Table Of Content

O N C E M I S S E D (A RILEY PAIGE MYSTERY—BOOK 16) B L A K E P I E R C E Blake Pierce Blake Pierce is author of the bestselling RILEY PAGE mystery series, which includes fifteen books (and counting). Blake Pierce is also the author of the MACKENZIE WHITE mystery series, comprising thirteen books (and counting); of the AVERY BLACK mystery series, comprising six books; of the KERI LOCKE mystery series, comprising five books; of the MAKING OF RILEY PAIGE mystery series, comprising five books (and counting); of the KATE WISE mystery series, comprising six books (and counting); of the CHLOE FINE psychological suspense mystery, comprising six books (and counting); and of the JESSE HUNT psychological suspense thriller series, comprising five books (and counting). ONCE GONE (a Riley Paige Mystery--Book #1), BEFORE HE KILLS (A Mackenzie White Mystery—Book 1), CAUSE TO KILL (An Avery Black Mystery—Book 1), A TRACE OF DEATH (A Keri Locke Mystery—Book 1), and WATCHING (The Making of Riley Paige—Book 1) are each available as a free download on Amazon! An avid reader and lifelong fan of the mystery and thriller genres, Blake loves to hear from you, so please feel free to visit www.blakepierceauthor.com to learn more and stay in touch. Copyright © 2019 by Blake Pierce. All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the author. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Jacket image Copyright Fer gregory used under license from Shutterstock.com. BOOKS BY BLAKE PIERCE A JESSIE HUNT PSYCHOLOGICAL SUSPENSE SERIES THE PERFECT WIFE (Book #1) THE PERFECT BLOCK (Book #2) THE PERFECT HOUSE (Book #3) THE PERFECT SMILE (Book #4) THE PERFECT LIE (Book #5) CHLOE FINE PSYCHOLOGICAL SUSPENSE SERIES NEXT DOOR (Book #1) A NEIGHBOR’S LIE (Book #2) CUL DE SAC (Book #3) SILENT NEIGHBOR (Book #4) HOMECOMING (Book #5) TINTED WINDOWS (Book #6) KATE WISE MYSTERY SERIES IF SHE KNEW (Book #1) IF SHE SAW (Book #2) IF SHE RAN (Book #3) IF SHE HID (Book #4) IF SHE FLED (Book #5) IF SHE FEARED (Book #6) THE MAKING OF RILEY PAIGE SERIES WATCHING (Book #1) WAITING (Book #2) LURING (Book #3) TAKING (Book #4) STALKING (Book #5) RILEY PAIGE MYSTERY SERIES ONCE GONE (Book #1) ONCE TAKEN (Book #2) ONCE CRAVED (Book #3) ONCE LURED (Book #4) ONCE HUNTED (Book #5) ONCE PINED (Book #6) ONCE FORSAKEN (Book #7) ONCE COLD (Book #8) ONCE STALKED (Book #9) ONCE LOST (Book #10) ONCE BURIED (Book #11) ONCE BOUND (Book #12) ONCE TRAPPED (Book #13) ONCE DORMANT (Book #14) ONCE SHUNNED (Book #15) ONCE MISSED (Book #16) MACKENZIE WHITE MYSTERY SERIES BEFORE HE KILLS (Book #1) BEFORE HE SEES (Book #2) BEFORE HE COVETS (Book #3) BEFORE HE TAKES (Book #4) BEFORE HE NEEDS (Book #5) BEFORE HE FEELS (Book #6) BEFORE HE SINS (Book #7) BEFORE HE HUNTS (Book #8) BEFORE HE PREYS (Book #9) BEFORE HE LONGS (Book #10) BEFORE HE LAPSES (Book #11) BEFORE HE ENVIES (Book #12) BEFORE HE STALKS (Book #13) AVERY BLACK MYSTERY SERIES CAUSE TO KILL (Book #1) CAUSE TO RUN (Book #2) CAUSE TO HIDE (Book #3) CAUSE TO FEAR (Book #4) CAUSE TO SAVE (Book #5) CAUSE TO DREAD (Book #6) KERI LOCKE MYSTERY SERIES A TRACE OF DEATH (Book #1) A TRACE OF MUDER (Book #2) A TRACE OF VICE (Book #3) A TRACE OF CRIME (Book #4) A TRACE OF HOPE (Book #5) CONTENTS PROLOGUE CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE CHAPTER TEN CHAPTER ELEVEN CHAPTER TWELVE CHAPTER THIRTEEN CHAPTER FOURTEEN CHAPTER FIFTEEN CHAPTER SIXTEEN CHAPTER SEVENTEEN CHAPTER EIGHTEEN CHAPTER NINETEEN CHAPTER TWENTY CHAPTER TWENTY ONE CHAPTER TWENTY TWO CHAPTER TWENTY THREE CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE CHAPTER TWENTY SIX CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT CHAPTER TWENTY NINE CHAPTER THIRTY CHAPTER THIRTY ONE CHAPTER THIRTY TWO PROLOGUE Lori Tovar pulled her car into the driveway of the house where she’d lived for most of her life. She stopped the engine and just sat there staring at the charming three-story dwelling. A familiar phrase went through her mind. First to arrive, last to leave. She smiled a bit sadly. She’d heard people say that a lot about her. Working as a nurse at South Hill Hospital, she was known to take longer shifts than anyone else. She often filled in for other nurses’ absences while seldom taking any time off for herself. It wasn’t that she felt especially diligent. It was just that, somehow, working long hours came kind of naturally to her. She murmured those words aloud, “First to arrive, last to leave.” The phrase was the story of her life in more ways than one. She’d been the firstborn child out of four to live in this big, once-happy house. During the last few years, her younger siblings had spread out all over the country. And of course, Dad had simply gone away. Nobody had seen that coming. Lori and her brothers and sister had always felt as though they’d belonged to a picture-perfect family. It had come as a shock to all of them to find out otherwise a couple of years ago, when Dad had left Mom for another woman. And now, here Lori was—the last child left in town, so always the one who came around to check in on Mom. She’d stop by at least once a week, maybe take her out for coffee, or just sit with her and talk and do her best to cheer her mother out of spells of deep sadness. Last to leave. Lori heaved a long sigh, then got out of the car and walked past the immaculate terraced plants and shrubbery toward the front porch. She stopped at the mailbox and opened it to see if there was any mail. The box was empty. Lori figured Mom must have already checked it, which might be a good sign. Maybe it meant that Mom wasn’t slipping into one of her bouts of extreme apathy. But Lori was dismayed that the door swung open when she turned the knob. She shook her head. She must have told Mom a thousand times that she needed to keep the door locked, even during the day, especially now that she was living alone. During Lori’s childhood and teenage years, locking the door all the time hadn’t been necessary. But those had been more innocent times. Things had changed, and crime was up even in this well-to- do neighborhood. Break-ins were getting more and more common. Guess I’ll have to remind her again, Lori thought. Not that it would do any good. Old habits die hard. She stepped into the house and called out, “Mom, I got off work early. Just thought I’d stop by.” No answer came. She called out again, “Mom, are you home?” Again there was no answer. Lori wasn’t especially surprised. Mom might be napping upstairs. This wouldn’t be the first time she hadn’t heard Lori arrive because she was asleep. But it wasn’t good that Mom had left the door unlocked while she was napping. I’ll have to talk to her about that. Meanwhile, Lori felt a bit undecided. It seemed a shame to go upstairs and wake Mom up if she was sleeping soundly. On the other hand, she’d gone to a certain amount of trouble arranging her work schedule in order to stop by. I should have called first, she told herself. She decided she’d go upstairs and peek in her parents’ bedroom and try to see just how soundly Mom was sleeping. If she was starting to wake up, Lori would let her know she was here. Otherwise, maybe she’d just leave quietly. As she headed up the stairs, Lori was seized by a familiar spell of deep nostalgia. As always, this house was haunted by memories, most of them very pleasant. There was nothing really wrong with Lori’s life now, but she couldn’t help but think that she’d spent her happiest days right here. Will I ever be that happy again? she wondered. She hoped someday her life would be a little more complete than it was right now. And wouldn’t it be wonderful if that could happen right here? Lori and her husband, Roy, often talked about buying this house. They both thought that Mom would be better off in a smaller home, maybe a cozy apartment that she could easily take care of, and where she wasn’t constantly reminded of how Dad had left her. Certainly it would be better for her general mood. Lori thought that this would be a perfect place to start her own family, which she and Roy both figured ought to be soon. For a moment she thought she could almost hear the sound of children laughing, running from bedroom to bedroom as she and her siblings had years ago. If only Mom would agree to move, and of course to give them a financial deal that they could manage. Mom often said that she was getting impatient to have grandchildren, but she didn’t seem to realize that moving out could speed up that process. She stubbornly insisted on staying right here, refusing to think of living anywhere else. Maybe someday she’ll change her mind, Lori thought. If so, she wished it happened before she started having children, When Lori stepped into the second-story hallway, she noticed that the door to Mom’s bedroom was partially open. Mom usually closed it whenever she took a nap. Suddenly it seemed a little strange that Mom hadn’t heard her call out from downstairs. Was she maybe getting a little hard of hearing? If so, Lori hadn’t noticed it. Lori walked to the bedroom door and silently pushed it the rest of the way open. Nobody was in the bedroom, and the bed was perfectly made. She figured Mom must have gone out somewhere. And that’s probably a good thing. Mom had been spending too much time shut up alone inside this enormous house. When Lori had visited a few days ago, Mom had mentioned maybe going out with some of the friends she played bingo with on Fridays at the church. Lori had told her that she thought that would be an excellent idea. But this wasn’t Friday, and wherever Mom had gone, it was troubling that she’d left the front door unlocked. Lori wondered—was Mom maybe mentally slipping a little? The thought had worried her lately. Mom’s memory had always been exceptionally sharp, but she had been forgetting little things lately. Lori tried to assure herself that Mom was still pretty young for dementia to be setting in. But from her own work at the hospital, she knew it was a possibility. She hated the thought of having to talk to Mom about that, and also all the troubles and heartache that would surely ensue. Meanwhile, Lori decided she might as well head on home. She walked back down the stairs and paused to glance over into the dining room. She felt a pang at not seeing the long dining room table where she and her sister and brothers had enjoyed delicious dinners and conversations with Mom and Dad. As determined as Mom was to live much as she always had, she just hadn’t been able to sit at that big table anymore. It had had plenty of room for all the family members who were no longer here, and it could even be expanded for company by adding extra leaves. Lori could understand why Mom had wanted the table gone. Lori had helped sell it and its matching chairs, and they’d bought a smaller dining room set. Then Lori noticed something odd. There were usually four chairs around that new square table. But there were only three chairs there now. Mom must have moved the missing chair, but why? Maybe she’d used it to reach a shelf or change a light bulb. Lori frowned as she thought, Another thing I’ve got to talk to her about. Mom had a perfectly good stepladder, after all, which was much safer for tasks of that sort. She ought to know better than to use a chair. As Lori glanced around looking for some sign of the chair, her eyes fell on the narrow marble counter that separated the dining room from the kitchen. She saw a reddish splotch on the far side. That was truly odd. Mom was always a meticulous housekeeper who was especially obsessed with keeping her kitchen clean. It wasn’t like her to spill something and not clean it up immediately. Lori felt a tingle of mounting worry. Something is wrong, she thought. She hurried to the edge of the counter and looked into the kitchen. There on the floor lay her mother, splayed awkwardly in a pool of blood. “Mom!” she gasped in a hoarse voice. Her heart was pounding, and she felt her arms and legs grow cold and numb. She knew she was going into shock, but she had to keep her wits together. Lori knelt down and saw that her mother’s eyes were closed. There was a large gash on her head. Lori felt herself grappling with disbelief, horror, and confusion, and her mind raced as she tried to grasp … What happened? Mom must have stumbled and fallen and hit her head against the countertop. Her medical reflexes kicking in, Lori reached to touch Mom’s neck to check her pulse. And that’s when Lori saw Mom’s throat had been slashed. One carotid artery had been severed, but there was no blood pulsing out of it. Her mother’s face was pale and utterly lifeless. Lori felt a volcanic force erupt from deep in her lungs. Then she began to scream. CHAPTER ONE A shot rang out from somewhere very close by. Riley Paige whirled around as the noise resonated through her upstairs hallway. April! she thought, as shock charged through her body. Riley dashed to her bedroom. Her sixteen-year-old daughter April was standing there shaking from head to foot, but she didn’t seem to be wounded. Riley could breathe again. On the floor in front of April lay a Ruger SR22 pistol. Next to it was the blue vinyl box the gun was supposed to be kept in. April’s voice quavered as she said, “I’m sorry. I was getting ready to put it in the safe in the closet, and it went off and I dropped it. I didn’t know it was loaded.” Riley felt her face flush. Her fear was turning into anger. “What do you mean, you didn’t know?” she said. “How could you not know?” Riley picked up the gun and popped out the magazine and waved it at April. “This magazine shouldn’t even be in the gun,” she said. “You were supposed to take it out before we left the shooting range.” “I thought I’d fired all the rounds,” April said. “That’s no excuse,” Riley snapped. “You always remove the magazine when you finish target practice.” “I know,” April said. “It won’t happen again.” Damn right it won’t happen again, Riley thought. She realized she was also angry with herself for stepping out of the room before April had put the gun away. But they had already put in several sessions at the practice range, and everything had gone smoothly before. She glanced around the room. “Where did it hit?” she asked. April pointed toward the back wall. Sure enough, Riley saw a bullet hole. She felt a renewed wave of panic. She knew that the walls between the rooms inside her house weren’t solid enough to stop a bullet—not even from a .22 pistol. She wagged her finger at April and said, “You stay right here.” She went out into the hall and stepped inside the adjoining room, which was April’s bedroom. There was an exit hole in the wall right where she’d expected to see it, then another hole in the opposite wall where the bullet had kept on going. Riley struggled to clear her head to assess the situation. Beyond that wall was the backyard. Could it have hit anybody? she wondered. She walked over to the hole and peered into it. If the bullet had continued on through, she ought to have been able to see sunlight. The brick exterior must have finally stopped it. And even if it hadn’t, the bullet would have been slowed enough not to get beyond the backyard. Riley exhaled with relief. No one was hurt. Even so, this was an awful thing to have happened. As she left April’s bedroom and headed back to her own room, two people reached the top of the