This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright © by IJ Development and Roy Johansen

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Johansen, Iris, author. | Johansen, Roy, author.

Title: Flashback / Iris Johansen, Roy Johansen.

Description: First edition. | New York : Grand Central Publishing, 2024. | Series: Kendra Michaels series ; book 11

Identifiers: LCCN 2023054970 | ISBN 9781538726266 (hardcover) | ISBN 9781538726280 (ebook)

Subjects: LCGFT: Thrillers (Fiction) | Novels.

Classification: LCC PS3560.O275 F63 2024 | DDC 813/.54—dc23/eng/20231213

LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2023054970

ISBNs: 978-1-5387-2626-6 (hardcover), 978-1-5387-6650-7 (large print trade), 978-1-5387-2628-0 (ebook)

E3-20240320-JV-NF-ORI

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Prologue

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

Epilogue

Discover More

About the Authors

Also by Iris & Roy Johansen (In Order of Publication)

Cover

Table of Contents

Page List

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ii

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PROLOGUE

Is my mommy dead?”

San Diego police detective Paula Chase looked at the two little girls in her rearview mirror. The question had come from eleven-year-old Chloe Morgan, who was in the backseat with her nine-year-old sister, Sloane.

Paula exchanged glances with her partner, Detective Todd Williams, who was in the passenger seat. They were in her car riding to a popular walking trail in Tecolote National Park.

“No, honey,” she said gently. “We haven’t seen anything to make us think that happened to your mother. What makes you ask that?”

Chloe shrugged. “That’s what Aria Watkins said in school today. She said our mommy was dead and no one wanted to tell us the truth. I got in a fight with her after she said that. That’s why I was in detention when you picked us up.”

Paula sighed. As if these poor girls hadn’t been through enough. Their mother had disappeared four days before, while exercising in her wheelchair on this park nature trail. Her Toyota Sienna van was found on an adjacent gravel parking lot, but so far there had been no trace of Alyssa Morgan.

Until an hour ago.

Maybe.

Williams turned to face the girls. “Don’t listen to Aria Watkins or anyone else about your mother. They don’t know sh—” He stopped himself before completing the expletive. Paula smiled. Williams was obviously as angry as she was.

He took another moment to compose himself. “Just know we have a lot of people working on this. We’re doing everything we can to bring your mom home, okay?”

Sloane looked around at the wooded park. “Why are we here? This is where Mommy likes to ride.”

“We know. We need you to look at something for us.”

This appeared to unsettle both girls. Paula had been afraid it might. “What is it?” Chloe asked.

Paula hesitated a long moment before answering. “It’s a wheelchair.”

Both girls gasped. Sloane began to cry.

“We don’t know if it’s your mom’s,” Paula added quickly. “It looks like it might be from the photos we have, but we can’t tell for sure. That’s what we need you for.”

While this information only caused Sloane to crumble further, Chloe’s face tightened into a determined expression. It was a strength Paula had observed in her first interviews with the girls. “Where is it?” Chloe asked.

“Up ahead. Some hikers found it in the middle of the trail.”

Chloe shook her head. “But we looked there. We looked everywhere around here.”

“We know. We looked, too. Our department has combed this trail from one end to the other. I guarantee you, that wheelchair was not there before today.”

“But why would it be here now?” Chloe said.

Williams shrugged. “I don’t know. Somebody might be playing a sick prank. Pictures of your mom in her wheelchair have been all over the news these past few days. That’s why we need you to look at it for us. Okay?”

Chloe grasped her sister’s hand tightly and nodded. “Yes.”

They parked in the same gravel lot where the woman’s van had been found, then trudged up the path that had consumed so much of their attention in the past few days. Soon they were greeted by the sight of several uniformed officers, a pair of forensics specialists, and several yards of yellow police tape.

One of the officers stepped aside to reveal an ultralight manual wheelchair.

The girls froze for a long moment, transfixed by the sight.

Paula turned toward them. “What do you think? Have you seen it before?”

Chloe and Sloane didn’t answer. They stepped forward as a hush fell over the group. The investigators backed away, clearing a path to the chair. Chloe and Sloane approached and knelt beside it, still mesmerized. Sloane reached out, but Paula gently pulled back her arm. “Please don’t touch it, honey. It’s evidence.”

Sloane looked up. “It’s my mom’s chair.”

“Are you sure?”

Chloe pointed to tiny lightning bolt decals on the left and right footrests. “Mom loves Harry Potter. She put these here herself. And these blue scratches on the handles came from our front railing at home. This chair is hers.”

Paula flinched and then nodded. “Okay.” She spoke to her partner. “Let’s make sure our teams go over this whole trail again, Williams. Maybe somebody saw this chair being moved out here today. If so, there’s a chance—”

Everyone was suddenly looking behind her. She turned to see a grim-faced uniformed officer climbing through a clump of brush and back onto the trail. “Detectives… You should take the girls away now.”

“No! Why?” Chloe screamed as she jumped to her feet. “Why do we have to leave her? I have to find my mom!”

Detective Williams put his hand gently on Chloe’s shoulder. “Let’s get back to the car and let these people do their work.”

Chloe broke free and bolted toward the brush. “Mom!”

The uniformed officers rushed toward the girl and tried to block her path, but Chloe bent over and dove into the brush. Williams grabbed her ankles at the last second and pulled her back. She was still screaming and crying as he carried her back toward her sister.

Paula looked at the faces of the officers coming back from the other side of the hill. Grimmer than grim. Shit.

She pushed through the brush and looked down the ridge.

There, hanging from an oak tree, was the body of Alyssa Morgan. Her hands and feet were bound by the same green-and-white nautical rope used to wrap around her neck and the highest tree branch.

Paula turned away. In her years on the force, she’d seen more than her fair share of monsters. But with this poor woman’s little girls now sobbing less than a hundred yards away, she was sickened in a way most of the others couldn’t touch.

She sat on a large rock at the ridge’s edge. And rocked herself back and forth. “Jesus,” she whispered. “Dear Lord Jesus.”