Prologue

Santa Carla, 1986

The house was full of bright summer light only the California sun was able to deliver. Voices low and urgent argued back and forth from the depths of the house. My parents banished me from the living room in hopes I couldn't hear. I heard everything from my place on the sun porch.

I leaned against the sash of an open window breathing in the tang of salt air carrying traces of cotton candy and Mom's prize peonies. I watched cars driving by. Most packed with families I suspected were headed to the boardwalk.

'Stan, I don't want to leave! What about my parents?' The quaking of my mother's voice relayed her fear more eloquently than she probably thought.

Dad was quiet for several minutes. 'Christ, Janet! Your parents are retired. They can join us. I have the chance to work for the Denver Police Department. I won't get the opportunity again if I turn the job down.'

My stomach was knotted up. Confrontation always made me feel like I was going to puke.

'My parents don't want to live in a place that snows three feet or more and is freezing half the year!'

'Look – people are dying! Do you think all those disappearances are just coincidence? Open your damn eyes. Maybe you don't mind taking chances with Gracie's life but I do. Half the missing are under twelve just like our daughter.'

I just celebrated my ninth birthday last month. One of my presents was a small canister of mace and Dad giving me lessons on how to use it. Every night on the news face after face of the missing flashed across the TV screen. Mom walked me back and forth to school for fear I might join the ranks of the kids no one could find.

Mom released a little sob. 'Fine!' Footsteps pounded along the hardwood floor before a door slammed so hard the windows rattled ominously around me.

I swallowed the lump in my throat before burying my face in my arms.

The smell of the Old Spice I bought Dad for Christmas surrounded me in the instant before his large warm hands closed on my shoulders. "Are you okay, honey?"

Peeking up at him, I gave a curt nod.

Stanley Martin was a patrolman for the Santa Carla Police Department. He was tall with a strong body and a dimple in his left cheek. Gray eyes the color of fog rolling in from Monterey Bay cut to the quick while catching people off guard and disarming them. We had the same eyes but I had Mom's light ash brown hair instead of Dad's sun-kissed surfer blond.

He smiled and the dimple flashed at me. "You heard us, huh?"

"Yes."

Dad's expression turned sad before he pulled me into his arms. "I know your mother sounded angry but everything is going to be just fine. What do you think of the idea? Colorado will have snow and skiing…"

My nose scrunched.

Jenny Torres from next door had moved with her family from Boston. She hated the snow and cold.

"But we won't have the ocean."

He flashed a sympathetic look at me. "I know but there will be beautiful mountains."

I didn't want to move. Seeing the hope in Dad's eyes, I forced a smile. "Does that mean we can go hiking?"

Laughing, Dad hugged me so tight I couldn't tell where he started and I left off. "We'll go every weekend the weather is good. I promise!"

Mom was a petite woman with a wild mane of hair that reached her waist and smoky brown eyes capable of turning men into babbling idiots. She was a beauty and Janet Martin knew how to use the gift to her advantage. She dressed up anytime we left the house.

On this evening it was no different.

She also had a flare for fashion and was dismayed with her only child's penchant for tomboy clothes and my talent for casual dishevelment.

Mom scooted out of the car and sighed as she opened the passenger door for me. While she was dressed in a lemony cotton sundress and matching heels – I had on a pair of denim overalls with a pale blue t-shirt underneath. Worse than the denim was the fact the knees were dirty and my hair had resolutely escaped the painstaking French braid she created earlier that morning.

"Grace you look awful," she huffed before scrubbing at a smear of dust on my cheek. "Be good and don't cause a problem in the store. I have to tell Max I'm giving notice."

I looked up at her as she took my hand firmly in hers. "What's notice?"

Mom smiled. "I have to quit my job so giving Max notice is telling him how long I can work before we move. It's the polite thing to do so he can hire someone to help him."

My shoulders lifted in a shrug as we entered the video store.

The lights in the store were so bright after coming in from semi-darkness I blinked before rubbing my eyes with a free hand. There was a crowd so I pressed against my mother. Loud voices and happy laughter greeted me.

Max was tall as a giant to my eyes. A kind man with dark hair and large glasses, he bantered easily with customers. Tonight he wore a green and white sports jacket with slacks. He smiled broadly when he caught sight of Mom.

"Janet!" He stooped down and greeted her with a peck on the cheek. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Mom smiled and squeezed his hand while using the other hand to stroke my hair. "I have some bad news, I'm sorry to say."

A deeply concerned expression flashed over the man's face. "Is everything all right with Stan?"

She sighed. "Stan accepted a job in Denver. We're moving in two weeks. I can only give you a one week notice. I need to pack up before the movers arrive. Please accept my apology. You've been a wonderful boss and I feel awful…"

Mom had worked at VideoMax for almost a year and constantly sang Max's praises.

"Please don't apologize," he interrupted with warmth and relief in his voice. "Stan has expressed his distaste to me for the Santa Carla crime rate. I can't say I'm surprised he took action." Max glanced at me before pulling free a hot pink lollipop from a jar holding a rainbow of the candies. "Here you are Grace."

I accepted the candy. "Strawberry?"

He chuckled. "I would never dare cheat you."

Mom glanced at the crowd before looking down at me. "You can look around while I talk to Max but don't leave the store."

"Okay," I walked away twirling the lollipop stick between my fingers.

Movies were good but I liked playing outside or reading more.

I walked over to a display of Disney VHS tapes near the door. My lips curled in disgust as Cinderella's smiling face came into view. "Ugh! She is a stupid princess just running around waiting for some prince to save her!"

"What's wrong with Cinderella wanting a prince to help her out?"

The friendly, teasing quality of the male voice caught my attention.

I looked up out of the corner of my eye only to find a figure towering over me.

The young man looking down at me was older than a teenager but loads younger than my parents. He had curly, dirty blond hair short in the front but long in the back. A pair of sharp ocean-colored eyes watched me closely even as a sneaky grin lit up his face.

"She's a wussy," I informed him with great seriousness. "A girl should be able to take care of herself."

He arched one eyebrow. "Oh yeah?"

Enthusiasm was rising inside me like an incoming tide. "Well duh! If I was Cinderella, I'd kick my ugly stepsisters in the shin."

His eyes widened and he stifled a chuckle behind his gloved hand. He cleared his throat before speaking. "You're a scrappy kid," He hooked his thumbs in his belt. "Do you have a name?"

I pointed my lollipop at him. "Mom said I can't give my name to strangers."

He leaned forward and held out a hand. "I'm Marko."

My eyes rested on his hand before returning to his face.

"I'm not a stranger now," Marko pronounced; a sparkle in his eye.

There was logic in his argument.

Chewing my bottom lip, I glanced at my mother. She and Max were deep in conversation. I took Marko's hand. "My name is Grace." I shivered at the cold of his fingers; they felt like ice cubes.

Marko squeezed my hand before letting me go and straightening once more. "See Grace, I'm not such a bad guy."

"I like your jacket." And I did – it was covered with brightly hued, multiple patches. Some of the symbols and pictures I didn't understand, but I did see it as artwork. "It's like a painting I saw at a museum in San Francisco."

Genuine pleasure spread over Marko's face.

Before he could reply, Max's voice thundered across the store shattering the moment. "Marko," Max was glaring daggers at the younger man. "I told you not to come in here. I meant it."

Marko's expression turned cold; his eyes narrowed. He curled his lip before slowly backing away. Reaching out, he yanked open the door and barreled through nearly knocking over several patrons on the threshold.

He stalked away and I watched until he disappeared around the corner.

A hand grabbed me by the shoulder whipping me around to face my very angry mother. "How many times have I told you not to talk to strangers?"

My face burned with embarrassment as people stopped and looked at us.

Max reached out and touched her shoulder. "It's not Grace's fault, Janet. She's just a little girl."

Mom relented. "Come on, honey. Your father is going to be waiting for us." She smiled at Max again. "Thank you again for your many kindnesses."

He nodded and cleared his throat. "Well I must be getting back to the customers. Have a safe journey."

A part of me was sad as I followed Mom to the car; unwrapped lollipop engulfed in my fist.

Two weeks later we were driving away.

The weather was beautiful and warm with a pale blue, cloudless sky. Our station wagon was stuffed with suitcases we didn't want to entrust to the moving company. My orange tabby cat, Angel, meowed from beside me and my parents chatted in the front seat while James Taylor crooned Fire and Rain over the radio.

I leaned one elbow against the car door and cupped my cheek.

My eyes grew wide as we arrived at the welcome sign.

The back of the sign was facing us and it was covered in colorful graffiti proclaiming Santa Carla Murder Capital of the World. Memories of all the missing posters danced in my head.

Dad gave a disgusted snort. "Good riddance to bad rubbish!"

I pulled Angel into my arms and hugged her tight. For the first time I was happy to be leaving my hometown. Maybe the snow and cold wouldn't be so bad.

Disclaimer: Obviously I don't own the Lost Boys but I thought I better state it somewhere in the story. Also this is an AU where the Emerson family never moved to Santa Carla.