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He felt his muscles tense. All his life he’d sworn never to be like his father. To learn from his father’s mistakes. Never to fall for a woman’s charming lies.
And then he’d met Lacey and fallen hard.
And she’d turned out to be just like his mother.
At least he’d sure thought so at the time.
Now? Doubt beat with an insistent knock on the door to his emotions.
Pulling in a deep breath, Mason drove down Main Street, eyes probing the darkness, desperately hoping to catch a glimpse of a reddish-blond head.
Nothing. There weren’t even that many people on the street at this time of night.
As he scanned each and every face he could see, he debated the best way to put his skills to use in order to find Bethany.
One question nagged at him. Why hadn’t she simply gone to the cops?
The only answer he could come up with was that Bethany felt as if she couldn’t go to the police because, for some reason, she didn’t trust them to keep her mother safe.
That bothered him.
Picking up his cell phone, he dialed Joseph’s number.
“Hello?”
“Joseph, this is Mason. Sorry it’s so late, but I need your FBI connections again.”
Mason gave the man the courtesy apology, but he knew the late hour wouldn’t bother Joseph, he was used to working when he had to.
“Absolutely. What can I do for you?” Joseph asked.
“I need to know if there were any gunshot-wound treatments at hospitals within a thirty-mile radius of the accident. Specifically males shot in the leg. If so, I need a name and address of each one.”
All business, Joseph said, “Give me the details.”
Mason provided the date and time of the accident.
“I should know something soon,” Joseph promised. “And listen, I was just getting ready to call you, anyway. Bethany called her friend from a pay phone near the homeless shelter. I’ve got uniforms driving by more often and keeping an eye on the place just in case Bethany shows back up.”
“She’s not there now?”
“Nope. I already checked. And I’m sending you a picture of the guy the sketch artist came up with according to Georgia’s description.”
“All right. Thanks.”
“One more thing. Austin Howard.”
Mason felt his blood start to boil at the mention of the name. “What about him?”
“He’s—gone.”
Alarms sounded in his head. “Gone? Gone where? And since when?”
“For about a week. His mother said he took off with a group of friends and she hasn’t seen him since.”
A cold knot settled in the pit of Mason’s stomach. “Did she say where they were headed?”
“South. She said the last she heard he was going to find an old girlfriend and they were going to hang in Florida for the rest of the summer.”
