Star-Crossed Parents

“Taylor is missing and I’m on my way to find her. But first I’m going to call the police.”

T HE WINDOW of the 2003 Buick LeSabre slid downward and a grizzled face peered out from the driver’s seat. “Fill ’er up, Sam.”

Sam Wallace heard the phrase every day, and each time it made him smile. “Fill ’er up,” sounded a lot like “Batter up” to him. Not too many people would see much in the way of similarities between playing baseball and working at a small-town gas station, but Sam did.

Though he hadn’t played the game, or even checked a box score, in six years, baseball was part of him. He couldn’t shake it.

“You bet, Ernie.” He reached in the open window to clasp the older man’s shoulder, before moving to the other side of the vehicle. He unscrewed the gas cap, then inserted the nozzle for regular unleaded gasoline.

He listened to Ernie chat about the Red Sox until the pump shut off automatically. He recapped the tank, then waited while Ernie counted out the twenties with age-worn hands. “Bloody oil companies,” the older man muttered.

“I’ll be right back with the change.” Sam took the money inside to his nephew, Robin, who was working for him for the summer.

Two elderly women were sitting in chairs, waiting for the bus for Concord, which was due any minute. He nodded at them, then passed Robin the money. The sixteen-year-old passed him back the change with practiced efficiency.

While Sam was settling up with Ernie, the bus from Concord pulled in. Three young people emerged into the warm New Hampshire sunshine. He nodded at two teenage boys he recognized. They were often in the store buying slushy drinks and chatting up girls.

The young woman, though, Sam didn’t think he’d seen before. He guessed she came from the city. She looked like a model, all made up with stylish clothes. But the expression on her face was that of someone young and vulnerable.

“You okay?” he asked. “You seem a little lost.”

Her smile was sweet. “I’m fine, thank you. It’s just that someone was supposed to meet me.”

Her voice confirmed it. This was a New York City gal. He wondered what she was doing here, who’d she’d come to meet.

“Do you know Josh Wallace?”

Sam blinked. “Ah…sure. He’s my—”

Before he could finish, the sound of squealing tires had both him and the girl turning to watch as Josh’s van pulled into the station. Josh swung into a vacant parking spot, and a second later leapt from the driver’s seat and jogged over toward them.

“Sorry I’m late.” Josh sounded breathless and he looked…different.

Sam checked the impulse to comment on his son’s reckless driving. He couldn’t remember when he’d last seen that look in Josh’s eyes. The girl seemed equally excited to see him, too. They couldn’t take their eyes off each other.

He stepped between them and held out his hand to the newcomer. “I’m Sam Wallace, Josh’s father.”

“Oh.” She shook his hand. “I’m Taylor Hartwell. It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Wallace.” She frowned. “You look kind of familiar. Are you—”

“Taylor’s here to visit for a few days,” Josh explained. He’d interrupted Taylor, but she didn’t seem to mind.

“Oh?” Sam said. “You didn’t mention anything at dinner last night.”

Josh just shrugged, then hooked a hand around the straps of the backpack on Taylor’s shoulders.

“Can I carry this for you?” he offered gallantly.

Sam struggled not to smile as Taylor slipped off the pack and passed it over. As he took a closer look at the girl, though, Sam felt a twinge of concern. “So, where are you from, Taylor?”

“New York City.”

As he’d thought. “That’s quite a distance from here. Where did you two meet?”

His stomach dropped when he saw the look that passed between her and Josh. At first it didn’t seem as if they were going to answer his question. “Josh?” he prodded gently.

“On the Internet. A few months ago.” His son squared his shoulders, unconsciously taking a stance that told Sam he was expecting criticism and was prepared to do battle against it.

It’s a new world out there, Sam told himself. He’d seen plenty of articles in the paper about Internet dating sites and such things becoming more popular. No sense overreacting.

And yet…was the girl as old as she looked?

“Your family knows you’re here?”

She nodded.

“Cut it with the questions, Dad.” Josh sounded annoyed. “We’ve got to get going.” Josh had slung Taylor’s pack on one shoulder. With his free arm he took her hand.

“See you later.”

Taylor twisted to face him, even as Josh pulled her toward his waiting van. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Wallace.”

Polite girl. But she sounded even younger than she looked. Just how old was the girl?

Sam watched after the couple, not sure how to react. His son was nineteen, an adult under the law. Hopefully the girl was, too. Should he have asked to make sure?

As Josh’s van pulled away from the station, Sam’s sense of unease grew. He wished Taylor had looked him in the eyes when she’d told him her family knew where she was.

CHAPTER TWO

L EIGH REFERRED TO the MapQuest directions she had taped to the dashboard, next to the cup holder. From the Washington Bridge she was supposed to merge onto I-95.

She did a shoulder-check, then shuddered. A steady stream of cars came up from behind her. Oh, God. Why did all the drivers have to hang on to each other’s bumpers? She was never going to be able to make a safe lane change.

But she had to.

She switched on the indicator light, shoulder-checked again, then steered the car to the next lane. Mercifully, the vehicle behind her made room.

Oh, God, she thought again. This traffic was unrelenting. Thank goodness she didn’t need to drive very often.

In fact, if the guy at the car rental agency had known just how rarely she did drive, he probably would have thought twice before handing her these keys.

Living in Manhattan, she had no need for a car, which was lucky because she had no interest in them, either. She couldn’t even recall the make of this one. It was red and had four doors. When the needle on the gauge fell near empty, it would need to be filled with gasoline. That was the sum total of her automotive knowledge, and she could only pray she wouldn’t be called upon to figure out anything else.

She glanced at the MapQuest directions again. In seven-point-three miles she would have to take the Hutchinson Parkway North exit and then almost immediately take another exit to the left.

Usually, Taylor navigated for her. She had a natural sense of direction and was good at reading maps. On top of all that, she had common sense, which was why this whole escapade just didn’t compute.

Taylor wasn’t the kind of kid to fall in love over the Internet, then run off for a secret meeting. Well, she’d left a note. But a discussion beforehand would have been far more acceptable. Not to mention mature.