A Kiss Before The New Year

CHAPTER FIVE — THE VAN

December 30, 2023 – 6:45 p.m.

Megan’s phone buzzed against her pillow, slicing through the quiet hum of her room. She groaned, rolled over, and squinted at the screen.

Jason Stone.

A sleepy smile tugged at her lips as she swiped to answer. “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me,” Jason’s voice came, rough and familiar through the line. “I was wondering… can we meet at the bar? There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

Her curiosity sparked instantly. “Sure. Give me an hour.”

“Great. I’ll be there.”

She hung up, heart fluttering just a little. Jason never sounded that serious unless something mattered.

Megan jumped out of bed, showered quickly, and slipped into a fitted jean skirt and a cream-colored top, tying her hair into a loose ponytail. She added a touch of gloss and perfume before grabbing her small silver purse.

“Mom! Dad! I’m going out — Jason called me!” she shouted from the hallway.

Her mother peeked from the kitchen. “At this hour?”

“Relax, Mom. It’s just the bar near the plaza. I’ll be home soon!”

“Take the driver!” her father called after her.

“I will!” she replied, slamming the door behind her, a bright, oblivious smile on her face.

The streets were half-empty — Christmas lights still hanging from lampposts, a soft drizzle painting the asphalt silver. Megan sat back, scrolling through her phone as the driver hummed along to the radio.

Then he frowned into the rearview mirror.

“Miss Thompson,” he said, his voice tense, “there’s a black van behind us.”

“So?” Megan asked, not looking up.

“It’s been there since we left the estate,” he said, his knuckles tightening around the wheel. “And… it’s getting closer.”

Megan’s head lifted. “Maybe it’s just coincidence.”

But then the van’s headlights flashed — once, twice — and the vehicle sped up, tailing them tightly.

Her pulse quickened. “Okay, that’s not normal.”

Before she could say another word, the van swerved suddenly, overtaking them. Tires screeched. Both vehicles halted in the middle of the dimly lit street.

“Stay in the car!” the driver warned, already reaching for his phone.

The van’s doors burst open. Three men stepped out — all wearing dark clothes, faces hidden by masks. The one in front moved with chilling confidence, a pistol glinting under the streetlight. A snake tattoo coiled around his forearm.

“Drive!” Megan screamed.

The driver tried, but one of the masked men slammed the butt of a g*n into the car window, shattering it. Another yanked open the back door, and Megan’s scream pierced the air.

“Get away from me!” she cried, kicking out, but the man grabbed her arm with brute strength.

The driver lunged forward to help, but a blow to his head sent him collapsing against the steering wheel.

“HELP!” Megan screamed again, her voice echoing down the empty street.

The leader’s voice was low and rough. “Shut her up.”

A hard strike to the side of her head — everything went black.

The van doors slammed. Tires screeched. Silence followed.

Only the driver’s unconscious body and a broken phone lay beside the road.

The warm, cozy atmosphere of the Thompson home shattered when Jason burst through the front door. His chest heaved as he scanned the room — Mrs. Thompson arranging fabric on the dining table, Mr. Thompson in quiet conversation with Mr. Stone.

“Jason?” Mrs. Thompson looked up, startled. “What’s wrong? You look pale.”

“Is Megan here?” Jason asked quickly, eyes darting between them.

“No,” Mr. Thompson replied, frowning. “She said you called her out.”

Jason froze. “I—what? I did call her, but she never showed up. She was supposed to meet me an hour ago.”

The color drained from Mrs. Thompson’s face. “Jason, what are you saying?”

“I waited,” he said, running a trembling hand through his hair. “She never came. I called, but her phone’s off. I thought maybe she changed her mind or came home.”

The room fell into heavy silence.

Evelyn came down the stairs just then, dressed to go out. Her smile faded instantly when she saw the tension. “What’s going on?”

Jason turned toward her, his expression grim. “Megan’s missing.”

Evelyn blinked. “What?”

“She left home over an hour ago to meet me, but she never arrived. She’s not answering calls, and no one’s heard from her since.”

For a moment, no one moved. Then Evelyn’s face paled. “Oh my God… Jason, are you sure?”

He nodded helplessly. “I’ve called her a dozen times.”

Mrs. Thompson’s hands shook as she clutched her husband’s arm. “She wouldn’t just vanish. Not Megan.”

Mr. Stone stood, voice steady but grim. “We need to start looking. Now.”

Within minutes, coats were grabbed, phones dialed, flashlights found. The once festive house transformed into chaos — fear buzzing in the air like static.

The group split up into pairs — Mr. Thompson and Mr. Stone heading east toward the main road, while Evelyn, Jason, and Axton (who arrived moments later, still in his jacket) took the west side.

When Axton arrived, he barely slowed his car before jumping out. “What’s going on?” he demanded.

“Megan’s missing,” Evelyn said quickly, voice trembling.

Axton froze. “What? How?”

Jason exhaled shakily. “She was supposed to meet me. She never showed.”

Axton swore under his breath, then looked around the dim streets. “We’ll find her.”

Evelyn clung to her coat. “What if something’s happened to her?”

Jason’s jaw clenched. “Don’t say that.”

“But it’s been hours, Jason!” she cried.

He turned sharply to face her, eyes red-rimmed with guilt. “And you think I don’t know

that? You think I’m not going insane?”

Evelyn flinched, her voice cracking. “I’m sorry. I just—”

Axton stepped between them. “Hey. Fighting won’t help. Let’s start with the route she usually takes. Maybe someone saw something.”

Jason nodded, forcing himself to breathe. “You’re right.”

They drove in tense silence, scanning every alley, every shadow, headlights sweeping across the quiet road.

The street where Megan was last seen was eerily still — the faint smell of burnt rubber still lingering. Then Jason spotted something glinting near the curb.

He stepped out slowly, heart pounding.

It was Megan’s phone — the screen cracked, the case scuffed, a tiny smear of blood near the corner.

Jason stared at it in horror, the truth crashing over him like a wave of ice.

“She didn’t just disappear,” he said quietly. “Someone took her.”

Evelyn gasped, covering her mouth. Axton looked toward the dark road ahead, his

expression turning cold.

“Then we find whoever did,” he said, his voice like steel. “And we get her back.”

Mrs. Thompson sat on the couch, hands trembling around her rosary beads. The others filed back in, exhausted, cold, and empty-handed.

Mr. Thompson looked at Jason. “Any sign?”

Jason shook his head, jaw tight. “Just her phone.”

The words hung heavy in the air.

Evelyn sat beside Mrs. Thompson, who clutched her hand. “She’ll be fine,” Evelyn whispered, though her voice trembled. “She’s strong.”

Jason stood near the window, fists clenched, guilt written all over his face. He could still hear her voice — “I’ll be there in an hour.”

He’d never felt this helpless before.

Outside, the wind howled. The festive lights that once glowed in joy now flickered like fading hope.