caught in the beam of her headlights. Though Moira jams on her brakes, the car careens across the wet pavement--and the solid thump against the side of the vehicle tells her she hit the person before she crashes into a tree on the far side of the road. A dazed Moira is relieved when a man opens her door, tells her he saw everything, and promises to call 911. Then everything fades to black. When she comes to an hour later, she is alone. No man. No 911. No injured person lying on the side of the road. But she can't forget the look of terror she saw on the person's face in the instant before her headlights swung away. The person she hit had been in trouble. She's sure of it. But she can't get anyone to believe her story--except a handsome former police detective, now a private eye, who agrees to take on the case.From the very first page, readers will be hooked into this fast-paced story full of shocking secrets from fan-favorite Irene Hannon. Vanished is the exciting first book in the Private Justice series: Three justice seekers who got burned playing by the rules now have a second chance to make things right.

Sujets

• Romance
• Thriller

Informations

• Publié par: Baker Publishing Group
• Date de parution: 01 janvier 2013
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781441240606
• Langue: English

Extrait

© 2013 by Irene Hannon
Published by Revell
a division of Baker Publishing Group
P.O. Box 6287, Grand Rapids, MI 49516-6287
www . revellbooks .com
Ebook edition created 2013
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means for example, electronic, photocopy, recording without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
ISBN 978-1-4412-4060-6
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Praise for Irene Hannon’s Novels
H EROES OF Q UANTICO S ERIES
Against All Odds (Daphne du Maurier Award; RT Book Reviews Reviewers’ Choice Award)
“A wonderful array of believable characters, action, and suspense that will keep readers glued to each page. Hannon’s extraordinary writing, vivid scenes, and surprise ending come together for a not-to-be-missed reading experience.”
4½ stars Top Pick, RT Book Reviews
“I found someone who writes romantic suspense better than I do.”
Dee Henderson, author, the O’Malley Family series
“Hannon delivers big time in this novel. The intercontinental suspense plot combines flawlessly with a fantastic romance that sizzles.”
Book of the Month, The Suspense Zone
An Eye for an Eye (RITA Award finalist)
“RITA–Award-winner Hannon’s latest superbly written addition to her Heroes of Quantico series neatly delivers all the thrills and chills of Suzanne Brockmann’s Team Sixteen series with the subtly incorporated faith elements found in Dee Henderson’s books.”
Booklist
“Characters that are engrossing, a plot filled with unexpected twists, and a love story that will melt your heart. The only downside to this terrific novel is that you won’t want to put it down.”
4½ stars Top Pick, RT Book Reviews
“An explosive start, followed by brilliant pacing through the rest of the story and the perfect balance of suspense, action, and romance.”
Relz Reviewz
In Harm’s Way (RITA Award)
“A fine-tuned suspense tale. RITA–Award-winner Hannon is a master at character development.”
Library Journal
“Fast-paced crime drama with an aside of romance . . . and an ever-climactic mystery. Hannon’s tale is engagingly sure-footed.”
Publishers Weekly
“ In Harm’s Way kept me turning pages as it raced from one twist to another. This book will be a hit with Irene Hannon fans!”
Susan May Warren, RITA Award winner

G UARDIANS OF J USTICE S ERIES
Fatal Judgment
“Hannon’s ability to write scenes that cause readers to feel uneasy and to second-guess their safety always makes her stories page-turners.”
RT Book Reviews
“Bestselling author Irene Hannon weaves a wonderful story full of suspense and romance. She captures your attention at page one and doesn’t let it go until long after you’ve finished the book!”
Suspense Magazine
“ Fatal Judgment has all the things I love in a romantic suspense. A strong heroine, and a good man, and a tragedy she might not survive. Irene Hannon is a name I love to find, and Fatal Judgment is her storytelling at its best.”
Dee Henderson
Deadly Pursuit
“Compelling characters and an emotionally engaging plot powered by a surfeit of nail-biting suspense.”
Top 10 Inspirational Fiction 2011, Booklist
“Full of action, suspense, and just the right amount of romance.”
RT Book Reviews
“The strong character development and suspenseful story line here will win over readers of Lynette Eason, Dee Henderson, and Terri Blackstock.”
Library Journal
“An exceptional novel of romantic suspense.”
Omnimysterynews.com
To my nieces, Catherine and Maureen Hannon,
who listened to this tale in its very early stages
as we sat in front of a crackling fire on Thanksgiving.
Thank you for loving my stories and for all your ideas.
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
Endorsements
Dedication
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Book 2 in the Private Justice Series
Back Ads
Back Cover
1
W hat a lousy night to get lost.
Moira Harrison peered through the April rain slashing across her windshield. Even at full speed, the wipers were no match for the torrential onslaught. The faint line bisecting the narrow strip of pavement the only thing keeping her on the road and out of the ditch filled with churning runoff immediately to her right faded in and out with alarming frequency.
Tightening her grip on the wheel with one hand, she cranked up the defroster with the other. Fogged-up windows were the last thing she needed. As it was, the high-intensity xenon headlights of her trusty Camry were barely denting the dense darkness of the woods-rimmed rural Missouri road. Nor were they penetrating the shrouding downpour.
So much for the premium she’d paid to upgrade from standard halogen.
She spared a quick look left and right. No light from house or farm broke the desolate blackness. Nor were there any road signs to indicate her location. Maybe a St. Louis–area native would be better able to wend his or her way back to civilization than a newcomer like her, but she doubted it. Dark, winding rural routes were confusing. Period. Especially in the rain.
With a sigh, Moira refocused on the road. If she’d known Highway 94 was prone to flooding and subject to sudden closure, she’d never have risked subjecting herself to this poorly marked detour by lingering for dinner in Augusta after she finished her interview.
Instead, she’d have headed straight back to the rented condo she now called home and spent her Friday evening safe and warm, cuddled up with a mug of soothing peppermint tea, organizing her notes. She might even have started on a first draft of the feature article. It wouldn’t hurt to impress her new boss with an early turn-in.
A bolt of lightning sliced through the sky, and she cringed as a bone-jarring boom of thunder rolled through the car.
That had been close.
Too close.
She had to get away from all these trees.
Increasing her pressure on the gas pedal, she kept her attention fixed on the road as she groped on the passenger seat for her purse. Maybe her distance glasses were crammed into a corner and she’d missed them the first time she’d checked.
Five seconds later, hopes dashed, she gave up the search. The glasses must still be in the purse she’d taken to the movie theater last weekend. That was about the only time she ever used them except behind the wheel on rainy nights.
It figured.
The zipper on her purse snagged as she tried to close it, and Moira snuck a quick glance at the passenger seat. Too dark to see. She’d have to deal with it later.
Releasing the purse, she lifted her gaze and sucked in a sharp breath.
Front and center, caught in the beam of her headlights, was a frantically waving person.
Directly in the path of the car.
Less than fifty feet away.
Lungs locking, Moira squeezed the wheel and jammed the brake to the floor.
Screeching in protest, the car fishtailed as it slid toward the figure with no noticeable reduction in speed.
Stop ! Please stop!
Moira screamed the silent plea in her head as she yanked the wheel hard to the left.
Instead of changing direction, however, the car began to skid sideways on the slick pavement.
But in the instant before the beams of the headlights swung away from the road and away from the figure standing in her path one image seared itself across her brain.
Glazed, terror-filled eyes.
Then the person was gone, vanished in the darkness, as the vehicle spun out of control.
Moira braced herself.
And prayed.
But when she felt a solid thump against the side of the car, she knew her prayers hadn’t been answered.
She’d hit the terrified person who’d been trying to flag her down.
The bottom fell out of her stomach as the car continued to careen across the road. Onto the shoulder. Into the woods. One bone-jarring bounce after another.
It didn’t stop until the side smashed into a tree, slamming her temple against the window of the door to the accompaniment of crumpling metal.
Then everything went silent.
For a full thirty seconds, Moira remained motionless, hands locked on the wheel, every muscle taut, heart hammering. Her head pounded in rhythm to the beat of rain against the metal roof, and she drew a shuddering breath. Blinked. The car had stopped spinning, but the world around her hadn’t.
She closed her eyes. Continued to breathe. In. Out. In. Out.
When she at last risked another peek, the scene had steadied.
Better.
Peeling her fingers off the wheel, she took a quick inventory. Her arms and legs moved, and nothing except her head hurt. As far as she could tell, she hadn’t sustained any serious injuries.
But she knew the person she’d hit hadn’t been as lucky a person who might very well be lying in the middle of the road right now.
In the path of an oncoming car.
Her pulse stuttered, and she fought against a crescendo of panic as she tried to kick-start her brain. To think through the fuzziness.
Okay. First priority call 911. After that, she’d see what she could do to help the person she’d hit while she waited for the pros to arrive.
Plan in place, she groped for her purse. But the seat beside her was empty. Hadn’t her purse been there moments before?
With a herculean effort, she coerced the left side of her brain to engage.
The floor.
Her purse must have fallen to the floor while the car was spinning.
Hands shaking, she fumbled with the clasp on her seat belt. It took three jabs at the button before it released. Once free of the constraint, she leaned sideways and reached toward the floor just as the driver-side door creaked open.
With