Night Sins by Tami Hoag

hair was a mess, curling ropes of it falling across her face as her eyes scanned the dining room with a wild look. She waded through the sea of chairs and faces, bumping into people, nearly colliding with Darlene Hallstrom. The hostess reached out to steady her, smiling, bemused. Hannah shoved her away and lunged ahead to the table where John Olsen and his girlfriend were lingering over coffee. Damn strange.
    Mitch kept his eyes on her like a bird dog on point, pulling his napkin off his lap. He crumpled the heavy green cloth and dropped it blindly on the table.
    “So where's the hose?” Megan muttered. She looked up as Mitch started to rise.
    “Excuse me,” he mumbled, sliding out of the booth.
    He couldn't hear the conversation going on at John Olsen's table. The din in the restaurant drowned out individual words. But he could see the expression on Hannah's face, the wild gestures of her long, graceful hands. He could see John's look of shocked surprise, watched him shake his head. Mitch descended the steps and strode toward the table. A fist of instinctive tension curled in his gut.
    Hannah was one of the first people he had met when he and Jessie had moved to Deer Lake. Hannah and her husband, Paul Kirkwood, and their son had lived across the street then. Hannah, pregnant with her second child, had dropped by that first day on her way to work to welcome them to the neighborhood with a pan of brownies. She was one of the most capable, unflappable people he knew. Grace under fire personified. She ran the emergency room at Deer Lake Community Hospital with skill, volunteered for community causes, and still managed a house with a husband, son, and baby daughter. All with a dazzling smile and sweet good humor.
    But Hannah didn't look cool or unruffled now. She looked on the brink of hysteria.
    “What do you mean, you don't know?” she demanded, her voice loud and raw. She slammed a fist down on the table. John's girlfriend squealed and jumped up out of her chair as coffee sloshed out of her cup and splashed across the tabletop.
    “Dr. Garrison, calm down!” John Olsen pleaded, coming up out of his chair. He reached out for Hannah's arm. She jerked away from him, her eyes blazing.
    “Calm down!” she shrieked. “I won't calm down!”
    Everyone in the restaurant had stopped to watch. The air was electric with tension.
    “Hannah?” Mitch said, approaching her side. “Is something wrong?”
    Hannah wheeled at the sound of his voice. The floor seemed to tilt beneath her feet. Heat pressed in on her like an invisible blanket, burning her skin, choking her.
Is something wrong?
Everything was wrong. She could feel a hundred pair of eyes on her. She could feel the darkness creeping down from the rafters and in through the high, arched windows.
    She was caught in a nightmare. Wide awake. Like being buried alive. The thoughts and impressions zoomed across her brain, too many, too fast.
Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God!
    “Hannah?” Mitch murmured, gently sliding his fingers over her shoulder. He eased a little closer. “Honey, talk to me. What's wrong?”
    Hannah stared at him, at the concern in his eyes. He moved closer.
What's wrong?
Something inside her burst and the words came rushing out, screaming out.
    “I can't find my son!”

CHAPTER 4
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    D AY 1
8:26 P.M.          19°
    W hat do you mean, you can't find Josh?” Mitch asked calmly.
    Hannah sat in the manager's chair, shaking uncontrollably, tears leaking from her big blue eyes. Mitch dug a clean handkerchief out of his hip pocket and offered it to her. She took it automatically but made no effort to use it, crumpling it in her hand like a wad of paper.
    “I m-mean I c-can't find him,” she stammered. She couldn't find Josh and no one seemed to grasp what she was trying to tell them, as if the words coming out of her mouth were nonsense. “Y-you have to help m-me.
Please,
Mitch!”
    She started to come up out of the chair, but Mitch pressed her back