Cavanaugh's Missing Person. Marie Ferrarella

Possibly because I had grown up with a family that could have easily fit inside a cereal box, I always wondered what it would be like to have cousins and uncles and aunts to add dimensions to my life. Creating them on paper was the next best thing. And, like Mickey Mouse creating helpers for himself in The Sorcerer’s Apprentice, once I got started, I couldn’t stop myself. And I was further encouraged by wonderful letters from you, telling me how much you enjoyed the last Cavanaugh book and asking me if there would be more coming. Ask and ye shall receive (or careful what you wish for, take your choice).

      I hope you enjoy this latest entry in the Cavanaugh Justice series. As ever, I thank you for taking the time to pick up one of my stories to read, and from the bottom of my heart, I wish you someone to love who loves you back.

      All the best,

       Marie Ferrarella

      To

      Nancy Parodi Neubert,

      Who patiently let me

      Try out my stories on her

      More years ago

      Than either of us

      Care to remember.

      Thank you, Nance.

      Love,

      Twinkles

      Contents

       Cover

       Back Cover Text

       About the Author

       Booklist

       Title Page

       Copyright

      Note to Readers

       Introduction

       Dear Reader

       Dedication

       Prologue

       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

       Chapter 24

       Chapter 25

       Epilogue

       About the Publisher

       Prologue

      She knew this location like the back of her hand. She brought them all here—while they were still alive—certain that they would view this as an intimate, secluded hideaway.

      She was just as confident as they were about it, but to her it also meant that she and the person she brought here would be isolated and that there would be no unwanted interruptions.

      Or any unforeseen last-minute rescues.

      There never were this far out from civilization. After all, no one had ever heard her cries when she had screamed for help all those years ago.

      She had chosen this place carefully, deliberately.

      It had to be this place for the purge to be effective.

      Despite that and all the precautions she took, she never failed to remain vigilant and alert. While she had always been confident, it had never been to the point that she became careless. Because carelessness would usher in error and error—any error—could wind up, in the long run, being fatal.

      For her.

      She had worked too hard to lose everything she had amassed because of an error.

      The door to this little “hideaway” was closed