Missing the Stars: Chandler County

  Missing the Stars

  Chandler County

  Melissa Sinclair

  Darkness Falls

  Copyright © 2018 by Melissa Sinclair

  All rights reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, dialogue and incidents either are products of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to events, places or persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

  The author acknowledges all song titles, song lyrics, film titles, film characters, trademarked statuses and brands mentioned in this book are the property of, and belong to, their respective owners.

  Melissa Sinclair is in no way affiliated with any of the brands, songs, musicians or artists mentioned in this book.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in a printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in encouraging piracy or copyrighted materials in violation with the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  First Edition

  Cover design by Dana Lamothe at Designs by Dana

  Acknowledgments

  My family will always be my priority. Thank you for being so supportive of my writing.

  On to my amazing crew of people who make this book better, Mitzi Carroll, Copy and Line Editor, https://www.facebook.com/MitziCarrollEditor/ and Marisa Nichols, Proofreader, https://www.facebook.com/alatedbibliophile/. I cannot tell you thank you enough.

  On to my cover! Dana, you made me so happy with this cover. I know you could sense my apprehension. It isn’t like my other covers, but I love it nonetheless.

  Jody, thank you, for being the most amazing beta I could ask for. You bring such thoughtful insight forward.

  Sue, thank you, for being there to be a sounding board.

  To all the people who helped me with my crazy questions. I really hope Homeland Security never checks my browsing history, because I think the search I did asking how to blow stuff up without getting caught could be suspicious at best.

  To my fans, I am not sure I have that many, but thank you for reading even a word of what I write.

  All mistakes are my own.

  Can you ever thank your family enough? I don’t think so. Thank you for being my inspiration to go for my dreams.

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  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

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  Missing the Moment

  1

  Fourteen Years Ago

  It was hotter than hell. Sweat poured down his back, pooling at the waist of his jeans. He was in their surveillance van on a street in a gated community on the outskirts of Chicago watching the same house for hours, and the hair on his neck was standing on end. Something in the back of his mind was telling him this was a bad setup, and he should take Sharon and get out of there, but he didn’t have a choice. He never should have agreed to this job, but hindsight being what it is, he was now stuck. They were in too deep to back out now. Looking up and down the street once more, he glanced worriedly at Sharon who was sitting next to him, eyes trained on the house they’d been watching for the better part of the day. The only thing going for him right now was the fact that this house was in a neighborhood where a cable van didn’t look out of place. Almost everyone was at their high-paying jobs at the moment anyway. It didn’t matter if they were all gone; the van allowed for some cover. But even so, he felt exposed and hoped that the tip would pan out.

  His instincts were screaming at him that this was one time he shouldn’t be loyal to the job. This case was potentially career changing. They didn’t know it was going to take this long or he might have talked Sharon out of it. But the end was in sight—he was sure of it. They just had to get through the last stretch. Even when it was all said and done, he would be right back in the thick of another case. He was addicted to the rush of endorphins from taking down someone who deserved to be brought to justice. His internal monologue was constant because he was always reminding himself this was the big league and there was no reason to be worried.

  Then his mind would pause, and he would find himself thinking it was a colossal mistake because it was taking too long to close this case. He wanted his life back; he wanted to see his children. He needed this case to be over. Fast. Sharon was the voice of reason, the constant presence telling him that all was well and that it would only be a matter of time. Their boss also thought they were close to finally bringing the whole operation down. He hoped that Special Agent in Charge Johnson knew what the hell he was talking about.

  Hank didn’t want to pull them off the case, partly because he didn’t want to look weak to Sharon, which in itself made him weak, but he would if it didn’t resolve itself soon. Things were getting too dangerous. It didn’t matter to him if they brought down the biggest drug supplier in the state—not if it meant he was sacrificing his or Sharon’s safety. They owed it to their children to come home. Sharon and the kids were his world. Always had been. It meant that he would do anything and everything to protect them, and since he couldn’t shake the feeling this was a very bad idea, he was more than second-guessing things.

  If their intel panned out, this would be the day—the day that they took down Lloyd and Glen Williams and, hopefully, the day that they would give them everything they needed to take down their boss. For now, they waited for the green light. He reached over and grabbed Sharon’s hand. Being partners with his wife was a blessing and a curse. A curse because she was at the front of his mind at all times.

  “We have a car approaching from the east.” The words broke him out of his reverie. Now fully alert, he looked at the car as it pulled up in front of the house they’d been watching.

  “The players are finally here.” They watched as Lloyd and Glen got out of the expensive BMW and went inside the house. Drugs obviously paid well—too bad life expectancy tended to be a bit problematic for those who chose to pursue that kind of career.

  They were watching the house intently when another car approached from the east.

  “Sedan approaching,” Sharon said, hand on the door handle, poised to exit the vehicle if the need arose. He was still holding her hand and tugged on it to halt her from leaving the car.

  “What do we have here? This car doesn’t look like it fits into the landscape.”

  The car continued their way slowly. Call it a sixth sense, but he knew that this car had nothing to do with the drug house. The anonymous informant had said that Lloyd and Glen would be making a stop at this house and that the big man was going to make an appearance. There was no way that anyone could convince Hank that the sedan had the big man inside. Finally, the car pulled to a stop, parking in one of the only available spots on the street.

  “Shit,” Sharon said under her breath. Clearly, he wasn’t the only one who was apprehensive. “I might be wrong, but that car doesn’t belong in this neighborhood.”

  “Yeah.” Don’t get out of the car, he thought to himself as he watched the car intently. The white couple seemed to be lost as the woman in the passenger seat was looking at
a piece of paper and then peering out the window. “Go,” he whispered, quietly encouraging the car to leave, even though they couldn’t hear him.

  But instead of pulling away, the car remained stationary. He could see the couple talking and looking at something—probably a map— unaware that they were stopping in front of a drug house. Sharon was right. The couple in the car was clearly in the wrong place at the wrong time. Not only did Hank have a sixth sense when it came to certain things, but he was also remarkably good at reading people, and the two people he was staring at were middle class, straight shooters. There was no way they were drug dealers or buyers. Of course, he’d been surprised before. It had only happened once, but once was all it took to learn a valuable lesson. That being to never judge a book by its cover.

  They continued to watch in silence as the couple began to get out of the car, just as a hail of gunfire erupted inside the house that they’d had the misfortune of parking in front of. The man was startled and froze, looking around and appearing to finally see the neighborhood for the first time. The woman with him had already exited the vehicle, and he turned quickly, shouting at her to get in the car, but she was frozen with fear in the middle of the sidewalk in mid-motion as she was about to shut the car door. Like a deer caught in headlights, she stared wide-eyed as a man walked calmly out of the house, looking up and down the street until his eyes landed on the couple. In the blink of an eye, he had a gun out. Without pausing, Sharon was out of the car, her gun in her hand.

  “Freeze, FBI! Put the gun down!” she shouted as she ran across the road in a crouch.

  The blood ran cold in his veins as he scrambled to get out of the car. He was only a breath behind her, but it was too much. He held back a scream as he watched the man point his gun at Sharon and pull the trigger, hitting her center mass. Hank opened fire on the man, who had yet to see him. His aim off, he clipped the man in the thigh. But it was enough to have the man abandon the gunfight and race to a car on the street. Hank had to decide between going to Sharon, the new couple, or chasing after the man in the car.

  In the split second it took him to decide, the car had already fired up. Praying that Sharon was okay, he turned toward the car and raced toward it. It pulled away from the curb as he planted his feet, took aim, and shot at it. He hit it but missed the tire. Nonetheless, he fired until he had no bullets left. After he realized he was out of bullets, he raced to Sharon’s side. The other couple was with her. The woman, a beautiful brunette, had tears streaming down her face as she held Sharon’s hand.

  He skidded to a stop and landed on his knees next to the love of his life. Please tell me the bullet hit the Kevlar, he told himself. He ran his fingers along the torn fabric and found no blood. Breathing a sigh of relief, he reached for her hand as her eyelids began to flicker.

  “Son of a bitch, that hurt!” she let out on a breath. Hank helped her sit up as he called in reinforcements, rattling off the make, model, and partial license plate he’d gotten. When he hung up the phone, he looked at Sharon and the other couple.

  “This crap just got real.”

  Kevin and Karen Davenport had been on a spur-of-the-moment vacation, intending on meeting up with some friends they’d met during the last racing season. Somehow, they’d gotten turned around and ended up on the wrong street in a high rent neighborhood. Kevin had always considered himself lucky because Karen was the most amazingly supportive and even-keeled woman he’d ever met. It had been an immediate attraction between the two of them. After twenty years of marriage, he was still madly in love.

  However, there had been some turbulence recently due to the impending departure of their oldest son, Cole. He had decided to hit the road and see the world. Kevin didn’t want his oldest son to leave, but he knew it was something he needed to do before he’d be able to settle down. He considered it a rite of passage, and he wanted him to have that freedom. There was plenty of time to settle down later, and he knew if he forced him to stay, Cole would only end up stifled and resenting them. Karen agreed. To an extent. But she also didn’t want him to leave. Cole was gifted when it came to horses, and she wanted him to pursue a career in equestrian life. He knew that Cole didn’t want that for his life. While the young man loved horses, it was Karen’s dream, not Cole’s. Their other son had no intention of adventuring outside of Bourbonville for more than a brief vacation.

  For that reason, Kevin was more accepting of the moment when Cole announced he was going on a year-long trip. Whether she liked it or not, Karen knew the horse farm would be here when or if he came home to stay. Karen was hoping he came home, sooner rather than later, and if he were honest, so did he; but if he decided after his adventure that Bourbonville was not his home, then they would support him in whatever way they could. He was their son first and foremost. Kevin knew how much Karen was going to miss Cole, but she agreed they shouldn’t stand in his way.

  Of course, it helped that Coop was sticking close to home. It was no secret he’d always wanted to run the farm. While he wasn’t as talented on a horse and didn’t have the natural born rider ability that Cole had, he loved them and wanted to expand the farm operations and make Davenport Farms a household name in the equestrian circuit. And Coop was good with money. Kevin knew that Coop could turn a pile of salt into a mountain of gold. His natural ability was in numbers and finances. It was also no secret that, at this point in his life, the farm wasn’t what Cole wanted or needed. What he needed was to figure out what he wanted. Deep down, Kevin felt that Cole would come back someday, but he also didn’t believe it would be to stay. Cole had the heart for adventure—he was bright and athletic and the apple of their eye. Both of their boys were. But while both boys looked the same and were well liked, that was where the similarities ended. Yet the boys, as different as they were, were nearly inseparable. It was quite possible that Cole’s leaving would affect Coop the most.

  With a heavy, but cautiously optimistic heart, he parked the car and smiled at his beautiful wife as she tried to make sense of his horrible handwritten directions. The boys looked so much like her, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. While they had his dark hair and height, her face was etched into theirs, and the teenage lankiness was starting to give way to more chiseled adult features. Kevin would have to be blind to miss the looks that both of his boys got from nearly every girl in town. They were extremely good-looking boys; he just hoped they didn’t break too many hearts along the way, and he also hoped that they would eventually find a love like he had with their mother.

  “I can’t read your handwriting, Hank.”

  He grabbed the paper while she pulled out a map. She liked the feel of maps, and she had told him more than once that she didn’t care for the GPS—it wasn’t always accurate. He read the address to her, and she looked on the map.

  “Are you sure that’s the right street? I don’t see it on the map.” She squinted at the map and sighed. “Well, this map is a few years old. Didn’t they say the house was just finished? Maybe the street isn’t on the map because it’s a new street?”

  “Why don’t we see if the people who live here know how to get there?” He indicated the house outside the car window. “The subdivision isn’t that big, but we could end up driving in circles.”

  As they climbed out of the car, they heard a commotion. A man had emerged from the large house, pulled down his shirt sleeves, looked around, and then his gaze landed on them. In the time it took to breathe, the man had a gun in his hand, and Kevin had no time to react before he heard someone yelling “FBI” behind him. Then gunshots were fired. Kevin’s head whipped around as he heard a grunt, and he saw a female fall to the ground. A man was right behind her shooting at the other man. Kevin wasn’t sure what they were aiming at, but he rushed around the car and pulled Karen down and underneath him. As they were crouched beside the car, he heard the man run by, then a car engine fire to life. Karen shoved at him, and he released her, only to try vainly to pull her back as she ran to the woman in the middle of
the road.

  As they waited for help, he found himself wondering how they had been unlucky enough to end up in that neighborhood, in front of that house. He didn’t have much time to think beyond that as the car turned and headed straight for them. They dove out of the way as the man behind the wheel opened fire on them once again.

  During the commotion, no one saw the red-haired teenager across the street.

  2

  Fourteen Years Later

  Lost. L. O. S. T. Not just with a capital L, but all the other letters in the word. This was how badly he was off the beaten path. How did he get so lost so quickly? It was like a tragic euphemism for his current emotional status as well. He’d been lost for weeks. Hell, months. Ever since one of his men was killed while working a case when he was trying to move a young girl to a safe house. All these months later and Cole could still smell the metallic scent of his friend’s blood on his hands. The friend he’d known for years and who’d had his throat slit while working a case for Port Investigations.

  Flash forward a matter of months, and another one of his employees lay in the morgue. Cole was on a forced sabbatical, in exile, until he could get his mind back on track. While he knew he had nothing to do with either man’s death, he couldn’t shake the all-consuming feeling of guilt. Those men were good men. Solid. They had parents who were gutted when Cole called them to tell them the news. Girlfriends who were devastated when Cole stopped to personally tell them their loved one had lost their life.