THE MISSING (L.A.P.D. Special Investigations Book 4) (24 page)

EPILOGUE
 
 

One year later

“VERY FEW LIVES are what we expect them to be,” Abraham said to his daughter-in-law sitting beside him with her notebook and a tape recorder. “And I’m no orator. I doubt what I have to say will be of interest to anyone.”

Julianna, pregnant with his son’s child—his grandchild—looked radiant, just as his wife Lizzie had looked when she was carrying Luke. Abe had doubted he’d ever have another grandchild after Luke and Julianna lost Michael.

But now that a new life was growing, a life that was part of him as well, he didn’t think about his own mortality as much. He supposed he should be at seventy-one, but knowing a part of him would continue on in this world made it easier to face that he wouldn’t be around forever.

Not that he planned on going anywhere soon. Shoot, he’d just gotten married and had a whole second life to live with the woman he’d been in love with for more than sixty years. He’d been a fool to waste so much time. Years ago when Stella broke off with him, his damned pride wouldn’t let him forgive her. Then Lizzie died and he’d been overcome with guilt and retreated into himself. Well, he’d lived with false pride and guilt long enough. He was still alive and he planned to enjoy every second he had left.

“Okay, Abe, before I start the recorder, I hope you don’t leave anything out just because I’m your daughter-in-law or because you’re afraid I’ll be judgmental. I’m a journalist and we’re not allowed to judge people. But if you don’t want me to know something, I’m okay with that, too.”

Abe pulled himself up in his favorite chair, the worn leather lounger now shaped to his body after so many years, the chair Lizzie had always threatened to burn years ago. “So, what’s the point of keeping secrets? It wouldn’t be my life.”

Right. She grinned. “I like that philosophy.”

“Why are we doing this again?”

“For our family history. So your granddaughter will know her heritage.”

“It used to be people didn’t know what the baby was going to be until they had it. I’m not sure it’s a good thing to find out all these things before they happen.”

“It was necessary because of my age, Pops. The tests show if there’s anything wrong and can also tell if it’s a boy or a girl. Modern medicine has come a long way.”

He didn’t like it. He didn’t like a lot of things happening in this so-called modern world. But he had to live with it. He’d buried himself on the ranch for too long. Now he and Stella were going on a honeymoon to Hawaii. He’d never in a million years thought he’d see Hawaii again. But then he’d also thought he’d die in a Vietnam prison camp.

“So, are you going to write a story about me, or what?”

“Gee, I hadn’t thought about what I’d do with it, Pops. I just wanted to record the information befo—” She frowned. “Before I have the baby and I get too busy.”

He placed a hand over hers. “You want the information before I kick the bucket. That’s okay. It’s good. But I’m not going to do that for a while, so we do have time.”

“Okay. But I’m here now. And we probably won’t be back until after the baby’s born.”

“Fine with me, but remember we’re coming to Los Angeles when the child gets here. Stella wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Me neither, Pops.” She smiled sweetly. “So, where do you want to start?” Julianna asked. “Can you tell me about your childhood, your parents?”

“You want me to tell you everything?”

“Yes, I do.”

He shifted in the chair. He hadn’t thought about his parents in a very long time. Not since he’d left home at sixteen. He’d put them out of his mind like he did most hurtful things, things he couldn’t do anything about.

No point in thinking about all the nights he’d shivered with fear in the corner. Mostly he remembered that he’d just wanted it to be over, one way or another.

“It wasn’t a noteworthy childhood, just a kid growing up on a poor ranch. A mother and father who didn’t have much and who died too young.” His father hadn’t died soon enough for him. “I left home at sixteen.”

“What about school?”

School.
The thought conjured the singular most important day in his life. The day he’d met Stella Nez. He was ten and it was her first day at the tiny two-room school. One room each for two grades. She was in the lower grade, and she’d just come from the reservation.

He’d thought her the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. Her straight, shiny dark hair went all the way down her back, and her eyes weren’t dark brown like most of the Navajo kids, they were a lighter color, like his pinto, Chakura, that his dad had won from some drunk during a card game.

He’d seen her standing alone on the edge of the playground when a couple of the bigger kids went over and started shoving her, calling her names like half-breed, saying she should go back to the reservation.

He’d gotten mad. He didn’t like bullies, people who picked on others for no reason at all. People like his father.

That’s when he strode over. He didn’t say anything, but planted his feet apart and stood in front of her with his arms crossed. One of the boys spit on him, called him “Injun lover,” as if that was the meanest thing they could say.

Hell, he’d heard a lot worse. The girls called him names, too, and one threw a rock as she was leaving, hitting him in the forehead. But he stood there.

He didn’t know what to do or say then, so he sat on the grass and after a minute, Stella sat next to him but not too close. The sun was burning hot overhead and he started sweating. He remembered that because he didn’t want her to see him sweat. Or smell him either.

They didn’t say anything for the longest time and then finally she asked, “How’d you get that black eye?”

He shrugged. “Bumped into a door at night.” He pulled his shirt tight at the neck and tugged his sleeves down to hide his other bruises. But he knew she’d seen them.

“Want an apple?” she said, reaching into her pocket, then held one out to him.

Her voice was soft and she had an accent, the kind the kids had who came from the reservation. Like she’d just learned English or something. He rubbed the apple on his sleeve and took a bite. It was the best apple he’d ever tasted.

~~~

“IT’S OKAY, Abe. We can do more later,” Julianna said then shut off the recorder. Abe had told her about the two-room school, and meeting Stella for the first time, and then his mind seemed to go somewhere far away. She figured they’d done enough for the day.

“I’ll be outside,” he said, getting up to leave. “Stella will be back soon and we’re going shopping for luggage and all that, then we have to look at plans for the new house.”

Julianna smiled. “That will be fun.” Abe and Stella had decided to build a new house on the property between their two places. It would be a place of their own, not one that he’d shared with Elizabeth or she’d shared with her husband. Abe wanted Luke to take over the ranch, but Luke was still undecided. He loved his job. She knew that. They had both made some concessions when they got married again, Luke in not working so many hours and she embracing the time they shared even if it was less than she wanted.

Still, she couldn’t think of a better place to raise a child than here on the ranch. She felt a need to get away from the city altogether. A new beginning. She could do her job from almost anywhere, but she knew Luke would never leave the LAPD. So, they’d made another compromise. They’d keep the house in Venice and the ranch. How they’d divide up their time was the question.

Luke came inside. “Look what I found in the storeroom.” He held up a baby rocker. “It was mine when I was a kid.”

“It’s adorable.”

“There’s more. A crib and an old high chair.”

“Are they useable?”

“I don’t see why not.”

“I can’t believe your father saved all that stuff.”

Luke’s eyes softened. “I can’t either. I guess no matter how much we think we know about a person, we can never know it all.”

She smiled wide. “Like you saying your dad fired the shot that saved me. I heard that’s not the case.”

He grinned. “But he doesn’t know that. As far as I’m concerned, he saved us both.”

She reached up to kiss him.

“So what do you think about the baby furniture?”

“I think it’s a sign.”

He gave a skeptical glance. “Now you’re sounding like your mother again. A sign of what.”

“That this should be our home.”

Luke put the chair down. The doorbell rang. “That’s the sheriff.”

“Sheriff Yuma? What’s he coming here for?”

She saw a glint in Luke’s eyes. “He’s got a job for me.” He eyed her narrowly. “If I want it.”

“Really? Really, really?” She couldn’t think of anything else to say. She wanted this to be their home so much, but only if Luke did, too.

The doorbell rang again. Luke started toward the door, but then he stopped and took an envelope from his pocket. “Here, hold this for me.”

“What is it?”

“A letter from my mother. We’ll read it together.”

 

 

A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

Thank you for being a reader and sharing your love of reading by purchasing my stories. I hope you enjoyed THE MISSING and that you’ll consider leaving a review or rating on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Goodreads, or wherever you like to hangout and share information about books.
Http://ww.amazon.com/-/e/B001HCV3PQ

 

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http://ww.LindaStyle.com

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

My sincere thanks and appreciation to all the people who
contributed to the research for this book, and all the books
in the series—the professionals with
the Los Angeles Police Department, the city of Los Angeles
Chamber of Commerce and the Orange County RWA
members who so generously shared their expertise
about the City of Angels.
 

Since this is a work of fiction, I’ve taken some liberties with facts where needed.
Any errors are solely mine.

ALSO by LINDA STYLE

Fiction:

From LMS Press

Copyright ©Linda Fensand Style

 

STREET LAW series

STREET, prequel

DETROIT RULES, book 1

 

LAPD Special Investigations series

The Deceived, book 1

The Taken, book 2

The Silent, book 3

 

F
rom Harlequin Enterprises Ltd

Copyright © Linda Fensand Style

Her Sister’s Secret

Daddy in the House

Slow Dance with a Cowboy

The Man in the Photograph

What Madeline Wants

The Witness

His Case, Her Child

And Justice for All

Husband and Wife Reunion

Going for Broke

The Man from Texas

The Mistake She Made

The Promise He Made

A Soldier’s Secret

Protecting the Witness

 

Non-Fiction:

BOOTCAMP FOR NOVELISTS BEYOND THE FIRST DRAFT: Writing Techniques of the Pros. By Linda Style Copyright © 2013, LMS Press, Gilbert, AZ 85234 (403 pages) In digital and in print.

 

Linda’s books are available on her website, on Amazon and other bookstore outlets.
Http://ww.amazon.com/-/e/B001HCV3PQ
,
http://www.LindaStyle.com

 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Linda Style
is an Award-Winning, National Bestselling author with over a million copies sold in thirteen different countries. With an education in behavioral science and in journalism, Linda has worked in a number of jobs, from social services to Director of a state mental health program to magazine editor, but, she says nothing is more rewarding than writing her stories of romance, suspense and intrigue. Her books—often described as emotional, fast-paced stories that keep you riveted to the page—have won several awards, including the prestigious Daphne du Maurier Award of Excellence, the Orange Rose award for Best Book of the Year, and the HOLT Award of Merit.

 

When not writing, Linda loves to travel, a passion that has taken her all over the world and allows her to indulge in her other passion…photography. A Minnesota native, she now lives with her family in Arizona where she likes to play tennis and hike in the mountains—the best place in the world to think up more stories. She invites you to stop by her website at LindaStyle.com.

THE MISSING

Copyright © 2016 Linda Fensand Style

Published by LMS Press, Gilbert, AZ 85234

[email protected]

 

Cover art: coversbyrogenna.com

Editor: Editing with Style

 

All rights reserved. Except for review, no part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any form, or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information and retrieval systems without written permission from the publisher.

 

All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention..

 

THE MISSING is an, updated, enhanced second edition that contains new copy not included in the first edition. First edition copyright © 2005 Linda Fensand Style

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