The Vanishing Gary Brown (booksvooks TXT) 📖

girl, rake in hand, stood facing the camera, wiping the sweat from her brow. Beside her was a man at least twenty years her senior.

Claire read the caption below the photo, then sat up in bed, heart pounding, eyes glued to the girl in the photograph: Members of The Brethren, pictured with their leader, Joseph Krebeck.

“It’s not Kre…” Claire gasped as she recalled the words of Walter Pennimore. “It’s Krebeck!”

She stared at the picture of the pretty girl with shoulder length hair, slender build and porcelain-fine features.

Claire grabbed a framed photograph from her bedstand, compared it to the picture in Martin’s book.

There was no denying it.

“Amanda,” she cried. “It is you. You’re alive!”

19

“CALM DOWN, CLAIRE,” Martin said. He checked the time on his phone. 2:20 a.m. “Take a deep breath, then tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s my sister!” Claire said, her voice trembling. “I saw her picture in your book! It’s Amanda. I know it is!”

“You’ve lost me,” Martin replied. “What are you talking about?”

It was then that Claire remembered she had not told Martin about Amanda or her disappearance. He had talked about the loss of his wife and daughter, but she had not shared with him losing her parents and sister.

“I’m sorry to be calling at such a crazy hour, Martin,” Claire said. She struggled to regain her composure. “I know we talked about your family tonight, but what I didn’t tell you is what happened to mine. Many years ago, my sister, Amanda, disappeared. The police tried to find her but couldn’t. There were no ransom demands. I’m telling you this because I saw a picture in your book of a young girl who is part of a group called The Brethren, and I think… no, I know, that girl is Amanda. I need to find out who took that picture and where it was taken. This could be my connection to finding her. You must help me, Martin. Please.”

Martin drew a deep breath. “Of course, I’ll help you, Claire. But there’s nothing we can do right now. Come to my place around nine-thirty. We’ll pay a visit to some associates of mine who help me with the research I do for my books. One of them is a retired FBI agent. They’ll know who took the photo you’re talking about. And if they don’t, I’ll have them find out who did.”

“Thank you, Martin. Give me your address. I’ll be there at nine-thirty. I know how bizarre this must sound to you, but I swear I’m telling you the truth. It is Amanda.”

“I have no reason not to believe you, Claire. If you say you saw a picture of your sister in my book, that’s good enough for me. One way or the other, we’re going to find out if it’s really her. Okay?”

The relief in Claire’s voice was clear. “Okay. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“And Claire?” Martin said.

“Yes?”

“I’m glad you called.”

“Me too.”

20

THE FOLLOWING MORNING Claire met Martin at his home in Santa Clara. Together with Maggy, they drove for the next two hours up the California coastline. Claire slept for most of the trip, exhausted from the emotional roller coaster she had ridden until morning light. Occasionally, Martin stole a glance at her seated beside him. He had known this woman less than twenty-four hours, yet he knew that something unmistakable was happening to him. His every instinct told him that her life, her well being, had somehow become his responsibility. He had begun to care for her.

Slow down, he thought. You don’t even know if this girl really likes you or not. Maybe she was just being kind to you last night because you were the man of the hour. Maybe she has a boyfriend, or worse, a fiancée. Then how would you feel? Better to just let it take its course, see where it leads.

Claire turned in her seat and sighed.

Martin glanced in his rearview mirror at Maggy. The dog’s head was out the open window, busily taking in the sights and smells along the way. “So, Maggs?” he whispered. “Think this one’s a keeper?”

Maggy stirred in her seat to the sound of her master’s voice and chuffed. She leaned forward, nuzzled into Martin’s ear, then licked his face. Martin smiled, scratched behind her ears, and smoothed the side of her head. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he said.

Claire woke with a yawn and a stretch. Maggy took the opportunity to say hello to her new friend by moving up between the seats and licking Claire’s face until she started to laugh.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Martin said.

“Morning,” Claire laughed, unsuccessful in her attempt to evade the sudden onslaught of slobbery, wet, canine kisses.

“If you haven’t already taken the hint, Maggy really likes you.”

“I think you’re right!” Claire replied. She took the retriever’s head in her hands, nuzzled her nose. “I like you too, Maggy. Yes, I do, you beautiful girl!” As Claire doted on the dog, Maggy’s overzealous tail repeatedly whacked Martin on the back of his head.

“Hey!” Martin exclaimed. “Can’t you see I’m driving over here?”

“Sorry!” Claire said, then laughed. “It’s her fault, not mine.”

Martin looked at Maggy. “Maybe you forgot, fur face, you’re supposed to be man’s best friend.”

Maggy chuffed, licked Martin once, then went right back to smothering Claire with a plethora of doggy affection.

“Traitor,” he teased.

The rumble in Martin’s stomach reminded him he hadn’t eaten since he had gotten up. “You hungry?” he asked.

“Absolutely famished,” Claire replied.

“I know a great spot just before the Hayward exit called Belinda’s. I guarantee they’ll make you the best breakfast you’ve ever tasted, bar none.”

“Sounds perfect.”

21

A WIDE SMILE and a friendly voice greeted Martin and Claire at Belinda’s in the form of a pleasant-faced Hispanic woman whose nametag introduced her as Rosa.

“Martin!” Rosa said, welcoming him as he walked through the door with open arms and a kiss on each cheek. “Cómo esta? So nice to see you again! What brings you here?”

“Muy bien, gracias,” Martin said. “We’re on our