The Girl Who Disappeared

  Copyright © 2025 by A.J. Rivers

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  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

  Epilogue

  Author's Note

  Also by A.J. Rivers

  In our last adventure with Agent Emma Griffin . . .

  Emma’s long battle against one of her most difficult adversaries drew to a close as Xavier was drawn into his cruel game. Emma finally unmasked the diabolical force, and truth, behind the Game Master.

  Along the way, she resolved the mysterious deaths on the movie set of Cave Creek, and Emma’s chosen family said a final goodbye to Xavier’s house in Harlan before beginning a new chapter.

  Adrenaline and excitement had kept the cold at bay.

  Now they were gone, and the chill sank deep, settling into her bones. The anger and frustration taking their place only seemed to exacerbate the sting of the cold against her skin.

  She tugged her jacket closer around her, hoping it would give her some insulation against a breeze that kicked up. The air felt thinner, sharper because of the water beneath the bridge. It looked like deep, black oil when she looked over the cement edge. She felt dizzy looking at it, like she was going to tip over and disappear beneath the surface.

  Her footsteps got faster. Partly in an attempt to ward off the chill and warm herself up. Partly to get herself off the bridge as soon as she possibly could. Her eyes focused on her feet, the tall, black boots that made her ankles ache and wore away the skin on her toes. They crunched over the gravel at the edge of the pavement, then the matted grass and weeds. A crushed beer can made her look up what felt like seconds later, but she didn’t recognize anything around her. She looked back over her shoulder and could no longer see the bridge.

  The darkness seemed to close around her. The stars overhead had seemed bright enough to lead her way when she started walking, but now wisps of gray clouds obscured them. The streetlights that had offered pools of hazy light every so often were diminished so she couldn’t see ahead of her anymore. She didn’t know where she was or how she’d gotten here. She thought she’d just walked on a straight path, but somehow she’d taken a turn or followed a curve she wasn’t supposed to.

  She stopped. Her feet aching, she shifted her weight back and forth for some sort of relief. She wanted to take the boots off. If she were wearing anything under them but thin socks, she probably would have. But there was still gravel studding the grass and bits of broken glass on the edge of the road. She didn’t risk getting injured. Not there.

  Wherever she was.

  She thought she knew where she was going. It was the only reason she started walking. She wasn’t intending to stay there, but she couldn’t just wander away without a destination in mind.

  She’d been there before. She could see it in her mind, and she thought she knew how she’d reach it. But now…

  Now she was standing at the edge of the road, the clouds gathering quickly across the sky.

  She didn’t know where she turned or in which direction she’d gone. She’d been so distracted, her mind so wrapped up in the rage and hurt that twisted and burned within her that she wasn’t paying attention to where her steps were carrying her. She remembered crossing the black water. After that, nothing but her feet moving.

  The wind rushed around her again. It ran up her thighs and along the back of her neck. It felt like tiny pinpricks of ice on her skin. It was getting later and colder. She wished she was wearing more clothing. The jacket did little to cover her tiny skirt and thin shirt that just barely reached her hip bones.

  She forced herself to look around carefully, trying to find any milestone or marker that might help her orient herself. Maybe she did know where she was and just wasn’t recognizing it because of the emotions rushing through her. She had to try to swallow them away. Ignore the anger and shock. Ignore the deep, tearing sadness. Just focus on where she was going and see if she was still on the right track.

  Headlights appeared in the distance. They rushed past her in a sudden blast of bright light, but the car didn’t slow down. She walked a little further. There should be another road up ahead. She could see its name, and it would reorient her regarding where she was.

  She took a few steps and heard something behind her. It was a rustling sound, like something moving in the tree line just beyond the shoulder of the road. She paused, but not hearing anything else, she kept going.

  The sound came again. She didn’t want to look. But she did. The dark stillness around her was unbroken. But there was a creeping, eerie feeling along her spine now. It was like eyes trailing over her. She could feel them watching her.

  As she lifted her chin higher to look confident and tugged the jacket even tighter around her, she felt the weight of her phone on her hip. The thought hadn’t even occurred to her. She could use her phone to figure out where she was. It would tell her where she’d ended up and where to go. She’d been so frustrated when she shoved it into her pocket and stormed away she didn’t even think about it as she walked.

  Taking it out, she looked at the screen. Nothing. No messages. No calls. There was no response.

  She didn’t understand. How could there be nothing?

  She tried to swipe her finger across the screen to wake it up, but her finger was so cold it wasn’t registering. Her hands were shaking, and the phone fell from her grasp. She hissed in aggravation when it dropped into a puddle in front of her.

  Screw this night. Everything about it.

  She reached down to fish the phone out of the dirty water. But before she could, pounding footsteps bore down on her. A heavy shadow blotted out the rest of the starlight.

  The rain seemed to come out of nowhere.

  Clouds had started to form overhead when Grant and Leroy got in the truck, but it didn’t seem like the sky would open up less than twenty minutes into their drive. But now they were creeping down the side of the mountain with drops lashing at the windshield, the reflection of the headlights reducing visibility to no more than a few yards ahead.

  Leroy sat as far forward in the passenger seat as he could with his hands pressed to the dashboard in front of him. Grant’s were tight around the steering wheel as he navigated the dark road. The grassy shoulders on either side were barely visible in the driving rain. Just beyond the narrow borders were trees, and he didn’t want to end up wrapped around one of them.

  The radio crackled, the signal going in and out. The sound aggravated Grant and distracted him from his focus on the road. He looked down at the control as he tried to adjust the sound.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Leroy demanded. “Watch the road!”

  “I can’t stand that freaking sound,” Grant complained.

  The words were barely out of his mouth when the blinding glare of headlights coming around a corner ahead burst through the windshield and filled the truck cab. A car was coming directly at them.

  “Shit!” Leroy shouted, grabbing the dashboard harder and pressing his feet into the floor like it would help slow them down.

  Grant grabbed the steering wheel and wrenched it to the side, narrowly avoiding the car careening toward them. The sharp turn sent the truck off the side of the road, onto the shoulder he’d just been focusing on avoiding. The rain blurred the trees until they were directly in front of him, and Grant slammed on the brakes as hard as he could to try to stop them. The muddy ground slid beneath the tires, and Leroy put his head back, squeezing his eyes closed as tightly as he could. He remembered his father telling him once that if you’re about to be in a crash, you should do your best to relax your muscles. The worst injuries come from having tight muscles and joints. He willed himself to loosen up, but it wasn’t working.

  The skid felt like it was dragged out, taking hours rather than the few seconds it actually took. Both men readied themselves for the force of the impact, the crushing pain, and the shat
tering glass. But they didn’t come. The truck came to a stop with just inches between the passenger side door and a large tree. Leroy looked out of the window at the rough bark right in front of him and felt his stomach heave. He managed to keep it together, but when he opened his mouth, a flurry of profanities spilled out instead.

  “He stopped too,” Grant said, flinging off his seatbelt. “I’m going to see what in the living hell is wrong with him.”

  He got out of the truck and threw his arms in the air. The other driver had stopped but did not get out of his vehicle. His window was rolled down, but he wasn’t looking at Grant. Leroy climbed out and went around the front of the truck as Grant yelled at the other driver, his arms flailing above his head, spitting the same kinds of obscenities Leroy had been shouting moments before.

  But now Leroy was silent. There was something on the road. The rain soaked his hair and dripped into his eyes, but he could still see the shape in the opposite lane.

  “Get out!” Grant shouted. “Get out of your car and face me! What the hell do you think you’re doing? Don’t you understand the point of driving lanes? You almost drove right into me!

  The other driver continued to stare at the same disturbing mass on the road that had caught Leroy’s attention. He didn’t say anything. Shooting a look in Grant’s direction, he suddenly rolled the window back up and sped away.

  “Are you kidding me?” Grant screamed after him.

  “Grant,” Leroy said, “look.”

  He was moving toward the shape on the road now. It was obvious now. This was why the driver veered onto the lane of oncoming traffic. He had seen the mass and didn’t want to hit it. But it probably wasn’t until he stopped at the side of the road that he realized what it was.

  Leroy got closer, and his heart dropped. It wasn’t a discarded piece of cargo or a bag of trash. Curled up on the wet pavement was a woman.

  Grant’s anger immediately dissipated. Both men ran toward the woman, terrified of what they might find when they got to her. She didn’t seem to be moving, and she didn’t react to them shouting as they approached. Grant dropped down onto the pavement beside her. He leaned closer and saw her back trembling.

  “She’s breathing. Go to the truck and get my flashlight. We need to let the other cars know we’re here.”

  Leroy ran for the truck while Grant took out his phone and called for emergency services. Digging through the metal toolbox attached at the head of the truck bed, he found the large, black flashlight and ran with it back to where Grant was still kneeling beside the woman. Leroy turned on the flashlight and waved it around, trying to make them as visible as possible just in case another car came their way. He prayed no one would.

  “Ma’am?” Grant asked. “Ma’am, can you hear me?”

  He hesitated to touch her. His instinct was to rest his hand on her back so she would know that he was there, that she wasn’t alone, but he was afraid he might scare her or hurt her in some way. The dispatcher on the other end of the call was trying to get information from him, asking questions he didn’t know the answer to.

  “How old is she?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know her. Probably… late teens? Maybe early twenties? I don’t know.”

  “How did she get there?”

  “I don’t know. I just found her here. She’s in the middle of the road. Another car nearly ran into her.”

  “Who was in the other car?”

  “Some guy. I don’t know him. I was just driving down the road, and he was in my lane. He nearly hit my truck, and I drove off the road. When I got out to confront him, my buddy I was driving with saw her on the road. The other guy took off.”

  “He left?”

  “Yes. He stopped on the side of the road, and he looked out of his window, and I guess he saw the woman. He didn’t say anything. He just drove off.”

  “Did you get his license plate? Or take a picture of him or his car?”

  Grant was getting frustrated now. The dispatcher didn’t sound nearly as concerned about the situation as he thought he should. He wanted the police and the ambulance there right now. He looked up at Leroy. He was still waving the flashlight, but he kept looking over his shoulder to check on the woman and Grant. They were both soaked to the bone. It was cold and getting darker. He was terrified somebody would come around that corner and wipe out all of them.

  “No. When he almost hit me, I didn’t think he would leave, so I didn’t take the time to jot down his license plate. And why would I take a picture of him? By the time he drove off, I was much more worried about the woman in the middle of the road.”

  “Did anyone else see the other car?”

  “Yes, I told you. I was driving with a friend.”

  “And where is this friend now?”

  “He’s standing in the middle of the damn road waving a flashlight so that another car doesn’t come and run this woman over. You need to get somebody here now!”

  “I’m trying to get you help, sir. The woman is breathing?”

  “Yes, I told you that.”

  “Do you see any signs of injuries?”

  It was a question he didn’t want to answer. Mainly because he knew the answer as soon as he crouched down beside her. He probably knew before he even got to her. There would be no other reason why she would just be lying there, curled up on the pavement.

  “Yes. I don’t want to touch her, but I can see cuts and scrapes on her. She’s not wearing much, and her clothes are all ripped up.”

  “Does it look like she might have fallen out of a car?”

  “I don’t know! I don’t know what that would look like.”

  Finally, he heard sirens. Leroy turned, and Grant saw lights flashing across his face. He didn’t bother to say anything else to the dispatcher. He just hung up and started waving at the police car. It came to a stop behind him, and a second car came up to park on the shoulder behind Grant’s truck.

  Leroy turned off the flashlight and came over to them. Red flares that defied logic as they continued to burn in the rain replaced his efforts. Both men explained what happened, and almost immediately, the officers separated them, continuing to pepper both with questions. It was obvious they weren’t fully believing what the men told them. They thought Grant and Leroy had something to do with this woman.

  “Why would we stay here?” Leroy asked. “Why would we try to stop cars from getting near her and call you?”

  “Why would I lie about there being another car?” Grant asked the other officer. “I didn’t say it hit her.”

  It seemed like far too long before the ambulance finally arrived and paramedics rushed over to the woman. Both men felt a sense of protectiveness over her, though there was nothing they could do but watch as the paramedics checked on her, shouting questions at her as if the louder they got, the more likely she would be to answer them. Finally, they loaded her onto a stretcher and put her in the back of the ambulance, disappearing down the road.

  Emma

  I rush down the hospital hallway and flash my badge at a police officer standing guard. He steps aside to let me through. Immediately, I’m met by Detective Noah White.

  “Emma, thanks for coming.”

  “What have you got?” I ask.

  “Jane Doe. She was found in the middle of the road last night by a couple of motorists who said they were run off the road by another car in their lane. That car drove off, but they found this woman on the road. The doctors have her stabilized, but we’re not getting any information out of her.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “She is awake and able to communicate, but she can’t tell us anything. She doesn’t know who she is or what happened to her. She doesn’t even know her name,” Noah says.

  “Do you think that’s legit?” I ask.

  “Seems like it. She hasn’t had a psych evaluation or anything, but I’ve spent some time talking to her, and she seems genuinely confused. I don’t get any vibe from her that she is trying to cover something up or fake anything.”

  “What kind of condition is she in?”

  “Not good. She’s awake and fairly alert, like I said, but she’s definitely been through something bad. She has injuries all over her body. Her legs are scratched up probably from walking through the woods. There appear to be ligature marks on her wrists and ankles. She’s gone through a lot.”