Miss No One
An Abbie King Thriller
Mark Ayre
AFS Publishing
To Fay
For all of the things
Contents
By Mark Ayre
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Book Four: Twice Shy
Get exclusive Abbie King material
Thank you for reading
The Abbie King Thrillers
About the Author
By Mark Ayre
Abbie King Thrillers
Crossfire (novella)
The Stranger
Deep Water
Miss No One
The Hide and Seek Trilogy
Hide and Seek
Count to Ten
Ready or Not
Adam and Eve Thrillers:
Fire and Smoke
Lost and Found
Cat and Mouse
Lock and Key
Cloak and Shield
Hope in Hell
James Perry Mysteries
The Black Sheep’s Shadow
All Your Secrets
Standalone
Poor Choices
Contents
By Mark Ayre
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Book Four: Twice Shy
Get exclusive Abbie King material
Thank you for reading
The Abbie King Thrillers
About the Author
One
The hooded figure scaled the chain-link fence and dropped onto the gravel lot of the used car dealership beyond. And Abbie watched.
It was thirteen minutes, almost to the second, since Abbie had passed yet another WELCOME TO sign for a town she’d never previously visited. Six minutes since Abbie had parked her car and stepped into the cool night air.
The figure landed, and Abbie watched her rise.
Her. Because Abbie was reasonably sure she was watching a woman. She couldn't have explained why she believed this. But her intuition was rarely wrong. She trusted herself.
Man or woman, the figure scaled the fence with nimbleness and speed but without grace. They stumbled upon landing, their palm skidding into the gravel and dirt. Abbie couldn’t see their face as they rose but guessed the figure was not embarrassed. After all, they had no idea they were being observed.
Upon rising, the figure looked left and right, then did a twirl, surveying their surroundings. Abbie sunk further into the shadows, out of sight.
Quickly, the figure satisfied herself she was alone and turned her back to the chain-link fence. A second or two later, she moved away from the road and further into the lot.
Abbie didn’t hesitate. The moment she deemed the figure to be far enough away, she left her hiding spot—beneath the shadow of a small group of trees—and crossed the road to the chain-link fence. A couple of seconds later, she was over.
It wasn’t a competition, but Abbie was pleased to note she scaled the fence with speed, nimbleness, and grace. If there had been judges nearby, Abbie would have secured all tens. Or maybe all tens but one—a nine. There was always a difficult judge who simply refused to give the top score. Nothing to do with Abbie. This imaginary man or woman would not bring her down.
Focus.
The lot was the size of a premier league football pitch but circular. Dead centre was the dealership building. If Abbie had scaled the fence during the day, a pack of salespeople would already have left the building and would be approaching the newcomer. Not to admonish her for eschewing the front gate, but to offer her the deal of a lifetime. With dollar signs in their eyes and waggling contracts in their fists, they would come, and Abbie would try to remain non-violent.
This late, the building would be empty. The salespeople were at home. The cars they would tomorrow attempt to sell formed concentric circles around the central hub, like Saturn's rings. Seven in total, like in hell. Each ring represented a different price bracket: the sporty numbers, perfect for a midlife crisis, closest to the building; the rust buckets, ideal for first-time buyers, nearest the fence.
As Abbie dropped into the lot, the figure she had followed passed the penultimate price bracket, heading for Saturn.
Saturn—the lot’s central hub—was a two-story building about the size of a six-bedroom house. Except, instead of brick walls, it had glass, and instead of a tiled roof, it had more glass. Iron beams held the whole structure together. It was the perfect example of the kind of modern architecture that was becoming more and more common in commercial buildings.
Abbie thought it was disgusting.
Not here to critique the building’s aesthetic, Abbie focused on the job at hand. By now, the figure was at the entrance. She was dropping to her knees.
Abbie was still by the rust belt. Moving between the lines, she followed the path already trodden by the figure, trailing her towards the building.
A place like this, all modern and glass, Abbie would have expected an electronic lock, opened via key card or maybe even retinal or fingerprint scanner. From the figure’s position, on her knees in the centre of double doors, it was clear they were dealing with a lock and key system—how old fashioned.
Abbie was halfway between the chain-link fence and the hub when the figure rose and opened the doors. Slowing a little, Abbie tensed. Would the figure hear her feet crunch through the gravel?
That wouldn’t have been the end of the world. Abbie had followed the figure because past experience told her, when entering a new town, searching for the life she was supposed to save, her best bet was to follow the trouble that inevitably presented itself soon after her arrival. Because she didn’t know what this figure was up to, Abbie relished a meeting where she could ask the question.
Still, it wouldn’t hurt to follow unnoticed a little longer.
Abbie stopped twenty metres from her quarry. The figure held the door open for maybe three seconds without moving. Abbie expected her to look back, but she didn’t. She slid inside and let the door fall closed behind her.
Abbie remained stationary for a three count, then strolled the last twenty feet to the doors through
