Stalked

Dear Reader (#u69c5a01c-89b4-5837-901f-b63fda380111)

FBI Terms and Acronyms (#uacbff46e-fe8c-5174-96af-7cfc7ced5c44)

Prologue (#uaffb43d5-6c30-507b-b581-aad352b12d03)

Chapter 1 (#ua7d2d551-d543-5603-a144-bbd3fe631d87)

Chapter 2 (#ucdfc50f3-165c-5dbc-ab02-70e2a5bba049)

Chapter 3 (#u9415b29e-0037-5232-8491-a012d871d587)

Chapter 4 (#u9ed87f68-6c50-5cbe-a673-0146b1364c44)

Chapter 5 (#uafbe3566-6dd8-5f35-9d38-8dfb76451bf1)

Chapter 6 (#u066dc797-b004-5e3d-a934-4fd16ee07b50)

Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 18 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 19 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 20 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 21 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 22 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 23 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 24 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 25 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 26 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 27 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 28 (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Acknowledgments (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

Prologue (#uff73b27f-3bc6-5509-ba49-ffaaf7eedc7b)

“You’ve got to stop this.”

Her husband’s voice reached her slowly, as if from a great distance, even though she knew he was standing at the doorway to her daughter’s room. Instead of turning, Linda Varner continued methodically pulling things out from underneath Haley’s unmade bed.

A red-and-white cheerleading pom-pom. A bright pink sweatshirt Haley wore over everything. A stack of glossy magazines, dedicated to the things a teenage girl worried about, like how to know if a boy had a crush on her.

Linda suppressed a sob before it passed her lips. Still, she felt her body shudder and knew her husband had seen it.

“This won’t bring her home,” Pete said softly, in the kind of careful, muted tone usually reserved for funeral homes and grave sites.

Linda squeezed her eyes tight, bringing the sweatshirt up to her nose. She inhaled, hoping to breathe in some of the too-sweet vanilla scent her daughter loved to wear, but there was only a slight musty smell.

How could Haley’s perfume have faded so quickly?

Linda sat there, the sweatshirt crumpled against her nose, her body hunched protectively, until she heard her husband sigh and walk away. Only then did she open her eyes and look around Haley’s room. Everything seemed so untouched. The police had been careful not to disturb anything, wearing their sterile gloves and their solemn expressions as they’d searched for some hint of where Haley could be.

Linda glanced back at the doorway. It was empty.

Pete would be back later. They did this routine every night. He’d give her another hour, then he’d coax her to bed. Some days she’d stand and follow him willingly; when she felt glued to the floor, he’d carry her. Then he’d hand her a glass of water and those pills her doctor had prescribed and she’d dutifully swallow two, let the blackness consume her.

Pete had stood by her. She knew it hadn’t been easy—that she hadn’t been easy to live with lately. But he could only share so much of the loss. He loved his stepdaughter, but he’d only been in her life for a few years.

“Where are you, Haley?” Linda whispered into the stillness.

Today marked exactly a month since her daughter had gone missing. Since Haley’s boyfriend, Jordan, had dropped her off at school for cheerleading practice. Since her best friend, Marissa, had waved to her from the field on that unusually warm day, watched her walk into the school, presumably to change before joining Marissa at practice.

She’d never walked out again.

When she hadn’t reappeared, Marissa had been sent to the locker room to get her. Only she hadn’t been there. A search of the school hadn’t turned her up. Now, thirty days later, they still hadn’t found her.