Vanish Read Online Free PDF

feet and survey his surroundings. His suit coat was tossed over a chair, and a half-empty bottle of Scotch sat on his desk. He stumbled to the patio doors and tugged the drapes aside. Sunlight drove shards of pain through his skull. A wave of nausea forced him back into the chair at his desk.
    Running a hand through his hair, Conner strained to remember anything from the previous day.
    Rachel.
    He had picked up Rachel for the weekend.
    No, he had been late picking her up. And Marta had been none too happy about it. He and Rachel had eaten alone in the dining room, and he had ended up in the study because they had argued about something. He lost his temper and had gone to his study for a drink.
    The storm.
    Conner frowned. He had watched a bank of clouds roll in off the lake. He recalled the lightning flashing. It was the strangest thing.…
    His nausea subsided and he peered outside.
    The backyard was bathed in the amber morning sunlight. The patio abutted a small flower garden and fountain. Beyond that, a dense carpet of sod stretched out a dozen yards, ending abruptly at the forest that encircled the whole condo complex.
    Conner shook off the last tendrils of sleep and stumbled to the kitchen. He put on a pot of coffee and went out to get the paper.
    He stood on the stoop, scowling. The paper was always there by seven o’clock. Always. Conner searched in the bushes and out on the driveway. Maybe Rachel had brought it in already, though he’d never known her to be an early riser. Then again, he was finding he really didn’t know her at all anymore.
    He went back inside.
    “Rachel, did you get the paper in already?”
    Silence.
    “Rachel?”
    He made his way upstairs to the spare bedroom.
    “Rachel?” Conner knocked and peeked inside. Rachel’s bags lay at the foot of the bed. The blankets were crisp and tidy. The bed hadn’t been slept in.
    “Rachel?” His voice sounded strange in his ears now. Like a man growing more frantic each second. He hurried downstairs. “Rachel!”
    He checked all the rooms, the garage, and back outside.
    He returned to the kitchen and dialed Marta’s number. After four rings, her voice mail kicked in, and Conner swore. Marta’s voice sounded detached and mechanical.
    “…so leave a message at the tone, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”
    “Marty,” Conner began. “Marty, I can’t…”
    He stopped. Can’t what? He couldn’t very well leave a message saying their daughter had disappeared.
    He hung up and dialed her cell phone. No answer there either. It kicked him back into her voice-mail service.
    Conner hung up and swore again, louder.
    He stared at the phone a few seconds longer, then dialed 911. He knew the police wouldn’t be able to do much at this point. Particularly when they learned Rachel was the daughter of divorced parents. Teens like that were always acting up, running away just to get attention.
    The phone continued to ring. Conner stared at it in disbelief. Had he misdialed?
    He dialed again.
9-1-1
.
    No answer.
    Conner sat at the kitchen table, staring at the phone. The ring tone droned on.
    He returned to the living room and switched on the TV. The screen was blank and static hissed through the speakers. He thumbed through a dozen channels. Nothing.
    He returned to his study and flipped open his laptop. While it booted up, he dialed half a dozen other numbers—friends, people from the office, anyone he could think of. Each number he called sent him into voice mail.
    When his laptop was ready, he tried connecting to the Internet. A pop-up error message informed him the server was not available. He tried several more times, growing more frustrated with each failed attempt.
    Conner sat at his desk for a moment, trying to clear his head. What was going on? He could understand how his cable and Internet service might both be down at the same time—maybe affected by the storm. But his phone was working; it was just that no one was answering.
    His mind