Vanishing Point , livre ebook

Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
© 2017 by Lisa Harris
Published by Revell
a division of Baker Publishing Group
PO Box 6287, Grand Rapids, MI 49516-6287
www.revellbooks.com
Ebook edition created 2017
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.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.
ISBN 978-1-4934-1105-4
Scripture quotations are from the Holy Bible , New Living Translation, copyright © 1996, 2004, 2007 by Tyndale House Foundation. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Carol Stream, Illinois 60188. All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Published in association with Joyce Hart of Hartline Literary Agency, LLC.
Praise for T HE N IKKI B OYD F ILES
“A thrill ride from start to finish, the first book in Harris’s N I K K I B OYD F ILES series is filled with twists and surprises.”
— RT Book Reviews , Top Pick on Vendetta
“The story is fueled with misleading dangers, and the character is so fascinating that fans will be waiting impatiently to see what adventure Nikki Boyd will have next.”
— Suspense Magazine on Vendetta
“Harris draws her readers into the fear and excitement generated by a mission to catch a madman.”
— Booklist on Vendetta
“Lisa Harris has quickly become one of my favorite romantic suspense writers, and she has penned another winner in Missing .”
— Radiant Lit blog on Missing
“With Missing , Ms. Harris has given us a thriller that becomes more and more exciting and nerve-wracking until you flip the last page and let out a contented sigh of relief.”
— The Suspense Zone on Missing
“Intense. Nail-biting. A real page-turner that is sure to enthrall the discerning romantic suspense aficionado.”
— Fiction Addiction Fix on Missing
“As with everything that Harris writes, this novel is wonderfully plotted and fast-paced, with unexpected twists and turns to keep the reader engaged in the story.”
— RT Book Reviews on Pursued
“Lisa Harris is getting better with each book, and this is probably the best one she has written.”
— Write- Read- Life blog on Pursued
Dedication
To those who have loved and lost. May you find peace in Him.
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
Praise for T HE N IKKI B OYD F ILES
Dedication
Prologue
2004
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
2005
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
2006
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
Present Day
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
Epilogue
An Excerpt of Vendetta
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Books by Lisa Harris
Back Ads
Back Cover
Prologue
She could read the satisfaction in her abductor’s face. A chilling sense of pleasure that reached from his upturned lips to his piercing gaze, as if he were enjoying contemplating her fate. Even with that knowledge, she was surprised at how calm she was as he motioned her out of the vehicle and onto the soft ground still wet from last night’s rain. It was a deep-seated numbness, like when she woke up in the morning, hovering between dreams and reality, and she wasn’t sure where she was. Or the feeling when she watched a scary movie and had to keep reminding herself that none of it was real. And no one had really died.
But in real life people died.
And this was no dream.
She looked past the dark figure, who was dressed completely in black, toward the thick, green wooded area located somewhere outside of Nashville. He’d threatened to shoot her if she ran or caused any problems, but for the moment he was busy pulling something out of the car. Was it better to count on the odds that he might miss if he tried to shoot her? Should she try to escape anyway?
She decided to run.
Drawing in a lungful of air, she dashed behind the car and took off into the woods surrounding them. The lingering sunlight was going to disappear soon. And the coming darkness terrified her almost as much as the person who had snatched her. She kept her focus on the ground. There was no path. Only layers of thick underbrush. She stumbled over a rotting log, barely catching her balance on the uneven terrain. He shouted behind her, but she only ran faster. If she could find a road, she might be able to catch a ride leading back to town.
Please, God . . . please help me . . .
She could hear him, crashing through the trees behind her as she tried to maneuver the thick underbrush. Maybe it was simply the terror of the situation beginning to seep through her, but she couldn’t get enough air in her lungs. A splash of water from one of the branches above her hit the end of her nose and ran down her chin. She shivered. It was so cold. He’d taken her coat and the gray scarf and beanie she wore weren’t enough to keep her warm. She sucked in some air, worried her legs were going to collapse beneath her, both from physical exertion and the mounting fear. To her right there was an opening in the trees. She had run cross-country earlier in the school year. With open ground she might be able to outrun her abductor.
A bullet slammed into a tree beside her. A flock of birds scurried from their perch near the top, the frenzied flapping of wings sending her into a panic. She froze, heart pounding in her chest, unable to stop the escalating fear. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think, except about how she didn’t want to die. Not this way.
“That was a warning,” he shouted. “Next time I won’t miss.”
She started to run again, but it was too late. He grabbed her arm. A sharp pain shot through her elbow. She had no choice now. No one would hear her if she screamed. And more than likely, no one would find her body if he killed her. She walked beside him back through the darkening forest and caught sight of the butt of the gun as he pressed the barrel against the side of her head. He was right. This time he wouldn’t miss.
I tried . . .
The last bits of sunlight faded around them as he shoved her shoulder against the bark.
“Stand against the tree. We’re running out of time.”
Tears welled in her eyes. She didn’t know why he was in such a hurry. What did it matter? No one was here to save her. No one was going to stop this monster in front of her.
Her eyes focused on the old Polaroid camera like the one her grandfather had owned where the picture came out.
“Smile.”
The machine whirred. She couldn’t smile. Instead, she felt the seconds tick by, then a photo slid out of the camera. She knew the picture had caught the terror in her eyes. Any numbness had now completely worn off.
She shifted her gaze from the photo and saw something she hadn’t noticed before. A dozen yards in front of her lay a freshly dug grave.
2004
1

January 23 6:17 a.m. Sumner County, Tennessee
Special Agent Garrett Addison snapped a photo of the freshly dug grave located inside the yellow roped-off crime scene. He would have preferred to avoid looking at the magnified details of the body half buried in the patch of soft earth, but his camera lens wouldn’t let him. Instead, it only emphasized the state of the young woman.
She lay in the ground where a couple of hikers had discovered her, posed with her hands on her chest as if she were sleeping. If not for the bullet hole and a single trail of dried blood running across her forehead, he could almost imagine she was simply sleeping. Sixteen, maybe seventeen years old, with long blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. She wore minimal makeup and there was a smudge of dirt on her left cheek next to a row of freckles. Her faded jeans were ripped at the knee, and the thin black T-shirt she wore wouldn’t have been warm enough for the six inches of snow forecast to fall in the next twelve hours.
If she were still alive.
Five years on the force might have made responding to 911 calls routine to him, but even experience couldn’t completely prepare him for days like this.
What kind of person does this to another human being, God?
He drew in a deep breath as he snapped another photo. If it had been in the middle of a hot summer, the body would have already started to smell. Instead the cold January weather had prolonged the decaying process. He shook his head, wishing he could shake away the eerie feeling that always came with cases like this. A young life brutally cut short.
He glanced toward the other end of the blocked-off crime scene at the couple who’d called in the discovery. They’d been out hiking the wooded trails when they stumbled across the girl. The woman was crying again, her shoulders shaking, while the man had his arms around her, trying to comfort her. Images like the one they’d just stumbled across didn’t simply fade away. They lingered in the back of your mind, resurfacing when you least expected it. He knew that from firsthand experience. Things like this should never happen.
Some first week on the new job working homicide.
He pushed back the growing sense of unease and went back to snapping photos. As a criminal investigator now, he expected to deal with the underbelly of society. That he could handle. It was the innocent loss of life that churned his gut. The heavy consequences of crime had just forever marked this young woman’s family. But he couldn’t make this scene personal. His only hope was that he’d be able to bring justice to victims like the one lying in front of him. But how could there be justice when it was too late and the scent of death already filled the air? She’d been so young . . . so vulnerable. Someone’s daughter. Someone’s sister.
Holding back the bile in his throat from the ima