Miss No One Mark Ayre (children's books read aloud TXT) 📖

Miss No One

An Abbie King Thriller

Mark Ayre

AFS Publishing

To Fay

For all of the things

Contents

By Mark Ayre

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Book Four: Twice Shy

Get exclusive Abbie King material

Thank you for reading

The Abbie King Thrillers

About the Author

By Mark Ayre

Abbie King Thrillers

Crossfire (novella)

The Stranger

Deep Water

Miss No One

The Hide and Seek Trilogy

Hide and Seek

Count to Ten

Ready or Not

Adam and Eve Thrillers:

Fire and Smoke

Lost and Found

Cat and Mouse

Lock and Key

Cloak and Shield

Hope in Hell

James Perry Mysteries

The Black Sheep’s Shadow

All Your Secrets

Standalone

Poor Choices

Contents

By Mark Ayre

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Book Four: Twice Shy

Get exclusive Abbie King material

Thank you for reading

The Abbie King Thrillers

About the Author

One

The hooded figure scaled the chain-link fence and dropped onto the gravel lot of the used car dealership beyond. And Abbie watched.

It was thirteen minutes, almost to the second, since Abbie had passed yet another WELCOME TO sign for a town she’d never previously visited. Six minutes since Abbie had parked her car and stepped into the cool night air.

The figure landed, and Abbie watched her rise.

Her. Because Abbie was reasonably sure she was watching a woman. She couldn't have explained why she believed this. But her intuition was rarely wrong. She trusted herself.

Man or woman, the figure scaled the fence with nimbleness and speed but without grace. They stumbled upon landing, their palm skidding into the gravel and dirt. Abbie couldn’t see their face as they rose but guessed the figure was not embarrassed. After all, they had no idea they were being observed.

Upon rising, the figure looked left and right, then did a twirl, surveying their surroundings. Abbie sunk further into the shadows, out of sight.

Quickly, the figure satisfied herself she was alone and turned her back to the chain-link fence. A second or two later, she moved away from the road and further into the lot.

Abbie didn’t hesitate. The moment she deemed the figure to be far enough away, she left her hiding spot—beneath the shadow of a small group of trees—and crossed the road to the chain-link fence. A couple of seconds later, she was over.

It wasn’t a competition, but Abbie was pleased to note she scaled the fence with speed, nimbleness, and grace. If there had been judges nearby, Abbie would have secured all tens. Or maybe all tens but one—a nine. There was always a difficult judge who simply refused to give the top score. Nothing to do with Abbie. This imaginary man or woman would not bring her down.

Focus.

The lot was the size of a premier league football pitch but circular. Dead centre was the dealership building. If Abbie had scaled the fence during the day, a pack of salespeople would already have left the building and would be approaching the newcomer. Not to admonish her for eschewing the front gate, but to offer her the deal of a lifetime. With dollar signs in their eyes and waggling contracts in their fists, they would come, and Abbie would try to remain non-violent.

This late, the building would be empty. The salespeople were at home. The cars they would tomorrow attempt to sell formed concentric circles around the central hub, like Saturn's rings. Seven in total, like in hell. Each ring represented a different price bracket: the sporty numbers, perfect for a midlife crisis, closest to the building; the rust buckets, ideal for first-time buyers, nearest the fence.

As Abbie dropped into the lot, the figure she had followed passed the penultimate price bracket, heading for Saturn.

Saturn—the lot’s central hub—was a two-story building about the size of a six-bedroom house. Except, instead of brick walls, it had glass, and instead of a tiled roof, it had more glass. Iron beams held the whole structure together. It was the perfect example of the kind of modern architecture that was becoming more and more common in commercial buildings.

Abbie thought it was disgusting.

Not here to critique the building’s aesthetic, Abbie focused on the job at hand. By now, the figure was at the entrance. She was dropping to her knees.

Abbie was still by the rust belt. Moving between the lines, she followed the path already trodden by the figure, trailing her towards the building.

A place like this, all modern and glass, Abbie would have expected an electronic lock, opened via key card or maybe even retinal or fingerprint scanner. From the figure’s position, on her knees in the centre of double doors, it was clear they were dealing with a lock and key system—how old fashioned.

Abbie was halfway between the chain-link fence and the hub when the figure rose and opened the doors. Slowing a little, Abbie tensed. Would the figure hear her feet crunch through the gravel?

That wouldn’t have been the end of the world. Abbie had followed the figure because past experience told her, when entering a new town, searching for the life she was supposed to save, her best bet was to follow the trouble that inevitably presented itself soon after her arrival. Because she didn’t know what this figure was up to, Abbie relished a meeting where she could ask the question.

Still, it wouldn’t hurt to follow unnoticed a little longer.

Abbie stopped twenty metres from her quarry. The figure held the door open for maybe three seconds without moving. Abbie expected her to look back, but she didn’t. She slid inside and let the door fall closed behind her.

Abbie remained stationary for a three count, then strolled the last twenty feet to the doors through