Last Seen Leaving by Kelly Charron

About the Book

Alice Penn is a successful thriller writer about to marry the man of her dreams. But when she doesn’t return home after her bachelorette party, and instead, wakes up in a dark concrete cell, she fears all her secrets have finally caught up to her.

She’s been taken and she’s not alone. A distorted voice crackles over loudspeakers, promising her that she’ll experience all the torturous things she’s done to her characters.

Weaving together glimpses from her fiance, friends, and a local cop, truths about Alice emerge, revealing secrets and lies none of them could anticipate. How well do they know one another? And did they ever really know Alice at all? Soon the world is watching, searching for the missing woman who is quickly becoming a national sweetheart. As the investigation digs deeper into her past, evidence is uncovered posing the question if Alice is worth saving at all.

As her captor’s games become increasingly dangerous, Alice has to play to survive. Only one of them will make it out alive.

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Excerpt

The hot, sticky air made Alice’s dress cling to her like a second skin. Her stomach rolled and the small drum inside her head was relentless, not to mention the skull-grinding pressure in her temples and behind her eyes. Cottonmouth made her desperate for a cold glass of water, and she’d like to throw in a handful of aspirin.

Alice opened one sticky eyelid, prepared for the unforgiving glare of the morning sun that always snuck through her bedroom blinds. In its place was complete blackness. A blackness she’d rarely experienced living in a busy city. Even in the middle of the night, the light from the street lamps crept in through her window. This wasn’t her bedroom.

She bolted upright, Her hand immediately cradled her head as it pounded more violently. She swallowed hard as a wave of queasiness struck. This wasn’t just a hangover. She was woozy and disoriented, with her body not feeling like her own.

Alice’s head, back, and knees ached.

Her hands trailed the space around her, feeling at her sides. 

This was not her bed. Her fingers met the thick, scratchy comforter that she was lying on. She owned nothing like it, and neither did London or Kara. Her heartbeat quickened, producing a whooshing in her ears. As the blood rushed to her head, so did a wave of dizziness. Then, without warning, Alice bent forward and emptied her stomach, the pressure making her head spin like she was on an out of control merry-go-round.

Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she skittered back, carefully avoiding the mess she’d made. “Where the hell am I?” she whispered.

Her mind scrolled through the last flashes of memory from the night before. Her bachelorette. She, London, and Kara had gone to Jake’s Pub for drinks. They toasted to her engagement, danced, laughed, did a few shots, and then it got blurry. A flash of a taxi ride. Standing in front of her house.

Her throat squeezed, an invisible hand around her windpipe. The humid air grew heavier, adding tightness to her tender chest.

Focus Alice. There had been shots of tequila, but enough to do this? Enough to land her somewhere completely unknown? Her hand moved to the top of her head. The plastic tiara was gone. Her fingers entwined in the knotted nest, and her scalp ached like she’d been dragged around by her hair.

Why was it so dark in here? Tingles of panic spread through her nerve endings. Something wasn’t right.

“Hello! Anyone?” her voice squeaked. “This isn’t funny!”

She held her breath as if it could help her to hear. She was blind, yet her eyes scanned for anything that might pop out in the darkness. Her heartbeat grew louder. She remained quiet, waiting for someone to call to her—to tell her where she was and how she’d gotten there.

When no reply came, she tried again. The desperation, thick and heavy in her voice, startled her.

All at once, a tsunami of alarm hit. She gasped, crawled back, patted the floor, and swiped at the space around her. Anything to help orient herself.

Where was she? Where was she? Where was she?

The phrase looped inside her confused head.

The floor was cold and rough beneath the blanket, maybe cement. Alice kept moving back until she hit something and a dull pain spread through her spine. She pressed her shaking body into the wall and forced herself to stand, the coolness of the stone wall both shocking and invigorating against the heat of her skin.

The stillness and quiet of the space invaded her.

Scott’s smiling face flashed in her mind. She wanted him. No, she needed him. Where was he?

She tapped on the floor in front of her with her foot. It was solid. No holes or carpets. Just a sheet of hard concrete. She slid her foot out in front of her, testing the ground. When it moved without hitting anything, she inched a bit farther.

Keep it together, Alice. You’re okay.

She counted twenty-five tentative steps with her hands out before her knuckles scraped a wall. The sting on her skin told her it was more unfinished concrete.

She was in a cement box.

 

About the Author

Kelly Charron is the author of adult psychological thrillers and cozy mysteries. All with murderous inclinations and moderate amounts of humor. She spends far too much time consuming true crime television (and chocolate) while trying to decide if yes, it was the husband, with the wrench, in the library. She lives with her husband and cat, Moo Moo, in Vancouver, British Columbia.

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