Kiss Me, Kill Me. Maggie Shayne

“A real honor. I’m sorry I didn’t recognize your name, but ‘Silent Song’ is one of my favorites. It’s on my iPod.”

      “Thanks.” He shifted his focus to the boy again. “I’d love to jam with you, Sam. I’ve got my guitar in the bus, so we can get together whenever you have time.”

      “The bus? You brought a bus? How are you gonna keep a low profile with a—”

      Gabe cut him off with a nod toward his vehicle. “Not a tour bus. A VW Bus,” he said.

      Sam looked at it and grinned. “You call that low-profile? What is it, a sixty-four?”

      “Sixty-five. I call her Livvy.”

      “Livvy? Old girlfriend?”

      He nodded. “Yeah. She was as much of a wreck when I found her as the bus was. I managed to do for the bus what I couldn’t do for the girl.”

      “What’s that?” Sadie asked.

      Gabe shrugged. “Save her, I guess.”

      Sadie looked sad and lowered her head, but the sentimental moment was completely lost on Sam, who was moving closer to the bus with the other two left to follow in his wake. He ran a hand over the paint, the giant flowers and psychedelic swirls of yellow and green, and shook his head. “You restored her yourself?”

      “I had help from friends here and there, but mostly, yeah, she was my project.”

      “What’s under the hood?”

      Gabe smiled. “Nothing like what’s under yours, kid. I heard you earned that Ford the hard way.”

      It was Sam’s turn to look embarrassed. “It wasn’t as big a deal as the professor made it out to be.”

      “I kinda doubt that.”

      The kid looked up into Gabe’s eyes, and Gabe had a moment of stark revelation. There was something about the boy’s eyes—something painfully familiar. Or maybe he was just getting way too into wishful thinking.

      “Looks like something’s happening,” Gabe said, nodding at the uniformed men now moving through the crowd, urging people to break into groups of ten or so.

      “Yeah, time to go. I’d love to see the inside of the bus sometime, though.”

      “I’ll let you drive her later, if you want.”

      “Really?” Sam beamed, but then his smile faded as he heard a cop on a megaphone begin the routine speech about how the search would unfold this evening, what areas would be covered, and what someone should do if they found anything.

      Anything, Gabe knew, meant Kyle Becker, Sam’s missing friend. And, more than likely, it meant his body. Because finding him in the woods alive didn’t seem a very likely scenario. He could only hope the kid wasn’t in the woods at all but had run away, as the curly-maned doctor theorized. He clapped a hand to the boy’s shoulder. “Hang in there. I know this is a rough time for you.”

      Sam met Gabe’s eyes and shook his head. “I don’t think we’re gonna find him, Gabe. Not…not alive, anyway.”

      Sadie gasped. “Don’t say that, Sammy!”

      “Sorry, I just—I know Kyle. He wouldn’t run away without saying something, you know? He’d have told me if he was thinking about something like that. And it’s not like he’s got any reason, you know? Not like you do, Sadie. If anyone was going to run away, it would be you. But not Kyle. He had it good. Great family, no issues. He had no reason in the world to take off.”

      Gabe looked at Sadie, wondering just what her home life must be like if her boyfriend felt she had reason to run away. But she misread the look and seemed to think he was looking for her to confirm Sam’s words.

      “He’s right, Gabe. Kyle wouldn’t just leave. Hell, even I wouldn’t do that. Not without telling someone.”

      “Not without telling me,” Sam said, sliding an arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer to his side.

      “You know it, Sammy.” She leaned her head on his shoulder. “Come on, Gabe. We’ll all get in the same group.”

      “Thanks. I was kinda hoping you’d ask. I don’t know anybody else in town.”

      “Other than Carrie, right?” Sadie said. And she had a little twinkle of speculation in her eyes as she said it.

      “Other than Carrie. Right.”

      They walked together, the teens arm in arm, melding into a group that looked a few searchers short. Another man came hurrying along with them, apparently looking for fellow stragglers to join up with.

      Gabe recognized him. He had brown hair, closely cut, styled with the help of too much gel. His skin was startlingly tanned in contrast to his light brown hair and brows, and his dress shoes were totally unsuited to hiking through the mountains. Gabe had seen him at the soccer game—er, match, he thought with a little smile. He’d only noticed the guy because they’d been reading the same issue of the same tabloid. And because he’d been the only guy at the game wearing a suit and tie. This afternoon he’d chosen dress pants that were probably thin enough to let stray briars stick through, and a sporty black and yellow jacket he’d probably picked up in town. It looked brand-new.

      “Mind if I join up with your group?” the man asked, addressing the kids, not Gabe, which Gabe found a little off-putting.

      “It’s not our group,” Sam said. “But sure, come on.”

      “I didn’t think I was going to make it on time,” the stranger added with an exaggeratedly heavy breath. “Just heard about this.”

      “Are you from out of town, too?” Gabe asked.

      The man looked at him as if he’d only just noticed his presence but sent him what seemed to be a genuine smile. “Yes, I am. Ambrose Arthur Peck,” he said, extending a hand.

      “I’m Gabe.” Gabe shook hands with the newcomer. “Where are you from, Ambrose?”

      “Milwaukee. I’m CEO of an investment firm there. Manlin, Taylor & Strauss. Have you heard of it?”

      “No,” Gabe said. “But don’t think of that as a bad thing. I only tend to hear about the ones under investigation by the FCC.”

      Sadie pretended to cough, but only to disguise a snort of laughter. Gabe felt a little bad for sort of dissing the guy. Just because he himself didn’t like trying to impress people by sharing his résumé upon meeting them, that didn’t mean he ought to judge those who did. To each his own.

      “I’ll have to get one of your cards,” Gabe said, to try to make up for it. “An honest firm that manages to be successful in this economy is a real find.”

      The man looked at him as if doubting he had any money to invest, but he smiled and said, “I don’t have them on me, but I’ll make sure I do the next time we meet.”

      “Great.” Gabe turned his attention to the people in the group they had joined. The rest were all locals, he thought. He caught a few names, tried to commit them to memory. Marie was the plump lady with the bad haircut who looked forty but was more than likely in her twenties, and she was a baker. Made pies and cakes for the local eateries, she said. The tall skinny guy who looked like an undertaker was Nate Kelly, and he owned one of the local ski lodges. There were others, but the names and faces blurred together. They chatted comfortably until a white-haired man with a face like a road map and wearing a police uniform stepped onto some sort of platform in front of the old fire station. Gabe couldn’t see what the platform was, due to all the legs around it, but he could see the cop clearly now that he stood a foot above everyone else, especially since the man was tall to begin with.

      “Okay, pipe down,” the man said, and his voice was like gravel. “For those who are new, I’m Chief MacNamara, Shadow Falls P.D. Thanks for helping us out on this. We wish to