Margaret Peterson Haddix Missing Series Novels & Stories

While they argued, I moved slowly toward the platform where Margaret was hiding behind debris. No one noticed me. Everyone was focused on the Van Leer family drama. I reached Margaret. She was injured from the ceiling collapse, blood running down her face. “Sarah Henderson,” she whispered. “The girl who survived everything.” “It’s over, Margaret.” “Is it? You kill me… or Marcus… someone else takes our place. The network is bigger than one person.” “Maybe. But it starts with you.” I raised my gun. “You were supposed to be mine,” Margaret said desperately. “The perfect asset. The prototype. I invested twenty-six years in you.”

"I think I found his hideout. My question to you is what the hell is he doing with all the stuff he's stealing? As far as I can tell, he's untraceable." "He is." Maggie licked her lips and ran her hand through her hair. It was a nervous gesture that most people had. "That's what makes him so scary. That's why I worry about what he's gonna do to us when he finds out we haven't disappeared and that we aren't dead." "Then tell me anything you know, anything. Any little piece of information that may seem insignificant will help me protect you," Charity begged. She waited what felt like a lifetime before Maggie began speaking. "The break-ins that have been happening around the county. I don't thi

Margaret began creating a whole story on them, her theories and conspiracies too. And then, the case with Kimberly Silversmith happened. Followed by the gruesome trail of dead bodies, some of them mutants, all with brutal, inhumane, unusual bites and injuries that didn't seem like the werewolf mutants’ she was used to. Under the radar, she secretly followed the trail of dead bodies until it led her to the familiar Mickey's Pub where she met Leviathan Morganton. **********

Margaret's Pov I had always been proud of my ability to spot the slightest changes, what most people overlooked. A flicker in the eyes of a person, a stammering in words, a letter not answered,all this counted. And recently I had been overhearing too much in the conversation of Adrian and Isabella and something was off. Too many unreturned calls, too many indeterminate excuses, too much silence.I leant back in my chair, and the late afternoon sun shadowing my office. I tapped my fingers on the mahogany desk as I read the series of messages that I had eavesdropped. Adrian was fidgety and evasive, and above all, unusually distracted. All his explanations to me sounded formal, almost self-defen

I looked up and asked what it was. He walked toward me and his face was serious. "It is about Margaret," he said. "She died in prison last night. Heart attack. She is gone." I stared at him and felt nothing. No relief. No anger. No grief. Just nothing. "Thank you for telling me," I said. Marcus nodded and walked out of the room. I sat in my study and stared at the wall. Margaret was dead. The woman who had started the fire and destroyed so many lives was finally gone.

Bethwel frowned. "Who?" Margaret's eyes drifted into the past. "A young inspector." "He worked with Grace." "He believed the law existed to protect ordinary people." "What happened to him?" Margaret lowered her head. "He disappeared." Joel looked at her sharply. "Name?" Margaret answered quietly. "Inspector Daniel Midila." Alex froze. The world seemed to stop. His breathing became shallow. "...Midila?" Margaret slowly turned toward him. "Yes." Alex's voice cracked. "That was..."

“I mean if one of us disappears or goes silent, hearing this name means something’s gone wrong.” I laughed at how childish she sounded. But I still went along with it, thinking it through with her for a long time, and in the end, we settled on Fatcat Cook. Because the name sounded so ridiculous, no one would ever actually have it. In the entire world, only two people knew what the name Fatcat Cook meant. One was me. The other was Lena. And Lena had been missing for thirty-one days. She said she was going to Silverridge, in Valoria, for a few days.

I shook my head. “No, that’s impossible.” Because it was. People didn’t simply vanish. Not from secure transports. Not in broad daylight. Not after exposing company secrets. Unless— A horrible thought entered my mind. The same thought that appeared in Alaric’s eyes. The same thought neither of us wanted to say aloud. Maya. Two years ago. Missing. Gone without a trace. And now Margaret. The woman who had just warned us to stop digging. My stomach dropped. “Alaric…”

Exhaustion is taking over, and I am having trouble keeping my eyes open. Right before my eyes close, the last thing I see is Braxius's blue-green eyes filled with love and sorrow. Except, I somehow know everything will be all right with him. That only thought is making my leaving easier, and I stop fighting the darkness. I am floating away towards total oblivion. I am having a few brief flashbacks of my short life of twenty-two years and growing up in New Jersey with Meena, my younger sister of nine months. I accepted my entry-level position at a prestigious marketing firm and graduating from college with honors as a business major with a minor in history.

Margaret quickly dialed Eloise's number, demanding the details. "As you know, Gavin's been looking for you this whole time. He's like a madman, and no one could stop him," Eloise said. "Last night, he collapsed on-site and was rushed to the hospital—" "Cut to the chase," Margaret interrupted impatiently. "Why is Marjorie missing? Gavin's always been so protective of her."