Last Seen Alone
by
Laura Griffin
When they face the most baffling missing person's case of their
careers, a fiercely ambitious lawyer and a homicide detective have no
one to turn to for help except each other, from New York Times bestselling author Laura Griffin.
Up-and-coming attorney Leigh Larson fights for victims of sexual
extortion, harassment, and online abuse. She is not afraid to go after
the sleaziest targets to get payback for her clients. Leigh is
laser-focused on her career—to the exclusion of everything else—until a
seemingly routine case and a determined cop turn her world upside down.
Austin homicide detective Brandon Reynolds is no stranger to midnight
callouts. But when he gets summoned to an abandoned car on a desolate
road, he quickly realizes he's dealing with an unusual crime scene. A
pool of blood in the nearby woods suggests a brutal homicide. But where
is the victim? The vehicle is registered to twenty-six-year-old Vanessa
Adams. Searching the car, all Brandon finds is a smear of blood and a
business card for Leigh Larson, attorney-at-law.
Vanessa had
hired Leigh just before her disappearance, but Leigh has no leads on who
could have wanted her dead. Faced with bewildering evidence and
shocking twists, Leigh and Brandon must work against the clock to chase
down a ruthless criminal who is out for vengeance.
**********************
Excerpt:
Chapter One
He
was late, and she shouldn’t have been surprised.
Vanessa
buzzed down the window a few inches and cut the engine. Crisp, piney air seeped
into the car, along with the faint scent of someone’s campfire. She checked her
phone. Nothing. She settled back in her seat to wait.
Her
headlights illuminated a clump of trees—spindly fresh ones, along with the
pointed gray spires that had burned years ago. She looked at the stars beyond
the treetops. Once upon a time, she’d stretched out on a patch of grass not far
from here with Cooper, gazing up at the sky and trying to pick out
constellations. Orion. Leo. The Big Dipper. The memory seemed strange.
Fanciful. Everything like that was gone now, replaced by a dull ache that never
went away. Her emotions felt like tar, thick and heavy in her veins, and
swinging her legs out of bed required effort.
Yet
here she was.
She
was sick of the dread in her stomach. She was sick of being a silent bystander
in her own life.
Vanessa
eyed the bottle of Jim Beam peeking out from beneath the passenger seat. She
reached for it and checked her phone again before twisting off the top.
Late,
late, late.
She
took a swig. The bourbon burned the back of her throat, but then she felt a
warm rush of courage. She could do this.
Headlights
flashed into her rearview mirror, high and bright. Her shoulders tensed as she
listened to the throaty sound of the approaching truck. It pulled up behind her
and the lights went dark.
Vanessa
stashed the bottle on the floor and wiped her damp palms on her jeans. Her
stomach flip-flopped as he slid from the pickup and walked over. She couldn’t
believe she was doing this.
He
stopped by the car, and she pushed the door open. He watched her from beneath
the brim of his ratty baseball cap, and she could smell the smoke on his
clothes. Marlboro Reds.
“Long
time,” he said.
“Do
you have it?”
He held up a bag.
It
was lunch sack, like her mom used to pack for her. PBJ and a pudding cup.
Vanessa took the bag, and the paper felt soft and greasy. She looked inside.
“That’s
four hundred.”
Her
head snapped up. “You said three-fifty!”
He
pulled the bag away. “I need four.”
“I
don’t have it.”
His
gaze dropped to her breasts, and she knew that look. Her gut clenched. The
thought of sex right now made her want to throw up.
Twisting
in her seat, she grabbed her leather tote from the back. She pulled the stack
of bills from her wallet and counted twenty twenties. She turned and held them
out.
Tucking
the sack under his arm, he took the cash and thumbed through it.
“You
look different,” he said, and she caught the disapproval.
Vanessa
gritted her teeth and waited. His attention fell on the bottle on the floor,
and his brow furrowed as he leaned on the door.
“You
all right, Van?”
“Yeah.”
Something
flickered across his face. Pity? Tenderness? She had to be imagining it.
He
passed her the bag. “That’s not really for your sister, is it?”
Vanessa
didn’t respond. It was none of his damn business. He stepped away, and she
yanked the door shut.
For
a moment he didn’t move. But then he turned and walked back to his truck,
stuffing her money in his back pocket.
The
lights flashed on. Wincing, she watched in her rearview mirror as he backed up
and made a three-point turn. When he was gone, she rested her hand on her
stomach and let out a breath.
Vanessa
started her car. She retraced her route over the pitted road until she reached
the two-lane highway. When her tires hit smooth pavement, she pressed the gas
and a wave of dizziness washed over her—probably the whiskey. She buzzed the
window all the way down and sighed with relief as the Austin skyline came into
view.
Done.
She
looked at the houses scattered on either side of the highway, some with lights
on, some without. Through a gap in the pines she caught a glimpse of the lake
glimmering under the half moon.
Eying
the brown bag beside her, she felt a pang of yearning. She checked the mirror,
then pulled onto the shoulder and parked. She grabbed the bag and reached
inside.
Seventeen
ounces.
It
felt heavier than she’d imaged. She held the pistol in her palm and ran her
thumb over the textured grip. For the first time in months, the knot of fear in
her stomach loosened. She’d never been brave, never in her life. But people
could change.
Headlights
winked into the mirror, and she glanced up. High and bright again, probably a
pickup truck. Squinting, she watched them get closer and closer.
Vanessa’s
nerves skittered. Was it slowing down?
Had
someone followed her here? But she’d been careful. Not just careful—vigilant.
She’d taken every precaution.
The
truck started to slow, and an icy claw of fear closed around her heart.
Vanessa
scooted across the seat and reached for the passenger door, jerking back as her
sweater snagged on something. She yanked it free, then grabbed the bag and
pushed open the door.
The
truck rolled to a halt. Vanessa scrambled from the car, tripping as she glanced
back at headlights. Adrenaline shot through her, and she sprinted for the
trees. The ground sloped down, and she ran faster, faster, losing control as
she hurtled toward the woods.
Her
toe caught and she crashed to her knees and elbows but managed to hold the bag.
She pushed herself up and raced toward the line of trees.
Then
the headlights switched off, and everything went black. She ran blindly through
the knee-high weeds, huffing and gasping and clutching the bag to her chest
like a football. A car door slammed, sending a jolt of terror through her. She
pictured him running after her, closing the distance, grabbing her by her hair.
Thorns
stabbed at her as she reached the thicket. She swiped at the branches,
desperate for cover as she imagined him behind her. She couldn’t see anything,
not even her hand in front of her face as she groped through the razor-sharp
bushes.
The
thorns disappeared as she stumbled into a clearing. Panting, she stopped and
glanced up at the moon. Her heart thundered as she looked around and tried to
orient herself. An arc of pines surrounded her. She could hide. Take cover.
Defend herself if she had to. With trembling hands, she fumbled through the bag
and pulled out the gun. Dear God, was it loaded? She hadn’t thought to ask.
He’s
coming.
On
a burst of panic, she raced for the trees.
# # #
Brandon
almost made it home.
Almost.
His
stomach grumbled, and he eyed the pizza box riding shotgun in his truck.
Mushroom-pepperoni, thin crust. It wasn’t nearly as good cold, but he wasn’t
picky.
His
cell phone buzzed in the holder, and he tapped it.
“Almost
there,” he told his partner.
“Where
are you exactly?” Antonio asked.
“About
two minutes out.”
“Okay,
take it easy on the curve. You’ll see a black-and-white on the eastbound
shoulder near my car. That’s the best place to park.”
“Got
it.”
Brandon
drove another mile down the highway and slowed. He spotted the whirring yellow
lights of a tow truck blocking the eastbound lane as it dragged a pickup from
the ditch. Brandon passed them, making note of the disabled vehicle—a black
Chevy Silverado.
He
tapped the brakes before the curve and saw the reason for Antonio’s warning. A
silver car occupied the shoulder, just barely out of the roadway. Traffic
flares flickered on the pavement. Directly across the street, Antonio and a
uniform stood talking with a man. Tall, goatee, green camo jacket and a
baseball cap turned backward on his head.
Brandon
pulled a U-turn and parked behind Antonio’s personal vehicle, a black Mazda.
Grabbing his phone, he gave his pizza a last wistful look and slid from the warmth
of his truck.
A
cool October breeze blew off the lake as Antonio trudged over. He wore dark
slacks and a white button-down, same as Brandon, but his sleeves were rolled
up. Looked like he hadn’t made it home yet either. Their workday had begun at
five-thirty a.m. with a gas station holdup on the south side of town, and it
was almost eleven.
“How’s
it look?” Brandon asked.
“Weird.”
Antonio
stopped in front of him and ran a hand through his black buzzcut. His partner
was short but powerfully built, like an MMA fighter.
“When
did you get here?”
Antonio
sighed. “’Bout ten minutes ago.”
Brandon
turned to look at the man still being interviewed by the patrol officer.
“Guy’s
name is Tom Murray,” Antonio said. “He called it in. Says he was driving westbound
when a deer ran in front of him. He slammed on the brakes and swerved. Nearly
hit the silver car there, then overcorrected and skidded off the road.”
Brandon
turned back toward the tow truck. The orange flares illuminated twin skid marks
leading to the ditch.
“Tire
marks corroborate his story,” Antonio said. He’d spent five years on highway
patrol, so he should know.
“And
the driver of the car?” Brandon asked.
“Nowhere.
But all her stuff’s in the vehicle. Wallet, keys, phone, everything.”
“Her?”
“Yeah,
Murray said he walked over to see if anyone was inside and found a purse.
Vanessa Adams, twenty-six. He checked the wallet.”
Brandon
muttered a curse.
“I
know, right? Now his prints are everywhere.”
Shaking
his head, Brandon turned back toward the car. “What do you make of the guy?”
“Seems
credible. Passed a breathalyzer.” Antonio shrugged. “We ran the name from the
wallet. No wants or warrants. Vehicle’s registered to her, too.” Antonio looked
at him, his brow furrowed. “I gave the car a once-over.”
“Did
you—”
“Didn’t
touch anything. There’s a smear on the door. Looks to me like blood.”
Hence,
the reason why he and Antonio had been called out to an otherwise routine
abandoned vehicle.
Brandon
scanned the area. The highway was hemmed in by trees. North of the road, the
forest was thick and healthy. South, not so much. Years ago, the highway had
acted as a firebreak, but several hundred acres to the south had burned, and
now it was a mix of jagged black points and fresh saplings. The terrain sloped
down to an area dense with scrub trees. Beyond the brush was an abandoned
quarry that had been made into a lake. East of the lake was a public park.
Brandon
opened his truck and reached into the back. “You have time to look around yet?”
“Not
yet.” Antonio gave a sheepish smile. “I don’t have a flashlight.”
Rookie
mistake. But Brandon didn’t state the obvious, even though he was Antonio’s
training officer.
Brandon
reached into his truck and grabbed his high-powered Mag-Lite, then tucked it
into the back of his pants and handed his spare to Antonio. Opening the
tacklebox that lived in the back of his cab, he dug out two pairs of latex
gloves and handed one to his partner.
“You
want to talk to the driver?” Antonio asked.
“I’ll
take a look at the car first.” Brandon pulled on the gloves. “Tell him to hang
out, then go get started in the woods.”
“Roger
that.”
Antonio
headed off, and Brandon took a last look around before approaching the vehicle.
It
was a silver Toyota, ten years old, give or take, with a purple “namaste”
sticker on the back bumper. The tires were bald, but no sign of a flat. A thin
layer of grime covered the paint, except for streaks along the back, where
someone had opened and closed the trunk a bunch of times. Brandon switched his
beam to high and checked the back seat. Empty. He stepped to the driver’s side.
The door was closed, but the passenger door was wide open. He didn’t like that.
No
interior light on, no ding-ding-ding warning sound. Brandon circled the
vehicle, making note of the license plate and the dented side panel. The damage
looked old. Taking care not to mar any footprints in the dirt, he approached
the open door and leaned in.
The
smell hit him immediately. Pina colada. He swept the flashlight over the seat
and spotted the pineapple-shaped air-freshener tucked inside the door pocket.
Brandon
crouched beside the car. On the floor was a half-empty bottle of bourbon and a
big leather bag. It seemed more like a tote bag than a purse. A red leather
wallet sat on the passenger seat. He shined the light on the Texas driver’s
license peeking through the plastic window and studied the smiling picture.
Vanessa Adams had long auburn hair. She wore red lipstick, and her eyes were
accented with gray eyeshadow. Smokey eyes. That was how his ex described
it when she did her eyes that way before they went out to clubs. Yet another
thing he definitely hadn’t missed over the past six months.
Brandon
swept the flashlight over the door again found the smear. It wasn’t big—just a
swipe near the handle. But it looked to him like blood.
In
the cupholder was an old-model iPhone with a glittery white case that had a
pink heart on the back. The heart seemed young for a twenty-six-year-old.
Brandon
stood and examined the exterior again. No sign that she’d hit an animal in the
road or anything else. So, what was the deal here? Was it a simple case of car
trouble, and she’d hiked out for help?
Brandon
could see her leaving her stuff behind, maybe even the tote bag and wallet if
she were inebriated enough not to be thinking clearly. But her phone?
He
looked over his shoulder toward the dark woods where a white light bobbed
behind the trees. He called Antonio, and the light went still.
“Anyone
check nearby gas stations?” Brandon asked. “There’s an Exxon half a mile east
of here where Old Quarry Road meets the highway.”
“I’ll
get patrol on it.”
“Thanks.”
Brandon
turned back to look at the car. The iPhone bothered him. Even shitfaced, he
couldn’t see someone leaving it behind. For most twenty-somethings, a phone was
like an appendage. Plus, it was late. He couldn’t picture a woman leaving here
without her phone if she’d gone somewhere by choice.
He
swept the light over the dashboard. The ashtray was open slightly and a white
business card poked out. Brandon took a pen from his pocket and used the end to
tug the tray open enough to read the card.
Leigh
Larson. Attorney-at-Law.
Beneath the name was a Tenth Street address and an Austin phone number.
So, was Leigh a man? A woman? What kind of lawyer? The generic white card
didn’t offer a clue. Brandon took out his cell and snapped a picture, then slid
the ashtray shut.
His
phone buzzed as he stood up. “Yeah?”
“Hey,
I’m in the woods about fifty yards south of you.” Antonio sounded out of
breath, and Brandon caught the excitement in his voice. He turned and spotted
the distant white glow through the row trees.
“What
is it?” Brandon asked.
“Man,
you need to come see this.”
Amazon link (print)
Amazon link (e-book)
**********************
GIVEAWAY
Laura Griffin is generously offering a print paperback of this title and a bookmark to one lucky commenter. Please leave a comment stating whether you have read other titles by this author or what you enjoy most about romantic suspense. A winner will be chosen using random.org after October 15, 2021. Please leave a comment with your e-adddress ( **** at ****** dot com format) to enter. Thank you and good luck!
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My review:
4.5 out of 5 stars
Last Seen Alone by Laura Griffin centers around a
missing-person who serves as the focal point that brings together lawyer Leigh
Larson and detective Brandon Reynolds, who start out at odds on their respective
goals. Brandon is trying to determine if a homicide has occurred, and Leigh is
trying to understand why the missing woman contacted her in the first place. Leigh
is determined to do the right thing, no matter how much it frustrates the attractive
detective, but never expects her past or her investigation to complicate their
already convoluted relationship, let alone endanger Leigh herself.
This spellbinding romantic suspense novel reinforces why I
am such a fan of this talented author. It’s a great combination of mystery and
romance, with the added bonus of equally intriguing lead characters. Ms.
Grifffin consistently has strong female characters, and this story is no
exception, and the heartbreaking and thorny experiences that are an integral
part of the tale both enrich it and provide thought-provoking scenarios.
This is a story that I was reluctant to start, since I knew
I would be enmeshed in the action until the exciting ending, and, as usual, I
was compelled to stay up way too late reading, lol. I really enjoyed the twists
of the journey and I look forward to reading even more stories by this talented
and prolific author.
A copy of this title was provided for review
