Retribution by Lynette Eason

1
    Sixteen-year-old Meg felt the hair on the back of her neck prick to attention. She looked around the student parking lot and shivered, even though she’d worked up a good sweat at basketball practice. Her coach had kept her late, wanting her to run the two new plays with him. As point guard, she had to know and call each play.
    Staying late was fine. Only she hated walking to her car in the dark. January in the south meant cold, early nights. Meg took a deep breath and sent a text to her mother.
    M: On the way home. I’m hungry. What’s for dinner?
    The parking lot lights cast shadows that made her want to jump out of her skin. Instead, she stuck her phone in the back pocket of her shorts and reached for her keys. She opened the driver’s door.
    A low scrape to her left made her flinch. A figure stepped around the corner of the building. Meg’s heart leapt. She wove the keys through her fingers and slid in the seat to slam the door.
    A hard hand stopped it. “Meg?”
    She jerked and stifled a scream. Then she recognized Tanner. She placed a hand over her pounding heart. “Oh my gosh, you scared me to death. What are you doing?”
    â€œWaiting for you.”
    â€œWell, I’ve got to go. Mom’s waiting on me for dinner. Can we catch up tomorrow?”
    â€œI’m sorry. Tomorrow will be too late.”
    â€œToo late for—” A fine mist caught her in the face. She gasped and stared up at the guy she’d thought was her friend. “Tan?”
    He simply watched as her world faded and went black.

    Jillian Brady glanced at the clock. She’d gotten Meg’s text thirty minutes ago. The girl should have been home by now.
    J: Meg. Where r u?
    Almost immediately, she got a reply.
    M: Meg won’t be coming home for dinner. Stay by ur phone.
    Jillian gaped. “What?”
    Detective Colton Brady, Jillian’s husband, stood at the kitchen sink slicing tomatoes for the hamburgers he’d just brought in from the grill. His head snapped up. “What is it?”
    â€œI just got the weirdest—scariest—text from Meg. If it was even from her.” She took the phone over to him. “Look.” She held it up.
    He set the knife down and dried his hands. He read, then his eyes lifted to meet hers. “I don’t like that.”
    â€œShe wouldn’t joke around like that. Not Meg.”
    Colton walked over to the breakfast bar and picked up his cell phone.
    â€œWho are you calling?”
    â€œYou call Meg. I’m calling the office to see if I can get a trace on Meg’s phone.”
    Jillian dialed her daughter’s number. It went straight to voice mail. She hung up and tried again. Same thing. She grabbed her keys and purse. “I’m going to the school.”
    â€œHold on, I’m coming with you.”
    Together, they raced out the door and climbed into Colton’s truck. Jillian’s worry for Meg had her distracted and praying. She looked at the text again.
    M: Meg won’t be coming home for dinner. Stay by ur phone.
    â€œCall Dominic,” she said.
    â€œWhat?”
    Fear for Meg gave her the shakes. She looked up at Colton. “Call Dominic. He’s FBI. He deals with kidnappings all the time. Have him meet us there.”
    â€œKidnapping? But we don’t know—”
    â€œI know, Colton.” Tears welled and dripped down her cheeks and off her chin. “I know,” she whispered.
    Colton swallowed hard and snatched his phone.

2
    Colton stared at his daughter’s empty car. The driver’s door gaped as though mocking him. She’s not here. She’s not here. And she’s not coming back anytime soon.
    The keys on the ground shot fear through him. Every kidnapping he’d ever worked, every homicide he’d ever seen came back to him in a blinding rush.
    All he could think was, I’m never going to see my daughter again . But he’d never voice the thought.