Missing. Lynette Eason
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“This is a police matter.”
He raced from the room, his mind looping with Lacey’s first three words—“I was attacked”—and realized with some surprise that he wanted to hurt the person who’d hurt her.
Forty-five seconds later, when he saw her sitting against the side of the building with an ice pack on her cheek, the rage inside him tripled and he knew without a doubt that past or no past, betrayal or no betrayal, he was going to fall for Lacey Gibson once again.
And wondered how he was going to keep his heart from being ripped in two when it happened.
LYNETTE EASON
grew up in Greenville, SC. Her home church, Northgate Baptist, had a tremendous influence on her during her early years. She credits Christian parents and dedicated Sunday school teachers for her acceptance of Christ at the tender age of eight. Even as a young girl, she knew she wanted her life to reflect the love of Jesus.
Lynette attended the University of South Carolina in Columbia, SC, then moved to Spartanburg, SC, to attend Converse College, where she obtained her master’s degree in education. During that time, she met the boy next door, Jack Eason, and married him. Jack is the executive director of the Sound of Light Ministries. Lynette and Jack have two precious children—Lauryn, eight years old, and Will, who is six. She and Jack are members of New Life Baptist Fellowship Church in Boiling Springs, SC, where Jack serves as the worship leader and Lynette teaches Sunday school to the four- and five-year-olds.
Missing
Lynette Eason
“My son” the father said, “you are always with me, and everything I have is yours. But we had to celebrate and be glad, because this brother of yours was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.”
—Luke 15:31–32
To my family. I love you all!
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 TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
LETTER TO READER
QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION
ONE
“My daughter’s missing and I need your help.”
Mason stared down at the distraught redheaded woman standing on his front porch, tears swimming in her eyes, fists clenched at her side.
Shock immobilized him for a brief moment, then with an effort, he found his voice.
“Lacey Gibson.” Just saying her name transported him to the past. His first love. His first romantic heartbreak. She hadn’t changed a bit.
At least on the outside.
If her heart was as traitorous as he remembered, he was in deep trouble.
The fact that his own heart did its best to leap from his chest in joyous welcome surprised him so much he almost swallowed his tongue.
What was she doing here? And what had she said? His brain had ceased to function the minute he realized who’d knocked on his door.
Stepping toward him, she placed her hands on his chest, tears threatening to spill from those green eyes that had captivated him at first glance. She pleaded, “I need your help. Bethany’s missing and no one seems to know why, or who she may have disappeared with—and no one seems to even care or want to listen to what I have to say or—”
A finger over her lips effectively cut off her monologue—and sent fire shooting along his nerve endings. He remembered covering those sweet lips with his, kissing her until they were both breathless and…
First things first. “What are you doing here and who is Bethany?”
She seemed oblivious to the fact that she still had her hands on his chest. He wasn’t in any hurry for her to remove them.
Much to his disgust.
Was he still so besotted with her that he’d forgotten what she’d done to him sixteen years ago?
No way. He’d gotten over her a long time ago.
Or so he tried to convince himself.
And yet somehow he found himself standing in his foyer with Lacey Gibson practically wrapped in his arms—and liking it.
Clearing his throat, he stepped back, took her hand—a soft hand, he noted—and pulled her into the den. There, he deposited her on the couch and asked, “Do you need a drink of water? Some coffee?” He looked at the tears that had now spilled over to track their way down her pale cheeks. “A tissue?”
“Yes to the tissue, no to the drink.”
Mason reached around her and, with only a twinge of pain in his left shoulder, snatched a tissue from the end table and handed it to her. The only reason Lacey had found him at home at ten-thirty on a Tuesday morning was because he’d been forbidden to go back to work for another two weeks.
Being shot in the line of duty had been a real pain. Both physically and mentally. As a Deputy U.S. Marshal, he was used to action and staying busy. Being out on medical leave was definitely not on his top-one-hundred-favorite-things-to-do list. But he was almost finished with that.
And he had a feeling his days of boredom had just come to an end. She had a daughter? His gut tightened. “Why do you think she’s missing, and what do you think I can do to find her?” What he wanted to ask was why she’d chosen to come to him about it. Instead, he leaned back against the couch and studied the woman before him.
Her fiery red curls were pulled up into some kind of scrunchy thing women seemed to like. Her normally sparkling green eyes were set in an oval-shaped face that looked pale and drawn, stressed and tired. Light gray bags under her eyes attested to some lost sleep.
But she was still beautiful, and his heart warmed.
Which meant she could still be dangerous, his head argued.
His heart agreed, but from the way it threatened to beat out of his chest, Mason didn’t think it cared.
She raised the tissue and swiped a few tears then took a deep breath. “Bethany is my fifteen-year-old daughter. She’s been gone for two days now.” She looked at the ceiling. “Today’s Tuesday. I last saw her Sunday morning when I went to wake her up for church. She mumbled that she didn’t feel good so I let her sleep. When I got home, she wasn’t there. I called her cell phone and she didn’t answer.”
“Does she usually answer when you call?”
Lacey blinked and took another swipe at the tears. “Yes, usually. So, I waited awhile, then tried again. And kept trying. When I still didn’t hear anything, I called a few of